THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 EVAN HARRINGTON
 
 

 
 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 jftotofl 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH 
 
 REVISED EDITION 
 
 WESTMINSTEK 
 
 ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & Co. 
 
 1898
 
 n
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. ABOVE BUTTONS 
 
 II. THE HERITAGE OF THE SON 
 
 III. THE DAUGHTERS OF THE SHEARS 
 
 IV. ON BOARD THE JOCASTA . 
 V. THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL 
 
 VI. MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD . 
 
 VII. MOTHER AND SON .... 
 
 VIII. INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 
 
 IX. THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 
 
 X. MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN 
 
 XI. DOINGS AT AN INN .... 
 
 XII. IN WHICH ALE IS SHOWN TO HAVE ONE 
 
 OF WINE 
 
 XIII. THE MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 
 
 XIV. THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD OF ACTION 
 XV. A CAPTURE 
 
 XVI. LEADS TO A SMALL SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND 
 
 EVAN 
 
 XVII. IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 
 
 XVIII. IN WHICH EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN . 
 
 QUALITY 
 
 PAQB 
 1 
 
 8 
 16 
 
 25 
 40 
 49 
 57 
 71 
 84 
 96 
 105 
 
 113 
 124 
 143 
 154 
 
 161 
 171 
 184
 
 VI CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XIX. SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS . . . 200 
 
 XX. BREAK-NECK LEAP 20G 
 
 XXI. TRIBULATIONS AND TACTICS OF THE COUNTESS . 214 
 XXII. IN WHICH THE DAUGHTERS OF THE GREAT MEL 
 
 HATE TO DIGEST HIM AT DINNER . . 224 
 
 XXIII. TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF .... 235 
 
 XXIV. THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT . . 243 
 XXV. IN WHICH THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND 
 
 CLEAR 251 
 
 XXVI. MRS. MEL MAKES A BED FOR HERSELF AND 
 
 FAMILY 265 
 
 XXVII. EXHIBITS ROSE'S GENERALSHIP ; EVAN'S PER- 
 FORMANCE ON THE SECOND FIDDLE ; AND THE 
 
 WRETCHEDNESS OF THE COUNTESS . . . 279 
 
 XXVIII. TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION .... 290 
 
 XXIX. PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT .... 297 
 
 XXX. THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. PART I. . . 312 
 
 XXXI. THE BATTLE OK THE BULL-DOGS. PART II. . 327 
 
 XXXII. IX WHICH EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE 
 
 AGAIN 340 
 
 XXXIII. THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 351 
 
 XXXIV. A PAGAN SACRIFICE 364 
 
 XXXV. ROSE WOUNDE1 372 
 
 XXXVI. BEFORE BREAKFAST 376 
 
 XXXVII. THE BETREAT FROM BECKLEY . . . . 382 
 
 XXXVIII. IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SET. IN THE DARK . 395 
 
 XXXIX. IN THE HOMVIN OF 1A1LORDOM .... 401
 
 CONTENTS yii 
 
 CHAP. p A <j B 
 
 XL. IN WHICH THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME . 408 
 
 XLI. REVEALS AN ABOMINABLE PLOT OP THE BROTHERS 
 
 COGGLE8BY 419 
 
 XLII. JULIANA 428 
 
 XLIII. ROSE 431 
 
 XLIV. CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS . 439 
 
 XLV. IN WHICH THE SHOP BECOMES THE CENTRE OF 
 
 ATTRACTION 452 
 
 XLVI. A LOVERS* PARTING 461 
 
 XLVII. A YEAR LATER, THE COUNTESS DE SALDAR DE 
 
 SANCORVO TO HER SISTER CAROLINE . . . 469
 
 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ABOVE BUTTONS 
 
 Long after the hours when tradesmen are in the habit of 
 commencing business, the shutters of a certain shop in the 
 town of Lymport-on-the-Sea remained significantly closed, 
 and it became known that death had taken Mr. Melchisedec 
 Harrington, and struck one off the list of living tailors. The 
 demise of a respectable member of this class does not ordi- 
 narily create a profound sensation. He dies, and his equals 
 debate who is to be his successor : while the rest of them who 
 have come in contact with him, very probably hear nothing 
 of his great launch and final adieu till the winding up of cash- 
 accounts ; on which occasions we may augur that he is not 
 often blessed by one or other of the two great parties who sub- 
 divide this universe. In the case of Mr. Melchisedec it was 
 otherwise. This had been a grand man, despite his calling, 
 and in the teeth of opprobrious epithets against his craft. To 
 be both generally blamed, and generally liked, evinces a 
 peculiar construction of mortal. Mr. Melchisedec, whom 
 people in private called the great Mel, had been at once the 
 sad dog of Lymport, and the pride of the town. He was a 
 tailor, and he kept horses ; he was a tailor, and he had gallant 
 adventures ; he was a tailor, and he shook hands with his 
 customers. Finally, he was a tradesman, and he never was 
 known to have sent in a bill. Such a personage comes but 
 once in a generation, and, when he goes, men miss the man 
 as well as their money.
 
 2 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 That he was dead, there could be no doubt. Kilne, the 
 publican opposite, had seen Sally, one of the domestic 
 servants, come out of the house in the early morning and 
 rush up the street to the doctor's, tossing her hands ; and she, 
 not disinclined to dilute her grief, had, on her return, related 
 that her master was then at his last gasp, and had refused, in 
 so many words, to swallow the doctor. 
 
 " ' I won't swallow the doctor ! ' he says, ' I won't swallow 
 the doctor ! ' " Sally moaned. " ' I never touched him/ he 
 says, ' and I never will.' " 
 
 Kilne angrily declared, that in his opinion, a man who 
 rejected medicine in extremity, ought to have it forced down 
 his throat: and considering that the invalid was pretty 
 deeply in Kilne's debt, it naturally assumed the form of a 
 dishonest act on his part; but Sally scornfully dared any 
 one to lay hand on her master, even for his own good. 
 " For," said she, " he's got his eyes awake, though he do lie 
 so helpless. He marks ye ! " 
 
 "Ah! ah!" Kilne sniffed the air. Sally then rushed 
 back to her duties. 
 
 " Now, there's a man ! " Kilne stuck his hands in his 
 pockets and began his meditation : which, however, was cut 
 short by the approach of his neighbour Barnes, the butcher, 
 to whom he confided what he had heard, and who ejaculated 
 professionally, " Obstinate as a pig ! " As they stood to- 
 gether they beheld Sally, a figure of telegraph, at one of 
 the windows, implying that all was just over. 
 
 " Amen ! " said Barnes, as to a matter-of-fact affair. 
 
 Some minutes after, the two were joined by Grossby, the 
 confectioner, who listened to the news, and observed : 
 
 " Just like him ! I'd have sworn he'd never take doctor's 
 stuff;" and, nodding at Kilne, "liked his medicine best, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Had a — hem ! — good lot of it," muttered Kilne, with a 
 suddenly serious brow. 
 
 "How does he stand on your books?" asked Barnes. 
 
 Kilne shouldered round, crying: "Who the deuce is to 
 know?" 
 
 "/don't," Grossby sighed. "In he comes with his 'Good 
 morning, Grossby, — line day for the hunt, Grossby,' and a 
 ten-pound note. ' Have the kindness to put that down in
 
 ABOVE BUTTONS 3 
 
 my favour, Grossby.' And just as I am going to say, 'Look 
 here, — this won't do,' he has me by the collar, and there's 
 one of the regiments going to give a supper party, which 
 he's to order; or the Admiral's wife wants the receipt for 
 that pie; or in comes my wife, and there's no talking of 
 business then, though she may have been bothering about 
 his account all the night beforehand. Something or other ! 
 and so we run on." 
 
 "What I want to know," said Barnes, the butcher, "is 
 where he got his tenners from? " 
 
 Kilne shook a sagacious head : " No knowing ! " 
 
 "I suppose we shall get something out of the fire?" 
 Barnes suggested. 
 
 "That depends! " answered the emphatic Kilne. 
 
 " But, you know, if the widow carries on the business, " 
 said Grossby, "there's no reason why we shouldn't get it 
 all, eh?" 
 
 " There ain't two that can make clothes for nothing, and 
 make a profit out of it," said Kilne. 
 
 " That young chap in Portugal," added Barnes, " he won't 
 take to tailoring when he comes home. D'ye think he 
 will?" 
 
 Kilne muttered: "Can't say!" and Grossby, a kindly 
 creature in his way, albeit a creditor, reverting to the first 
 subject of their discourse, ejaculated, " But what a one he 
 was! — eh?" 
 
 "Fine! — to look on," Kilne assented. 
 
 "Well, he was like a Marquis," said Barnes. 
 
 Here the three regarded each other, and laughed, though 
 not loudly. They instantly checked that unseemliness, and 
 Kilne, as one who rises from the depths of a calculation 
 with the sum in his head, spoke quite in a different voice : 
 
 "Well, what do you say, gentlemen? shall we adjourn? 
 No use standing here." 
 
 By the invitation to adjourn, it was well understood by 
 the committee Kilne addressed, that they were invited to 
 pass his threshold, and partake of a morning draught. 
 Barnes, the butcher, had no objection whatever, and if 
 Grossby, a man of milder make, entertained any, the occa- 
 sion and common interests to be discussed, advised him to 
 waive them. In single file these mourners entered the
 
 4 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 publican's house, where Kilne, after summoning them from 
 behind the bar, on the important question, what it should 
 be? and receiving, first, perfect acquiescence in his views 
 as to what it should be, and then feeble suggestions of the 
 drink best befitting that early hour and the speaker's par- 
 ticular constitution, poured out a toothful to each, and one 
 to himself. 
 
 "Here's to him, poor fellow!" said Kilne; and was 
 deliberately echoed twice. 
 
 "Now, it wasn't that," Kilne pursued, pointing to the 
 bottle in the midst of a smacking of lips, " that wasn't what 
 got him into difficulties. It was expensive luckshries. It 
 was being above his condition. Horses! What's a trades- 
 man got to do with horses? Unless he's retired! Then 
 he's a gentleman, and can do as he likes. It's no use try- 
 ing to be a gentleman if you can't pay for it. It always 
 ends bad. Why, there was he, consorting with gentlefolks 
 
 — gay as a lark! Who has to pay for it?" 
 
 Kilne's fellow-victims maintained a rather doleful tribu- 
 tary silence. 
 
 " I'm not saying anything against him now," the publican 
 further observed. "It's too late. And there! I'm sorry 
 he's gone, for one. He was as kind a hearted a man as 
 ever breathed. And there! perhaps it was just as much my 
 fault; I couldn't say 'No ' to him, — clash me, if I could! " 
 
 Lymport was a prosperous town, and in prosperity the 
 much-despised British tradesman is not a harsh, he is really 
 a well-disposed, easy soul, and requires but management, 
 manner, occasional instalments — just to freshen the account 
 
 — and a surety that he who debits is on the spot, to be a 
 right royal king of credit. Only the account must never 
 drivel. Stare aid crescere appears to be his feeling on that 
 point, and the departed Mr. Melchisedec undoubtedly under- 
 stood him there; for the running on of the account looked 
 deplorable and extraordinary now that Mr. Melchisedec was 
 no longer in a position to run on with it, and it was pre- 
 cisely his doing so which had prevented it from being brought 
 to a summary close long before. Both Barnes, the butcher, 
 and Grossby, the confectioner, confessed that they, too, 
 found it hard ever to say "No" to him, and, speaking 
 broadly, never could.
 
 ABOVE BUTTONS 5 
 
 "Except once," said Barnes, "when he -wanted me to let 
 him have a ox to roast whole out on the common, for the 
 Battle of Waterloo. I stood out against him on that. 
 'No, no,' says I, 'I'll joint him for ye, Mr. Harrington. 
 You shall have him in joints, and eat him at home ; ' — 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 "Just like him!" said Grossby, with true enjoyment of 
 the princely disposition that had dictated the patriotic 
 order. 
 
 "Oh! — there!" Kilne emphasized, pushing out his arm 
 across the bar, as much as to say, that in anything of such 
 a kind, the great Mel never had a rival. 
 
 "That 'Marquis ' affair changed him a bit," said Barnes. 
 
 "Perhaps it did, for a time," said Kilne. "What's in 
 the grain, you know. He couldn't change. He would be 
 a gentleman, and nothing'd stop him." 
 
 "And I shouldn't wonder but what that young chap out 
 in Portugal '11 want to be one, too; though he didn't bid 
 fair to be so fine a man as his father." 
 
 "More of a scholar," remarked Kilne. "That I call his 
 worst fault — shilly-shallying about that young chap. I 
 mean his." Kilne stretched a finger toward the dead man's 
 house. "First, the young chap's to be sent into the Navy; 
 then it's the Army; then he's to be a judge, and sit on 
 criminals; then he goes out to his sister in Portugal; and 
 now there's nothing but a tailor open to him, as I see, if 
 we're to get our money." 
 
 "Ah! and he hasn't got too much spirit to work to pay 
 his father's debts," added Barnes. "There's a business 
 there to make any man's fortune — properly directed, /say. 
 But, I suppose, like father like son, he'll be coming the 
 Marquis, too. He went to a gentleman's school, and he's 
 had foreign training. I don't know what to think about it. 
 His sisters over there — they were fine women." 
 
 "Oh! a fine family, every one of 'em ! and married well ! " 
 exclaimed the publican. 
 
 "I never had the exact rights of that 'Marquis ' affair," 
 said Grossby; and, remembering that he had previously 
 laughed knowingly when it was alluded to, pursued : " Of 
 course I heard of it at the time, but how did he behave 
 when he wa6 blown upon? "
 
 6 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Barnes undertook to explain; but Kilne, who relished 
 the narrative quite as well, and was readier, said : 
 
 "Look here! I'll tell you. I had it from his own mouth 
 one night when he wasn't — not quite himself. He was 
 coming down King William Street, where he stabled his 
 horse, you know, and I met him. He'd been dining out — 
 somewhere out over Fallowfield, I think it was; and he 
 sings out to me, 'Ah! Kilne, my good fellow!' and I, 
 wishing to be equal with him, says, 'A fine night, my 
 lord ! ' and he draws himself up — he smelt of good com- 
 pany — says he, 'Kilne! I'm not a lord, as you know, and 
 you have no excuse for mistaking me for one, sir! ' So I 
 pretended I had mistaken him, and then he tucked his arm 
 under mine, and said, 'You're no worse than your betters, 
 Kilne. They took me for one at Squire Uploft's to-night, 
 but a man who wishes to pass off for more than he is, Kilne, 
 and impose upon people,' he says, 'he's contemptible, Kilne! 
 contemptible ! ' So that, you know, set me thinking about 
 'Bath' and the 'Marquis,' and I couldn't help smiling to 
 myself, and just let slip a question whether he had enlight- 
 ened them a bit. 'Kilne,' said he, 'you're an honest man, 
 and a neighbour, and I'll tell you what happened. The 
 Squire,' he says, 'likes my company, and I like his table. 
 Now the Squire'd never do a dirty action, but the Squire's 
 nephew, Mr. George Uploft, he can't forget that I earn my 
 money, and once or twice I have had to correct him.' And 
 I'll wager Mel did it, too! Well, he goes on: 'There was 
 Admiral Sir Jackson Roseley and his lady, at dinner, Squire 
 Foulke of Hursted, Lady Barrington, Admiral Combleman ' 
 — our admiral, that was; 'Mr. This and That, I forget their 
 names — and other ladies and gentlemen whose acquaintance 
 I was not honoured with.' You know his way of talking. 
 'And there was a goose on the table,' he says; and, looking 
 stern at me, 'Don't laugh yet!' says he, like thunder. 
 Well, he goes on: 'Mr. George caught my eye across the 
 table, and said, so as not to be heard by his uncle, "If that 
 bird was rampant, you would see your own arms, Marquis." ' 
 and Mel replied, quietly for him to hear, 'And as that bird 
 is couchant, Mr. George, you had better look to your sauce.' 
 Conchant means squatting, you know. That's heraldy! 
 Well, that wasn't bad sparring of Mel's. But, bless you!
 
 ABOVE BUTTONS 7 
 
 he was never taken aback, and the gentlefolks was glad 
 enough to get him to sit down amongst 'em. So, says Mr. 
 George, 'I know you're a fire-eater, Marquis,' and his dan- 
 der was up, for he began marquising Mel, and doing the 
 mock-polite at such a rate, that, by-and-by, one of the ladies 
 who didn't know Mel called him 'my lord' and 'his lord- 
 ship.' 'And,' says Mel, 'I merely bowed to her, and took 
 no notice.' So that passed off: and there sits Mel telling 
 his anecdotes, as grand as a king. And, by-and-by, young 
 Mr. George, who hadn't forgiven Mel, and had been pulling 
 at the bottle pretty well, he sings out, 'It's Michaelmas! 
 the death of the goose! and I should like to drink the 
 Marquis's health ! ' and he drank it solemn. But, as far 
 as I can make out, the women part of the company was a 
 little in the dark. So Mel waited till there was a sort of a 
 pause, and then speaks rather loud to the Admiral, 'By the 
 way, Sir Jackson, may I ask you, has the title of Marquis 
 anything to do with tailoring?' Now Mel was a great 
 favourite with the Admiral, and with his lady, too, — they 
 say — and the Admiral played into his hands, you see, and, 
 says he, 'I'm not aware that it has, Mr. Harrington.' And 
 he begged for to know why he asked the question — called 
 him, 'Mister,' you understand. So Mel said, and I can see 
 him now — right out from his chest he spoke, with his head 
 up — ' When I was a younger man, I had the good taste to 
 be fond of good society, and the bad taste to wish to appear 
 different from what I was in it:' — that's Mel speaking; 
 everybody was listening; so he goes on: 'I was in the habit 
 of going to Bath in the season, and consorting with the 
 gentlemen I met there on terms of equality; and for some 
 reason that I am quite guiltless o/,' says Mel, 'the hotel 
 people gave out that I was a Marquis in disguise; and, upon 
 my honour, ladies and gentlemen — I was young then, and 
 a fool — I could not help imagining I looked the thing. At 
 all events, I took upon myself to act the part, and with 
 some success, and considerable gratification; for, in my 
 opinion,' says Mel, 'no real Marquis ever enjoyed his title 
 so much as I did. One day I was in my shop — No. 193, 
 Main Street, Lymport — and a gentleman came in to order 
 his outfit. I received his directions, when suddenly he 
 started back, stared at me, and exclaimed: "My dear Mar-
 
 8 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 quis ! I trust you will pardon me for having addressed you 
 with so much familiarity." I recognized in him one of my 
 Bath acquaintances. That circumstance, ladies and gentle- 
 men, has been a lesson to me. Since that time I have never 
 allowed a false impression with regard to my position to 
 exist. I desire,' says Mel, smiling, 'to have my exact 
 measure taken everywhere; and if the Michaelmas bird is 
 to be associated with me, I am sure I have no objection ; 
 all I can say is, that I cannot justify it by letters patent of 
 nobility.' That's how Mel put it. Do you think they 
 thought worse of him? I warrant you he came out of it 
 in flying colours. Gentlefolks like straightforwardness in 
 their inferiors — that's what they do. Ah!" said Kilne, 
 meditatively, " I see him now, walking across the street in 
 the moonlight, after he'd told me that. A fine figure of a 
 man! and there ain't many Marquises to match him." 
 
 To this Barnes and Grossby, not insensible to the merits 
 of the recital they had just given ear to, agreed. And 
 with a common voice of praise in the mouths of his credi- 
 tors, the dead man's requiem was sounded. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SOX 
 
 Toward evening, a carriage drove up to the door of the 
 muted house, and the card of Lady Roseley, bearing a hurried 
 line in pencil, was handed to the widow. 
 
 It was when you looked upon her that you began to com- 
 prehend how great was the personal splendour of the husband 
 who could eclipse such a woman. Mrs. Harrington was a 
 tall and a stately dame. Dressed in the high waists of the 
 matrons of that period, with a light shawl drawn close over 
 her shoulders and bosom, she carried her head well; and her 
 pale firm features, with the cast of immediate affliction on 
 them, had much dignity : dignity of an unrelenting physi- 
 cal order, which need not express any remarkable pride of 
 spirit. The family gossips who, on both sides, were vain of
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SON 9 
 
 this rare couple, and would always descant on their beauty, 
 even when they had occasion to slander their characters, 
 said, to distinguish them, that Henrietta Maria had a Port, 
 and Melchisedec a Presence : and that the union of a Port 
 and a Presence, and such a Port and such a Presence, was 
 so uncommon, that you might search England through and 
 you would not find another, not even in the highest ranks 
 of society. There lies some subtle distinction here; due 
 to the minute perceptions which compel the gossips of a 
 family to coin phrases that shall express the nicest shades 
 of a domestic difference. By a Port, one may understand 
 them to indicate something unsympathetically impressive; 
 whereas a Presence would seem to be a thing that directs 
 the most affable appeal to our poor human weaknesses. 
 His Majesty King George IV., for instance, possessed a 
 Port: Beau Brummel wielded a Presence. Many, it is 
 true, take a Presence to mean no more than a shirt-frill, and 
 interpret a Port as the art of walking erect. But this is 
 to look upon language too narrowly. 
 
 On a more intimate acquaintance with the couple, you 
 acknowledge the aptness of the fine distinction. By birth 
 Mrs. Harrington had claims to rank as a gentlewoman. 
 That is, her father was a lawyer of Lymport. The lawyer, 
 however, since we must descend the genealogical tree, was 
 known to have married his cook, who was the lady's mother. 
 Now Mr. Melchisedec was mysterious concerning his origin; 
 and, in his cups, talked largely and wisely of a great Welsh 
 family, issuing from a line of princes; and it is certain that 
 he knew enough of their history to have instructed them on 
 particular points of it. He never could think that his wife 
 had done him any honour in espousing him; nor was she 
 the woman to tell him so. She had married him for love, 
 rejecting various suitors, Squire Uploft among them, in his 
 favour. Subsequently she had committed the profound con- 
 nubial error of transferring her affections, or her thoughts, 
 from him to his business, which, indeed, was much in want 
 of a mate; and while he squandered the guineas, she pa- 
 tiently picked up the pence. They had not lived unhappily. 
 He was constantly courteous to her. But to see the Port at 
 that sordid work considerably ruffled the Presence — put, as 
 it were, the peculiar division between them; and to behave
 
 10 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 toward her as the same woman who had attracted his youth- 
 ful ardours was a task for his magnificent mind, and may have 
 ranked with him as an indemnity for his general conduct, 
 if his reflections ever stretched so far. The townspeople of 
 Lymport were correct in saying that his wife, and his wife 
 alone, had, as they termed it, kept him together. Never- 
 theless, now that he was dead, and could no longer be kept 
 together, they entirely forgot their respect for her, in the 
 outburst of their secret admiration for the popular man. 
 Such is the constitution of the inhabitants of this dear 
 Island of Britain, so falsely accused by the Great Napoleon 
 of being a nation of shopkeepers. Here let any one pro- 
 claim himself Above Buttons, and act on the assumption, 
 his fellows with one accord hoist him on their heads, and 
 bear him aloft, sweating, and groaning, and cursing, but 
 proud of him! And if he can contrive, or has any good 
 wife at home to help him, to die without going to the dogs, 
 they are, one may say, unanimous in crying out the same 
 eulogistic funeral oration as that commenced by Kilne, the 
 publican, when he was interrupted by Barnes, the butcher, 
 "Now, there's a man! — " 
 
 Mrs. Harrington was sitting in her parlour with one of her 
 married nieces, Mrs. Fiske, and on reading Lady Roseley's 
 card she gave word for her to be shown up into the drawing- 
 room. It was customary among Mrs. Harrington's female 
 relatives, who one and all abused and adored the great Mel, 
 to attribute his shortcomings pointedly to the ladies ; which 
 was as much as if their jealous generous hearts had said 
 that he was sinful, but that it was not his fault. Mrs. 
 Fiske caught the card from her aunt, read the superscrip- 
 tion, and exclaimed: "The idea! At least she might have 
 had the decency! She never set her foot in the house 
 before — and right enough too! What can she want now? 
 I decidedly would refuse to see her, aunt!" 
 
 The widow's reply was simply, "Don't be a fool, Ann! " 
 
 Rising, she said: "Here, take poor Jacko, and comfort 
 him till I come back." 
 
 Jacko was a middle-sized South American monkey, and 
 had been a pet of her husband's. He was supposed to be 
 mourning now with the rest of the family. Mrs. Fiske
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SON 11 
 
 received him on a shrinking lap, and had found time to 
 correct one of his indiscretions before she could sigh and 
 say, in the rear of her aunt's retreating figure, "I certainly 
 never would let ?nyself down so;" but Mrs. Harrington 
 took her own counsel, and Jacko was of her persuasion, for 
 he quickly released himself from Mrs. Fiske's dispassionate 
 embrace, and was slinging his body up the balusters after 
 his mistress. 
 
 "Mrs. Harrington," said Lady Roseley, very sweetly 
 swimming to meet her as she entered the room, "I have 
 intruded upon you, I fear, in venturing to call upon you at 
 such a time?" 
 
 The widow bowed to her, and begged her to be seated. 
 
 Lady Roseley was an exquisitely silken dame, in whose 
 face a winning smile was cut, and she was still sufficiently 
 youthful not to be accused of wearing a flower too artificial. 
 
 "It was so sudden! so sad!" she continued. "We 
 esteemed him so much. I thought you might be in need of 
 sympathy, and hoped I might — Dear Mrs. Harrington! 
 can you bear to speak of it ? " 
 
 " I can tell you anything you wish to hear, my lady," the 
 widow replied. 
 
 Lady Roseley had expected to meet a woman much more 
 like what she conceived a tradesman's wife would be : and 
 the grave reception of her proffer of sympathy slightly con- 
 fused her. She said : 
 
 "I should not have come, at least not so early, but Sir 
 Jackson, my husband, thought, and indeed I imagined — 
 You have a son, Mrs. Harrington? I think his name is — " 
 
 "Evan, my lady." 
 
 "Evan. It was of him we have been speaking. I 
 imagined — that is, we thought, Sir Jackson might — you 
 will be writing to him, and will let him know we will use 
 our best efforts to assist him in obtaining some position 
 worthy of his — superior to — something that will secure 
 him from the harassing embarrassments of an uncongenial 
 employment." 
 
 The widow listened to this tender allusion to the shears 
 without a smile of gratitude. She replied: "I hope my 
 son will return in time to bury his father, and he will 
 thank you himself, my lady."
 
 12 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " He has no taste for — a — for anything in the shape of 
 trade has he, Mrs. Harrington?" 
 
 "I am afraid not, my lady." 
 
 "Any position — a situation — that of a clerk even — 
 would be so much better for him!" 
 
 The widow remained impassive. 
 
 "And many young gentlemen I know, who are clerks, 
 and are enabled to live comfortably, and make a modest 
 appearance in society; and your son, Mrs. Harrington, he 
 would find it surely an improvement upon — many would 
 think it a step for him." 
 
 " I am bound to thank you for the interest you take in 
 my son, my lady." 
 
 "Does it not quite suit your views, Mrs. Harrington?" 
 Lady Roseley was surprised at the widow's manner. 
 
 "If my son had only to think of himself, my lady." 
 
 "Oh! but of course," — the lady understood her now — 
 "of course! You cannot suppose, Mrs. Harrington, but 
 that I should anticipate he would have you to live with him, 
 and behave to you in every way as a dutiful son, surely?" 
 
 " A clerk's income is not very large, my lady." 
 
 " No ; but enough, as I have said, and with the manage- 
 ment you would bring, Mrs. Harrington, to produce a modest, 
 respectable maintenance. My respect for your husband, 
 Mrs. Harrington, makes me anxious to press my services 
 upon you." Lady Roseley could not avoid feeling hurt at 
 the widow's want of common gratitude. 
 
 " A clerk's income would not be more than 1001. a year, 
 my lady." 
 
 " To begin with — no ; certainly not more." The lady was 
 growing brief. 
 
 " If my son puts by the half of that yearly, he can hardly 
 support himself and his mother, my lady." 
 
 " Half of that yearly, Mrs. Harrington ? " 
 
 "He would have to do so, and be saddled till he dies, 
 my lady." 
 
 "I really cannot see why." 
 
 Lady Roseley had a notion of some excessive niggardly 
 thrift in the widow, which was arousing symptoms of disgust. 
 
 Mrs. Harrington quietly said: "There are his father's 
 debts to pay, my lady."
 
 THE HERITAGE OP THE SON 13 
 
 tt His father's debts ! n 
 
 " Under 5000Z., but above 4000Z., my lady." 
 
 " Five thousand pounds ! Mrs. Harrington ! " The lady's 
 delicately gloved hand gently rose and fell. "And this 
 poor young man — " she pursued. 
 
 " My son will have to pay it, my lady." 
 
 For a moment the lady had not a word to instance. Pres- 
 ently she remarked: "But, Mrs. Harrington, he is surely 
 under no legal obligation ? " 
 
 " He is only under the obligation not to cast disrespect 
 on his father's memory, my lady ; and to be honest, while 
 he can." 
 
 " But, Mrs. Harrington ! surely ! what can the poor young 
 man do ? " 
 
 " He will pay it, my lady." 
 
 " But how, Mrs. Harrington ? " 
 
 " There is his father's business, my lady." 
 
 His father's business ! Then must the young man become 
 a tradesman in order to show respect for his father ? Pre- 
 posterous ! That was the lady's natural inward exclamation. 
 She said, rather shrewdly, for one who knew nothing of 
 such things : " But a business which produces debts so 
 enormous, Mrs. Harrington ! " 
 
 The widow replied : " My son will have to conduct it in a 
 different way. It would be a very good business, conducted 
 properly, my lady." 
 
 " But if he has no taste for it, Mrs. Harrington ? If he 
 is altogether superior to it ? " 
 
 For the first time during the interview, the widow's in- 
 flexible countenance was mildly moved, though not to any 
 mild expression. 
 
 "My son will have not to consult his tastes," she ob- 
 served : and seeing the lady, after a short silence, quit her 
 seat, she rose likewise, and touched the fingers of the hand 
 held forth to her, bowing. 
 
 "You will pardon the interest I take in your son," said 
 Lady Roseley. "I hope, indeed, that his relatives and 
 friends will procure him the means of satisfying the de- 
 mands made upon him." 
 
 "He would still have to pay them, my lady," was the 
 widow's answer.
 
 14 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Poor young man ! indeed I pity him ! " sighed her visi- 
 tor. " You have hitherto used no efforts to persuade him 
 to take such a step, Mrs. Harrington ? " 
 
 "I have written to Mr. Goren, who was my husband's 
 fellow-apprentice in London, my lady ; and he is willing 
 to instruct him in cutting, and measuring, and keeping 
 accounts." 
 
 Certain words in this speech were obnoxious to the fine 
 ear of Lady Roseley, and she relinquished the subject. 
 
 "Your husband, Mrs. Harrington — I should so much 
 have wished ! — he did not pass away in — in pain ! " 
 
 " He died very calmly, my lady." 
 
 " It is so terrible, so disfiguring, sometimes. One dreads 
 to see ! — one can hardly distinguish ! I have known cases 
 where death was dreadful ! But a peaceful death is very 
 beautiful ! There is nothing shocking to the mind. It 
 suggests heaven ! It seems a fulfilment of our prayers ! " 
 
 " Would your ladyship like to look upon him ? " said the 
 widow. 
 
 Lady Roseley betrayed a sudden gleam at having her 
 desire thus intuitively fathomed. 
 
 " For one moment, Mrs. Harrington ! We esteemed him 
 so much ! May I ? " 
 
 The widow responded by opening the door, and leading 
 her into the chamber where the dead man lay. 
 
 At that period, when threats of invasion had formerly 
 stirred up the military fire of us Islanders, the great Mel, as if 
 to show the great Napoleon what character of being a British 
 shopkeeper really was, had, by remarkable favour, obtained 
 a lieutenancy of militia dragoons : in the uniform of which 
 he had revelled, and perhaps, for the only time in his life, felt 
 that circumstances had suited him with a perfect fit. How- 
 ever that may be, his solemn final commands to his wife, 
 Henrietta Maria, on whom he could count for absolute 
 obedience in such matters, had been, that as soon as the 
 breath had left his body, he should be taken from his bed, 
 washed, perfumed, powdered, and in that uniform dressed 
 and laid out ; with directions that he should be so buried at 
 1 he expiration of three days, that havoc in his features might 
 be hidden from men. In this array Lady Roseley beheld him.
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SON 15 
 
 The curtains of the bed were drawn aside. The beams of 
 evening fell soft through the blinds of the room, and cast a 
 subdued light on the figure of the vanquished warrior. The 
 Presence, dumb now for evermore, was sadly illumined for 
 its last exhibition. But one who looked closely might have 
 seen that Time had somewhat spoiled that perfect fit which 
 had aforetime been his pride ; and now that the lofty spirit 
 had departed, there had been extreme difficulty in persuading 
 the sullen excess of clay to conform to the dimensions of those 
 garments. The upper part of the chest alone would bear its 
 buttons, and across one portion of the lower limbs an ancient 
 seam had started ; recalling an incident to them who had 
 known him in his brief hour of glory. For one night, as he 
 was riding home from Fallowfield, and just entering the gates 
 of the town, a mounted trooper spurred furiously past, and 
 slashing out at him, gashed his thigh. Mrs. Melchisedec 
 found him lying at his door in a not unwonted way ; carried 
 him up-stairs in her arms, as she had done many a time be- 
 fore, and did not perceive his condition till she saw the blood 
 on her gown. The cowardly assailant was never discovered ; 
 but Mel was both gallant and had, in his military career, the 
 reputation of being a martinet. Hence, divers causes were 
 suspected. The wound failed not to mend, the trousers were 
 repaired: Peace about the same time was made, and the 
 affair passed over. 
 
 Looking on the fine head and face, Lady Roseley saw 
 nothing of this. She had not looked long before she found 
 covert employment for her handkerchief. The widow stand- 
 ing beside her did not weep, or reply to her whispered excuses 
 at emotion ; gazing down on his mortal length with a sort of 
 benignant friendliness ; aloof, as one whose duties to that 
 form of flesh were well-nigh done. At the feet of his master, 
 Jacko, the monkey, had jumped up, and was there squatted, 
 with his legs crossed, very like a tailor ! The imitative wretch 
 had got a towel, and as often as Lady Roseley's handkerchief 
 travelled to her eyes, Jacko's peery face was hidden, and you 
 saw his lithe skinny body doing grief 's convulsions : till, 
 tired of this amusement, he obtained possession of the war- 
 rior's helmet, from a small round table on one side of the 
 bed ; a casque of the barbarous military-Georgian form, with 
 a huge knob of horse-hair projecting over the peak; and
 
 16 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 under this, trying to adapt it to his rogue's head, the tricksy 
 image of Death extinguished himself. 
 
 All was very silent in the room. Then the widow quietly 
 disengaged Jacko, and taking him up, went to the door, and 
 deposited him outside. During her momentary absence, 
 Lady Eoseley had time to touch the dead man's forehead 
 with her lips, unseen. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF THE SHEARS 
 
 Three daughters and a son were left to the world by 
 Mr. Melchisedec. Love, well endowed, had already claimed 
 to provide for the daughters : first in the shape of a lean 
 Marine subaltern, whose days of obscuration had now passed, 
 and who had come to be a major of that corps : secondly, 
 presenting his addresses as a brewer of distinction: thirdly, 
 and for a climax, as a Portuguese Count : no other than the 
 Sefior Silva Diaz, Conde de Saldar : and this match did seem 
 a far more resplendent one than that of the two elder sisters 
 with Major Strike and Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. But the rays 
 of neither fell visibly on Lymport. These escaped Eurydices 
 never reappeared, after being once fairly caught away from 
 the gloomy realms of Dis, otherwise Trade. All three per- 
 sons of singular beauty, a certain refinement, some Port, and 
 some Presence, hereditarily combined, they feared the clutch 
 of that fell king, and performed the widest possible circles 
 around him. Not one of them ever approached the house 
 of her parents. They were dutiful and loving children, and 
 wrote frequently ; but of course they had to consider their 
 new position, and their husbands, and their husbands' fami- 
 lies, and the world, and what it would say, if to it the 
 dreaded rumour should penetrate ! Lymport gossips, as nu- 
 merous as in other parts, declared that the foreign nobleman 
 would rave in an extraordinary manner, and do things after 
 the outlandish fashion of his country: for from him, there 
 was no doubt, the shop had been most successfully veiled, and 
 he knew not of Pluto's close relationship to his lovely spouse.
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF THE SHEARS 17 
 
 The marriages had happened in this way. Balls are given 
 in country towns, where the graces of tradesmen's daughters 
 may be witnessed and admired at leisure by other than 
 tradesmen: by occasional country gentlemen of the neigh- 
 bourhood, with light minds: and also by small officers; 
 subalterns wishing to do tender execution upon man's fair 
 enemy, and to find a distraction for their legs. The classes 
 of our social fabric have, here and there, slight connecting 
 links, and provincial public balls are one of these. They are 
 dangerous, for Cupid is no respecter of class-prejudice ; and 
 if you are the son of a retired tea-merchant, or of a village 
 doctor, or of a half-pay captain, or of anything superior, and 
 visit one of them, you are as likely to receive his shot as any 
 shopboy. Even masquerading lords at such places, have 
 been known to be slain outright; and although Society 
 allows to its highest and dearest to save the honour of their 
 families, and heal their anguish, by indecorous compromise, 
 you, if you are a trifle below that mark, must not expect it. 
 You must absolutely give yourself for what you hope to get. 
 Dreadful as it sounds to philosophic ears, you must marry. 
 This, having danced with Caroline Harrington, the gallant 
 Lieutenant Strike determined to do. Nor, when he became 
 aware of her father's occupation, did he shrink from his 
 resolve. After a month's hard courtship, he married her 
 straight out of her father's house. That he may have all 
 the credit due to him, it must be admitted that he did not 
 once compare, or possibly permit himself to reflect on, the 
 dissimilarity in their respective ranks, and the step he had 
 taken downward, till they were man and wife : and then not 
 in any great degree, before Fortune had given him his major- 
 ity ; an advance the good soldier frankly told his wife he did 
 not owe to her. If we may be permitted to suppose the 
 colonel of a regiment on friendly terms with one of his 
 corporals, we have an estimate of the domestic life of Major 
 and Mrs. Strike. Among the garrison males, his comrades, 
 he passed for a disgustingly jealous brute. The ladies, in 
 their pretty language, signalized him as a " finick." 
 
 Now, having achieved so capital a marriage, Caroline, 
 worthy creature, was anxious that her sisters should not be 
 less happy, and would have them to visit her, in spite of her 
 husband's protests.
 
 18 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " There can be no danger," she said, for she was in fresh 
 quarters, far from the nest of contagion. The lieutenant 
 himself ungrudgingly declared that, looking on the ladies, no 
 one for an instant could suspect ; and he saw many young 
 fellows ready to be as great fools as he had been : another 
 voluntary confession he made to his wife ; for the candour 
 of which she thanked him, and pointed out that it seemed 
 to run in the family ; inasmuch as Mr. Andrew Cogglesby, 
 his rich relative, had seen and had proposed for Harriet. 
 The lieutenant flatly said he would never allow it. In fact 
 he had hitherto concealed the non-presentable portion of his 
 folly very satisfactorily from all save the mess-room, and 
 Mr. Andrew's passion was a severe dilemma to him. It need 
 scarcely be told that his wife, fortified by the fervid brewer, 
 defeated him utterly. What was more, she induced him to 
 be an accomplice in deception. For though the lieutenant 
 protested that he washed his hands of it, and that it was a 
 fraud and a snare, he certainly did not avow the condition 
 of his wife's parents to Mr. Andrew, but alluded to them in 
 passing as " the country people." He supposed " the country 
 people " must be asked, he said. The brewer offered to go 
 down to them. But the lieutenant drew an unpleasant pict- 
 ure of the country people, and his wife became so grave at 
 the proposal, that Mr. Andrew said he wanted to marry 
 the lady and not the " country people," and if she would 
 have him, there he was. There he was, behaving with a 
 particular and sagacious kindness to the raw lieutenant 
 since Harriet's arrival. If the lieutenant sent her away, 
 Mr. Andrew would infallibly pursue her, and light on a 
 discovery. Twice cursed by Love, twice the victim of 
 tailordom, our excellent Marine gave away Harriet Harring- 
 ton in marriage to Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. 
 
 Thus Joy clapped hands a second time, and Horror deep- 
 ened its shadows. 
 
 From higher ground it was natural that the remaining 
 sister should take a bolder flight. Of the loves of the fair 
 Louisa Harrington and the foreign Count, and how she first 
 encountered him in the brewer's saloons, and how she, being 
 a humorous person, laughed at his " loaf " for hex*, and wore 
 the colours that pleased him, and kindled and soothed his 
 jealousy, little is known beyond the fact that she espoused
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF THE SHEARS 19 
 
 the Count, under the auspices of the affluent brewer, and 
 engaged that her children should be brought up in the faith 
 of the Catholic Church : which Lymport gossips called, pay- 
 ing the Devil for her pride. 
 
 The three sisters, gloriously rescued by their own charms, 
 had now to think of their one young brother. How to make 
 him a gentleman ! That was their problem. Preserve him 
 from tailordom — from all contact with trade — they must ; 
 otherwise they would be perpetually linked to the horrid 
 thing they hoped to outlive and bury. A cousin of Mr. 
 Melchisedec's had risen to be an Admiral and a knight for 
 valiant action in the old war, when men could rise. Him 
 they besought to take charge of the youth, and make a dis- 
 tinguished seaman of him. He courteously declined. They 
 then attacked the married Marine — Navy or Army being 
 quite indifferent to them as long as they could win for their 
 brother the badge of one Service, " When he is a gentleman 
 at once ! " they said, like those who see the end of their 
 labours. Strike basely pretended to second them. It would 
 have been delightful to him, of course, to have the tailor's 
 son messing at the same table, and claiming him when he 
 pleased with a familiar "Ah, brother ! " and prating of their 
 relationship everywhere. Strike had been a fool: in re- 
 venge for it he laid out for himself a masterly career of 
 consequent wisdom. The brewer — uxorious Andrew Cog- 
 glesby — might and would have bought the commission. 
 Strike laughed at the idea of giving money for what could 
 be got for nothing. He told them to wait. 
 
 In the meantime Evan, a lad of seventeen, spent the hours 
 not devoted to his positive profession — that of gentleman — 
 in the offices of the brewery, toying with big books and 
 balances, which he despised with the combined zeal of the 
 sucking soldier and emancipated tailor. 
 
 Two years passed in attendance on the astute brother-in- 
 law, to whom Fortune now beckoned to come to her and 
 gather his laurels from the pig-tails. About the same time 
 the Countess sailed over from Lisbon on a visit to her sister 
 Harriet (in reality, it was whispered in the Cogglesby 
 saloons, on a diplomatic mission from the Court of Lisbon ; 
 but that could not be made ostensible). The Countess nar- 
 rowly examined Evan, whose steady advance in his profes- 
 sion both her sisters praised.
 
 20 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Yes," said the Countess, in a languid alien accent. 
 "He has something of his father's carriage — something. 
 Something of his delivery — his readiness." 
 
 It was a remarkable thing that these ladies thought no 
 man on earth like their father, and always cited him as the 
 example of a perfect gentleman, and yet they buried him 
 with one mind, and each mounted guard over his sepulchre, 
 to secure his ghost from an airing. 
 
 "He can walk, my dears, certainly, and talk — a little. 
 Tete-a-tete, I do not say. I should think there he would be 
 — a stick ! All you English are. But what sort of a bow 
 has he got, I ask you ? How does he enter a room ? And, 
 then his smile! his laugh! He laughs like a horse — abso- 
 lutely ! There's no music in his smile. Oh ! you should 
 see a Portuguese nobleman smile. mio Deus! honeyed, 
 my dears! But Evan has it not. None of you English 
 have. You go so." 
 
 The Countess pressed a thumb and finger to the sides of 
 her mouth, and set her sisters laughing. 
 
 " I assure you, no better ! not a bit ! I faint in your 
 society. I ask myself — Where am I ? Among what boors 
 have I fallen ? But Evan is no worse than the rest of you ; 
 I acknowledge that. If he knew how to dress his shoulders 
 properly, and to direct his eyes — Oh ! the eyes ! you should 
 see how a Portuguese nobleman can use his eyes ! Soul ! 
 my dears, soul ! Can any of you look the unutterable with- 
 out being absurd ! You look so." 
 
 And the Countess hung her jaw under heavily vacuous 
 orbits, something as a sheep might yawn. 
 
 " But I acknowledge that Evan is no worse than the rest 
 of you," she repeated. "If he understood at all the man- 
 agement of his eyes and mouth ! But that's what he cannot 
 possibly learn in England — not possibly ! As for your poor 
 husband, Harriet ! one really has to remember his excellent 
 qualities to forgive him, poor man ! And that stiff bandbox 
 of a man of yours, Caroline!" addressing the wife of the 
 Marine, " he looks as if he were all angles and sections, and 
 were taken to pieces every night and put together in the 
 morning. He may be a good soldier — good anything you 
 will — but, Diacho! to be married to that! He is not civil- 
 ized. None of you English are. You have no place in the
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OP THE SHEARS 21 
 
 drawing-room. You are like so many intrusive oxen — ab- 
 solutely ! One of your men trod on my toe the other night, 
 and what do you think the creature did ? Jerks back, then 
 the half of him forward — I thought he was going to break 
 in two — then grins, and grunts, 'Oh! 'm sure, beg par- 
 don, 'm sure ! ' I don't know whether he didn't say, marm ! " 
 
 The Countess lifted her hands, and ieil away in laughing 
 horror. When her humour, or her feelings generally, were 
 a little excited, she spoke her vernacular as her sisters 
 did, but immediately subsided into the deliberate delicately 
 syllabled drawl. 
 
 " Now that happened to me once at one of our great Balls," 
 she pursued. "I had on one side of me the Duchesse 
 Eugenia de Formosa de Fontandigua ; on the other sat the 
 Countess de Pel, a widow. And we were talking of the ices 
 that evening. Eugenia, you must know, my dears, was in 
 love with the Count Belmarana. I was her sole confidante. 
 The Countess de Pel — a horrible creature! Oh! she was 
 the Duchess's determined enemy — would have stabbed her 
 for Belmarana, one of the most beautiful men ! Adored by 
 every woman ! So we talked ices, Eugenia and myself, quite 
 comfortably, and that horrible De Pel had no idea in life ! 
 Eugenia had just said, ' This ice sickens me ! I do not taste 
 the flavour of the vanille.' I answered, ' It is here ! It 
 must — it cannot but be here ! You love the flavour of the 
 vanille ? ' With her exquisite smile, I see her now saying, 
 ' Too well ! it is necessary to me ! I live on it ! ' — when up 
 he came. In his eagerness, his foot just effleured my robe. 
 Oh ! I never shall forget ! In an instant he was down on 
 one knee: it was so momentary that none saw it but we 
 three, and done with ineffable grace. 'Pardon!' he said, in 
 his sweet Portuguese; 'Pardon!' looking up — the hand- 
 somest man I ever beheld ; and when I think of that odious 
 wretch the other night, with his ' Oh ! 'm sure, beg pardon, 
 'm sure ! — 'pon my honour ! ' I could have kicked him — I 
 could, indeed ! " 
 
 Here the Countess laughed out, but relapsed into : 
 _ " Alas ! that Belmarana should have betrayed that beau- 
 tiful trusting creature to De Pel. Such scandal! — a duel! 
 — the Duke was wounded. For a whole year Eugenia did 
 not dare to appear at Court, but had to remain immured
 
 22 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 in her country-house, where she heard that Belmarana had 
 married De Pel ! It was for her money, of course. Rich 
 as Croesus, and as wicked as the black man below ! as dear 
 papa used to say. By the way, weren't we talking of Evan ? 
 Ah, — yes !" 
 
 And so forth. The Countess was immensely admired, and 
 though her sisters said that she was " f oreignized " over- 
 much, they clung to her desperately. She seemed so entirely 
 to have eclipsed tailordom, or " Demogorgon," as the Countess 
 was pleased to call it. Who could suppose this grand- 
 mannered lady, with her coroneted anecdotes and delicious 
 breeding, the daughter of that thing ? It was not possible 
 to suppose it. It seemed to defy the fact itself. 
 
 They congratulated her on her complete escape from 
 Demogorgon. The Countess smiled on them with a lovely 
 sorrow. 
 
 " Safe from the whisper, my dears ; the ceaseless dread ? 
 If you knew what I have to endure ! I sometimes envy you. 
 'Pon my honour, I sometimes wish I had married a fish- 
 monger ! Silva, indeed, is a most excellent husband. 
 Polished ! such polish as you know not of in England. He 
 has a way — a wriggle with his shoulders in company — I 
 cannot describe it to you ; so slight ! so elegant ! and he is 
 all that a woman could desire. But who could be safe in 
 any part of the earth, my dears, while papa will go about 
 so, and behave so extraordinarily ? I was at dinner at your 
 English embassy a month ago, and there was Admiral Com- 
 bleman, then on the station off Lisbon, Sir Jackson Roseley's 
 friend, who was the Admiral at Lymport formerly. I knew 
 him at once, and thought, oh ! what shall I do ! My heart 
 was like a lump of lead. I would have given worlds that 
 we might one of us have smothered the other ! I had to sit 
 beside him — it always happens ! Thank heaven ! he did 
 not identify me. And then he told an anecdote of Papa. 
 It was the dreadful old ' Bath ' story. I thought I should 
 have died. I could not but fancy the Admiral suspected. 
 Was it not natural ? And what do you think I had the 
 audacity to do ? I asked him coolly, whether the Mr. Har- 
 rington he mentioned was not the son of Sir Abraham 
 Harrington, of Torquay, — the gentleman who lost his yacht 
 in the Lisbon waters last year? I brought it on myself.
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OP THE SHEARS 23 
 
 ' Gentleman, ma'am, — Ma'am!' says the horrid old creature, 
 
 laughing, — ' gentleman ! he's a ' I cannot speak it : I 
 
 choke ! And then he began praising Papa. Diacho ! what 
 I suffered. But, you know, I can keep my countenance, if I 
 perish. I am a Harrington as much as any of us ! " 
 
 And the Countess looked superb in the pride with which 
 she said she was what she would have given her hand not 
 to be. But few feelings are single on this globe, and junc- 
 tion of sentiments need not imply unity in our yeasty 
 compositions. 
 
 "After it was over — my supplice," continued the Count- 
 ess, "I was questioned by all the ladies — I mean our ladies 
 — not your English. They wanted to know how I could be 
 so civil to that intolerable man. I gained a deal of credit, 
 my dears. I laid it all on — Diplomacy." The Countess 
 laughed bitterly. " Diplomacy bears the burden of it all. 
 I pretended that Combleman could be useful to Silva ! Oh ! 
 what hypocrites we all are, mio Deus ! " 
 
 The ladies listening could not gainsay this favourite claim 
 of universal brotherhood among the select who wear masks 
 instead of faces. 
 
 With regard to Evan, the Countess had far outstripped her 
 sisters in her views. A gentleman she had discovered must 
 have one of two things — a title or money. He might have 
 all the breeding in the world ; he might be as good as an 
 angel ; but without a title or money he was under eclipse 
 almost total. On a gentleman the sun must shine. Now, 
 Evan had no title, no money. The clouds were thick above 
 the youth. To gain a title he would have to scale aged 
 mountains. There was one break in his firmament through 
 which the radiant luminary might be assisted to cast its 
 beams on him still young. That divine portal was matri- 
 mony. If he could but make a rich marriage he would 
 blaze transfigured ; all would be well ! And why should not 
 Evan marry an heiress, as well as another ? 
 
 " I know a young creature who would exactly suit him," 
 said the Countess. " She is related to the embassy, and is 
 in Lisbon now. A charming child — just sixteen ! Dios ! 
 how the men rave about her ! and she isn't a beauty, — 
 there's the wonder ; and she is a little too gauche — too
 
 24 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 English in her habits and ways of thinking; likes to be 
 admired, of course, but doesn't know yet how to set about 
 getting it. She rather scandalizes our ladies, but when you 
 
 know her ! She will have, they say, a hundred thousand 
 
 pounds in her own right ! Rose Jocelyn, the daughter of 
 Sir Franks, and that eccentric Lady Jocelyn. She is with 
 her uncle, Melville, the celebrated diplomate — though, to 
 tell you the truth, we turn him round our fingers, and spin 
 him as the boys used to do the cockchafers. I cannot forget 
 our old Fallowfield school-life, you see, my dears. Well, 
 Rose Jocelyn would just suit Evan. She is just of an age 
 to receive an impression. And I would take care she did. 
 Instance me a case where I have failed ? 
 
 " Or there is the Portuguese widow, the Rostral. She's 
 thirty, certainly; but she possesses millions! Estates all 
 over the kingdom, and the sweetest creature. But, no. Evan 
 would be out of the way there, certainly. But — our women 
 are very nice : they have the dearest, sweetest ways : but I 
 would rather Evan did not marry one of them. And then 
 there's the religion ! " 
 
 This was a sore of the Countess's own, and she dropped a 
 tear in coming across it. 
 
 " No, my dears, it shall be Rose Jocelyn ! " she concluded : 
 " I will take Evan over with me, and see that he has oppor- 
 tunities. It shall be Rose, and then I can call her mine ; 
 for in verity I love the child." 
 
 It is not my part to dispute the Countess's love for Miss 
 Jocelyn ; and I have only to add that Evan, unaware of the 
 soft training he was to undergo, and the brilliant chance in 
 store for him, offered no impediment to the proposition that 
 he should journey to Portugal with his sister (whose subtlest 
 flattery was to tell him that she should not be ashamed to 
 own him there); and ultimately, furnished with cash for 
 the trip by the remonstrating brewer, went. 
 
 So these Parcae, daughters of the shears, arranged and 
 settled the young man's fate. His task was to learn the 
 management of his mouth, how to dress his shoulders prop- 
 erly, and to direct his eyes — rare qualities in man or 
 woman, I assure you; the management of the^ mouth being 
 especially admirable, and correspondingly difficult. These 
 achieved, he was to place his battery in position, and win 
 the heart and hand of an heiress.
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 25 
 
 Our comedy opens with his return from Portugal, in com- 
 pany with Miss Rose, the heiress ; the Honourable Melville 
 Jocelyn, the diplomate; and the Count and Countess de 
 Saldar, refugees out of that explosive little kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 
 
 From the Tagus to the Thames the Government sloop-of- 
 war, Jocasta, had made a prosperous voyage, bearing that 
 precious freight, a removed diplomatist and his family ; for 
 whose uses let a sufficient vindication be found in the exer- 
 cise he affords our crews in the science of seamanship. 
 She entered our noble river somewhat early on a fine July 
 morning. Early as it was, two young people, who had 
 nothing to do with the trimming or guiding of the vessel, 
 stood on deck, and watched the double-shore, beginning to 
 embrace them more and more closely as they sailed onward. 
 One, a young lady, very young in manner, wore a black felt 
 hat with a floating scarlet feather, and was clad about the 
 shoulders in a mantle of foreign style and pattern. The other 
 you might have taken for a wandering Don, were such an 
 object ever known ; so simply he assumed the dusky som- 
 brero and dangling cloak, of which one fold was flung across 
 his breast and drooped behind him. The line of an ado- 
 lescent dark moustache ran along his lip, and only at inter- 
 vals could you see that his eyes were blue and of the land 
 he was nearing. For the youth was meditative, and held 
 his head much down. The young lady, on the contrary, 
 permitted an open inspection of her countenance, and 
 seemed, for the moment at least, to be neither caring nor 
 thinking of what kind of judgement would be passed on 
 her. Her pretty nose was up, sniffing the still salt breeze 
 with vivacious delight. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, clapping her hands, " there goes a dear 
 old English gull ! How I have wished to see him ! I haven't 
 seen one for two years and seven months. When I'm at
 
 26 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 home, I'll leave my window open all night, just to hear the 
 rooks, when they wake in the morning. There goes another." 
 
 She tossed up her nose again, exclaiming : 
 
 " I'm sure I smell England nearer and nearer ! I smell 
 the fields, and the cows in them. I'd have given anything 
 to be a dairy-maid for half an hour ! I used to lie and pant 
 in that stifling air among those stupid people, and wonder 
 why anybody ever left England. Aren't you glad to come 
 back?" 
 
 This time the fair speaker lent her eyes to the question, 
 and shut her lips ; sweet, cold, chaste lips she had : a mouth 
 that had not yet dreamed of kisses, and most honest eyes. 
 
 The young man felt that they were not to be satisfied by 
 his own, and after seeking to fill them with a doleful look, 
 which was immediately succeeded by one of superhuman 
 indifference, he answered : 
 
 "Yes! We shall soon have to part!" and commenced 
 tapping with his foot the cheerful martyr's march. 
 
 Speech that has to be hauled from the depths usually 
 betrays the effort. Listening an instant to catch the import 
 of this cavernous gasp upon the brink of sound, the girl 
 said: 
 
 " Part ? what do you mean ? " 
 
 Apparently it required a yet vaster effort to pronounce an 
 explanation. The doleful look, the superhuman indiffer- 
 ence, were repeated in due order: sound, a little more 
 distinct, uttered the words : 
 
 " We cannot be as we have been, in England ! " and then 
 the cheerful martyr took a few steps farther. 
 
 " Why, you don't mean to say you're going to give me up, 
 and not be friends with me, because we've come back to 
 England ? " cried the girl in a rapid breath, eyeing him 
 seriously. 
 
 Most conscientiously he did not mean it ! but he replied 
 with the quietest negative. 
 
 "No ?" she mimicked him. " Why do you say 'No' like 
 that? Why are you so mysterious, Evan? Won't you 
 promise me to come and stop with us for weeks ? Haven't 
 you said we would ride, and hunt, and fish together, and 
 read books, and do all sorts of things?" 
 
 He replied with the quietest affirmative.
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 27 
 
 " Yes ? What does ' Yes ! ' mean ? " She lifted her chest 
 to shake out the dead-alive monosyllable, as he had done. 
 "Why are you so singular this morning, Evan? Have I 
 offended you ? You are so touchy ! " 
 
 The slur on his reputation for sensitiveness induced the 
 young man to attempt being more explicit. 
 
 " I mean," he said, hesitating ; " why, we must part. We 
 shall not see each other every day. Nothing more than 
 that." And away went the cheerful martyr in sublimest 
 mood. 
 
 " Oh ! and that makes you sorry ? " A shade of archness 
 was in her voice. 
 
 The girl waited as if to collect something in her mind, 
 and was now a patronizing woman. 
 
 " Why, you dear sentimental boy ! You don't suppose we 
 could see each other every day for ever ?" 
 
 It was perhaps the cruelest question that could have been 
 addressed to the sentimental boy from her mouth. But he 
 was a cheerful martyr ! 
 
 " You dear Don Doloroso ! " she resumed. " I declare if 
 you are not just like those young Portugals this morning; 
 and over there you were such a dear English fellow; and 
 that's why I liked you so much ! Do change ! Do, please, 
 be lively, and yourself again. Or mind ; I'll call you Don 
 Doloroso, and that shall be your name in England. See 
 there ! — that's — that's ? — what's the name of that place ? 
 Hoy ! Mr. Skerne ! " She hailed the boatswain, passing, 
 "Do tell me the name of that place." 
 
 Mr. Skerne righted about to satisfy her minutely, and 
 then coming up to Evan, he touched his hat, and said : 
 
 "I mayn't have another opportunity — we shall be busy 
 up there — of thankin' you again, sir, for what you did for 
 my poor drunken brother Bill, and you may take my word I 
 won't forget it, sir, if he does ; and I suppose he'll be drown- 
 ing his memory just as he was near drowning himself." 
 
 Evan muttered something, grimaced civilly, and turned 
 away. The girl's observant brows were moved to a faintly 
 critical frown, and nodding intelligently to the boatswain's 
 remark, that the young gentleman did not seem quite him- 
 self, now that he was nearing home, she went up to Evan, 
 and said:
 
 28 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "I'm going to give you a lesson in manners, to be quits 
 with you. Listen, sir. Why did you turn away so un- 
 graciously from Mr. Skerne, while he was thanking you for 
 having saved his brother's life ? Now there's where you're 
 too English. Can't you bear to be thanked ? " 
 
 " I don't want to be thanked because I can swim," said 
 Evan. 
 
 " But it is not that. Oh, how you trifle ! " she cried. 
 " There's nothing vexes me so much as that way you have. 
 Wouldn't my eyes have sparkled if anybody had come up to 
 me to thank me for such a thing ? I would let them know 
 how glad I was to have done such a thing! Doesn't it 
 make them happier, dear Evan?" 
 
 " My dear Miss Jocelyn ! " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 The honest grey eyes fixed on him, narrowed their en- 
 larged lids. She gazed before her on the deck, saying: 
 
 " I'm sure I can't understand you. I suppose it's because 
 I'm a girl, and I never shall till I'm a woman. Heigho ! " 
 
 A youth who is engaged in the occupation of eating his 
 heart, cannot shine to advantage, and is as much a burden 
 to himself as he is an enigma to others. Evan felt this ; 
 but he could do nothing and say nothing; so he retired 
 deeper into the folds of the Don, and remained picturesque 
 and scarcely pleasant. 
 
 They were relieved by a summons to breakfast from 
 below. 
 
 She brightened and laughed. " Now, what will you wager 
 me, Evan, that the Countess doesn't begin : ' Sweet child ! 
 how does she this morning ? blooming ? ' when she kisses 
 me ? " 
 
 Her capital imitation of his sister's manner constrained 
 him to join in her laugh, and he said: 
 
 "I'll back against that, I get three fingers from your 
 uncle, and 'Morrow, young sir!'" 
 
 Down they ran together, laughing ; and, sure enough, the 
 identical words of the respective greetings were employed, 
 which they had to enjoy with all the discretion they could 
 muster. 
 
 Rose went round the table to her little cousin Alec, 
 aged seven, kissed his reluctant cheek, and sat beside him,
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 29 
 
 announcing a sea appetite and great capabilities, while Evan 
 silently broke bread. The Count de Saldar, a diminutive 
 tawny man, just a head and neck above the tablecloth, sat 
 sipping chocolate and fingering dry toast, which he would 
 now and then dip in jelly, and suck with placidity, in the 
 intervals of a curt exchange of French with the wife of the 
 Hon. Melville, a ringleted English lady, or of Portuguese 
 with the Countess, who likewise sipped chocolate and 
 fingered dry toast, and was mournfully melodious. The 
 Hon. Melville, as became a tall islander, carved beef, and 
 ate of it, like a ruler of men. Beautiful to see was the com- 
 passionate sympathy of the Countess's face when Rose 
 offered her plate for a portion of the world-subjugating 
 viand, as who should say : " Sweet child ! thou knowest not 
 yet of sorrows, thou canst ballast thy stomach with beef ! " 
 In any other than an heiress, she would probably have 
 thought: "This is indeed a disgusting little animal, and 
 most unfeminine conduct ! " 
 
 Kose, unconscious of praise or blame, rivalled her uncle in 
 enjoyment of the fare, and talked of her delight in seeing 
 England again, and anything that belonged to her native 
 land. Mrs. Melville perceived that it pained the refugee 
 Countess, and gave her the glance intelligible; but the 
 Countess never missed glances, or failed to interpret them. 
 She said : 
 
 " Let her. I love to hear the sweet child's prattle." 
 
 " It was fortunate " (she addressed the diplomatist]) " that 
 we touched at Southampton and procured fresh provision ! " 
 
 "Very lucky for us!" said he, glaring shrewdly between 
 a mouthful. 
 
 The Count heard the word " Southampton," and wished 
 to know how it was comprised. A passage of Portuguese 
 ensued, and then the Countess said : 
 
 "Silva, you know, desired to relinquish the vessel at 
 Southampton. He does not comprehend the word ' expense,' 
 but" (she shook a dumb Alas!) "I must think of that for 
 him now ! " 
 
 "Oh! always avoid expense," said the Hon. Melville, 
 accustomed to be paid for by his country. 
 
 "At what time shall we arrive, may I ask ; do you think? " 
 the Countess gently inquired.
 
 30 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 The watch of a man who had his eye on Time was pulled 
 out, and she was told it might be two hours before dark. 
 Another reckoning, keenly balanced, informed the company 
 that the day's papers could be expected on board somewhere 
 about three o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 "And then," said the Hon. Melville, nodding general 
 gratulation, "we shall know how the world wags." 
 
 How it had been wagging the Countess's straining eyes 
 under closed eyelids were eloquent of. 
 
 "Too late, I fear me, to wait upon Lord Livelyston to- 
 night?" she suggested. 
 
 "To-night?" The Hon. Melville gazed blank astonish- 
 ment at the notion. "Oh! certainly, too late to-night. 
 A — hum! I think, madam, you had better not be in too 
 great a hurry to see him. Kepose a little. Kecover your 
 fatigue." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the Countess, with a beam of utter 
 confidence in him, " I shall be too happy to place myself in 
 your hands — believe me." 
 
 This was scarcely more to the taste of the diplomatist. 
 He put up his mouth, and said, blandly : 
 
 "I fear — you know, madam, I must warn you beforehand 
 — I, personally, am but an insignificant unit over here, you 
 know ; I, personally, can't guarantee much assistance to you 
 — not positive. What I can do — of course, very happy! " 
 And he fell to again upon the beef. 
 
 "Not so very insignificant! " said the Countess, smiling, 
 as at a softly radiant conception of him. 
 
 " Have to bob and bow like the rest of them over here," 
 he added, proof against the flattery. 
 
 " But that you will not forsake Silva, I am convinced," 
 said the Countess; and, paying little heed to his brief "Oh! 
 what I can do," continued : " For over here, in England, we 
 are almost friendless. My relations — such as are left of 
 them — are not in high place." She turned to Mrs. Melville, 
 and renewed the confession with a proud humility. "Truly, 
 I have not a distant cousin in the Cabinet ! " 
 
 Mrs. Melville met her sad smile, and returned it, as one 
 who understood its entire import. 
 
 "My brother-in-law — my sister, I think, you know — 
 married a — a brewer! He is rich; but, well! such was
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 31 
 
 her taste ! My brother-in-law is indeed in Parliament, and 
 he — " 
 
 " Very little use, seeing he votes with the opposite party," 
 the diplomatist interrupted her. 
 
 " Ah ! but he will not," said the Countess, serenely. " I 
 can trust with confidence that, if it is for Silva's interest, 
 he will assuredly so dispose of his influence as to suit the 
 desiderations of his family, and not in any way oppose his 
 opinions to the powers that would willingly stoop to serve 
 us!" 
 
 It was impossible for the Hon. Melville to withhold a 
 slight grimace at his beef, when he heard this extremely 
 alienized idea of the nature of a member of the Parliament 
 of Great Britain. He allowed her to enjoy her delusion, as 
 she pursued : 
 
 "No. So much we could offer in repayment. It is little! 
 But this, in verity, is a case. Silva's wrongs have only to 
 be known in England, and I am most assured that the Eng- 
 lish people will not permit it. In the days of his prosperity, 
 Silva was a friend to England, and England should not — 
 should not — forget it now. Had we money ! But of that 
 arm our enemies have deprived us : and, I fear, without it 
 we cannot hope to have the justice of our cause pleaded 
 in the English papers. Mr. Redner, you know, the corre- 
 spondent in Lisbon, is a sworn foe to Silva. And why but 
 because I would not procure him an invitation to Court ! 
 The man was so horridly vulgar ; his gloves were never 
 clean ; I had to hold a bouquet to my nose when I talked to 
 him. That, you say, was my fault ! Truly so. But what 
 woman can be civil to a low-bred, pretentious, offensive 
 man ? " 
 
 Mrs. Melville, again appealed to, smiled perfect sympathy, 
 and said, to account for his character : 
 
 " Yes. He is the son of a small shopkeeper of some kind, 
 in Southampton, I hear." 
 
 " A very good fellow in his way," said her husband. 
 
 " Oh ! I can't bear that class of people," Rose exclaimed. 
 "I always keep out of their way. You can always tell 
 them." 
 
 The Countess smiled considerate approbation of her exclu- 
 siveness and discernment. So sweet a smile !
 
 32 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " You were on deck early, my dear ? " she asked Evan, 
 rather abruptly. 
 
 Master Alec answered for him : " Yes, he was, and so was 
 Eose. They made an appointment, just as they used to do 
 under the oranges." 
 
 " Children ! " the Countess smiled to Mrs. Melville. 
 
 " They always whisper when I'm by," Alec appended. 
 
 " Children ! " the Countess's sweetened visage entreated 
 Mrs. Melville to re-echo ; but that lady thought it best for 
 the moment to direct Rose to look to her packing, now that 
 she had done breakfast. 
 
 " And I will take a walk with my brother on deck," said 
 the Countess. " Silva is too harassed for converse." 
 
 The parties were thus divided. The silent Count was left 
 to meditate on his wrongs in the saloon ; and the diplomatist, 
 alone with his lady, thought fit to say to her, shortly : " Per- 
 haps it would be as well to draw away from these people a 
 little. We've done as much as we could for them, in bring- 
 ing them over here. They may be trying to compromise us. 
 That woman's absurd. She's ashamed of the brewer, and 
 yet she wants to sell him — or wants us to buy him. Ha! 
 I think she wants us to send a couple of frigates, and 
 threaten bombardment of the capital, if they don't take her 
 husband back, and receive him with honours." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be as well," said Mrs. Melville. " Rose's 
 invitation to him goes for nothing." 
 
 " Rose ? inviting the Count? down to Hampshire ? " The 
 diplomatist's brows were lifted. 
 
 "No, I mean the other," said the diplomatist's wife. 
 
 "Oh! the young fellow ! very good young fellow. Gentle- 
 manly. No harm in him." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said the diplomatist's wife. 
 
 " You don't suppose he expects us to keep him on, or pro- 
 vide for him over here — eh?" 
 
 The diplomatist's wife informed him that such was not 
 her thought, that he did not understand, and that it did not 
 matter ; and as soon as the Hon. Melville saw that she was 
 brooding something essentially feminine, and which had no 
 relationship to the great game of public life, curiosity was 
 extinguished in him. 
 
 On deck the Countess paced with Evan, and was for a
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 33 
 
 time pleasantly diverted by the admiration she could, with- 
 out looking, perceive that her sorrow-subdued graces had 
 aroused in the breast of a susceptible naval lieutenant. At 
 last she spoke : 
 
 "My dear! remember this. Your last word to Mr. Joce- 
 lyn will be : ' I will do myself the honour to call upon my 
 benefactor early.' To Rose you will say : ' Be assured, 
 Miss Jocelyn ' — Miss Jocelyn — ' I shall not fail in hasten- 
 ing to pay my respects to your family in Hampshire.' You 
 will remember to do it, in the exact form I speak it." 
 
 Evan laughed : " What ! call him benefactor to his face ? 
 I couldn't do it." 
 " Ah ! my child ! " 
 
 " Besides, he isn't a benefactor at all. His private secre- 
 tary died, and I stepped in to fill the post, because nobody 
 else was handy." 
 
 " And tell me of her who pushed you forward, Evan ? " 
 " My dear sister, I'm sure I'm not ungrateful." 
 " No ; but headstrong : opinionated. Now these people 
 will endeavour — Oh! I have seen it in a thousand little 
 things — they wish to shake us off. Now, if you will but do 
 as I indicate ! Put your faith in an older head, Evan. It is 
 your only chance of society in England. For your brother- 
 in-law — I ask you, what sort of people will you meet at the 
 Cogglesbys ? Now and then a nobleman, very much out of 
 his element. In short, you have fed upon a diet which will 
 make you to distinguish, and painfully to know the differ- 
 ence ! Indeed ! Yes, you are looking about for Rose. It 
 depends upon your behaviour now, whether you are to see 
 her at all in England. Do you forget ? You wished once 
 to inform her of your origin. Think of her words at the 
 breakfast this morning ! " 
 
 The Countess imagined she had produced an impression. 
 Evan said : " Yes, and I should have liked to have told her 
 this morning that I'm myself nothing more than the son of 
 a — " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried his sister, glancing about in horror. The 
 admiring lieutenant met her eye. Blandishingly she smiled 
 on him : " Most beautiful weather for a welcome to dear 
 England ? " and passed with majesty. 
 " Boy ! " she resumed, " are you mad ? "
 
 34 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " I hate being such a hypocrite, madam." 
 
 " Then you do not love her, Evan ? " 
 
 This may have been dubious logic, but it resulted from a 
 clear sequence of ideas in the lady's head. Evan did not 
 contest it. 
 
 "And assuredly you will lose her, Evan. Think of my 
 troubles ! I have to intrigue for Silva ; I look to your future ; 
 I smile, Oh heaven ! how do I not smile when things are 
 spoken that pierce my heart ! This morning at the break- 
 fast ! " 
 
 Evan took her hand, and patted it. 
 
 " What is your pity ? " she sighed. 
 
 "If it had not been for you, my dear sister, I should never 
 have held my tongue." 
 
 " You are not a Harrington ! You are a Dawley ! " she 
 exclaimed, indignantly. 
 
 Evan received the accusation of possessing more of his 
 mother's spirit than his father's in silence. 
 
 " You would not have held your tongue," she said, with 
 fervid severity : " and you would have betrayed yourself ! 
 and you would have said you were that! and you in that 
 costume ! Why, goodness gracious ! could you bear to appear 
 so ridiculous ? " 
 
 The poor young man involuntarily surveyed his person. 
 The pains of an impostor seized him. The deplorable image 
 of the Don making confession became present to his mind. 
 It was a clever stroke of this female intriguer. She saw 
 him redden grievously, and blink his eyes; and not wishing 
 to probe him so that he would feel intolerable disgust at 
 his imprisonment in the Don, she continued : 
 
 " But you have the sense to see your duties, Evan. You 
 have an excellent sense, in the main. Xo one would dream 
 — to see you. You did not, I must say, you did not make 
 enough of your gallantry. A Portuguese who had saved 
 a man's life, Evan, would he have been so boorish? You 
 behaved as if it was a matter of course that you should go 
 overboard after anybody, in your clothes, on a dark night. 
 So, then, the Jocelyns took it. I barely heard one com- 
 pliment to you. And Rose — what an effect it should have 
 had on her! But, owing to your manner, I do believe the 
 girl thinks it nothing but your ordinary business to go
 
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 35 
 
 overboard after anybody, in your clothes, on a dark night. 
 'Pon my honour, I believe she expects to see you always 
 dripping ! " The Countess uttered a burst of hysterical 
 humour. "So you miss your credit. That inebriated 
 sailor should really have been gold to you. Be not so 
 young and thoughtless." 
 
 The Countess then proceeded to tell him how foolishly 
 he had let slip his great opportunity. A Portuguese would 
 have fixed the young lady long before. By tender moon- 
 light, in captivating language, beneath the umbrageous 
 orange-groves, a Portuguese would have accurately calcu- 
 lated the effect of the perfume of the blossom on her sensi- 
 tive nostrils, and known the exact moment when to kneel, 
 and declare his passion sonorously. 
 
 " Yes," said Evan, " one of them did. She told me." 
 
 u She told you ? And you — what did you do ? " 
 
 " Laughed at him with her, to be sure." 
 
 " Laughed at him ! She told you, and you helped her to 
 laugh at love ! Have you no perceptions ? Why did she 
 tell you ? " 
 
 " Because she thought him such a fool, I suppose." 
 
 " You never will know a woman," said the Countess, with 
 contempt. 
 
 Much of his worldly sister at a time was more than Evan 
 could bear. Accustomed to the symptoms of restiveness, 
 she finished her discourse, enjoyed a quiet parade up and 
 down under the gaze of the lieutenant, and could find leisure 
 to note whether she at all struck the inferior seamen, even 
 while her mind was absorbed by the multiform troubles and 
 anxieties for which she took such innocent indemnification. 
 
 The appearance of the Hon. Melville Jocelyn on deck, 
 and without his wife, recalled her to business. It is a pecu- 
 liarity of female diplomatists that they fear none save their 
 own sex. Men they regard as their natural prey : in women 
 they see rival hunters using their own weapons. The 
 Countess smiled a slowly-kindling smile up to him, set 
 her brother adrift, and delicately linked herself to Evan's 
 benefactor. 
 
 "I have been thinking," she said, "knowing your kind 
 and most considerate attentions, that we may compromise 
 you in England."
 
 36 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 ../■• 
 
 He at once assured her he hoped not, he thought not at all. 
 
 " The idea is due to my brother," she went on ; " for I — 
 women know so little! — and most guiltlessly should we 
 have done so. My brother perhaps does not think of us 
 foremost; but his argument I can distinguish. I can see, 
 that were you openly to plead Silva's cause, you might 
 bring yourself into odium, Mr. Jocelyn ; and heaven knows 
 I would not that ! May I then ask, that in England we 
 may be simply upon the same footing of private friendship ? " 
 
 The diplomatist looked into her uplifted visage, that had 
 all the sugary sparkles of a crystallized preserved fruit of 
 the Portugal clime, and observed, confidentially, that, with 
 every willingness in the world to serve her, he did think 
 it would possibly be better, for a time, to be upon that 
 footing, apart from political considerations. 
 
 "I was very sure my brother would apprehend your 
 views," said the Countess. " He, poor boy ! his career is 
 closed. He must sink into a different sphere. He will 
 greatly miss the intercourse with you and your sweet 
 family." 
 
 Further relieved, the diplomatist delivered a high opinion 
 of the young gentleman, his abilities, and his conduct, and 
 trusted he should see him frequently. 
 
 By an apparent sacrifice, the lady thus obtained what she 
 wanted. 
 
 Near the hour speculated on by the diplomatist, the 
 papers came on board, and he, unaware how he had been 
 manoeuvred for lack of a wife at his elbow, was quickly 
 engaged in appeasing the great British hunger for news ; 
 second only to that for beef, it seems, and equally accept- 
 able salted when it cannot be had fresh. 
 
 Leaving the devotee of statecraft with his legs crossed, 
 and his face wearing the cognizant air of one whose head 
 is above the waters of events, to enjoy the mighty meal 
 of fresh and salted at discretion, the Countess dived below. 
 
 Meantime the Jocasta, as smoothly as before she was 
 ignorant of how the world wagged, slipped up the river 
 with the tide; and the sun hung red behind the forest of 
 masts, burnishing a broad length of the serpentine haven 
 of the nations of the earth. A young Englishman return- 
 ing home can hardly look on this scene without some pride
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 37 
 
 of kinship. Evan stood at the fore part of the vessel. 
 Eose, in quiet English attire, had escaped from her aunt 
 to join him, singing in his ears, to spur his senses : " Isn't 
 it beautiful ? Isn't it beautiful ? Dear old England ! " 
 
 " What do you find so beautiful ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, you dull fellow ! Why the ships, and the houses, 
 and the smoke, to be sure." 
 
 " The ships ? Why, I thought you despised trade, made- 
 moiselle ? " 
 
 "And so I do. That is, not trade, but tradesmen. Of 
 course, I mean shopkeepers." 
 
 " It's they who send the ships to and fro, and make the 
 picture that pleases you, nevertheless." 
 
 " Do they ? " said she, indifferently, and then with a sort 
 of fervour, " Why do you always grow so cold to me when- 
 ever we get on this subject ? " 
 
 " I cold ? " Evan responded. The incessant fears of his 
 diplomatic sister had succeeded in making him painfully 
 jealous of this subject. He turned it off. "Why, our feel- 
 ings are just the same. Do you know what I was thinking 
 when you came up ? I was thinking that I hoped I might 
 never disgrace the name of an Englishman." 
 
 " Now, that's noble ! " cried the girl. " And I'm sure you 
 never will. Of an English gentleman, Evan. I like that 
 better." 
 
 " Would you rather be called a true English lady than a 
 true English woman, Kose ? " 
 
 " Don't think I would, my dear," she answered, pertly ; 
 "but 'gentleman' always means more than 'man' to me." 
 
 " And what's a gentleman, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Can't tell you, Don Doloroso. Something you are, sir," 
 she added, surveying him. 
 
 Evan sucked the bitter and the sweet of her explanation. 
 His sister in her anxiety to put him on his guard, had not 
 beguiled him to forget his real state. 
 
 His sister, the diplomatist and his lady, the refugee Count, 
 with ladies' maids, servants, and luggage, were now on the 
 main-deck, and Master Alec, who was as good as a newspaper 
 correspondent for private conversations, put an end to the 
 colloquy of the young people. They were all assembled in a 
 circle when the vessel came to her moorings. The diplomatist
 
 38 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 glutted with news, and thirsting for confirmations ; the Count 
 dumb, courteous, and quick-eyed ; the honourable lady com- 
 placent in the consciousness of boxes well packed; the 
 Countess breathing mellifluous long-drawn adieux that should 
 provoke invitations. Evan and Rose regarded each other. 
 
 The boat to convey them on shore was being lowered, and 
 they were preparing to move forward. Just then the vessel 
 was boarded by a stranger. 
 
 " Is that one of the creatures of your Customs ? I did 
 imagine we were safe from them," exclaimed the Countess. 
 
 The diplomatist laughingly requested her to save herself 
 anxiety on that score, while under his wing. But she had 
 drawn attention to the intruder, who was seen addressing one 
 of the midshipmen. He was a man in a long brown coat and 
 loose white neckcloth, spectacles on nose, which he wore con- 
 siderably below the bridge and peered over, as if their main 
 use were to sight his eye ; a beaver hat, with broadish brim, 
 on bis head. A man of no station, it was evident to the 
 ladies at once, and they would have taken no further notice 
 of him had he not been seen stepping toward them in the 
 rear of the young midshipman. 
 
 The latter came to Evan, and said : " A fellow of the 
 name of Goren wants you. Says there's something the 
 matter at home." 
 
 Evan advanced, and bowed stiffly. 
 
 Mr. Goren held out his hand. " You don't remember me, 
 young man ? I cut out your first suit for you when you 
 were breeched, though ! Yes — ah ! Your poor father 
 wouldn't put his hand to it. Goren ! " 
 
 Embarrassed, and not quite alive to the chapter of facts 
 this name should have opened to him, Evan bowed again. 
 
 " Goren ! " continued the possessor of the name. He had 
 a cracked voice, that when he spoke a word of two syllables, 
 commenced with a lugubrious crow, and ended in what one 
 might have taken for a curious question. 
 
 " It is a bad business brings me, young man. I'm not the 
 best messenger for such tidings. It's a. black suit, young 
 man ! It's your father ! " 
 
 The diplomatist and his lady gradually edged back : but 
 Rose remained beside the Countess, who breathed quick, and 
 seemed to have lost her self-command.
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA 39 
 
 Thinking he was apprehended, Mr. Goren said: "I'm 
 going down to-night to take care of the shop. He's to be 
 buried in his old uniform. You had better come with me 
 by the night-coach, if you would see the last of him, young 
 man." 
 
 Breaking an odd pause that had fallen, the Countess cried 
 aloud, suddenly: 
 
 " In his uniform ! " 
 
 Mr. Goren felt his arm seized and his legs hurrying him 
 some paces into isolation. "Thanks! thanks!" was mur- 
 mured in his ear. " Not a word more. Evan cannot bear 
 it. Oh ! you are good to have come, and we are grateful. 
 My father ! my father ! " 
 
 She had to tighten her hand and wrist against her bosom 
 to keep herself up. She had to reckon in a glance how 
 much Rose had heard, or divined. She had to mark whether 
 the Count had understood a syllable. She had to whisper 
 to Evan to hasten away with the horrible man. She had 
 to enliven his stunned senses, and calm her own. And 
 with mournful images of her father in her brain, the female 
 Spartan had to turn to Rose, and speculate on the girl's 
 reflective brows, while she said, as over a distant relative, 
 sadly, but without distraction : " A death in the family ! " 
 and preserved herself from weeping her heart out, that none 
 might guess the thing who did not positively know it. 
 
 Evan touched the hand of Rose without meeting her eyes. 
 He was soon cast off in Mr. Goren's boat. Then the Count- 
 ess murmured final adieux ; twilight under her lids, but yet 
 a smile, stately, affectionate, almost genial. Rose, her 
 sweet Rose, she must kiss. She could have slapped Rose 
 for appearing so reserved and cold. She hugged Rose, as 
 to hug oblivion of the last few minutes into her. The girl 
 leant her cheek, and bore the embrace, looking on her with 
 a kind of wonder. 
 
 Only when alone with the Count, in the brewer's carriage 
 awaiting her on shore, did the lady give a natural course to 
 her grief ; well knowing that her Silva would attribute it 
 to the darkness of their common exile. She wept: but in 
 the excess of her misery, two words of strangely opposite 
 signification, pronounced by Mr. Goren; two words that 
 were at once poison and antidote, sang in her brain; two
 
 40 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 words that painted her dead father from head to foot, his 
 nature and his fortune: these were the Shop, and the 
 Uniform. 
 
 Oh! what would she not have given to have seen and 
 bestowed on her beloved father one last kiss! Oh! how 
 she hoped that her inspired echo of Uniform, on board the 
 Jocasta, had drowned the memory, eclipsed the meaning, 
 of that fatal utterance of Shop ! 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL 
 
 It was the evening of the second day since the arrival of 
 the black letter in London from Lymport, anci the wife of 
 the brewer and the wife of the Major sat dropping tears 
 into one another's laps, in expectation of their sister the 
 Countess. Mr. Andrew Cogglesby had not yet returned 
 from his office. The gallant Major had gone forth to dine 
 with General Sir George Frebuter, the head of the Marines 
 of his time. It would have been difficult for the Major, he 
 informed his wife, to send in an excuse to the General for 
 non-attendance, without entering into particulars; and that 
 he should tell the General he could not dine with him, 
 because of the sudden decease of a tailor, was, as he let his 
 wife understand, and requested her to perceive, quite out of 
 the question. So he dressed himself carefully, and though 
 peremptory with his wife concerning his linen, and requir- 
 ing natural services from her in the button department, and 
 a casual expression of contentment as to his ultimate 
 make-up, he left her that day without any final injunctions 
 to occupy her mind, and she was at liberty to weep if she 
 pleased, a privilege she did not enjoy undisturbed when he 
 was present ; for the warrior hated that weakness, and did 
 not care to hide his contempt for it. 
 
 Of the three sisters, the wife of the Major was, oddly 
 enough, the one who was least inveterately solicitous of 
 concealing the fact of her parentage. Reticence, of course,
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL 41 
 
 she had to study with the rest; the Major was a walking 
 book of reticence and the observances ; he professed, also, 
 in company with herself alone, to have had much trouble 
 in drilling her to mark and properly preserve them. She 
 had no desire to speak of her birthplace. But, for some 
 reason or other, she did not share her hero's rather petulant 
 anxiety to keep the curtain nailed down on that part of her 
 life which preceded her entry into the ranks of the Eoyal 
 Marines. Some might have thought that those fair large 
 blue eyes of hers wandered now and then in pleasant un- 
 ambitious walks behind the curtain, and toyed with little 
 flowers of palest memory. Utterly tasteless, totally want- 
 ing in discernment, not to say gratitude, the Major could 
 not presume her to be ; and yet his wits perceived that her 
 answers and the conduct she shaped in accordance with his 
 repeated protests and long-reaching apprehensions of what 
 he called danger, betrayed acquiescent obedience more than 
 the connubial sympathy due to him. Danger on the field 
 the Major knew not of; he did not scruple to name the 
 word in relation to his wife. For, as he told her, should 
 he, some day, as in the chapter of accidents might occur, 
 sally into the street a Knight Companion of the Bath and 
 become known to men as Sir Maxwell Strike, it would be 
 decidedly disagreeable for him to be blown upon by a wind 
 from Lymport. Moreover she was the mother of a son. 
 The Major pointed out to her the duty she owed her off- 
 spring. Certainly the protecting aegis of his rank and title 
 would be over the lad, but she might depend upon it any 
 indiscretion of hers would damage him in his future career, 
 the Major assured her. Young Maxwell must be considered. 
 For all this, the mother and wife, when the black letter 
 found them in the morning at breakfast, had burst into a 
 fit of grief, and faltered that she wept for a father. Mrs. 
 Andrew, to whom the letter was addressed, had simply held 
 the letter to her in a trembling hand. The Major compared 
 their behaviour, with marked encomiums of Mrs. Andrew. 
 Now this lady and her husband were in obverse relative 
 positions. The brewer had no will but his Harriet's. His 
 esteem for her combined the constitutional feelings of an 
 insignificantly-built little man for a majestic woman, and 
 those of a worthy soul for the wife of his bosom. Possess-
 
 42 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 ing, or possessed by her, the good brewer was perfectly 
 happy. She, it might be thought, under these circum- 
 stances, would not have minded much his hearing what he 
 might hear. It happened, however, that she was as jealous 
 of the winds of Lymport as the Major himself; as vigilant 
 in debarring them from access to the brewery as now the 
 Countess could have been. We are not dissecting human 
 nature : suffice it, therefore, from a mere glance at the sur- 
 face, to say, that just as moneyed men are careful of their 
 coin, women who have all the advantages in a conjunction, 
 are miserly in keeping them, and shudder to think that one 
 thing remains hidden, which the world they move in might 
 put down pityingly in favour of their spouse, even though 
 to the little man 'twere naught. She assumed that a reve- 
 lation would diminish her moral stature; and certainly it 
 would not increase that of her husband. So no good could 
 come of it. Besides, Andrew knew, his whole conduct was 
 a tacit admission, that she had condescended in giving him 
 her hand. The features of their union might not be changed 
 altogether by a revelation, but it would be a shock to her. 
 
 Consequently, Harriet tenderly rebuked Caroline, for her 
 outcry at the breakfast-table; and Caroline, the elder sister, 
 who had not since marriage grown in so free an air, excused 
 herself humbly, and the two were weeping when the Countess 
 joined them and related what she had just undergone. 
 
 Hearing of Caroline's misdemeanour, however, Louisa's 
 eyes rolled aloft in a paroxysm of tribulation. It was 
 nothing to Caroline; it was comparatively nothing to Har- 
 riet; but the Count knew not Louisa had a father: believed 
 that her parents had long ago been wiped out. And the 
 Count was by nature inquisitive : and if he once cherished 
 a suspicion he was restless; he was pointed in his inquiries : 
 he was pertinacious in following out a clue: there never 
 would be peace with him! And then as they were secure 
 in their privacy, Louisa cried aloud for her father, her 
 beloved father! Harriet wept silently. Caroline alone 
 expressed regret that she had not set her eyes on him from 
 the day she became a wife. 
 
 " How could we, dear ? " the Countess pathetically asked, 
 under drowning lids. 
 
 "Papa did not wish it," sobbed Mrs. Andrew.
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL 43 
 
 "I never shall forgive myself ! " said the wife of the Major, 
 drying her cheeks. Perhaps it was not herself whom she felt 
 she never could forgive. 
 
 Ah ! the man their father was ! Incomparable Melchisedec ! 
 he might well be called. So generous ! so lordly ! When 
 the rain of tears would subside for a moment, one would 
 relate an anecdote or childish reminiscence of him, and pro- 
 voke a more violent outburst. 
 
 " Never, among the nobles of any land, never have I seen 
 one like him!" exclaimed the Countess, and immediately 
 requested Harriet to tell her how it would be possible to 
 stop Andrew's tongue in Silva's presence. 
 
 " At present, you know, my dear, they may talk as much 
 as they like — they can't understand one another one bit." 
 
 Mrs. Cogglesby comforted her by the assurance that 
 Andrew had received an intimation of her wish for silence 
 everywhere and toward everybody ; and that he might be 
 reckoned upon to respect it, without demanding a reason for 
 the restriction. In other days Caroline and Louisa had a 
 little looked down on Harriet's alliance with a dumpy man 
 — a brewer — and had always kind Christian compassion for 
 him if his name were mentioned. They seemed now, by their 
 silence, to have a happier estimate of Andrew's qualities. 
 
 While the three sisters sat mingling their sorrows and 
 alarms, their young brother was making his way to the 
 house. As he knocked at the door he heard his name pro- 
 nounced behind him, and had no difficulty in recognizing the 
 worthy brewer. 
 
 "What, Van, my boy! how are you? Quite a foreigner! 
 By George, what a hat ! " 
 
 Mr. Andrew bounced back two or three steps to regard 
 the dusky sombrero. 
 
 " How do you do, sir ? " said Evan. 
 
 " Sir to you ! " Mr. Andrew briskly replied. " Don't they 
 teach you to give your fist in Portugal, eh ? I'll ' sir ' you. 
 Wait till I'm Sir Andrew, and then ' sir ' away. You do 
 speak English still, Van, eh ? Quite jolly, my boy ? " 
 
 Mr. Andrew rubbed his hands to express that state in 
 himself. Suddenly he stopped, blinked queerly at Evan, 
 grew pensive, and said, " Bless my soul ! I forgot." 
 
 The door opened, Mr. Andrew took Evan's arm, rnur-
 
 44 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 mured a " hush ! " and trod gently along the passage to his 
 library. 
 
 " We're safe here," he said. " There — there's something 
 the matter up-stairs. The women are upset about some- 
 thing. Harriet — " Mr. Andrew hesitated, and branched 
 off : " You've heard we've got a new baby ? " 
 
 Evan congratulated him ; but another inquiry was in Mr. 
 Andrew's aspect, and Evan's calm, sad manner answered it. 
 
 "Yes," — Mr. Andrew shook his head dolefully — "a 
 splendid little chap ! a rare little chap! a — we can't help 
 these things, Van! They will happen. Sit down, my boy." 
 
 Mr. Andrew again interrogated Evan with his eyes. 
 
 "My father is dead," said Evan. 
 
 "Yes!" Mr. Andrew nodded, and glanced quickly at 
 the ceiling, as if to make sure that none listened overhead. 
 " My parliamentary duties will soon be over for the season," 
 he added, aloud; pursuing, in an under breath: "Going 
 down to-night, Van ? " 
 
 " He is to be buried to-morrow," said Evan. 
 
 " Then, of course, you go. Yes : quite right. Love your 
 father and mother ! always love your father and mother ! Old 
 Tom and I never knew ours. Tom's quite well — same as 
 ever. I'll," he rang the bell, " have my chop in here with 
 you. You must try and eat a bit, Van. Here we are, and 
 there we go. Old Tom's wandering for one of his weeks. 
 You'll see him some day. He ain't like me. No dinner to- 
 day, I suppose, Charles ? " 
 
 This was addressed to the footman. He announced : 
 "Dinner to-day at half-past six, as usual, sir," bowed, and 
 retired. 
 
 Mr. Andrew pored on the floor, and rubbed his hair back 
 on his head. "An odd world! " was his remark. 
 
 Evan lifted up his face to sigh : " I'm almost sick of it ! " 
 
 " Damn appearances ! " cried Mr. Andrew, jumping on 
 his legs. 
 
 The action cooled him. 
 
 " I'm sorry I swore," he said. " Bad habit ! The Major's 
 here — you know that?" and he assumed the Major's voice, 
 and strutted in imitation of the stalwart marine. "Major — 
 a — Strike! of the Royal Marines! returned from China! 
 covered with glory! — a hero, Van! We can't expect him
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL 45 
 
 to be much of a mourner. And we shan't have him to dine 
 with us to-day — that's something." He sank his voice: 
 " I hope the widow'll bear it." 
 
 " I hope to God my mother is well ! " Evan groaned. 
 
 " That'll do," said Mr. Andrew. " Don't say any more." 
 
 As he spoke, he clapped Evan kindly on the back. 
 
 A message was brought from the ladies, requiring Evan 
 to wait on them. He returned after some minutes. 
 
 " How do you think Harriet's looking ? " asked Mr. 
 Andrew. And, not waiting for an answer, whispered, " Are 
 they going down to the funeral, my boy ? " 
 
 Evan's brow was dark, as he replied: "They are not 
 decided." 
 
 " Won't Harriet go ? " 
 
 " She is not going — she thinks not." 
 
 " And the Countess — Louisa's up-stairs, eh ? — will she 
 go?" 
 
 " She cannot leave the Count — she thinks not." 
 
 "Won't Caroline go? Caroline can go. She — he — I 
 mean — Caroline can go?" 
 
 "The Major objects. She wishes to." 
 
 Mr. Andrew struck out his arm, and uttered, " the Major ! " 
 — a compromise for a loud anathema. But the compro- 
 mise was vain, for he sinned again in an explosion against 
 appearances. 
 
 " I'm a brewer, Van. Do you think I'm ashamed of it ? 
 Not while I brew good beer, my boy ! — not while I brew 
 good beer ! They don't think worse of me in the House for 
 it. It isn't ungentlemanly to brew good beer, Van. But 
 what's the use of talking ? " 
 
 Mr. Andrew sat down, and murmured, "Poor girl! poor 
 girl ! " 
 
 The allusion was to his wife ; for presently he said : " I 
 can't see why Harriet can't go. What's to prevent her ? " 
 
 Evan gazed at him steadily. Death's levelling influence 
 was in Evan's mind. He was ready to say why, and fully. 
 
 Mr. Andrew arrested him with a sharp "Never mind! 
 Harriet does as she likes. I'm accustomed to — hem ! — 
 what she does is best, after all. She doesn't interfere with 
 my business, nor I with hers. Man and wife." 
 
 Pausing a moment or so, Mr. Andrew intimated that they
 
 46 EVAN HAERIKGTON 
 
 had better be dressing for dinner. With his hand on the 
 door, which he kept closed, he said, in a business-like way, 
 "You know, Van, as for me, I should be very willing — only 
 too happy — to go down and pay all the respect I could." 
 He became confused, and shot his head from side to side, 
 looking anywhere but at Evan. "Happy now and to-mor- 
 row, to do anything in my power, if Harriet — follow the 
 funeral — one of the family — anything /could do: but — 
 a — we'd better be dressing for dinner." And out the enig- 
 matic little man went. 
 
 Evan partly divined him then. But at dinner his behav- 
 iour was perplexing. He was too cheerful. He pledged 
 the Count. He would have the Portuguese for this and 
 that, and make Anglican efforts to repeat it, and laugh at 
 his failures. He would not see that there was a father 
 dead. At a table of actors, Mr. Andrew overdid his part, 
 and was the worst. His wife could not help thinking him 
 a heartless little man. 
 
 The poor show had its term. The ladies fled to the bou- 
 doir sacred to grief. Evan was whispered that he was to 
 join them when he might, without seeming mysterious to 
 the Count. Before he reached them, they had talked tear- 
 fully over the clothes he should wear at Lymport, agreeing 
 that his present foreign apparel, being black, would be suit- 
 able, and would serve almost as disguise, to the inhabitants 
 at large ; and as Evan had no English wear, and there was 
 no time to procure any for him, that was well. They 
 arranged exactly how long he should stay at Lymport, 
 whom he should visit, the manner he should adopt toward 
 the different inhabitants. By all means he was to avoid the 
 approach of the gentry. For hours Evan, in a trance, half 
 stupefied, had to listen to the Countess's directions how he 
 was to comport himself in Lymport. 
 
 " Show that you have descended among them, dear Van, 
 but are not of them. Our beautiful noble English poet ex- 
 presses it so. You have come to pay the last mortal duties, 
 which they will respect, if they are not brutes, and attempt 
 no familiarities. Allow none: gently, but firmly. Imitate 
 Silva. You remember, at Dona liisbonda's ball ? When he 
 met the Comte de Dartigues, and knew he was to be in dis- 
 grace with his Court on the morrow ? Oh ! the exquisite
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL 47 
 
 shade of difference in Silva's behaviour towards the Comte. 
 So finely, delicately perceptible to the Comte, and not a soul 
 saw it but that wretched Frenchman ! He came to me : 
 ' Madame/ he said, ' is a question permitted ? ' I replied, 
 ' As many as you please, M. le Comte, but no answers prom- 
 ised.' He said : ' May I ask if the Courier has yet come 
 in ? ' * Nay, M. le Comte/ I replied, ' this is diplomacy. In- 
 quire of me, or better, give me an opinion on the new glace 
 silk from Paris.' ' Madame/ said he, bowing, ' I hope Paris 
 may send me aught so good, or that I shall grace half so well.' 
 I smiled, 'You shall not be single in your hopes, M. le 
 Comte. The gift would be base that you did not embellish.' 
 He lifted his hands, French-fashion: 'Madame, it is that 
 I have received the gift.' ' Indeed ! M. le Comte.' ' Even 
 now from the Count de Saldar, your husband.' I looked 
 most innocently, ' From my husband, M. le Comte ? ' ' From 
 him, Madame. A portrait. An Ambassador without his 
 coat! The portrait was a finished performance.' I said: 
 'And may one beg the permission to inspect it?' 'Mais/ 
 said he, laughing : ' were it you alone, it would be a privi- 
 lege to me.' I had to check him. ' Believe me, M. le Comte, 
 that when i" look upon it, my praise of the artist will be ex- 
 tinguished by my pity for the subject.' He should have 
 stopped there ; but you cannot have the last word with a 
 Frenchman — not even a woman. Fortunately the Queen 
 just then made her entry into the saloon, and his mot on the 
 charity of our sex was lost. We bowed mutually, and were 
 separated." (The Countess employed her handkerchief.) 
 " Yes, dear Van ! that is how you should behave. Imply 
 things. With dearest Mama, of course, you are the dutiful 
 son. Alas ! you must stand for son and daughters. Mama 
 has so much sense ! She will understand how sadly Ave are 
 placed. But in a week I will come to her for a day, and 
 bring you back." 
 
 So much his sister Louisa. His sister Harriet offered him 
 her house for a home in London, thence to project his new 
 career. His sister Caroline sought a word with him in 
 private, but only to weep bitterly in his arms, and utter a 
 faint moan of regret at marriages in general. He loved this 
 beautiful creature the best of his three sisters (partly, it 
 may be, because he despised her superior officer), and tried
 
 48 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 with a few smothered words to induce her to accompany 
 him : but she only shook her fair locks and moaned afresh. 
 Mr. Andrew, in the farewell squeeze of the hand at the 
 street-door, asked him if he wanted anything. He nega- 
 tived the requirement of anything whatever, with an air of 
 careless decision, though he was aware that his purse barely 
 contained more than would take him the distance, but the 
 instincts of this amateur gentleman were very fine and sensi- 
 tive on questions of money. His family had never known 
 him beg for a shilling, or admit his necessity for a penny : 
 nor could he be made to accept money unless it was thrust 
 into his pocket. Somehow his sisters had forgotten this pecu- 
 liarity of his. Harriet only remembered it when too late. 
 
 " But I dare say Andrew has supplied him," she said. 
 
 Andrew being interrogated, informed her what had passed 
 between them. 
 
 " And you think a Harrington would confess he wanted 
 money ! " was her scornful exclamation. " Evan would 
 walk — he would die rather. It was treating him like a 
 mendicant.''' 
 
 Andrew had to shrink in his brewer's skin. 
 
 By some fatality all who were doomed to sit and listen to 
 the Countess de Saldar, were sure to be behindhand in an 
 appointment. 
 
 When the young man arrived at the coach-office, he was 
 politely informed that the vehicle, in which a seat had been 
 secured for him, was in close alliance with time and tide, and 
 being under the same rigid laws, could not possibly have 
 waited for him, albeit it had stretched a point to the extent of 
 a pair of minutes, at the urgent solicitation of a passenger. 
 
 " A gentleman who speaks so, sir," said a volunteer mimic 
 of the office, crowing and questioning from his throat in 
 Goren's manner. " Yok ! yok ! That was how he spoke, sir." 
 
 Evan reddened, for it brought the scene on board the 
 Jocasta vividly to his mind. The heavier business obliter- 
 ated it. He took counsel with the clerks of the office, and 
 eventually the volunteer mimic conducted him to certain 
 livery stables, where Evan, like one accustomed to com- 
 mand, ordered a chariot to pursue the coach, received a 
 touch of the hat for a lordly fee, and was soon rolling out 
 of London.
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD 49 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE KOAD 
 
 The postillion had every reason to believe that he carried 
 a real gentleman behind him ; in other words, a purse long 
 and liberal. He judged by all the points he knew of: a firm 
 voice, a brief commanding style, an apparent indifference to 
 expense, and the inexplicable minor characteristics, such as 
 polished boots, and a striking wristband, and so forth, which 
 will show a creature accustomed to step over the heads of 
 men. He had, therefore, no particular anxiety to part com- 
 pany, and jogged easily on the white highway, beneath a 
 moon that walked high and small over marble clouds. 
 
 Evan reclined in the chariot, revolving his sensations. In 
 another mood he would have called them thoughts, perhaps, 
 and marvelled at their immensity. The theme was Love 
 and Death. One might have supposed, from his occasional 
 mutterings at the pace regulated by the postillion, that he 
 was burning with anxiety to catch the flying coach. He 
 had forgotten it : forgotten that he was giving chase to any- 
 thing. A pair of wondering feminine eyes pursued him, and 
 made him fret for the miles to throw a thicker veil between 
 him and them. The serious level brows of Rose haunted 
 the poor youth ; and reflecting whither he was tending, and 
 to what sight, he had shadowy touches of the holiness there 
 is in death ; from which came a conflict between the imaged 
 phantoms of his father and of Rose, and he sided against 
 his love with some bitterness. His sisters, weeping for their 
 father and holding aloof from his ashes, Evan swept from 
 his mind. He called up the man his father was : the kind- 
 liness, the readiness, the gallant gaiety of the great Mel. 
 Youths are fascinated by the barbarian virtues ; and to 
 Evan, under present influences, his father was a pattern of 
 manhood. He asked himself: Was it infamous to earn 
 one's bread ? and answered it very strongly in his father's 
 favour. The great Mel's creditors were not by to show him 
 another feature of the case. 
 
 Hitherto, in passive obedience to the indoctrination of the
 
 50 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Countess, Evan had looked on tailors as the proscribed race 
 of modern society. He had pitied his father as a man 
 superior to his fate ; but despite the fitfully honest prompt- 
 ings with Rose (tempting to him because of the wondrous 
 chivalry they argued, and at bottom false probably as the 
 hypocrisy they affected to combat), he had been by no means 
 sorry that the world saw not the spot on himself. Other 
 sensations beset him now. Since such a man was banned 
 by the world, which was to be despised ? 
 
 The clear result of Evan's solitary musing was to cast a 
 sort of halo over Tailordom. Death stood over the pale dead 
 man, his father, and dared the world to sneer at him. By 
 a singular caprice of fancy, Evan had no sooner grasped this 
 image, than it was suggested that he might as well inspect 
 his purse, and see how much money he was master of. 
 
 Are you impatient with this young man ? He has little 
 character for the moment. Most youths are like Pope's 
 women ; they have no character at all. And indeed a char- 
 acter that does not wait for circumstances to shape it, is of 
 small worth in the race that must be run. To be set too 
 early, is to take the work out of the hands of the Sculptor 
 who fashions men. Happily a youth is always at school, 
 and if he was shut up and without mark two or three hours 
 ago, he will have something to show you now : as I have 
 seen blooming sea-flowers and other graduated organisms, 
 when left undisturbed to their own action. Where the 
 Fates have designed that he shall present his figure in a 
 story, this is sure to happen. 
 
 To the postillion Evan was indebted for one of his first 
 lessons. 
 
 About an hour after midnight pastoral stillness and the 
 moon begat in the postillion desire for a pipe. Daylight 
 prohibits the dream of it to mounted postillions. At night 
 the question is more human, and allows appeal. The moon 
 smiles assentingly, and smokers know that she really lends 
 herself to the enjoyment of tobacco. The postillion could 
 remember gentlemen who did not object: who had even 
 given him cigars. Turning round to see if haply the pres- 
 ent inmate of the chariot might be smoking, he observed a 
 head extended from the window. 
 
 "How far are we?" was inquired.
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD 51 
 
 The postillion numbered the milestones passed. 
 
 "Do you see anything of the coach?" 
 
 ''Can't say as I do, sir." 
 
 He was commanded to stop. Evan jumped out. 
 
 "I don't think I'll take you any farther," he said. 
 
 The postillion laughed to scorn the notion of his caring 
 how far he went. With a pipe in his mouth, he insinuat- 
 ingly remarked, he could jog on all night, and throw sleep 
 to the dogs. Fresh horses at Hillford; fresh at Fallow- 
 field: and the gentleman himself would reach Lymport 
 fresh in the morning. 
 
 "No, no; I won't take you any farther," Evan repeated. 
 
 "But what do it matter, sir?" urged the postillion. 
 
 " I'd rather go on as I am. I — a — made no arrangement 
 to take you the whole way." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the postillion, " don't you go troublin' your- 
 self about that, sir. Master knows it's touch-and-go about 
 catchin' the coach. I'm all right." 
 
 So infatuated was the fellow in the belief that he was 
 dealing with a perfect gentleman — an easy pocket ! 
 
 Now you would not suppose that one who presumes he has 
 sufficient, would find a difficulty in asking how much he has 
 to pay. With an effort, indifferently masked, Evan blurted : 
 
 " By the way, tell me — how much — what is the charge 
 for the distance we've come?" 
 
 There are gentlemen-screws: there are conscientious 
 gentlemen. They calculate, and remonstrating or not, 
 they pay. The postillion would rather have had to do 
 with the gentleman royal, who is above base computation ; 
 but he knew the humanity in the class he served, and with 
 his conception of Evan only partially dimmed, he remarked : 
 
 "Oh-h-h! that won't hurt you, sir. Jump along in, — 
 settle that by-and-by." 
 
 But when my gentleman stood fast, and renewed the 
 demand to know the exact charge for the distance already 
 traversed, the postillion dismounted, glanced him over, and 
 speculated with his fingers tipping up his hat. Meantime 
 Evan drew out his purse, a long one, certainly, but limp. 
 Out of this drowned-looking wretch the last spark of life 
 was taken by the sum the postillion ventured to name ; and 
 if paying your utmost farthing without examination of the
 
 52 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 charge, and cheerfully stepping out to walk fifty miles, 
 penniless, constituted a postillion's gentleman, Evan would 
 have passed the test. The sight of poverty, however, pro- 
 vokes familiar feelings in poor men, if you have not had 
 occasion to show them you possess particular qualities. 
 The postillion's eye was more on the purse than on the 
 sum it surrendered. 
 
 " There," said Evan, " I shall walk. Good night." And 
 he flung his cloak to step forward. 
 
 "Stop a bit, sir! " arrested him. 
 
 The postillion rallied up sideways, with an assumption 
 of genial respect. " I didn't calc'late myself in that there 
 amount." 
 
 Were these words, think you, of a character to strike a 
 young man hard on the breast, send the blood to his head, 
 and set up in his heart a derisive chorus? My gentleman 
 could pay his money, and keep his footing gallantly; but 
 to be asked for a penny beyond what he possessed; to be 
 seen beggared, and to be claimed a debtor — alack! Pride 
 was the one developed faculty of Evan's nature. The 
 Fates who mould us, always work from the main-spring. 
 I will not say that the postillion stripped off the mask for 
 him, at that instant completely; but he gave him the first 
 true glimpse of his condition. From the vague sense of 
 being an impostor, Evan awoke to the clear fact that he 
 was likewise a fool. 
 
 It was impossible for him to deny the man's claim, and 
 he would not have done it, if he could. Acceding tacitly, 
 he squeezed the ends of his purse in his pocket, and with 
 a "Let me see," tried his waistcoat. Not too impetuously; 
 for he was careful of betraying the horrid emptiness till he 
 was certain that the powers who wait on gentlemen had 
 utterly forsaken him. They had not. He discovered a 
 small coin, under ordinary circumstances not contemptible; 
 but he did not stay to reflect, and was guilty of the error 
 of offering it to the postillion. 
 
 The latter peered at it in the centre of his palm; gazed 
 queerly in the gentleman's face, and then lifting the spit 
 of silver for the disdain of his mistress, the moon, he drew 
 a long breath of regret at the original mistake he had com- 
 mitted, and said;
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE KOAD 53 
 
 "That's what you're goin' to give me for my night's 
 work? " 
 
 The powers who wait on gentlemen had only helped the 
 pretending youth to try him. A rejection of the demand 
 would have been infinitely wiser and better than this paltry 
 compromise. The postillion would have fought it: he 
 would not have despised his fare. 
 
 How much it cost the poor pretender to reply, " It's the 
 last farthing I have, my man," the postillion could not 
 know. 
 
 "A scabby sixpence?" The postillion continued his 
 question. 
 
 "You heard what I said," Evan remarked. 
 
 The postillion dreAv another deep breath, and holding out 
 the coin at arm's length: 
 
 " Well, sir ! " he observed, as one whom mental conflict 
 has brought to the philosophy of the case, "now, was we 
 to change places, I couldn't a' done it! I couldn't a' done 
 it! " he reiterated, pausing emphatically. 
 
 "Take it, sir!" he magnanimously resumed; "take it! 
 You rides when you can, and you walks when you must. 
 Lord forbid I should rob such a gentleman as you ! " 
 
 One who feels a death, is for the hour lifted above the 
 satire of postillions. A good genius prompted Evan to 
 avoid the silly squabble that might have ensued and made 
 him ridiculous. He took the money, quietly saying, 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Not to lose his vantage, the postillion, though a little 
 staggered by the move, rejoined: "Don't mention it." 
 
 Evan then said: "Good night, my man. I won't wish, 
 for your sake, that we changed places. You would have to 
 walk fifty miles to be in time for your father's funeral. 
 Good night." 
 
 "You are it — to look at!" was the postillion's com- 
 ment, seeing my gentleman depart with great strides. He 
 did not speak offensively ; rather, it seemed, to appease his 
 conscience for the original mistake he had committed, for 
 subsequently came, "My oath on it, I don't get took in 
 again by a squash hat in a hurry ! " 
 
 Unaware of the ban he had, by a sixpenny stamp, put 
 upon an unoffending class, Evan went a-head, hearing the
 
 54 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 wheels of the chariot still dragging the road in his rear. 
 The postillion was in a dissatisfied state of mind. He had 
 asked and received more than his due. But in the matter 
 of his sweet self, he had been choused, as he termed it. 
 And my gentleman had baffled him, he could not quite tell 
 how; but he had been got the better of; his sarcasms had 
 not stuck, and returned to rankle in the bosom of their 
 author. As a Jew, therefore, may eye an erewhile bonds- 
 man who has paid the bill, but stands out against excess of 
 interest on legal grounds, the postillion regarded Evan, of 
 whom he was now abreast, eager for a controversy. 
 
 "Fine night," said the postillion, to begin, and was an- 
 swered by a short assent. " Lateish for a poor man to be 
 out — don't you think sir, eh ? " 
 
 " I ought to think so," said Evan, mastering the shrewd 
 unpleasantness he felt in the colloquy forced on him. 
 
 "Oh, you! you're a gentleman!" the postillion ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " You see I have no money." 
 
 "Feel it, too, sir." 
 
 " I am sorry you should be the victim." 
 
 "Victim!" the postillion seized on an objectionable word. 
 " I ain't no victim, unless you was up to a joke with me, sir, 
 just now. Was that the game ? " 
 
 Evan informed him that he never played jokes with 
 money, or on men. 
 
 " 'Cause it looks like it, sir, to go to offer a poor chap 
 sixpence." The postillion laughed hollow from the end of 
 his lungs. " Sixpence for a night's work ! It is a joke, if 
 you don't mean it for one. Why, do you know, sir, I could 
 go — there, I don't care where it is ! — I could go before any 
 magistrate livin', and he'd make ye pay. It's a charge, as 
 custom is, and he'd make ye pay. Or p'rhaps you're a goin' 
 on my generosity, and '11 say, he gev back that sixpence ! 
 Well ! I shouldn't a' thought a gentleman 'd make that his 
 defence before a magistrate. But there, my man ! if it 
 makes ye happy, keep it. But you take my advice, sir. 
 When you hires a chariot, see you've got the shiners. And 
 don't you go never again offerin' a sixpence to a poor man 
 for a night's work. They don't like it. It hurts their feel- 
 in's. Don't you forget that, sir. Lay that up in your mind."
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD 55 
 
 Now the postillion having thus relieved himself, jeeringly 
 asked permission to smoke a pipe. To which Evan said, 
 "Pray, smoke, if it pleases you." And the postillion, 
 hardly mollified, added, "The baccy's paid for," and 
 smoked. 
 
 As will sometimes happen, the feelings of the man who 
 had spoken out and behaved doubtfully, grew gentle and 
 Christian, whereas those of the man whose bearing under 
 the trial had been irreproachable were much the reverse. 
 The postillion smoked — he was a lord on his horse; he 
 beheld my gentleman trudging in the dust. Awhile he 
 enjoyed the contrast, dividing his attention between the 
 footfarer and moon. To have had the last word is always 
 a great thing; and to have given my gentleman a lecture, 
 because he shunned a dispute, also counts. And then there 
 was the poor young fellow trudging to his father's funeral ! 
 The postillion chose to remember that now. In reality, he 
 allowed, he had not very much to complain of, and my 
 gentleman's courteous avoidance of provocation (the appar- 
 ent fact that he, the postillion, had humbled him and got 
 the better of him, equally, it may be), acted on his fine 
 English spirit. I should not like to leave out the tobacco 
 in this good change that was wrought in him. However, 
 he presently astonished Evan by pulling up his horses, and 
 crying that he was on his way to Hillford to bait, and saw 
 no reason why he should not take a lift that part of the 
 road, at all events. Evan thanked him briefly, but declined, 
 and paced on with his head bent. 
 
 "It won't cost you nothing — not a sixpence!" the pos- 
 tillion sang out, pursuing him. " Come, sir ! be a man ! I 
 ain't a hintin' at anything — jump in." 
 
 Evan again declined, and looked out for a side path to 
 escape the fellow, whose bounty was worse to him than his 
 abuse, and whose mention of the sixpence was unlucky. 
 
 " Dash it ! " cried the postillion, " you're going down to a 
 funeral — I think you said your father's, sir — you may as 
 well try and get there respectable — as far as / go. It's 
 one to me whether you're in or out ; the horses won't feel 
 it, and I do wish you'd take a lift and welcome. It's be- 
 cause you're too much of a gentleman to be beholden to a 
 poor man, I suppose ! "
 
 56 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Evan's young pride may have had a little of that base 
 mixture in it, and certainly he would have preferred that 
 the invitation had not been made to him ; but he was capa- 
 ble of appreciating what the rejection of a piece of friend- 
 liness involved, and as he saw that the man was sincere, he 
 did violence to himself, and said: "Very well; then I'll 
 jump in." 
 
 The postillion was off his horse in a twinkling, and trotted 
 his bandy legs to undo the door, as to a gentleman who paid. 
 This act of service Evan valued. 
 
 " Suppose I were to ask you to take the sixpence now ? " 
 he said, turning round, with one foot on the step. 
 
 "Well, sir," the postillion sent his hat aside to answer. 
 "I don't want it — I'd rather not have it; but there! I'll 
 take it — dash the sixpence! and we'll cry quits." 
 
 Evan, surprised and pleased with him, dropped the bit of 
 money in his hand, saying : " It will fill a pipe for you. 
 While you're smoking it, think of me as in your debt. 
 You're the only man I ever owed a penny to." 
 
 The postillion put it in a side pocket apart, and observed : 
 " A sixpence kindly meant is worth any crown-piece that's 
 grudged — that it is ! In you jump, sir. It's a jolly night ! " 
 
 Thus may one, not a conscious sage, play the right tune 
 on this human nature of ours : by forbearance, put it in the 
 wrong ; and then, by not refusing the burden of an obliga- 
 tion, confer something better. The instrument is simpler 
 than we are taught to fancy. But it was doubtless owing 
 to a strong emotion in his soul, as well as to the stuff he 
 was made of, that the youth behaved as he did. We are 
 now and then above our own actions; seldom on a level 
 with them. Evan, I dare say, was long in learning to draw 
 any gratification from the fact that he had achieved with- 
 out money the unparalleled conquest of a man. Perhaps he 
 never knew what immediate influence on his fortune this 
 episode effected. 
 
 At Hillford they went their different ways. The postil- 
 lion wished him good speed, and Evan shook his hand. He 
 did so rather abruptly, for the postillion was fumbling at his 
 pocket, and evidently rounding about a proposal in his mind. 
 
 My gentleman has now the road to himself. Money is 
 the clothing of a gentleman : he may wear it well or ill.
 
 MOTHER AND SON" 57 
 
 Some, you will mark, carry great quantities of it grace- 
 fully : some, with a stinted supply, present a decent appear- 
 ance : very few, I imagine, will bear inspection, who are 
 absolutely stripped of it. All, save the shameless, are toil- 
 ing to escape that trial. My gentleman, treading the white 
 highway across the solitary heaths, that swell far and wide 
 to the moon, is, by the postillion, who has seen him, pro- 
 nounced no sham. Nor do I think the opinion of any man 
 worthless, who has had the postillion's authority for speak- 
 ing. But it is, I am told, a finer test to embellish much 
 gentleman-apparel, than to walk with dignity totally un- 
 adorned. This simply tries the soundness of our faculties : 
 that tempts them in erratic directions. It is the difference 
 between active and passive excellence. 
 
 As there is hardly any situation, however, so interesting 
 to reflect upon as that of a man without a penny in his 
 pocket, and a gizzard full of pride, we will leave Mr. Evan 
 Harrington to what fresh adventures may befall him, walk- 
 ing toward the funeral plumes of the firs, under the soft 
 midsummer flush, westward, where his father lies. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MOTHER AND SON 
 
 Rare as epic song is the man who is thorough in what 
 he does. And happily so; for in life he subjugates us, 
 and he makes us bondsmen to his ashes. It was in the 
 order of things that the great Mel should be borne to his 
 final resting place by a troop of creditors. You have seen 
 (since the occasion demands a pompous simile) clouds that 
 all day cling about the sun, and, in seeking to obscure him, 
 are compelled to blaze in his livery : at fall of night they 
 break from him illumined, hang mournfully above him, and 
 wear his natural glories long after he is gone. Thus, then, 
 these worthy fellows, faithful to him to the dust, fulfilled 
 Mel's triumphant passage amongst them, and closed his 
 career.
 
 58 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 To regale them when they returned, Mrs. Mel, whose mind 
 was not intent on greatness, was occupied in spreading meat 
 and wine. Mrs. Fiske assisted her, as well as she could, 
 seeing that one hand was entirely engaged by her handker- 
 chief. She had already stumbled, and dropped a glass, 
 which had brought on her sharp condemnation from her 
 aunt, who bade her sit down, or go up-stairs to have her cry 
 out, and then return to be serviceable. 
 
 " Oh ! I can't help it ! " sobbed Mrs. Fiske. « That he 
 should be carried away, and none of his children to see him 
 the last time ! I can understand Louisa — and Harriet, too, 
 perhaps ! But why could not Caroline ? And that they 
 should be too fine ladies to let their brother come and bury 
 his father. Oh ! it does seem " 
 
 Mrs. Fiske fell into a chair, and surrendered to grief. 
 
 " Where is the cold tongue ? " said Mrs. Mel to Sally, the 
 maid, in a brief under-voice. 
 
 " Please mum, Jacko ! " 
 
 " He must be whipped. You are a careless slut." 
 
 " Please, I can't think of everybody and everything, and 
 poor master " 
 
 Sally plumped on a seat, and took sanctuary under her 
 apron. Mrs. Mel glanced at the pair, continuing her labour. 
 
 " Oh, aunt, aunt ! " cried Mrs. Fiske, " why didn't you put 
 it off for another day, to give Evan a chance ? " 
 
 " Master'd have kept another two days, he would ! " whim- 
 pered Sally. 
 
 " Oh, aunt ! to think ! " cried Mrs. Fiske. 
 
 " And his coffin not bearin' of his spurs ! " whimpered 
 Sally. 
 
 Mrs. Mel interrupted them by commanding Sally to go to 
 the drawing-room, and ask a lady there, of the name of Mrs. 
 "VVishaw, whether she would like to have some lunch sent up 
 to her. Mrs. Fiske was requested to put towels in Evan's 
 bedroom. 
 
 " Yes, aunt, if you're not infatuated ! " said Mrs. Fiske, as 
 she prepared to obey ; while Sally, seeing that her public 
 exhibition of sorrow and sympathy could be indulged but an 
 instant longer, unwound herself for a violent paroxysm, 
 blurting between stops : 
 
 "If he'd ony've gone to his last bed comfortable! . . .
 
 MOTHER AND SON 59 
 
 If he'd ony've been that decent as not for to go to his last 
 bed with his clothes on ! ... If he'd ony've had a comfort- 
 able sheet ! ... It makes a woman feel cold to think of 
 him full dressed there, as if he was goin' to be a soldier on 
 the Day o' Judgement ! " 
 
 To let people speak was a maxim of Mrs. Mel's, and a 
 wise one for any form of society when emotions are very 
 much on the surface. She continued her arrangements 
 quietly, and, having counted the number of plates and 
 glasses, and told off the guests on her fingers, she sat down 
 to await them. 
 
 The first who entered the room was her son. 
 
 " You have come," said Mrs. Mel, flushing slightly, but 
 otherwise outwardly calm. 
 
 " You didn't suppose I should stay away from you, 
 mother ? " 
 
 Evan kissed her cheek. 
 
 " I knew you would not." 
 
 Mrs. Mel examined him with those eyes of hers that com- 
 passed objects in a single glance. She drew her finger on 
 each side of her upper lip, and half smiled, saying : 
 
 " That won't do here." 
 
 " What ? " asked Evan, and proceeded immediately to 
 make inquiries about her health, which she satisfied with a nod. 
 
 " You saw him lowered, Van ? " 
 
 "Yes, mother." 
 
 " Then go and wash yourself, for you are dirty, and then 
 come and take your place at the head of the table." 
 
 " Must I sit here, mother ? " 
 
 "Without a doubt you must. You know your room. 
 Quick ! " 
 
 In this manner their first interview passed. 
 
 Mrs. Fiske rushed in to exclaim : 
 
 "So, you were right, aunt — he has come. I met him on 
 the stairs. Oh ! how like dear uncle Mel he looks, in the 
 militia, with that moustache. I just remember him as a 
 child; and, oh, ivhat a gentleman he is!" 
 
 At the end of the sentence Mrs. Mel's face suddenly 
 darkened : she said, in a deep voice : 
 
 " Don't dare to talk that nonsense before him, Ann." 
 
 Mrs. Fiske looked astonished.
 
 60 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "What have I done, aunt?" 
 
 " He shan't be ruined by a parcel of fools," said Mrs. Mel. 
 " There, go ! Women have no place here." 
 
 " How the wretches can force themselves to touch a morsel, 
 after this morning ! " Mrs. Fiske exclaimed, glancing at the 
 table. 
 
 " Men must eat," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 The mourners were heard gathering outside the door. 
 Mrs. Fiske escaped into the kitchen. Mrs. Mel admitted 
 them into the parlour, bowing much above the level of many 
 of the heads that passed her. 
 
 Assembled were Messrs. Barnes, Kilne, and Grossby, whom 
 we know ; Mr. Doubleday, the ironmonger ; Mr. Joyce, the 
 grocer ; Mr. Perkins, commonly called Lawyer Perkins ; Mr. 
 Welbeck, the pier-master of Lymport ; Bartholomew Fiske ; 
 Mr. Coxwell, a Fallowfield maltster, brewer, and farmer; 
 creditors of various dimensions, all of them. Mr. Goren 
 coining last, behind his spectacles. 
 
 " My son will be with you directly, to preside," said Mrs. 
 Mel. " Accept my thanks for the respect you have shown 
 my husband. I wish you good morning." 
 
 " Morning, ma'am," answered several voices, and Mrs. Mel 
 retired. 
 
 The mourners then set to work to relieve their hats of the 
 appendages of crape. An undertaker's man took possession 
 of the long black cloaks. The gloves were generally pocketed. 
 
 "That's my second black pair this year," said Joyce. 
 " They'll last a time to come. I don't need to buy gloves 
 while neighbours pop off." 
 
 " Undertakers' gloves seem to me as if they're made for 
 mutton fists," remarked Welbeck ; upon which Kilne nudged 
 Barnes, the butcher, with a sharp "Aha!" and Barnes 
 observed : 
 
 " Oh ! I never wear 'em — they does for my boys on 
 Sundays. I smoke a pipe at home." 
 
 The Fallowfield farmer held his length of crape aloft and 
 inquired : " What shall do with this ? " 
 
 " Oh, you keep it," said one or two. 
 
 Coxwell rubbed his chin. " Don't like to rob the widder." 
 
 "What's left goes to the undertaker ? " asked Grossby. 
 
 "To be sure," said Barnes; and Kilne added: "It's a
 
 MOTHER AND SON 61 
 
 job : " Lawyer Perkins ejaculating confidently, " Perquisites 
 of office, gentlemen; perquisites of office!" -which settled 
 the dispute and appeased every conscience. 
 
 A survey of the table ensued. The mourners felt hunger, 
 or else thirst; but had not, it appeared, amalgamated the 
 two appetites as yet. Thirst was the predominant declara- 
 tion ; and Grossby, after an examination of the decanters, 
 unctuously deduced the fact, which he announced, that port 
 and sherry were present. 
 
 a Try the port," said Kilne. 
 
 " Good ? " Barnes inquired. 
 
 A very intelligent " I ought to know," with a reserve of 
 regret at the extension of his intimacy with the particular 
 vintage under that roof, was winked by Kilne. 
 
 Lawyer Perkins touched the arm of a mourner about to 
 be experimental on Kilne's port : 
 
 "I think we had better wait till young Mr. Harrington 
 takes the table, don't you see ? " 
 
 " Yes, — ah ! " croaked Goren. " The head of the family, 
 as the saying goes ! " 
 
 " I suppose we shan't go into business to-day ? " Joyce 
 carelessly observed. 
 
 Lawyer Perkins answered : 
 
 "No. You can't expect it. Mr. Harrington has led me 
 to anticipate that he will appoint a day. Don't you see ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I see," returned Joyce. " I ain't in such a hurry. 
 What's he doing ? " 
 
 Doubleday, whose propensities were waggish, suggested 
 " shaving," but half ashamed of it, since the joke missed, 
 fell to as if he were soaping his face, and had some trouble 
 to contract his jaw. 
 
 The delay in Evan's attendance on the guests of the house 
 was caused by the fact that Mrs. Mel had lain in wait for 
 him descending, to warn him that he must treat them with 
 no supercilious civility, and to tell him partly the reason 
 why. On hearing the potential relations in which they 
 stood toward the estate of his father, Evan hastily and with 
 the assurance of a son of fortune, said they should be paid. 
 
 "That's what they would like to hear," said Mrs. Mel. 
 " You may just mention it when they're going to leave. Say 
 you will fix a day to meet them."
 
 62 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Every farthing ! " pursued Evan, on whom the tidings 
 were beginning to operate. "What! debts? my poor 
 father!" 
 
 " And a thumping sum, Van. You will open your eyes 
 wider." 
 
 " But it shall be paid, mother, — it shall be paid. Debts ? 
 I hate them. I'd slave night and day to pay them." 
 
 Mrs. Mel spoke in a more positive tense : " And so will I, 
 Van. Now, go." 
 
 It mattered little to her what sort of effect on his de- 
 meanour her revelation produced, so long as the resolve she 
 sought to bring him to was nailed in his mind ; and she was 
 a woman to knock and knock again, till it was firmly fixed 
 there. With a strong purpose, and no plans, there were few 
 who could resist what, in her circle, she willed ; not even a 
 youth who would gaily have marched to the scaffold rather 
 than stand behind a counter. A purpose wedded to plans 
 may easily suffer shipwreck ; but an unfettered purpose that 
 moulds circumstances as they arise, masters us, and is terri- 
 ble. Character melts to it, like metal in the steady furnace. 
 The projector of plots is but a miserable gambler and votary 
 of chances. Of a far higher quality is the will that can 
 subdue itself to wait, and lay no petty traps for opportunity. 
 Poets may fable of such a will, that it makes the very 
 heavens conform to it ; or, I may add, what is almost equal 
 thereto, one who would be a gentleman, to consent to be a 
 tailor. The only person who ever held in his course against 
 Mrs. Mel, was Mel, — her husband; but, with him, she was 
 under the physical fascination of her youth, and it never 
 left her. In her heart she barely blamed him. What he 
 did, she took among other inevitable matters. 
 
 The door closed upon Evan, and waiting at the foot of the 
 stairs a minute to hear how he was received, Mrs. Mel went 
 to the kitchen and called the name of Dandy, which brought 
 out an ill-built, low-browed, small man, in a baggy suit of 
 black, who hopped up to her with a surly salute. Dandy 
 was a bird Mrs. Mel had herself brought down, and she had 
 for him something of a sportsman's regard for his victim. 
 Dandy was the cleaner of boots and runner of errands in the 
 household of Melchisedec, having originally entered it on a 
 dark night by the cellar. Mrs. Mel, on that occasion, was
 
 MOTHER AND SON 63 
 
 sleeping in her dressing-gown, to be ready to give the gallant 
 night-hawk, her husband, the service he might require on his 
 return to the nest. Hearing a suspicious noise below, she 
 rose, and deliberately loaded a pair of horse-pistols, weapons 
 Mel had worn in his holsters in the heroic days gone ; and 
 with these she stepped down-staiTs straight to the cellar, 
 carrying a lantern at her girdle. She could not only load, 
 but present and fire. Dandy was foremost in stating that she 
 called him forth steadily, three times, before the pistol was 
 discharged. He admitted that he was frightened, and inca- 
 pable of speech, at the apparition of the tall, terrific woman. 
 After the third time of asking he had the ball lodged in his 
 leg and fell. Mrs. Mel was in the habit of bearing heavier 
 weights than Dandy. She made no ado about lugging him 
 to a chamber, where, with her own hands (for this woman 
 had some slight knowledge of surgery, and was great in herbs 
 and drugs) she dressed his wound, and put him to bed ; crying 
 contempt (ever present in Dandy's memory) at such a poor 
 creature undertaking the work of housebreaker. Taught 
 that he really was a poor creature for the work, Dandy, his 
 nursing over, begged to be allowed to stop and wait on Mrs. 
 Mel ; and she who had, like many strong natures, a share of 
 pity for the objects she despised, did not cast him out. A 
 jerk in his gait, owing to the bit of lead Mrs. Mel had 
 dropped into him, and a little, perhaps, to her self-satisfied 
 essay in surgical science on his person, earned him the name 
 he went by. 
 
 When her neighbours remonstrated with her for housing 
 a reprobate, Mrs. Mel would say : " Dandy is well-fed and 
 well-physicked : there's no harm in Dandy ; " by which she 
 may have meant that the food won his gratitude, and the 
 physic reduced his humours. She had observed human 
 nature. At any rate, Dandy was her creature; and the 
 great Mel himself rallied her about her squire. 
 
 " When were you drunk last ? " was Mrs. Mel's address to 
 Dandy, as he stood waiting for orders. 
 
 He replied to it in an altogether injured way : 
 
 " There, now ; you've been and called me away from my 
 dinner to ask me that. Why, when I had the last chance, 
 to be sure." 
 
 " And you were at dinner in your new black suit ? "
 
 64 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Well," growled Dandy, "I borrowed Sally's apron. 
 Seems I can't please ye." 
 
 Mrs. Mel neither enjoined nor cared for outward forms of 
 respect, where she was sure of complete subserviency. If 
 Dandy went beyond the limits, she gave him an extra dose. 
 Up to the limits he might talk as he pleased, in accordance 
 with Mrs. Mel's maxim, that it was a necessary relief to all 
 talking creatures. 
 
 "Now, take off your apron," she said, "and wash your 
 hands, dirty pig, and go and wait at table in there ; " she 
 pointed to the parlour-door. "Come straight to me when 
 everybody has left." 
 
 "Well, there I am with the bottles again," returned 
 Dandy. "It's your fault this time, mind! I'll come as 
 straight as I can." 
 
 Dandy turned away to perform her bidding, and Mrs. Mel 
 ascended to the drawing-room to sit with Mrs. Wishaw, who 
 was, as she told all who chose to hear, an old flame of Mel's, 
 and was besides, what Mrs. Mel thought more of, the wife of 
 Mel's principal creditor, a wholesale dealer in cloth, resident 
 in London. 
 
 The conviviality of the mourners did not disturb the house. 
 Still, men who are not accustomed to see the colour of wine 
 every day, will sit and enjoy it, even upon solemn occasions, 
 and the longer they sit the more they forget the matter that 
 has brought them together. Pleading their wives and shops, 
 however, they released Evan from his miserable office late in 
 the afternoon. His mother came down to him, and saying, 
 "I see how you did the journey — you walked it," told him 
 to follow her. 
 
 "Yes, mother," Evan yawned, "I walked part of the 
 way. I met a fellow in a gig about ten miles out of Fallow- 
 field, and he gave me a lift to Flatsham. I just reached 
 Lymport in time, thank Heaven! I wouldn't have missed 
 that ! By the way, I've satisfied these men." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 "They wanted — one or two of them — what a penance it 
 is to have to sit among those people an hour ! — they wanted 
 to ask me about the business, but I silenced them. I told 
 them to meet me here this day week." 
 
 Mrs. Mel again said " Oh ! " and, pushing into one of the
 
 MOTHER AND SON 65 
 
 upper rooms, " Here's your bedroom, Van, just as you left 
 it." 
 
 "Ah, so it is," muttered Evan, eyeing a print. "The 
 Douglas and the Percy : ' he took the dead man by the hand.' 
 What an age it seems since I last saw that. There's Sir 
 Hugh Montgomery on horseback — he hasn't moved. Don't 
 you remember my father calling it the Battle of Tit-f or-Tat ? 
 Gallant Percy ! I know he wished he had lived in those 
 days of kuights and battles." 
 
 " It does not much signify whom one has to make clothes 
 for," observed Mrs. Mel. Her son happily did not mark her. 
 
 " I think we neither of us were made for the days of pence 
 and pounds," he continued. "Now, mother, sit down, and 
 talk to me about him. Did he mention me ? Did he give 
 me his blessing ? I hope he did not suffer. I'd have given 
 anything to press his hand," and looking wistfully at the 
 Percy lifting the hand of Douglas dead, Evan's eyes filled 
 with big tears. 
 
 "He suffered very little," returned Mrs. Mel, "and his 
 last words were about you." 
 
 " What were they ? " Evan burst out. 
 
 " I will tell you another time. Now undress, and go to 
 bed. When I talk to you, Van, I want a cool head to listen. 
 You do nothing but yawn yard-measures." 
 
 The mouth of the weary youth instinctively snapped short 
 the abhorred emblem. 
 
 " Here, I will help you, Van." 
 
 In spite of his remonstrances and petitions for talk, she 
 took off his coat and waistcoat, contemptuously criticizing 
 the cloth of foreign tailors and their absurd cut. 
 
 " Have you heard from Louisa ? " asked Evan. 
 
 " Yes, yes — about your sisters by-and-by. Now, be good, 
 and go to bed." 
 
 She still treated him like a boy, whom she was going to 
 force to the resolution of a man. 
 
 Dandy's sleeping-room was on the same floor as Evan's. 
 Thither, when she had quitted her son, she directed her 
 steps. She had heard Dandy tumble up-stairs the moment 
 his duties were over, and knew what to expect when the 
 bottles had been in his way ; for drink made Dandy savage, 
 and a terror to himself. It was her command to him that,
 
 66 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 when he happened to come across liquor, he should imme- 
 diately seek his bedroom and bolt the door, and Dandy had 
 got the habit of obeying her. On this occasion he was vin- 
 dictive against her, seeing that she had delivered him over 
 to his enemy with malice prepense. A good deal of knocking, 
 and summoning of Dandy by name, was required before she 
 was admitted, and the sight of her did not delight him, as he 
 testified. 
 
 " I'm drunk ! " he bawled. " Will that do for ye ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel stood with her two hands crossed above her 
 apron-string, noting his sullen lurking eye with the calm of 
 a tamer of beasts. 
 
 " You go out of the room ; I'm drunk ! " Dandy repeated, 
 and pitched forward on the bed-post, in the middle of an oath. 
 
 She understood that it was pure kindness on Dandy's part 
 to bid her go and be out of his reach ; and therefore, on his 
 becoming so abusive as to be menacing, she, without a shade 
 of anger, and in the most unruffled manner, administered to 
 him the remedy she had reserved, in the shape of a smart 
 box on the ear, which sent him flat to the floor. He rose, 
 after two or three efforts, quite subdued. 
 
 " Now, Dandy, sit on the edge of the bed." 
 
 Dandy sat on the extreme edge, and Mrs. Mel pursued : 
 " Now, Dandy, tell me what your master said at the table." 
 
 " Talked at 'em like a lord, he did," said Dandy, stupidly 
 consoling the boxed ear. 
 
 " What were his words ? " 
 
 Dandy's peculiarity was, that he never remembered any- 
 thing save when drunk, and Mrs. Mel's dose had rather 
 sobered him. By degrees, scratching at his head haltingly, 
 he gave the context. 
 
 " ' Gentlemen, I hear for the first time, you've claims 
 against my poor father. Nobody shall ever say he died, and 
 any man was the worse for it. I'll meet you next week, and 
 I'll bind myself by law. Here's Lawyer Perkins. No ; Mr. 
 Perkins. I'll pay off every penny. Gentlemen, look upon 
 me as your debtor, and not my father.' " 
 
 Delivering this with tolerable steadiness, Dandy asked, 
 "Will that do?" 
 
 "That will do," said Mrs. Mel. "Til send you up some 
 tea presently. Lie down, Dandy."
 
 MOTHER AND SON 67 
 
 The house was dark and silent when Evan, refreshed by 
 his rest, descended to seek his mother. She was sitting alone 
 in the parlour. With a tenderness which Mrs. Mel permitted 
 rather than encouraged, Evan put his arm round her neck, 
 and kissed her many times. One of the symptoms of heavy 
 sorrow, a longing for the signs of love, made Evan fondle his 
 mother, and bend over her yearningly. Mrs. Mel said once : 
 " Dear Van ; good boy ! " and quietly sat through his caresses. 
 
 " Sitting up for me, mother ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Yes, Van ; we may as well have our talk out." 
 
 " Ah ! " he took a chair close by her side, " tell me my 
 father's last words." 
 
 " He said he hoped you would never be a tailor." 
 
 Evan's forehead wrinkled up. "There's not much fear of 
 that, then ! " 
 
 His mother turned her face on him, and examined him 
 with a rigorous placidity ; all her features seeming to bear 
 down on him. Evan did not like the look. 
 
 " You object to trade, Van ? " 
 
 "Yes, decidedly, mother — hate it; but that's not what 
 I want to talk to you about. Didn't my father speak of me 
 much ? " 
 
 "He desired that you should wear his militia sword, if 
 you got a commission." 
 
 " I have rather given up hope of the Army," said Evan. 
 
 Mrs. Mel requested him to tell her what a colonel's full 
 pay amounted to ; and again, the number of years it required, 
 on a rough calculation, to attain that grade. In reply to his 
 statement she observed : " A tailor might realize twice the 
 sum in a quarter of the time." 
 
 "What if he does — double, or treble?" cried Evan, 
 impetuously ; and to avoid the theme, and cast off the bad 
 impression it produced on him, he rubbed his hands, and 
 said : "I want to talk to you about my prospects, mother." 
 
 "What are they ?" Mrs. Mel inquired. 
 
 The severity of her mien and sceptical coldness of her 
 speech caused him to inspect them suddenly, as if she had 
 lent him her eyes. He put them by, till the gold should 
 recover its natural shine, saying : " By the way, mother, I've 
 written the half of a History of Portugal." 
 
 " Have you ? " said Mrs. Mel. " Eor Louisa ? "
 
 68 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "No, mother, of course not: to sell it. Albuquerque! 
 what a splendid fellow he was ! " 
 
 Informing him that he knew she abominated foreign 
 names, she said: "And your prospects are, writing His- 
 tories of Portugal ? " 
 
 " No, mother. I was going to tell you, I expect a Govern- 
 ment appointment. Mr. Jocelyn likes my work — I think 
 he likes me. You know, I was his private secretary for ten 
 months." 
 
 " You write a good hand," his mother interposed. 
 
 " And I'm certain I was born for diplomacy." 
 
 " For an easy chair, and an ink-dish before you, and lacqueys 
 behind. What's to be your income, Van ? " 
 
 Evan carelessly remarked that he must wait and see. 
 
 " A very proper thing to do," said Mrs. Mel ; for now that 
 she had fixed him to some explanation of his prospects, she 
 could condescend in her stiff way to banter. 
 
 Slightly touched by it, Evan pursued, half laughing, as 
 men do who wish to propitiate common sense on behalf of 
 what seems tolerably absurd : " It's not the immediate income, 
 you know, mother : one thinks of one's future. In the diplo- 
 matic service, as Louisa says, you come to be known to Min- 
 isters — gradually, I mean. That is, they hear of you ; and 
 
 if you show you have some capacity Louisa wants me 
 
 to throw it up in time, and stand for Parliament. Andrew, 
 she thinks, would be glad to help me to his seat. Once in 
 Parliament, and known to Ministers, you — your career is 
 open to you." 
 
 In justice to Mr. Evan Harrington, it must be said, he 
 built up this extraordinary card-castle to dazzle his mother's 
 mind : he had lost his right grasp of her character for the 
 moment, because of an undefined suspicion of something she 
 intended, and which sent him himself to take refuge in those 
 flimsy structures; while the very altitude he reached beguiled 
 his imagination, and made him hope to impress hers. 
 
 Mrs. Mel dealt it one fillip. " And in the meantime how 
 are you to live, and pay the creditors ? " 
 
 Though Evan answered cheerfully, " Oh, they will wait, 
 and I can live on anything," he was nevertheless flounder- 
 ing on the ground amid the ruins of the superb edifice ; and 
 his mother, upright and rigid, continuing, " You can live on
 
 MOTHER AND SON 69 
 
 anything, and they will wait, and call your father a rogue,"' 
 he started, grievously bitten by one of the serpents of earth. 
 
 " Good heaven, mother ! what are you saying ? " 
 
 " That they will call your father a rogue, and will have a 
 right to," said the relentless woman. 
 
 " Not while I live ! " Evan exclaimed. 
 
 " You may stop one mouth with your fist, but you won't 
 stop a dozen, Van." 
 
 Evan jumped up and walked the room. 
 
 " What am I to do ? " he cried. " I will pay everything. 
 I will bind myself to pay every farthing. What more can 
 I possibly do ? " 
 
 " Make the money," said Mrs. Mel's deep voice. 
 
 Evan faced her: "My dear mother, you are very unjust 
 and inconsiderate. I have been working and doing my best. 
 I promise what do the debts amount to ? " 
 
 " Something like 5000Z. in all, Van." 
 
 " Very well." Youth is not alarmed by the sound of big 
 sums. "Very well — I will pay it." 
 
 Evan looked as proud as if he had just clapped down the 
 full amount on the table. 
 
 " Out of the History of Portugal, half written, and the 
 prospect of a Government appointment?" 
 
 Mrs. Mel raised her eyelids to him. 
 
 " In time — in time, mother ! " 
 
 " Mention your proposal to the creditors when you meet 
 them this day week," she said. 
 
 Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Then Evan 
 came close to her, saying : 
 
 " What is it you want of me, mother ? " 
 
 "/want nothing, Van — I can support myself." 
 
 " But what would you have me do, mother ? " 
 
 "Be honest; do your duty, and don't be a fool about 
 it." 
 
 "I will try," he rejoined. "You tell me to make the 
 money. Where and how can I make it? I am perfectly 
 willing to work." 
 
 " In this house," said Mrs. Mel ; and, as this was pretty 
 clear speaking, she stood up to lend her figure to it. 
 
 " Here ? " faltered Evan. " What ! be a " 
 
 " Tailor ! " The word did not sting her tongue.
 
 70 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " I ? Oh, that's quite impossible ! " said Evan. And 
 visions of leprosy, and Rose shrinking her skirts from contact 
 with him, shadowed out and away in his mind. 
 
 " Understand your choice ! " Mrs. Mel imperiously spoke. 
 " What are brains given you for ? To be played the fool 
 with by idiots and women? You have 5000Z. to pay to 
 save your father from being called a rogue. You can only 
 make the money in one way, which is open to you. This 
 business might produce a thousand pounds a-year and more. 
 In seven or eight years you may clear your father's name, 
 and live better all the time than many of your bankrupt 
 gentlemen. You have told the creditors you will pay them. 
 Do you think they're gaping fools, to be satisfied by a History 
 of Portugal ? If you refuse to take the business at once, 
 they will sell me up, and quite right too. Understand your 
 choice. There's Mr. Goren has promised to have you in 
 London a couple of months, and teach you what he can. 
 He is a kind friend. Would any of your gentlemen ac- 
 quaintance do the like for you ? Understand your choice. 
 You will be a beggar — the son of a rogue — or an honest 
 man who has cleared his father's name ! " 
 
 During this strenuously uttered allocution, Mrs. Mel, 
 though her chest heaved but faintly against her crossed 
 hands, showed by the dilatation of her eyes, and the light in 
 them, that she felt her words. There is that in the aspect 
 of a fine frame breathing hard facts, which, to a youth who 
 has been tumbled headlong from his card-castles and airy 
 fabrics, is masterful, and like the pressure of a Fate. Evan 
 drooped his head. 
 
 " Now," said Mrs. Mel, " you shall have some supper." 
 
 Evan told her he could not eat. 
 
 " I insist upon your eating," said Mrs. Mel ; " empty 
 stomachs are foul counsellors." 
 
 " Mother ! do you want to drive me mad ? " cried Evan. 
 
 She looked at him to see whether the string she held him 
 by would bear the slight additional strain : decided not to 
 press a small point. 
 
 " Then go to bed and sleep on it," she said — sure of him 
 — and gave her cheek for his kiss, for she never performed 
 the operation, but kept her mouth, as she remarked, for food 
 and speech, and not for slobbering mummeries.
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 71 
 
 Evan returned to his solitary room. He sat on the bed 
 and tried to think, oppressed by horrible sensations of self- 
 contempt, that caused whatever he touched to sicken him. 
 
 There were the Douglas and the Percy on the wall. It 
 was a happy and a glorious time, was it not, when men lent 
 each other blows that killed outright ; when to be brave and 
 cherish noble feelings brought honour; when strength of 
 arm and steadiness of heart won fortune; when the fair 
 stars of earth — sweet women — wakened and warmed the 
 love of squires of low degree. This legacy of the dead 
 man's hand ! Evan would have paid it with his blood ; but 
 to be in bondage all his days to it ; through it to lose all 
 that was dear to him ; to wear the length of a loathed exist- 
 ence ! — we should pardon a young man's wretchedness at 
 the prospect, for it was in a time before our joyful era of 
 universal equality. Yet he never cast a shade of blame 
 upon his father. 
 
 The hours moved on, and he found himself staring at his 
 small candle, which struggled more and more faintly with 
 the morning light, like his own flickering ambition against 
 the facts of life. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 
 
 At the Aurora — one of those rare antiquated taverns, 
 smelling of comfortable time and solid English fare, that had 
 sprung up in the great coffee days, when taverns were clubs, 
 and had since subsisted on the attachment of steady bachelor 
 Templars — there had been dismay, and even sorrow, for a 
 month. The most constant patron of the establishment — 
 an old gentleman who had dined there for seven-and-twenty 
 years, four days in the week, off dishes dedicated to the 
 particular days, and had grown grey with the landlady, 
 the cook, and the head-waiter — this old gentleman had ab- 
 ruptly withheld his presence. Though his name, his resi- 
 dence, his occupation, were things only to be speculated 
 on at the Aurora, he was very well known there, and as
 
 72 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 men are best to be known : that is to say, by their habits. 
 Some affection for him also was felt. The landlady looked 
 on him as a part of the house. The cook and the waiter 
 were accustomed to receive acceptable compliments from 
 him monthly. His precise words, his regular ancient jokes, 
 his pint of Madeira and after-pint of Port, his antique bow 
 to the landlady, passing out and in, his method of spreading 
 his table-napkin on his lap and looking up at the ceiling ere 
 he fell to, and how he talked to himself during the repast, 
 and indulged in short chuckles, and the one look of perfect 
 felicity that played over his features when he had taken his 
 iirst sip of Port — these were matters it pained them at the 
 Aurora to have to remember. 
 
 For three weeks the resolution not to regard him as of 
 the past was general. The Aurora was the old gentleman's 
 home. Men do not play truant from home at sixty years 
 of age. He must, therefore, be seriously indisposed. The 
 kind heart of the landlady fretted to think he might have 
 no soul to nurse and care for him ; but she kept his corner 
 near the fire-place vacant, and took care that his pint of 
 Madeira was there. The belief was gaining ground that he 
 had gone, and that nothing but his ghost would ever sit 
 there again. Still the melancholy ceremony continued : for 
 the landlady was not without a secret hope, that in spite of 
 his reserve and the mystery surrounding him, he would 
 have sent her a last word. The cook and head-waiter, in- 
 terrogated as to their dealings with the old gentleman, tes- 
 tified solemnly to the fact of their having performed their 
 duty by him. They would not go against their interests so 
 much as to forget one of his ways, they said — taking oath, 
 as it were, by their lower nature, in order to be credited : an 
 instinct men have of one another. The landlady could not 
 contradict them, for the old gentleman had made no com- 
 plaint; but then she called to memory that fifteen years 
 back, in such and such a year, Wednesday's dish had been, 
 by shameful oversight, furnished him for Tuesday's, and he 
 had eaten it quietly, but refused his Port ; which pathetic 
 event had caused alarm and inquiry, when the error was 
 discovered, and apologized for, the old gentleman merely 
 saying, "Don't let it happen again." Next day he drank 
 his Port, as usual, and the Avheels of the Aurora went
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 73 
 
 smoothly. The landlady was thus justified in averring that 
 something had been done by somebody, albeit unable to 
 point to anything specific. Women, who are almost as 
 deeply bound to habit as old gentlemen, possess more of its 
 spiritual element, and are warned by dreams, omens, creep- 
 ings of the flesh, unwonted chills, suicide of china, and other 
 shadowing signs, when a break is to be anticipated, or has 
 occurred. The landlady of the Aurora tavern was visited 
 by none of these, and with that beautiful trust which habit 
 gives, and which boastful love or vainer earthly qualities 
 would fail in effecting, she ordered that the pint of Madeira 
 should stand from six o'clock in the evening till seven — a 
 small monument of confidence in him who was at one instant 
 the " poor old dear ; " at another, the " naughty old gad- 
 about;" further, the "faithless old good-for-nothing;" and 
 again, the " blessed pet" of the landlady's parlour, alter- 
 nately and indiscriminately apostrophized by herself, her 
 sister, and daughter. 
 
 On the last day of the month a step was heard coming up 
 the long alley which led from the riotous scrambling street 
 to the plentiful cheerful heart of the Aurora. The land- 
 lady knew the step. She checked the natural flutterings of 
 her ribbons, toned down the strong simper that was on her 
 lips, rose, pushed aside her daughter, and, as the step 
 approached, curtsied composedly. Old Habit lifted his 
 hat, and passed. With the same touching confidence in 
 the Aurora that the Aurora had in him, he went straight 
 to his corner, expressed no surprise at his welcome by the 
 Madeira, and thereby apparently indicated that his appear- 
 ance should enjoy a similar immunity. 
 
 As of old, he called "Jonathan! " and was not to be dis- 
 turbed till he did so. Seeing that Jonathan smirked and 
 twiddled his napkin, the old gentleman added, " Thursday ! " 
 
 But Jonathan, a man, had not his mistress's keen intui- 
 tion of the deportment necessitated by the case, or was 
 incapable of putting the screw upon weak excited nature, 
 for he continued to smirk, and was remarking how glad 
 he was, he was sure, and something he had dared to think 
 and almost to fear, when the old gentleman called to him, 
 as if he were at the other end of the room, "Will you 
 order Thursday, or not, sir? " Whereat Jonathan flew, and
 
 74 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 two or three cosy diners glanced up from their plates, or 
 the paper, smiled, and pursued their capital occupation. 
 
 " Glad to see me ! " the old gentleman muttered, queru- 
 lously. " Of course, glad to see a customer ! Why do you 
 tell me that? Talk! tattle! might as well have a woman 
 to wait — just!" 
 
 He wiped his forehead largely with his handkerchief, as 
 one whom Calamity hunted a little too hard in summer 
 weather. 
 
 "No tumbling-room for the wine, too! " 
 
 That was his next grievance. He changed the pint of 
 Madeira from his left side to his right, and went under his 
 handkerchief again, feverishly. The world was severe with 
 this old gentleman. 
 
 " Ah ! clock wrong now ! " 
 
 He leaned back like a man who can no longer carry his 
 burdens, informing Jonathan, on his coming up to place 
 the roll of bread and firm butter, that he was forty seconds 
 too fast, as if it were a capital offence, and he deserved to 
 step into Eternity for outstripping Time. 
 
 " But, I daresay, you don't understand the importance of 
 a minute," said the old gentleman, bitterly. "Not you, or 
 any of you. Better if we had run a little ahead of your 
 minute, perhaps — and the rest of you ! Do you think you 
 can cancel the mischief that's done in the world in that 
 minute, sir, by hurrying ahead like that? Tell me! " 
 
 Rather at a loss, Jonathan scanned the clock seriously, 
 and observed that it was not quite a minute too fast. 
 
 The old gentleman pulled out his watch. He grunted 
 that a lying clock was hateful to him; subsequently sinking 
 into contemplation of his thumbs, — a sign known to Jona- 
 than as indicative of the old gentleman's system having 
 resolved, in spite of external outrages, to be fortified with 
 calm to meet the repast. 
 
 It is not fair to go behind an eccentric ; but the fact was, 
 this old gentleman was slightly ashamed of his month's 
 vagrancy and cruel conduct, and cloaked his behaviour 
 toward the Aurora, in all the charges he could muster 
 against it. He was very human, albeit an odd form of the 
 race. 
 
 Happily for his digestion of Thursday, the cook, warned
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 75 
 
 by Jonathan, kept the old gentleman's time, not the 
 Aurora's: and the dinner was correct; the dinner was 
 eaten in peace ; he began to address his plate vigorously, 
 poured out his Madeira, and chuckled, as the familiar ideas 
 engendered by good wine were revived in him. Jonathan 
 reported at the bar that the old gentleman was all right 
 again. 
 
 One would like here to pause, while our worthy ancient 
 feeds, and indulge in a short essay on Habit, to show what 
 a sacred and admirable thing it is that makes flimsy Time 
 substantial, and consolidates his triple life. It is proof that 
 we have come to the end of dreams and Time's delusions, 
 and are determined to sit down at Life's feast and carve for 
 ourselves. Its day is the child of yesterday, and has a 
 claim on to-morrow. Whereas those who have no such 
 plan of existence and sum of their wisdom to show, the 
 winds blow them as they list. Consider, then, mercifully 
 the wrath of him on whom carelessness or forgetfulness 
 has brought a snap in the links of Habit. You incline to 
 scorn him because, his slippers misplaced, or asparagus 
 not on his table the first day of a particular Spring month, 
 he gazes blankly and sighs as one who saw the End. To 
 you it may appear small. You call to him to be a man. 
 He is: but he is also an immortal, and his confidence in 
 unceasing orderly progression is rudely dashed. 
 
 But the old gentleman has finished his dinner and his 
 Madeira, and says: "Now, Jonathan, 'thock' the Port! " — 
 his joke when matters have gone well: meant to express 
 the sound of the uncocking, probably. The habit of mak- 
 ing good jokes is rare, as you know : old gentlemen have 
 not yet attained to it: nevertheless Jonathan enjoys this 
 one, which has seen a generation in and out, for he knows 
 its purport to be, "My heart is open." 
 
 And now is a great time with this old gentleman. He 
 sips, and in his eyes the world grows rosy, and he ex- 
 changes mute or monosyllable salutes here and there. His 
 habit is to avoid converse; but he will let a light remark 
 season meditation. 
 
 He says to Jonathan: "The bill for the month." 
 
 "Yes, sir," Jonathan replies. "Would you not prefer, 
 sir, to have the items added on to the month ensuing?"
 
 76 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "I asked you for the bill of the month," said the old 
 gentleman, with an irritated voice and a twinkle in his 
 eye. 
 
 Jonathan bowed; but his aspect betrayed perplexity, and 
 that perplexity was soon shared by the landlady : for Jona- 
 than said, he was convinced the old gentleman intended to 
 pay for sixteen days, and the landlady could not bring her 
 hand to charge him for more than two. Here was the 
 dilemma foreseen by the old gentleman, and it added vastly 
 to the flavour of the Port. 
 
 Pleasantly tickled, he sat gazing at his glass, and let the 
 minutes fly. He knew the part he would act in his little 
 farce. If charged for the whole month, he would peruse 
 the bill deliberately, and perhaps cry out " Hulloa ? " and 
 then snap at Jonathan for the interposition of a remark. 
 But if charged for two days, he would wish to be told 
 whether they were demented, those people outside, and 
 scornfully return the bill to Jonathan. 
 
 A slap on the shoulder, and a voice: "Found you at last, 
 Tom ! " violently shattered the excellent plot, and made the 
 old gentleman start. He beheld Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. 
 
 "Drinking Port, Tom?" said Mr. Andrew. "I'll join 
 you : " and he sat down opposite to him, rubbing his hands 
 and pushing back his hair. 
 
 Jonathan entering briskly with the bill, fell back a step, 
 in alarm. The old gentleman, whose inviolacy was thus 
 rudely assailed, sat staring at the intruder, his mouth com- 
 pressed, and three fingers round his glass, which it was 
 doubtful whether he was not going to hurl at him. 
 
 " Waiter ! " Mr. Andrew carelessly hailed, " a pint of this 
 Port, if you please." 
 
 Jonathan sought the countenance of the old gentleman. 
 
 " Do you hear, sir ? " cried the latter, turning his wrath 
 on him. "Another pint!" He added: "Take back the 
 bill ; " and away went Jonathan to relate fresh marvels to 
 his mistress. 
 
 Mr. Andrew then addressed the old gentleman in the most 
 audacious manner. 
 
 " Astonished to see me here, Tom ? Dare say you are. 
 I knew you came somewhere in this neighbourhood, and, 
 as I wanted to speak to you very particularly, and you
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 77 
 
 wouldn't be visible till Monday, why, I spied into two or 
 three places, and here I am." 
 
 You might see they were brothers. They had the same 
 bushy eyebrows, the same healthy colour in their cheeks, 
 the same thick shoulders, and brisk way of speaking, and 
 clear, sharp, though kindly, eyes; only Tom was cast in 
 larger proportions than Andrew, and had gotten the grey 
 furniture of Time for his natural wear. Perhaps, too, a cross 
 in early life had a little twisted him, and set his mouth in 
 a rueful bunch, out of which occasionally came biting things. 
 Mr. Andrew carried his head up, and eyed every man living 
 with the benevolence of a patriarch, dashed with the impu- 
 dence of a London sparrow. Tom had a nagging air, and 
 a trifle of acridity on his broad features. Still, anyone at a 
 glance could have sworn they were brothers, and Jonathan 
 unhesitatingly proclaimed it at the Aurora bar. 
 
 Mr. Andrew's hands were working together, and at them, 
 and at his face, the old gentleman continued to look with a 
 firmly interrogating air. 
 
 "Want to know what brings me, Tom? I'll tell you 
 presently. Hot, — isn't it ? " 
 
 " What the deuce are you taking exercise for ? " the old 
 gentleman burst out, and having unlocked his mouth, he 
 began to puff and alter his posture. 
 
 " There you are, thawed in a minute ! " said Mr. Andrew. 
 " What's an eccentric ? a child grown grey. It isn't mine ; 
 I read it somewhere. Ah, here's the Port! — good, I'll 
 warrant." 
 
 Jonathan deferentially uncorked, excessive composure on 
 his visage. He arranged the tablecloth to a nicety, fixed 
 the bottle with exactness, and was only sent scudding by the 
 old gentleman's muttering of: "Eavesdropping pie!" fol- 
 lowed by a short, " Go ! " and even then he must delay to 
 sweep off a particular crumb. 
 
 " Good it is ! " said Mr. Andrew, rolling the flavour on his 
 lips, as he put down his glass. " I follow you in Port, Tom. 
 Elder brother ! " 
 
 The old gentleman also drank, and was mollified enough 
 to reply : " Shan't follow you in Parliament." 
 
 " Haven't forgiven that yet, Tom ? " 
 
 "No great harm done when you're silent."
 
 78 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Capital Port ! " said Mr. Andrew, replenishing the glasses. 
 " I ought to have inquired where they kept the best Port. 
 I might have known you'd stick by it. By the way, talking 
 of Parliament, there's talk of a new election for Fallowfield. 
 You have a vote there. Will you give it to Jocelyn ? There's 
 talk of his standing." 
 
 " If he'll wear petticoats, I'll give him my vote." 
 
 " There you go, Tom ! " 
 
 "I hate masquerades. You're penny trumpets of the 
 women. That tattle comes from the bed-curtains. When 
 a petticoat steps forward I give it my vote, or else I button 
 it up in my pocket." 
 
 This was probably one of the longest speeches he had ever 
 delivered at the Aurora. There was extra Port in it. Jona- 
 than, who from his place of observation noted the length of 
 time it occupied, though he was unable to gather the con- 
 text, glanced at Mr. Andrew with a sly satisfaction. Mr. 
 Andrew, laughing, signalled for another pint. 
 
 " So you've come here for my vote, have you ? " said Mr. 
 Tom. 
 
 "Why, no; not exactly that," Mr. Andrew answered, 
 blinking and passing it by. 
 
 Jonathan brought the fresh pint, and Tom filled for himself, 
 drank, and said emphatically, and with a confounding voice : 
 
 " Your women have been setting you on me, sir ! " 
 
 Andrew protested that he was entirely mistaken. 
 
 " You're the puppet of your women ! " 
 
 " Well, Tom, not in this instance. Here's to the bachelors, 
 and brother Tom at their head ! " 
 
 It seemed to be Andrew's object to help his companion to 
 carry a certain quantity of Port, as if he knew a virtue it 
 had to subdue him, and to have fixed on a particular meas- 
 ure that he should hold before he addressed him specially. 
 Arrived at this, he said : 
 
 " Look here, Tom. I know your ways. I shouldn't have 
 bothered you here ; I never have before ; but we couldn't 
 very well talk it over in business hours ; and besides you're 
 never at the Brewery till Monday, and the matter's rather 
 urgent." 
 
 " Why don't you speak like that in Parliament ? " the old 
 man interposed.
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 79 
 
 "Because Parliament isn't my brother," replied Mr. 
 Andrew. "You know, Tom, you never quite took to my 
 wife's family." 
 
 " I'm not a match for fine ladies, Nan." 
 
 " Well, Harriet would have taken to you, Tom, and will 
 now, if you'll let her. Of course, it's a pity if she's ashamed 
 of — hem! You found it out about the Lymport people, 
 Tom, and you've kept the secret and respected her feelings, 
 and I thank you for it. Women are odd in those things, 
 you know. She mustn't imagine I've heard a whisper. I 
 believe it would kill her." 
 
 The old gentleman shook silently. 
 
 " Do you want me to travel over the kingdom, hawking 
 her for the daughter of a marquis ? " 
 
 "Now, don't joke, Tom. I'm serious. Are you not a 
 Eadical at heart ? Why do you make such a set against 
 the poor women ? What do we spring from ? " 
 
 " I take off my hat, Nan, when I see a cobbler's stall." 
 
 " And I, Tom, don't care a rush who knows it. Homo — 
 something ; but we never had much schooling. We've 
 thriven, and should help those we can. We've got on in 
 the world . . ." 
 
 "Wife come back from Lymport? " sneered Tom. 
 
 Andrew hurriedly, and with some confusion, explained 
 that she had not been able to go, on account of the child. 
 
 " Account of the child ! " his brother repeated, working 
 his chin contemptuously. " Sisters gone ? " 
 
 " They're stopping with us," said Andrew, reddening. 
 
 " So the tailor was left to the kites and the crows. Ah ! 
 hum ! " and Tom chuckled. 
 
 "You're angry with me, Tom, for coming here," said 
 Andrew. " I see what it is. Thought how it would be ! 
 You're offended, old Tom" 
 
 " Come where you like," returned Tom, " the place is open. 
 It's a fool that hopes for peace anywhere. They sent a 
 woman here to wait on me, this day month." 
 
 "That's a shame!" said Mr. Andrew, propitiatingly. 
 " Well, never mind, Tom : the women are sometimes in the 
 way. — Evan went down to bury his father. He's there now. 
 You wouldn't see him when he was at the Brewery, Tom. 
 He's — upon my honour ! he's a good young fellow."
 
 80 F,VAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " A fine young gentleman, I've no doubt, Nan." 
 
 " A really good lad, Tom. No nonsense. I've come here 
 to speak to you about him." 
 
 Mr. Andrew drew a letter from his pocket, pursuing: 
 "Just throw aside your prejudices, and read this. It's a 
 letter I had from him this morning. But first I must tell 
 you how the case stands." 
 
 " Know more than you can tell me, Nan," said Tom, turn- 
 ing over the flavour of a gulp of his wine. 
 
 " Well, then, just let me repeat it. He has been capitally 
 educated ; he has always been used to good society : well, 
 we mustn't sneer at it : good society's better than bad, 
 you'll allow. He has refined tastes : well, you wouldn't 
 like to live among crossing-sweepers, Tom. He's clever 
 and accomplished, can speak and write in three languages : 
 I wish I had his abilities. He has good manners: well, 
 Tom, you know you like them as well as anybody. And 
 now — but read for yourself." 
 
 " Yah ! " went old Tom. " The women have been play- 
 ing the fool with him since he was a baby. I read his 
 rigmarole ? No." 
 
 Mr. Andrew shrugged his shoulders, and opened the let- 
 ter, saying: "Well, listen;" and then he coughed, and 
 rapidly skimmed the introductory part. "Excuses him- 
 self for addressing me formally — poor boy ! Circum- 
 stances have altered his position towards the world : 
 found his father's affairs in a bad state: only chance of 
 paying off father's debts to undertake management of 
 business, and bind himself to so much a year. But there, 
 Tom, if you won't read it, you miss the poor young fel- 
 low's character. He says that he has forgotten his sta- 
 tion : fancied he was superior to trade, but hates debt ; 
 and will not allow anybody to throw dirt at his father's 
 name, while he can work to clear it; and will sacrifice 
 his pride. Come, Tom, that's manly, isn't it? I call it 
 touching, poor lad ! " 
 
 Manly it may have been, but the touching part of it was 
 a feature missed in Mr. Andrew's hands. At any rate, it 
 did not appear favourably to impress Tom, whose chin had 
 gathered its ominous puckers, as he inquired : 
 
 " What's the trade ? he don't say."
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 81 
 
 Andrew added, with a wave of the hand : " Out of a sort 
 of feeling for his sisters — I like him for it. Now what I 
 want to ask you, Tom, is, whether we can't assist him in 
 some way ! Why couldn't we take him into our office, and 
 fix him there, eh ? If he works well — we're both getting 
 old, and my brats are chicks — we might, by-and-by, give 
 him a share." 
 
 "Make a brewer of him? Ha ! there'd be another mighty 
 sacrifice for his pride ! " 
 
 "Come, come, Tom," said Andrew, "he's my wife's 
 brother, and I'm yours ; and — there, you know what 
 women are. They like to preserve appearances : we ought 
 to consider them." 
 
 " Preserve appearances ! " echoed Tom : " ha ! who'll do 
 that for them better than a tailor?" 
 
 Andrew was an impatient little man, fitter for a kind 
 action than to plead a cause. Jeering jarred on him ; and 
 from the moment his brother began it, he was of small ser- 
 vice to Evan. He flung back against the partition of the 
 compound, rattling it to the disturbance of many a quiet 
 digestion. 
 
 " Tom," he cried, " I believe you're a screw ! " 
 
 "Never said I wasn't," rejoined Tom, as he finished his 
 glass. "I'm a bachelor, and a person — you're married, 
 and an object. I won't have the tailor's family at my coat- 
 tails." 
 
 " Do you mean to say, Tom, you don't like the young fel- 
 low ? The Countess says he's half engaged to an heiress ; 
 and he has a chance of appointments — of course, nothing 
 may come of them. But do you mean to say, you don't 
 like him for what he has done ? " 
 
 Tom made his jaw disagreeably prominent. "'Fraid I'm 
 guilty of that crime." 
 
 "And you that swear at people pretending to be above 
 their station ! " exclaimed Andrew. " I shall get in a pas- 
 sion. I can't stand this. Here, waiter! what have I to 
 pay?" 
 
 "Go," cried the time-honoured guest of the Aurora to 
 Jonathan advancing. 
 
 Andrew pressed the very roots of his hair back from his 
 red forehead, and sat upright and resolute, glancing at Tom.
 
 82 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 And now ensued a curious scene of family blood. For no 
 sooner did elderly Tom observe this bantam-like demeanour 
 of his brother, than he ruffled his feathers likewise, and 
 looked down on him, agitating his wig over a prodigious 
 frown. Whereof came the following sharp colloquy ; 
 Andrew beginning: 
 
 " I'll pay off the debts out of my own pocket." 
 
 " You can make a greater fool of yourself, then ? " 
 He shan't be a tailor ! " 
 He shan't be a brewer ! " 
 I say he shall live like a gentleman ! " 
 I say he shall squat like a Turk ! " 
 
 Bang went Andrew's hand on the table: "I've pledged 
 my word, mind ! " 
 
 Tom made a counter demonstration : " And I'll have my 
 way ! " 
 
 " Hang it ! I can be as eccentric as you," said Andrew. 
 
 "And I as much a donkey as you, if I try hard," said 
 Tom. 
 
 Something of the cobbler's stall followed this ; till waxing 
 furious, Tom sung out to Jonathan, hovering around them 
 in watchful timidity, " More Port ! " and the words immedi- 
 ately fell oily on the wrath of the brothers ; both commenced 
 wiping their heads with their handkerchiefs : the faces of 
 both emerged and met, with a half-laugh: and, severally 
 determined to keep to what they had spoken, there was a 
 tacit accord between them to drop the subject. 
 
 Like sunshine after smart rain, the Port shone on these 
 brothers. Like a voice from the pastures after the bellow- 
 ing of the thunder, Andrew's voice asked : " Got rid of that 
 twinge of the gout, Tom ? Did you rub in that ointment ? " 
 while Tom replied: "Ay. How about that rheumatism of 
 yours? Have you tried that Indy oil?" receiving a like 
 assurance. 
 
 The remainder of the Port ebbed in meditation and chance 
 remarks. The bit of storm had done them both good ; and 
 Tom especially — the cynical, carping, grim old gentleman 
 — was much improved by the nearer resemblance of his 
 manner to Andrew's. 
 
 Behind this unaffected fraternal concord, however, the fact 
 that they were pledged to a race in eccentricity, was present.
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 83 
 
 They had been rivals before; and anterior to the date of 
 his marriage, Andrew had done odd eclipsing things. But 
 Andrew required prompting to it; he required to be put 
 upon his mettle. Whereas, it was more nature with Tom : 
 nature and the absence of a wife, gave him advantages over 
 Andrew. Besides, he had his character to maintain. He 
 had said the word : and the first vanity of your born eccen- 
 tric is, that he shall be taken for infallible. 
 
 Presently Andrew ducked his head to mark the evening 
 clouds Hushing over the court-yard of the Aurora. 
 
 " Time to be off, Tom," he said : " wife at home." 
 
 " Ah ! " Tom answered. " Well, I haven't got to go to bed 
 so early." 
 
 " What an old rogue you are, Tom ! " Andrew pushed 
 his elbows forward on the table amiably. " 'Gad, we haven't 
 drunk wine together since — by George ! we'll have another 
 pint." 
 
 "Many as you like," said Tom. 
 
 Over the succeeding pint, Andrew, in whose veins the 
 Port was merry, favoured his brother with an imitation of 
 Major Strike, and indicated his dislike to that officer. Tom 
 informed him that Major Strike was speculating. 
 
 " The ass eats at my table, and treats me with contempt." 
 
 " Just tell him that you're putting by the bones for him. 
 He'll want 'em." 
 
 Then Andrew with another glance at the clouds, now 
 violet on a grey sky, said he must really be off. Upon which 
 Tom observed : " Don't come here again." 
 
 " You old rascal, Tom ! " cried Andrew, swinging over 
 the table: "it's quite jolly for us to be hob-a-nobbing to- 
 gether once more. 'Gad! — no, we won't though! I promised 
 Harriet. Eh ? What say, Tom ? " 
 
 " 'Kother pint, Nan ? " 
 
 Tom shook his head in a roguishly-cosy, irresistible way. 
 Andrew, from a shake of denial and resolve, fell into the 
 same; and there sat the two brothers — a jolly picture. 
 
 The hour was ten, when Andrew Cogglesby, comforted 
 by Tom's remark, that he, Tom, had a wig, and that he, 
 Andrew, would have a wigging, left the Aurora; and he 
 left it singing a song. Tom Cogglesby still sat at his table, 
 holding before him Evan's letter, of which he had got pos-
 
 84 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 session ; and knocking it ronnd and round with a stroke of 
 the forefinger, to the tune of, " Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, 
 Apothecary, ploughboy, thief ; " each profession being sounded 
 as a corner presented itself to the point of his nail. After 
 indulging in this species of incantation for some length of 
 time, Tom Cogglesby read the letter from beginning to end, 
 and called peremptorily for pen, ink, and paper. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 
 
 By dint of stratagems worthy of a Court intrigue, the 
 Countess de Saldar contrived to traverse the streets of Lym- 
 port, and enter the house where she was born, unsuspected 
 and unseen, under cover of a profusion of lace and veil and 
 mantilla, which only her heroic resolve to keep her beauties 
 hidden from the profane townspeople could have rendered 
 endurable beneath the fervid summer sun. Dress in a 
 foreign style she must, as without it she lost that sense of 
 superiority, which was the only comfort to her in her tribu- 
 lations. The period of her arrival was ten days subsequent 
 to the burial of her father. She had come in the coach, like 
 any common mortal, and the coachman, upon her request, 
 had put her down at the Governor's house, and the guard 
 had knocked at the door, and the servant had informed her 
 that General Hucklebridge was not the governor of Lam- 
 port, nor did Admiral Combleman then reside in the town ; 
 which tidings, the coach then being out of sight, it did not 
 disconcert the Countess to hear ; and she reached her mother, 
 having, at least, cut off communication with the object of 
 conveyance. 
 
 The Countess kissed her mother, kissed Mrs. Fiske, and 
 asked sharply for Evan. Mrs. Fiske let her know that 
 Evan was in the house. 
 
 " Where ? " inquired the Countess. " I have news of the 
 utmost importance for him. I must see him." 
 
 " Where is he, aunt ? " said Mrs. Fiske. " In the shop, I 
 think ; I wonder he did not see you passing, Louisa."
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 85 
 
 The Countess went bolt clown into a chair. 
 
 "Go to him, Jane," said Mrs. Mel. "Tell him Louisa 
 is here, and don't return." 
 
 Mrs. Fiske departed, and the Countess smiled. 
 
 " Thank you, Mama ! you know I never could bear that 
 odious, vulgar little woman. Oh, the heat! You talk of 
 Portugal ! And, oh ! poor dear Papa ! what I have suf- 
 fered!" 
 
 Flapping her laces for air, and wiping her eyes for sorrow, 
 the Countess poured a flood of sympathy into her mother's 
 ears and then said : 
 
 " But you have made a great mistake, Mama, in allowing 
 Evan to put his foot into that place. He — beloved of an 
 heiress ! Why, if an enemy should hear of it, it would 
 ruin him — positively blast him — for ever. And that she 
 loves him I have proof positive. Yes ; with all her frank- 
 ness, the little thing cannot conceal that from me now. She 
 loves him! And I desire you to guess, Mama, whether 
 rivals will not abound ? And what enemy so much to be 
 dreaded as a rival ? And what revelation so awful as that 
 he has stood in a — in a — boutique ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel maintained her usual attitude for listening. It 
 had occurred to her that it might do no good to tell the 
 grand lady, her daughter, of Evan's resolution, so she simply- 
 said, " It is discipline for him," and left her to speak a pri- 
 vate word with the youth. 
 
 Timidly the Countess inspected the furniture of the apart- 
 ment, taking chills at the dingy articles she saw, in the 
 midst of her heat. That she should have sprung from this ! 
 The thought was painful ; still she could forgive Providence 
 so much. But should it ever be known she had sprung from 
 this ! Alas ! she felt she never could pardon such a dire 
 betrayal. She had come in good spirits, but the mention of 
 Evan's backsliding had troubled her extremely, and though 
 she did not say to herself, What was the benefit resulting 
 from her father's dying, if Evan would be so base-minded ? 
 she thought the thing indefinitely, and was forming the 
 words on her mouth, One Harrington in a shop is equal to 
 all ! when Evan appeared alone. 
 
 " Why, goodness gracious ! where's your moustache ? " 
 cried the Countess.
 
 86 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Gone the way of hair ! " said Evan, coldly stooping to 
 her forehead. 
 
 " Such a distinction ! " the Countess continued, reproach- 
 fully. " Why, mon Dieu ! one could hardly tell you, as you 
 look now, from the very commonest tradesman — if you were 
 not rather handsome and something of a figure. It's a dis- 
 guise, Evan — do you know that ? " 
 
 " And I've parted with it — that's all," said Evan. " No 
 more disguises for me ! " 
 
 The Countess immediately took his arm, and walked with 
 him to a window. His face was certainly changed. Mur- 
 muring that the air of Lymport was bad for him, and that 
 he must leave it instantly, she bade him sit and attend to 
 what she was about to say. 
 
 " While you have been here, degenerating, Evan, day by 
 day — as you always do out of my sight — degenerating! no 
 less a word ! — I have been slaving in your interests. Yes ; I 
 have forced the Jocelyns socially to acknowledge us. I have 
 not slept ; I have eaten bare morsels. Do abstinence and 
 vigils clear the wits ? I know not ! but indeed they have 
 enabled me to do more in a week than would suffice for a life- 
 time. Hark to me. I have discovered Rose's secret. Si ! 
 It is so ! Rose loves you. You blush ; you blush like a girl. 
 She loves you, and you have let yourself be seen in a shop ! 
 Contrast me the two things. Oh ! in verity, dreadful as it 
 is, one could almost laugh. But the moment I lose sight of 
 you, my instructions vanish as quickly as that hair on your 
 superior lip, which took such time to perfect. Alas ! you 
 must grow it again immediately. Use any perfumer's con- 
 trivance. Rowland ! I have great faith in Rowland. With- 
 out him, I believe, there would have been many bald women 
 committing suicide ! You remember the bottle I gave to the 
 Count de Villa Flor ? ' Countess,' he said to me, '3-011 have 
 saved this egg-shell from a crack by helping to cover it ' — for 
 so he called his head — the top, you know, was beginning to 
 shine like an egg. And I do fear me he would have done it. 
 Ah ! you do not conceive what the dread of baldness is ! To 
 a woman death — death is preferable to baldness ! Baldness 
 is death ! And a wig — a wig ! Oh, horror ! total extinction 
 is better than to rise again in a wig ! But you are young, 
 and play with hair. But I was saying, I went to see the
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 87 
 
 Jocelyns. I was introduced to Sir Franks and his lady and 
 the wealthy grandmother. And I have an invitation for you, 
 Evan — you unmannered boy, that you do not bow ! A gentle 
 incline forward of the shoulders, and the eyes fixed softly, 
 your upper lids drooping trifiingly, as if you thanked with 
 gentle sincerity, but were indifferent. Well, well, if you 
 will not ! An invitation for you to spend part of the autumn 
 at Beckley Court, the ancestral domain, where there will be 
 company — the nobles of the land ! Consider that. You say 
 it was bold in me to face them after that horrible man com- 
 mitted us on board the vessel ? A Harrington is anything 
 but a coward. I did go — and because I am devoted to your 
 interests. That very morning, I saw announced in the paper, 
 just beneath poor Andrew's hand, as he held it up at the 
 breakfast-table, reading it, I saw among the deaths. Sir 
 Abraham Harrington, of Torquay, Baronet, of quinsy ! Twice 
 that good man has come to my rescue ! Oh ! I welcomed 
 him as a piece of Providence ! I turned and said to Harriet, 
 ' I see they have put poor Papa in the paper.' Harriet was 
 staggered. I took the paper from Andrew, and pointed it to 
 her. She has no readiness. She has had no foreign training. 
 She could not comprehend, and Andrew stood on tiptoe, and 
 peeped. He has a bad cough, and coughed himself black in 
 the face. / attribute it to excessive bad manners and his 
 cold feelings. He left the room. I reproached Harriet. But, 
 oh ! the singularity of the excellent fortune of such an event 
 at such a time ! It showed that our Harrington-luck had 
 not forsaken us. I hurried to the Jocelyns instantly. Of 
 course, it cleared away any suspicions aroused in them by 
 that horrible man on board the vessel. And the tears I wept 
 for Sir Abraham, Evan, in verity they were tears of deep 
 and sincere gratitude ! What is your mouth knitting the 
 corners at ? Are you laughing ? " 
 
 Evan hastily composed his visage to the melancholy that 
 was no counterfeit in him just then. 
 
 "Yes," continued the Countess, easily reassured, "I shall 
 ever feel a debt to Sir Abraham Harrington, of Torquay. 
 I dare say we are related to him. At least he has done us 
 more service than many a rich and titled relative. No one 
 supposes he would acknowledge poor Papa. I can forgive 
 him that, Evan ! " The Countess pointed out her finger
 
 88 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 with mournful and impressive majesty, " As we look down 
 on that monkey, people of rank and consideration in society 
 look on what poor dear Papa was." 
 
 This was partly true, for Jacko sat on a chair, in his 
 favourite attitude, copied accurately from the workmen of 
 the establishment at their labour with needle and thread. 
 Growing cognizant of the infamy of his posture, the 
 Countess begged Evan to drive him out of her sight, and 
 took a sniff at her smelling-bottle. 
 
 She went on: "Now, dear Van, you would hear of your 
 sweet Bose?" 
 
 " Not a word ! " Evan hastily answered. 
 
 "Why, what does this indicate? Whims! Then you do 
 love?" 
 
 "I tell you, Louisa, I don't want to hear a word of any 
 of them," said Evan, with an angry gleam in his eyes. 
 " They are nothing to me, nor I to them. I — my walk in 
 life is not theirs." 
 
 " Faint heart ! faint heart ! " the Countess lifted a pro- 
 verbial forefinger. 
 
 " Thank heaven, I shall have the consolation of not going 
 about, and bowing and smirking like an impostor ! " Evan 
 exclaimed. 
 
 There was a wider intelligence in the Countess's arrested 
 gaze than she chose to fashion into speech. 
 
 "I knew," she said, "I knew how the air of this horrible 
 Lymport would act on you. But while I live, Evan, you 
 shall not sink in the sludge. You, with all the pains I 
 have lavished on you! and with your presence! — for you 
 have a presence, so rare among young men in this England! 
 You, who have been to a Court, and interchanged bows 
 with duchesses, and I know not what besides — nay, I do 
 not accuse you ; but if you had not been a mere boy, and an 
 English boy — poor Eugenia herself confessed to me that 
 you had a look — a tender cleaving of the under-lids — that 
 made her catch her hand to her heart sometimes: it re- 
 minded her so acutely of false Belmarana. Could you have 
 had a greater compliment than that? You shall not stop 
 here another day ! " 
 
 "True," said Evan, "for I'm going to London to-night." 
 
 "Not to London," the Countess returned, with a con- 
 quering glance, "but to Beckley Court — and with me."
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 89 
 
 "To London, Louisa, with Mr. Goren." 
 
 Again the Countess eyed him largely; but took, as it 
 were, a side-path from her broad thought, saying: "Yes, 
 fortunes are made in London, if you would they should be 
 rapid." 
 
 She meditated. At that moment Dandy knocked at the 
 door, and called outside : " Please, master, Mr. Goren says 
 there's a gentleman in the shop — wants to see you." 
 
 "Very well," replied Evan, moving. He was swung 
 violently round. 
 
 The Countess had clutched him by the arm. A fearful 
 expression was on her face. 
 
 "Whither do you go?" she said. 
 
 "To the shop, Louisa." 
 
 Too late to arrest the villanous word, she pulled at him. 
 " Are you quite insane? Consent to be seen by a gentle- 
 man there ? What has come to you? You must be lunatic! 
 Are we all to be utterly ruined — disgraced? " 
 
 " Is my mother to starve? " said Evan. 
 
 " Absurd rejoinder ! No ! You should have sold every- 
 thing here before this. She can live with Harriet — she — 
 once out of this horrible element — she would not show it. 
 But, Evan, you are getting away from me: you are not 
 going? — speak! " 
 
 "I am going," said Evan. 
 
 The Countess clung to him, exclaiming: "Never, while I 
 have the power to detain you ! " but as he was firm and 
 strong, she had recourse to her woman's aids, and burst 
 into a storm of sobs on his shoulder — a scene of which 
 Mrs. Mel was, for some seconds, a composed spectator. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 Evan impatiently explained the case. Mrs. Mel desired 
 her daughter to avoid being ridiculous, and making two 
 fools in her family; and at the same time that she told 
 Evan there was no occasion for him to go, contrived, with 
 a look, to make the advice a command. He, in that state 
 of mind when one takes bitter delight in doing an abhorred 
 duty, was hardly willing to be submissive ; but the despair 
 of the Countess reduced him, and for her sake he consented 
 to forego the sacrifice of his pride which was now his sad, 
 sole pleasure. Eeeling him linger, the Countess relaxed
 
 00 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 her grasp. Hers were tears that dried as soon as they had 
 served their end; and, to give him the full benefit of his 
 conduct, she said: "I knew Evan would be persuaded by 
 me." 
 
 Evan pitifully pressed her hand, and sighed. 
 
 "Tea is on the table down-stairs," said Mrs. Mel. "I 
 have cooked something for you, Louisa. Do you sleep 
 here to-night?" 
 
 "Can I tell you, Mama?" murmured the Countess. I 
 am dependent on our Evan." 
 
 "Oh! well, we will eat first," said Mrs. Mel, and they 
 went to the table below, the Countess begging her mother 
 to drop titles in designating her to the servants, which 
 caused Mrs. Mel to say: 
 
 " There is but one. I do the cooking; " and the Countess, 
 ever disposed to flatter and be suave, even when stung by a 
 fact or a phrase, added : 
 
 "And a beautiful cook you used to be, dear Mama! " 
 
 At the table, awaiting them, sat Mrs. Wishaw, Mrs. 
 Fiske, and Mr. Goren, who soon found themselves envel- 
 oped in the Countess's graciousness. Mr. Goren would 
 talk of trade, and compare Lymport business with London, 
 and the Countess, loftily interested in his remarks, drew 
 him out to disgust her brother. Mrs. Wishaw, in whom 
 the Countess at once discovered a frivolous pretentious 
 woman of the moneyed trading class, she treated as one 
 who was alive to society, and surveyed matters from a sta- 
 tion in the world, leading her to think that she tolerated 
 Mr. Goren, as a lady-Christian of the highest rank should 
 tolerate the insects that toil for us. Mrs. Fiske was not so 
 tractable, for Mrs. Eiske was hostile and armed. Mrs. 
 Eiske adored the great Mel, and she had never loved 
 Louisa. Hence, she scorned Louisa on account of her late 
 behaviour toward her dead parent. The Countess saw 
 through her, and laboured to be friendly with her, while 
 she rendered her disagreeable in the eyes of Mrs. Wishaw, 
 and let Mrs. Wishaw perceive that sympathy was possible 
 between them ; — manoeuvring a trifle too delicate, per- 
 haps, for the people present, but sufficient to blind its 
 keen-witted author to the something that was being con- 
 cealed from herself, of which something, nevertheless, her
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 91 
 
 senses apprehensively warned her: and they might have 
 spoken to her wits, but that mortals cannot, unaided, guess, 
 or will not, unless struck in the face by the fact, credit, 
 what is to their minds the last horror. 
 
 "I came down in the coach, quite accidental, with this 
 gentleman," said Mrs. Wishaw, fanning a cheek and nod- 
 ding at Mr. Goren. "I'm an old flame of dear Mel's. I 
 knew him when he was an apprentice in London. Now, 
 wasn't it odd? Your mother — I suppose I must call you 
 < my lady'"? 
 
 The Countess breathed a tender " Spare me," with a smile 
 that added, " among friends ! " 
 
 Mrs. Wishaw resumed: "Your mother was an old flame 
 of this gentleman's, I found out. So there were two old 
 flames, and I couldn't help thinking! But I was so glad 
 to have seen dear Mel once more." 
 
 " Ah! " sighed the Countess. 
 
 " He was always a martial -looking man, and laid out, he 
 was quite imposing. I declare, I cried so, as it reminded 
 me of when I couldn't have him, for he had nothing but 
 his legs and arms — and I married Wishaw. But it's a 
 comfort to think I have been of some service to dear, dear 
 Mel! for Wishaw's a man of accounts and payments, and I 
 knew Mel had cloth from him, and," the lady suggested 
 bills delayed, with two or three nods, "you know! and I'll 
 do my best for his son." 
 
 "You are kind," said the Countess, smiling internally at 
 the vulgar creature's misconception of Evan's requirements. 
 
 "Did he ever talk much about Mary Fence? " asked Mrs. 
 Wishaw. "'Polly Fence,' he used to say, 'sweet Polly 
 Fence!'" 
 
 "Oh! I think so. Frequently," observed the Countess. 
 
 Mrs. Fiske primmed her mouth. She had never heard 
 the great Mel allude to the name of Fence. 
 
 The Goren-croak was heard: 
 
 "Painters have painted out 'Melchisedec ' this afternoon. 
 Yes, — ah! In and out — as the saying goes." 
 
 Here was an opportunity to mortify the Countess. 
 
 Mrs. Fiske placidly remarked : "Have we the other put 
 up in its stead? It's shorter." 
 
 A twinge of weakness had made Evan request that the
 
 92 EVAN HAERINGTON 
 
 name of Evan Harrington should not decorate the shop, 
 front till he had turned his back on it, for a time. Mrs. 
 Mel crushed her venomous niece. 
 
 "What have you to do with such things? Shine in your 
 own affairs first, Ann, before you meddle with others." 
 
 Relieved at hearing that " Melchisedec " was painted out, 
 and unsuspicious of the announcement that should replace 
 it, the Countess asked Mrs. Wishaw if she thought Evan 
 like her dear Papa. 
 
 "So like," returned the lady, "that I would not be alone 
 with him yet, for worlds. I should expect him to be mak- 
 ing love to me : for, you know, my dear — I must be familiar 
 — Mel never could be alone with you, without ! — It was his 
 nature, i" speak of him before marriage. But, if I can 
 trust myself with him, I shall take charge of Mr. Evan, 
 and show him some London society." 
 
 "That is indeed kind," said the Countess, glad of a thick 
 veil for the utterance of her contempt. " Evan, though — 
 I fear — will be rather engaged. His friends, the Joce- 
 lyns of Beckley Court, will — I fear — hardly dispense 
 with him : and Lady Splenders — you know her? the 
 Marchioness of Splenders? No? — by repute, at least: 
 a most beautiful and most fascinating woman; report 
 of him alone has induced her to say that Evan must and 
 shall form a part of her autumnal gathering at Splenders 
 Castle. And how he is to get out of it, I cannot tell. But 
 I am sure his multitudinous engagements will not prevent 
 his paying due court to Mistress Wishaw." 
 
 As the Countess intended, Mistress Wishaw's vanity was 
 reproved, and her ambition excited : a pretty double-stroke, 
 only possible to dexterous players. 
 
 The lady rejoined that she hoped so, she was sure; and 
 forthwith (because she suddenly seemed to possess him 
 more than his son), launched upon Mel's incomparable 
 personal attractions. This caused the Countess to enlarge 
 upon Evan's vast personal prospects. They talked across 
 each other a little, till the Countess remembered her breed- 
 ing, allowed Mrs. Wishaw to run to an end in hollow excla- 
 mations, and put a finish to the undeclared controversy, by 
 a traverse of speech, as if she were taking up the most im- 
 portant subject of their late colloquy. " But Evan is not
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 93 
 
 in his own hands — he is in the hands of a lovely young 
 woman, I must tell you. He belongs to her, and not to us. 
 You have heard of Rose Jocelyn, the celebrated heiress?" 
 
 "Engaged?" Mrs. Wishaw whispered aloud. 
 
 The Countess, an adept in the lie implied — practised 
 by her, that she might not subject herself to future punish- 
 ment (in which she was so devout a believer, that she con- 
 demned whole hosts to it) — deeply smiled. 
 
 "Really!" said Mrs. Wishaw, and was about to inquire 
 why Evan, with these brilliant expectations, could think 
 of trade and tailoring, when the young man, whose fore- 
 head had been growing black, jumped up, and quitted them ; 
 thus breaking the harmony of the table ; and as the Countess 
 had said enough, she turned the conversation to the always 
 welcome theme of low society. She broached death and 
 corpses ; and became extremely interesting, and very sym- 
 pathetic : the only difference between the ghostly anecdotes 
 she related, and those of the other ladies, being that her 
 ghosts were all of them titled, and walked mostly under the 
 burden of a coronet. For instance, there was the Portu- 
 guese Marquis de Col. He had married a Spanish wife, 
 whose end was mysterious. Undressing, on the night of 
 the anniversary of her death, and on the point of getting 
 into bed, he beheld the dead woman lying on her back 
 before him. All night long he had to sleep with this 
 freezing phantom! Regularly, every fresh anniversary, he 
 had to endure the same penance, no matter where he might 
 be, or in what strange bed. On one occasion, when he 
 took the live for the dead, a curious thing occurred, which 
 the Countess scrupled less to relate than would men to hint 
 at. Ghosts were the one childish enjoyment Mrs. Mel 
 allowed herself, and she listened to her daughter intently, 
 ready to cap any narrative; but Mrs. Eiske stopped the 
 flood. 
 
 "You have improved on Peter Smithers, Louisa," she 
 said. 
 
 The Countess turned to her mildly. 
 
 "You are certainly thinking of Peter Smithers," Mrs. 
 Fiske continued, bracing her shoulders. "Surely, you re- 
 member poor Peter, Louisa ? An old flame of your own ! 
 He was going to kill himself, but married a Devonshire
 
 94 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 •woman, and they had disagreeables, and she died, and he 
 was undressing, and saw her there in the bed, and wouldn't 
 get into it, and had the mattress, and the curtains, and the 
 counterpanes, and everything burnt. He told us it himself. 
 You must remember it, Louisa ? " 
 
 The Countess remembered nothing of the sort. No doubt 
 could exist of its having been the Portuguese Marquis de 
 Col, because he had confided to her the whole affair, and 
 indeed come to her, as his habit was, to ask her what he 
 could possibly do, under the circumstances. If Mrs. Fiske's 
 friend, who married the Devonshire person, had seen the 
 same thing, the coincidence was yet more extraordinary 
 than the case. Mrs. Piske said it assuredly was, and 
 glanced at her aunt, who, as the Countess now rose, declar- 
 ing she must speak to Evan, chid Mrs. Fiske, and wished 
 her and Peter Smithers at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 "No, no, Mama," said the Countess, laughing, "that 
 would hardly be proper," and before Mrs. Piske could re- 
 ply, escaped to complain to Evan of the vulgarity of those 
 women. 
 
 She was not prepared for the burst of wrath with which 
 Evan met her. 
 
 "Louisa," said he, taking her wrist sternly, "you have 
 done a thing I can't forgive. I find it hard to bear dis- 
 grace myself: I will not consent to bring it upon others. 
 Why did you dare to couple Miss Jocelyn's name with 
 mine ? " 
 
 The Countess gave him out her arm's length. "Speak 
 on, Van," she said, admiring him with a bright gaze. 
 
 " Answer me, Louisa ; and don't take me for a fool any 
 more," he pursued. "You have coupled Miss Jocelyn's 
 name with mine, in company, and I insist now upon your 
 giving me your promise to abstain from doing it anywhere, 
 before anybody." 
 
 "If she saw you at this instant, Van," returned the in- 
 corrigible Countess, " would she desire it, think you ? Oh ! 
 I must make you angry before her, I see that ! You have 
 your father's frown. You surpass him, for your delivery 
 is more correct, and equally fluent. And if a woman is 
 momentarily melted by softness in a man, she is for ever 
 subdued by boldness and bravery of mien."
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY 95 
 
 Evan dropped her hand. "Miss Jocelyn has done me 
 the honour to call me her friend. That was in other days." 
 His lip quivered. "I shall not see Miss Jocelyn agaiu. 
 Yes; I would lay down my life for her; but that's idle 
 talk. No such chance will ever come to me. But I can 
 save her from being spoken of in alliance with me, and 
 what I am, and I tell you, Louisa, I will not have it." 
 Saying which, and while he looked harshly at her, wounded 
 pride bled through his eyes. 
 
 She was touched. "Sit down, dear; I must explain to 
 you, and make you happy against your will," she said, in 
 another voice, and an English accent. "The mischief is 
 done, Van. If you do not want Kose Jocelyn to love you, 
 you must undo it in your own way. I am not easily de- 
 ceived. On the morning I went to her house in town, she 
 took me aside, and spoke to me. Not a confession in words. 
 The blood in her cheeks, when I mentioned you, did that 
 for her. Everything about you she must know — how you 
 bore your grief, and all. And not in her usual free manner, 
 but timidly, as if she feared a surprise, or feared to be 
 wakened to the secret in her bosom she half suspects — 
 'Tell him ! ' she said, ' I hope he will not forget me.' " 
 
 The Countess was interrupted by a great sob; for the 
 picture of frank Eose Jocelyn changed, and soft, and, as it 
 were, shadowed under a veil of bashful regard for him, so 
 filled the young man with sorrowful tenderness, that he 
 trembled, and was as a child. 
 
 Marking the impression she had produced on him, and 
 having worn off that which he had produced on her, the 
 Countess resumed the art in her style of speech, easier to 
 her than nature. 
 
 " So the sweetest of Koses may be yours, dear Van ; and 
 you have her in a gold setting, to wear on your heart. Are 
 you not enviable ? I will not — no, I will not tell you she 
 is perfect. I must fashion the sweet young creature. Though 
 I am very ready to admit that she is much improved by this 
 — shall I call it, desired consummation ? " 
 
 Evan could listen no more. Such a struggle was rising in 
 his breast : the effort to quench what the Countess had so 
 shrewdly kindled; passionate desire to look on Kose but 
 for one lightning flash : desire to look on her, and muffled
 
 96 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 sense of shame twin-born with it: wild love and leaden 
 misery mixed: dead hopelessness and vivid hope. Up to 
 the neck in Purgatory, but his soul saturated with visions 
 of Bliss ! The fair orb of Love was all that was wanted to 
 complete his planetary state, and aloft it sprang, showing 
 many faint, fair tracts to him, and piling huge darknesses. 
 
 As if in search of something, he suddenly went from the 
 room. 
 
 " I have intoxicated the poor boy," said the Countess, and 
 consulted an attitude by the evening light in a mirror. Ap- 
 proving the result, she rang for her mother, and sat with 
 her till dark ; telling her she could not and would not leave 
 her dear Mama that night. At the supper-table Evan did 
 not appear, and Mr. Goren, after taking counsel of Mrs. Mel, 
 dispersed the news that Evan was off to London. On the 
 road again, with a purse just as ill-furnished, and in his 
 breast the light that sometimes leads gentlemen, as well as 
 ladies, astray. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN 
 
 Near a milestone, under the moonlight, crouched the 
 figure of a woman, huddled with her head against her knees, 
 and careless hair falling to the summer's dust. Evan came 
 upon this sight within a few miles of Fallowfield. At first 
 he was rather startled, for he had inherited superstitious 
 emotions from his mother, and the road was lone, the moon 
 full. He went up to her and spoke a gentle word, which 
 provoked no reply. He ventured to put his hand on her 
 shoulder, continuing softly to address her. She was flesh 
 and blood. Evan stooped his head to catch a whisper from 
 her mouth, but nothing save a heavier fall of the breath she 
 took, as of one painfully waking, was heard. 
 
 A misery beyond our own is a wholesome picture for 
 youth, and though we may not for the moment compare the 
 deep with the lower deep, we, if we have a heart for outer 
 sorrows, can forget ourselves in it. Evan had just been
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN 97 
 
 accusing the heavens of conspiracy to disgrace him. Those 
 patient heavens had listened, as is their wont. They had 
 viewed and had not been disordered by his mental frenzies. 
 It is certainly hard that they do not come down to us, and 
 condescend to tell us what they mean, and be dumb-foun- 
 dered by the perspicuity of our arguments — the argument, 
 for instance, that they have not fashioned us for the science 
 of the shears, and do yet impel us to wield them. Never- 
 theless, they to whom mortal life has ceased to be a long 
 matter perceive that our appeals for conviction are answered, 
 — now and then very closely upon the call. When we have 
 cast off the scales of hope and fancy, and surrender our 
 claims on mad chance, it is given us to see that some plan 
 is working out : that the heavens, icy as they are to the 
 pangs of our blood, have been throughout speaking to our 
 souls; and, according to the strength there existing, we 
 learn to comprehend them. But their language is an ele- 
 ment of Time, whom primarily we have to know. 
 
 Evan Harrington was young. He wished not to clothe 
 the generation. What was to the remainder of the exiled 
 sons of Adam simply the brand of expulsion from Paradise, 
 was to him hell. In his agony, anything less than an angel, 
 soft-voiced in his path, would not have satisfied the poor 
 boy, and here was this wretched outcast, and instead of 
 being relieved, he was to act the reliever ! 
 
 Striving to rouse the desolate creature, he shook her 
 slightly. She now raised her head with a slow, gradual 
 motion, like that of a wax-work, showing a white young face, 
 tearless, — dreadfully drawn at the lips. After gazing at 
 him, she turned her head mechanically to her shoulder, as 
 to ask him why he touched her. He withdrew his hand, 
 saying : 
 
 " Why are you here ? Pardon me ; I want, if possible, to 
 help you." 
 
 A light sprang in her eyes. She jumped from the stone, 
 and ran forward a step or two, with a gasp : 
 
 " Oh, my God ! I want to go and drown myself." 
 
 Evan lingered behind her till he saw her body sway, and 
 in a fit of trembling she half fell on his outstretched arm. 
 He led her to the stone, not knowing what on earth to do 
 with her. There was no sign of a house near ; they were
 
 98 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 quite solitary ; to all his questions she gave an unintelligible 
 moan. He had not the heart to leave her, so, taking a sharp 
 seat on a heap of flints, thus possibly furnishing future 
 occupation for one of his craftsmen, he waited, and amused 
 himself by marking out diagrams "with his stick in the thick 
 dust. 
 
 His thoughts were far away, when he heard, faintly 
 uttered : 
 
 " Why do you stop here ? " 
 
 " To help you." 
 
 " Please don't. Let me be. I can't be helped." 
 
 " My good creature," said Evan, " it's quite impossible 
 that I should leave you in this state. Tell me where you 
 were going when your illness seized you ? " 
 
 " I was going," she commenced vacantly, " to the sea — 
 the water," she added, with a shivering lip. 
 
 The foolish youth asked her if she could be cold on such 
 a night. 
 
 "No, I'm not cold," she replied, drawing closer over her 
 lap the ends of a shawl which would in that period have 
 been thought rather gaudy for her station. 
 
 " You were going to Lymport ? " 
 
 " Yes, — Lymport's nearest, I think." 
 
 " And why were you out travelling at this hour ? " 
 
 She dropped her head, and began rocking to right and left. 
 
 While they talked the noise of waggon-wheels was heard 
 approaching. Evan went into the middle of the road, and 
 beheld a covered waggon, and a fellow whom he advanced to 
 meet, plodding a little to the rear of the horses. He proved 
 kindly. He was a farmer's man, he said, and was at that 
 moment employed in removing the furniture of the farmer's 
 son, who had failed as a corn-chandler in Lymport, to Hill- 
 ford, which he expected to reach about morn. He answered 
 Evan's request that he would afford the young woman con- 
 veyance as far as Fallowfield : 
 
 " Tak' her in ? That I will." 
 
 "She won't hurt the harses," he pursued, pointing his 
 whip at the vehicle : " there's my mate, Gearge Stoakes, 
 he's in there, snorin' his turn. Can't you hear'n a-snorin' 
 thraugh the wheels ? I can ; I've been laughin' ! He do 
 snore that loud — Gearge do ! "
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN 99 
 
 Proceeding to inform Evan how George Stokes had snored 
 in that characteristic manner from boyhood, ever since he 
 and George had slept in a hayloft together ; and how he, 
 kept wakeful and driven to distraction by George Stokes' 
 nose, had been occasionally compelled, in sheer self-defence, 
 madly to start up and hold that pertinacious alarum in tight 
 compression between thumb and forefinger ; and how George 
 Stokes, thus severely handled, had burst his hold with a 
 tremendous snort, as big as a bull, and had invariably 
 uttered the exclamation, " Hulloa ! — same to you, my lad ! " 
 and rolled over to snore as fresh as ever ; — all this with 
 singular rustic comparisons, racy of the soil, and in raw 
 Hampshire dialect, the waggoner came to a halt opposite the 
 stone, and, while Evan strove to assist the girl, addressed 
 himself to the great task of arousing the sturdy sleeper and 
 quieting his trumpet, heard by all ears now that the accom- 
 paniment of the wheels was at an end. 
 
 George, violently awakened, complained that it was before 
 his time, to which he was true ; and was for going off again 
 with exalted contentment, though his heels had been tugged, 
 and were dangling some length out of the machine ; but his 
 comrade, with a determined blow of the lungs, gave another 
 valiant pull, and George Stokes was on his legs, marvelling 
 at the world and man. Evan had less difficulty with the 
 girl. She rose to meet him, put up her arms for him to 
 clasp her waist, whispering sharply in an inward breath: 
 " What are you going to do with me ? " and indifferent to 
 his verbal response, trustingly yielded her limbs to his 
 guidance. He could see blood on her bitten underlip, as, 
 with the help of the waggoner, he lifted her on the mattress, 
 backed by a portly bundle, which the sagacity of Mr. Stokes 
 had selected for his couch. 
 
 The waggoner cracked his whip, laughing at George 
 Stokes, who yawned and settled into a composed plough- 
 swing, without asking questions ; apparently resolved to 
 finish his nap on his legs. 
 
 " Warn't he like that Myzepper chap, I see at the circus, 
 bound athert grey mare ! " chuckled the waggoner. " So 
 he'd 'a gone on, had ye 'a let'n. No wulves waddn't wake 
 Gearge till he'd slept it out. Then he'd say, ' marnin' ! ' 
 to 'm. Are ye 'wake now, Gearge ? "
 
 100 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 The admirable sleeper preferred to be a quiet butt, and 
 the waggoner leisurely exhausted the fun that was to be 
 had out of him ; returning to it with a persistency that 
 evinced more concentration than variety in his mind. At 
 last Evan said : " Your pace is rather slow. They'll be shut 
 up in Eallowfield. I'll go on ahead. You'll find me at one 
 of the inns — the Green Dragon." 
 
 In return for this speech, the waggoner favoured him with 
 a stare, followed by the exclamation : 
 
 " Oh, no ! dang that ! " 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ? " quoth Evan. 
 
 " You en't goin' to be off, for to leave me and Gearge in 
 the lurch there, with that ther' young woman, in that ther' 
 pickle ! " returned the waggoner. 
 
 Evan made an appeal to his reason, but finding that im- 
 pregnable, he pulled out his scanty purse to guarantee his 
 sincerity with an offer of pledge-money. The waggoner 
 waved it aside. He wanted no money, he said. 
 
 " Look heer," he went on ; " if you're for a start, I tells 
 ye plain, I chucks that ther' young woman int' the road." 
 
 Evan bade him not to be a brute. 
 
 "Nack and crop!" the waggoner doggedly ejaculated. 
 
 Very much surprised that a fellow who appeared sound at 
 heart, should threaten to behave so basely, Evan asked an 
 explanation : upon which the waggoner demanded to know 
 what he had eyes for : and as this query failed to enlighten 
 the youth, he let him understand that he was a man of 
 family experience, and that it was easy to tell at a glance 
 that the complaint the young woman laboured under was one 
 common to the daughters of Eve. He added that, should an 
 emergency arise, he, though a family man, would be useless : 
 that he always vacated the premises while those incidental 
 scenes were being enacted at home ; and that for him and 
 George Stokes to be left alone with the young woman, why 
 they would be of no more service to her than a couple of 
 babies new-born themselves. He, for his part, he assured 
 Evan, should take to his heels, and relinquish waggon, and 
 horses, and all; while George probably would stand and 
 gape ; and the end of it would be, they would all be had up 
 for murder. He diverged from the alarming prospect, by a 
 renewal of the foregoing alternative to the gentleman who
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN 101 
 
 had constituted himself the young woman's protector. If 
 he parted company with them, they would immediately 
 part company with the young woman, whose condition was 
 evident. 
 
 " Why, couldn't you tall that ? " said the waggoner, as 
 Evan, tingling at the ears, remained silent. 
 
 " / know nothing of such things," he answered, hastily, 
 like one hurt. 
 
 I have to repeat the statement, that he was a youth, and 
 a modest one. He felt unaccountably, unreasonably, but hor- 
 ribly, ashamed. The thought of his actual position swamped 
 the sickening disgust at tailordom. Worse, then, might 
 happen to us in this extraordinary world ! There was some- 
 thing more abhorrent than sitting with one's legs crossed, 
 publicly stitching, and scoffed at ! He called vehemently to 
 the waggoner to whip the horses, and hurry ahead into 
 Fallowfield; but that worthy, whatever might be his dire 
 alarms, had a regular pace, that was conscious of no spur : 
 the reply of " All right ! " satisfied him at least ; and Evan's 
 chaste sighs for the appearance of an assistant petticoat 
 round a turn of the road, were offered up duly, to the meas- 
 ure of the waggoner's steps. 
 
 Suddenly the waggoner came to a halt, and said : " Blest 
 if that G-earge bain't a snorin' on his pins ! " 
 
 Evan lingered by him with some curiosity, while the 
 waggoner thumped his thigh to, " Yes he be ! no he bain't ! " 
 several times, in eager hesitation. 
 
 " It's a fellow calling from the downs," said Evan. 
 
 "Ay, so ! " responded the waggoner. "Dang'dif I didn't 
 think 'twere that Gearge of our'n. Hark awhile." 
 
 At a repetition of the call, the waggoner stopped his 
 team. After a few minutes, a man appeared panting on the 
 bank above them, down which he ran precipitately, knocked 
 against Evan, apologized with the little breath that remained 
 to him, and then held his hand as to entreat a hearing. 
 Evan thought him half-mad; the waggoner was about to 
 imagine him the victim of a midnight assault. He unde- 
 ceived them by requesting, in rather flowery terms, convey- 
 ance on the road and rest for his limbs. It being explained 
 to him that the waggon was already occupied, he comforted 
 himself aloud with the reflection that it was something to
 
 102 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 be on the road again for one who had been belated, lost, and 
 wandering over the downs for the last six hours. 
 
 " Walcome to git in, when young woman gits out," said 
 the waggoner. "I'll gi' ye my sleep on t' Hillford." 
 
 " Thanks, worthy friend," returned the new comer. " The 
 state of the case is this — I'm happy to take from human- 
 kind whatsoever I can get. If this gentleman will accept of 
 my company, and my legs hold out, all will yet be well." 
 
 Though he did not wear a petticoat, Evan was not sorry 
 to have him. Next to the interposition of the Gods, we 
 pray for human fellowship when we are in a mess. So he 
 mumbled politely, dropped with him a little to the rear, and 
 they all stepped out to the crack of the waggoner's whip. 
 
 " Rather a slow pace," said Evan, feeling bound to con- 
 verse. 
 
 " Six hours on the downs makes it extremely suitable to 
 me," rejoined the stranger. 
 
 " You lost your way ? " 
 
 " I did, sir. Yes ; one does not court those desolate re- 
 gions wittingly. I am for life and society. The embraces 
 of Diana do not agree with my constitution. If classics 
 there be who differ from me, I beg them to take six hours 
 on the downs alone with the moon, and the last prospect of 
 bread and cheese, and a chaste bed, seemingly utterly ex- 
 tinguished. I am cured of my romance. Of course, when 
 I say bread and cheese, I speak figuratively. Food is im- 
 plied." 
 
 Evan stole a glance at his companion. 
 
 " Besides," the other continued, with an inflexion of gran- 
 deur, " for a man accustomed to his hunters, it is, you will 
 confess, unpleasant — I speak hypothetically — to be reduced 
 to his legs to that extent that it strikes him shrewdly he 
 will run them into stumps. 
 
 The stranger laughed. 
 
 The fair lady of the night illumined his face, like one 
 who recognized a subject. Evan thought he knew the 
 voice. A curious struggle therein between native facetious- 
 ness and an attempt at dignity, appeared to Evan not 
 unfamiliar; and the egregious failure of ambition and tri- 
 umph of the instinct, helped him to join the stranger in 
 his mirth.
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN 103 
 
 "JackRaikes?" he said: "surely?" 
 
 "The man!" it was answered to him. "But you? — 
 and near our old school — Viscount Harrington? These 
 marvels occur, you see — we meet again by night." 
 
 Evan, with little gratification at the meeting, fell into 
 their former comradeship; tickled by a recollection of his 
 old schoolfellow's india-rubber mind. 
 
 Mr. Eaikes stood about a head under him. He had ex- 
 tremely mobile features ; thick, flexible eyebrows ; a loose, 
 voluble mouth ; a ridiculous figure on a dandified foot. He 
 represented to you one who was rehearsing a part he wished 
 to act before the world, and was not aware that he took the 
 world into his confidence. 
 
 How he had come there his elastic tongue explained in 
 tropes and puns and lines of dramatic verse. His patri- 
 mony spent, he at once believed himself an actor, and he 
 was hissed off the stage of a provincial theatre. 
 
 " Euined, the last ignominy endured, I fled from the gay 
 vistas of the Bench — for they live who would thither lead 
 me! and determined, the day before the yesterday — what 
 think'st thou? why to go boldly, and offer myself as Adla- 
 tus to blessed old Cudford! Yes! a little Latin is all that 
 remains to me, and I resolved, like the man I am, to turn, 
 hie, hcec, hoc, into bread and cheese, and beer. Impute 
 naught foreign to me, in the matter of pride." 
 
 " Usher in our old school — poor old Jack ! " exclaimed 
 Evan. 
 
 "Lieutenant in the Cudford Academy!" the latter re- 
 joined. " I walked the distance from London. I had my 
 interview with the respected principal. He gave me of 
 mutton nearest the bone, which, they say, is sweetest; and 
 on sweet things you should not regale in excess. Endym- 
 ion watched the sheep that bred that mutton! He gave 
 me the thin beer of our boyhood, that I might the more 
 soberly state my mission. That beer, my friend, was 
 brewed by one who wished to form a study for pantomimic 
 masks. He listened with the gravity which is all his own 
 to the recital of my career; he pleasantly compared me to 
 Phaethon, congratulated the river Thames at my not setting 
 it on fire in my rapid descent, and extended to me the three 
 fingers of affectionate farewell. ' You an usher, a rearer of
 
 104 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 youth, Mr. Raikes? Oh, no! Oh, no!' That was- all I 
 could get out of him. 'Gad! he might have seen that I 
 didn't joke with the mutton-bone. If I winced at the beer 
 it was imperceptible. Now a man who can do that is what 
 I call a man in earnest." 
 
 "You've just come from Cudford?" said Evan. 
 
 " Short is the tale, though long the way, friend Harring- 
 ton. From Bodley is ten miles to Beckley. I walked 
 them. From Beckley is fifteen miles to Fallowfield. 
 Them I was traversing, when, lo! near sweet eventide a 
 fair horsewoman riding with her groom at her horse's 
 heels. 'Lady,' says I, addressing her, as much out of the 
 style of the needy as possible, 'will you condescend to 
 direct me to Fallowfield? ' 'Are you going to the match? ' 
 says she. I answered boldly that I was. 'Beckley's in,' 
 says she, 'and you'll be in time to see them out, if you cut 
 across the downs there.' I lifted my hat — a desperate 
 measure, for the brim won't bear much — but honour to 
 women though we perish. She bowed: I cut across the 
 downs. In fine, Harrington, old boy, I've been wandering 
 among those downs for the last seven or eight hours. I 
 was on the point of turning my back on the road for the 
 twentieth time, I believe — when I heard your welcome 
 vehicular music, and hailed you; and I ask you, isn't it 
 luck for a fellow who hasn't got a penny in his pocket, and 
 is as hungry as five hundred hunters, to drop on an old 
 friend like this?" 
 
 Evan answered with the question : 
 
 "Where was it you said you met the young lady?" 
 
 "In the first place, Amadis! I never said she was 
 young. You're on the scent, I see." 
 
 Nursing the fresh image of his darling in his heart's 
 recesses, Evan, as they entered Fallowfield, laid the state 
 of his purse before Jack, and earned anew the epithet of 
 Amadis, when it came to be told that the occupant of the 
 waggon was likewise one of its pensioners. 
 
 Sleep had long held its reign in Fallowfield. Neverthe- 
 less, Mr. Raikes, though blind windows alone looked on 
 him, and naught foreign was to be imputed to him in the 
 matter of pride, had become exceedingly solicitous concern- 
 ing his presentation to the inhabitants of that quiet little
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN 105 
 
 country town ; and while Evan and the waggoner consulted 
 — the former with regard to the chances of procuring beds 
 and supper, the latter as to his prospect of beer and a com- 
 fortable riddance of the feminine burden weighing on them 
 all — Mr. Kaikes was engaged in persuading his hat to 
 assume something of the gentlemanly polish of its youth, 
 and might have been observed now and then furtively catch- 
 ing up a leg to be dusted. Ere the wheels of the waggon 
 stopped he had gained that ease of mind which the know- 
 ledge that you have done all a man may do and circum- 
 stances warrant, establishes. Capacities conscious of their 
 limits may repose even proudly when they reach them; 
 and, if Mr. Eaikes had not quite the air of one come out of 
 a bandbox, he at least proved to the discerning intelligence 
 that he knew what sort of manner befitted that happy occa- 
 sion, and was enabled by the pains he had taken to glance 
 with a challenge at the sign of the hostelry, under which 
 they were now ranked, and from which, though the hour 
 was late, and Fallowfield a singularly somnolent little town, 
 there issued signs of life approaching to festivity. 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN 
 
 What every traveller sighs to find, was palatably fur- 
 nished by the Green Dragon of Fallowfield — a famous inn, 
 and a constellation for wandering coachmen. There pleas- 
 ant smiles seasoned plenty, and the bill was gilded in a 
 manner unknown to our days. Whoso drank of the ale of 
 the Green Dragon kept in his memory a place apart for it. 
 The secret, that to give a warm welcome is the breath of 
 life to an inn, was one the Green Dragon boasted, even 
 then, not to share with many Eed Lions, or Cocks of the 
 Morning, or Kings' Heads, or other fabulous monsters ; and 
 as if to show that when you are in the right track you are 
 sure to be seconded, there was a friend of the Green Dragon, 
 who, on a particular night of the year, caused its renown
 
 106 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 to enlarge to the dimensions of a miracle. But that, for 
 the moment, is my secret. 
 
 Evan and Jack were met in the passage by a chamber- 
 maid. Before either of them could speak, she had turned 
 and fled, with the words : 
 
 " More coming ! " which, with the addition of " My good- 
 ness me ! " were echoed by the hostess in her recess. Hur- 
 ried directions seemed to be consequent, and then the hostess 
 sallied out, and said, with a curtsey : 
 
 "Please to step in, gentlemen. This is the room, to- 
 night." 
 
 Evan lifted his hat; and bowing, requested to know 
 whether they could have a supper and beds. 
 
 " Beds, sir ! " cried the hostess. " What am I to do for 
 beds ! Yes, beds indeed you may have, but bed-rooms — if 
 you ask for them, it really is more than I can supply you 
 with. I have given up my own. I sleep with my maid 
 Jane to-night." 
 
 " Anything will do for us, madam," replied Evan, renew- 
 ing his foreign courtesy. " But there is a poor young woman 
 outside." 
 
 " Another ! " The hostess instantly smiled down her in- 
 hospitable outcry. 
 
 " She," said Evan, " must have a room to herself. She is 
 ill." 
 
 " Must is must, sir," returned the gracious hostess. " But 
 I really haven't the means." 
 
 " You have bed-rooms, madam ? " 
 
 " Every one of them engaged, sir." 
 
 " By ladies, madam ? " 
 
 " Lord forbid, sir ! " she exclaimed with the honest energy 
 of a woman who knew her sex. 
 
 Evan bade Jack go and assist the waggoner to bring in 
 the girl. Jack, who had been all the time pulling at his 
 wristbands, and settling his coat-collar by the dim reflection 
 of a window of the bar, departed, after, on his own author- 
 ity, assuring the hostess that fever was not the young 
 woman's malady, as she protested against admitting fever 
 into her house, seeing that she had to consider her guests. 
 
 " We're open to all the world to-night, except fever," said 
 the hostess. " Yes," she rejoined to Evan's order that the
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN 107 
 
 waggoner and his mate should be supplied with ale, " they 
 shall have as much as they can drink," which is not a speech 
 usual at inns, when one man gives an order for others, but 
 Evan passed it by, and politely begged to be shown in to 
 one of the gentlemen who had engaged bed-rooms. 
 
 " Oh ! if you can persuade any of them, sir, I'm sure I've 
 nothing to say," observed the hostess. " Pray, don't ask me 
 to stand by and back it, that's all." 
 
 Had Evan been familiar with the Green Dragon, he would 
 have noticed that the landlady, its presiding genius, was 
 stiffer than usual ; the rosy smile was more constrained, as 
 if a great host had to be embraced, and were trying it to the 
 utmost stretch. There was, however, no asperity about her, 
 and when she had led him to the door he was to enter to 
 prefer his suit, and she had asked whether the young woman 
 was quite common, and he had replied that he had picked 
 her up on the road, and that she was certainly poor, the 
 hostess said: 
 
 "I'm sure you're a very good gentleman, sir, and if I 
 could spare your asking at all, I would." 
 
 With that she went back to encounter Mr. Raikes and his 
 charge, and prime the waggoner and his mate. 
 
 A noise of laughter and talk was stilled gradually, as 
 Evan made his bow into a spacious room, wherein, as the 
 tops of pines are seen swimming on the morning mist, about 
 a couple of dozen guests of divers conditions sat partially 
 revealed through wavy clouds of tobacco-smoke. By their 
 postures, which Evan's appearance by no means discon- 
 certed, you read in a glance men who had been at ease for 
 so many hours that they had no troubles in the world save 
 the two ultimate perplexities of the British Sybarite, whose 
 bed of roses is harassed by the pair of problems : first, what 
 to do with his legs ; secondly, how to imbibe liquor with the 
 slightest possible derangement of those members subordinate 
 to his upper structure. Of old the Sybarite complained. 
 Not so our self-helpful islanders. Since they could not, now 
 that work was done and jollity the game, take off their legs, 
 they got away from them as far as they might, in fashions 
 original or imitative: some by thrusting them out at full 
 length ; some by cramping them under their chairs : while 
 some, taking refuge in a mental effort, forgot them, a process
 
 108 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 to be recommended if it did not involve occasional pangs of 
 consciousness to the legs of their neighbours. We see in 
 our cousins West of the great water, who are said to exag- 
 gerate our peculiarities, beings labouring under the same 
 difficulty, and intent on its solution. As to the second 
 problem : that of drinking without discomposure to the 
 subservient limbs : the company present worked out this 
 republican principle ingeniously, but in a manner beneath 
 the attention of the Muse. Let Clio record that mugs and 
 glasses, tobacco and pipes, were strewn upon the table. But 
 if the guests had arrived at that stage when to reach the 
 arm, or arrange the person, for a sip of good stuff, causes 
 moral debates, and presents to the mind impediments equal 
 to what would be raised in active men by the prospect of a 
 great excursion, it is not to be wondered at that the presence 
 of a stranger produced no immediate commotion. Two or 
 three heads were half turned ; such as faced him impercep- 
 tibly lifted their eyelids. 
 
 " Good evening, sir," said one who sat as chairman, with 
 a decisive nod. 
 
 " Good night, ain't it ? " a jolly-looking old fellow queried 
 of the speaker, in an under-voice. 
 
 " 'Gad, you don't expect me to be wishing the gentleman 
 good-bye, do you ? " retorted the former. 
 
 "Ha! ha! No, to be sure," answered the old boy; and 
 the remark was variously uttered, that " Good night," by a 
 caprice of our language, did sound like it. 
 
 " Good evening's ' How d' ye do ? ' — ' How are ye ? ' 
 Good night's ' Be off, and be blowed to you,' " observed an 
 interpreter with a positive mind ; and another, whose intel- 
 ligence was not so clear, but whose perceptions had seized 
 the point, exclaimed : " I never says it when I hails a chap ; 
 but, dash my buttons, if I mightn't 'a done, one day or 
 another ! Queer ! " 
 
 The chairman, warmed by his joke, added, with a sharp 
 wink : " Ay ; it would be queer, if you hailed 'Good night' 
 in the middle of the day ! " and this among a company 
 soaked in ripe ale, could not fail to run the electric circle, 
 and persuaded several to change their positions ; in the 
 rumble of which, Evan's reply, if he had made any, was 
 lost. Few, however, were there who could think of him,
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN 109 
 
 and ponder on that glimpse of fun, at the same time; and 
 he would have been passed over, had not the chairman 
 said: "Take a seat, sir; make yourself comfortable." 
 
 " Before I have that pleasure," replied Evan, "I — " 
 
 " i" see where 'tis," burst out the old boy who had pre- 
 viously superinduced a diversion : " he's going to ax if he 
 can't have a bed ! " 
 
 A roar of laughter, and " Don't you remember this day 
 last year ? " followed the cunning guess. For awhile expli- 
 cation was impossible ; and Evan coloured, and smiled, and 
 waited for them. 
 
 " I was going to ask — " 
 
 " Said so ! " shouted the old boy, gleefully. 
 
 " — one of the gentlemen who has engaged a bed-room to 
 do me the extreme favour to step aside with me, and allow 
 me a moment's speech with him." 
 
 Long faces were drawn, and odd stares were directed 
 toward him, in reply. 
 
 "J see where 'tis;" the old boy thumped his knee. 
 "Ain't it now? Speak up, sir! There's a lady in the 
 case ? " 
 
 " I may tell you thus much," answered Evan, " that it is 
 an unfortunate young woman, very ill, who needs rest and 
 quiet." 
 
 " Didn't I say so ? " shouted the old boy. 
 
 But this time, though his jolly red jowl turned all round 
 to demand a confirmation, it was not generally considered 
 that he had divined so correctly. Between a lady and an 
 unfortunate young woman, there seemed to be a strong dis- 
 tinction, in the minds of the company. 
 
 The chairman was the most affected by the communica- 
 tion. His bushy eyebrows frowned at Evan, and he began 
 tugging at the brass buttons of his coat, like one preparing 
 to arm for a conflict. 
 
 " Speak out, sir, if you please," he said. " Above board 
 — no asides — no taking advantages. You want me to give 
 up my bed-room for the use of your young woman, sir ? " 
 
 Evan replied quietly : " She is a stranger to me ; and if 
 you could see her, sir, and know her situation, I think she 
 would move your pity." 
 
 " I don't doubt it ; sir — I don't doubt it," returned the
 
 110 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 chairman. " They all move our pity. That's how they get 
 over us. She has diddled you, and she would diddle me, 
 and diddle us all — diddle the devil, I dare say, when her 
 time comes. I don't doubt it, sir." 
 
 To confront a vehement old gentleman, sitting as presi- 
 dent in an assembly of satellites, requires command of coun- 
 tenance, and Evan was not browbeaten : he held him, and 
 the whole room, from where he stood, under a serene and 
 serious eye, for his feelings were too deeply stirred on behalf 
 of the girl to let him think of himself. That question of 
 hers, " What are you going to do with me ? " implying such 
 helplessness and trust, was still sharp on his nerves. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "I humbly beg your pardon for 
 disturbing you as I do." 
 
 But with a sudden idea that a general address on behalf 
 of a particular demand must necessarily fail, he let his eyes 
 rest on one there, whose face was neither stupid nor repel- 
 lent, and who, though he did not look up, had an attentive, 
 thoughtful cast about the mouth. 
 
 " May I entreat a word apart with you, sir ? " 
 
 Evan was not mistaken in the index he had perused. The 
 gentleman seemed to feel that he was selected from the 
 company, and slightly raising his head, carelessly replied : 
 "My bed is entirely at your disposal," resuming his con- 
 templative pose. 
 
 On the point of thanking him, Evan advanced a step, 
 when up started the irascible chairman. 
 
 " I don't permit it ! I won't allow it ! " And before Evan 
 could ask his reasons, he had rung the bell, muttering: 
 "They follow us to our inns, now, the baggages! They 
 must harry us at our inns ! We can't have peace and quiet 
 at our inns ! " 
 
 In a state of combustion, he cried out to the waiter: 
 " Here, Mark, this gentleman has brought in a dirty wench : 
 pack her up to my bed-room, and lock her in : lock her in, 
 and bring down the key." 
 
 Agreeably deceived in the old gentleman's intentions, 
 Evan could not refrain from joining the murmured hilarity 
 created by the conclusion of his order. The latter glared at 
 him, and added : " Now, sir, you've done your worst. Sit 
 down, and be merry."
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN 111 
 
 Replying that he had a friend outside, and would not fail 
 to accept the invitation, Evan retired. He was met by the 
 hostess with the reproachful declaration on her lips, that 
 she was a widow woman, wise in appearances, and that he 
 had brought into her house that night work she did not 
 expect, or bargain for. Rather (since I must speak truth of 
 my gentleman) to silence her on the subject, and save his 
 ears, than to propitiate her favour towards the girl, Evan 
 drew out his constitutionally lean purse, and dropped it in 
 her hand, praying her to put every expense incurred to his 
 charge. She exclaimed: "If Dr. Pillie has his full sleep 
 this night, I shall be astonished ; " and Evan hastily led 
 Jack into the passage to impart to him, that the extent 
 of his resources was reduced to the smallest of sums in 
 shillings. 
 
 "I can beat my friend at that reckoning," said Mr. Raikes ; 
 and they entered the room. 
 
 Eyes were on him. This had ever the effect of causing 
 him to swell to monstrous proportions in the histrionic line. 
 Asking the waiter carelessly for some light supper dish, he 
 suggested the various French, with "not that?" and the 
 affable naming of another. " Not that ? Dear me, we shall 
 have to sup on chops, I believe ! " 
 
 Evan saw the chairman scrutinizing Raikes, much as he 
 himself might have done, and he said : " Bread and cheese 
 for me." 
 
 Raikes exclaimed : " Really ? Well, my lord, you lead, 
 and your taste is mine." 
 
 A second waiter scudded past, and stopped before the 
 chairman to say: "If you please, sir, the gentlemen up- 
 stairs send their compliments, and will be happy to ac- 
 cept." 
 
 " Ha ! " was the answer. " Thought better of it, have 
 they ! Lay for three more, then. Five more, I guess." 
 He glanced at the pair of intruders. 
 
 Among a portion of the guests there had been a return to 
 common talk, and one had observed that he could not get 
 that " Good Evening," and " Good Night," out of his head : 
 which had caused a friend to explain the meaning of these 
 terms of salutation to him : while another, of a philosophic 
 turn, pursued the theme : " You see, when we meets, we
 
 112 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 makes a night of it. So, when we parts, it's Good Night 
 . — natural ! ain't it ? " A proposition assented to, and con- 
 siderably dilated on ; but whether he was laughing at that, 
 or what had aroused the fit, the chairman did not say. 
 
 Gentle chuckles had succeeded his laughter by the time 
 the bread and cheese appeared. 
 
 In the rear of the provision came three young gentle- 
 men, of whom the foremost lumped in, singing to one 
 behind him, — " And you shall have little Eosey ! " 
 
 They were clad in cricketing costume, and exhibited the 
 health and manners of youthful Englishmen of station. 
 Frolicsome young bulls bursting on an assemblage of sheep, 
 they might be compared to. The chairman welcomed them 
 a trifle snubbingly. The colour mounted to the cheeks of 
 Mr. Raikes as he made incision in the cheese, under their 
 eyes, knitting his brows fearfully, as if at hard work. 
 
 The chairman entreated Evan to desist from the cheese ; 
 and, pulling out his watch, thundered : " Time ! " 
 
 The company generally jumped on their legs ; and, in the 
 midst of a hum of talk and laughter, he informed Evan and 
 Jack, that he invited them cordially to a supper up-stairs, 
 and would be pleased if they would partake of it, and in 
 a great rage if they would not. 
 
 Eaikes was for condescending to accept. 
 
 Evan sprang up and cried : " Gladly, sir," and gladly 
 would he have cast his cockney schoolmaster to the winds, 
 in the presence of these young cricketers ; for he had a 
 prognostication. 
 
 The door was open, and the company of jolly yeomen, 
 tradesmen, farmers, and the like, had become intent on 
 observing all the ceremonies of precedence : not one would 
 broaden his back on the other ; and there was bowing, and 
 scraping, and grimacing, till Earmer Broadmead was hailed 
 aloud, and the old boy stepped forth, and was summarily 
 pushed through: the chairman calling from the rear, 
 " Hulloa ! no names to-night ! " to which was answered 
 lustily : " All right, Mr. Tom ! " and the speaker was re- 
 proved with, "There you go! at it again!" and out and up 
 they hustled. 
 
 The chairman said quietly to Evan, as they were ascend- 
 ing the stairs : " We don't have names to-night ; may as well
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE 118 
 
 drop titles." Which presented do peculiar meaning to 
 Evan's mind, and he smiled the usual smile. 
 
 To Raikes, at the door of the supper-room, the chairman 
 repeated the same ; and, with extreme affability and alacrity 
 of abnegation, the other rejoined, " Oh, certainly ! " 
 
 No wonder that he rubbed his hands with more delight 
 than aristocrats and people with gentlemanly connections 
 are in the habit of betraying at the prospect of refection, for 
 the release from bread and cheese was rendered overpower- 
 ingly glorious, in his eyes, by the bountiful contrast exhib- 
 ited on the board before him. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN WHICH ALE IS SHOWN TO HAVE ONE QUALITY OF WINE 
 
 To proclaim that yon ribs of beef and yonder ruddy 
 Britons have met, is to furnish matter for an hour's com- 
 fortable meditation. 
 
 Digest the fact. Here the Fates have put their seal to 
 something Nature clearly devised. It was intended ; and it 
 has come to pass. A thing has come to pass which we feel 
 to be right ! The machinery of the world, then, is not en- 
 tirely dislocated: there is harmony, on one point, among 
 the mysterious powers who have to do with us. 
 
 Apart from its eloquent and consoling philosophy, the 
 picture is pleasant. You see two rows of shoulders reso- 
 lutely set for action : heads in divers degrees of proximity 
 to their plates : eyes variously twinkling, or hypocritically 
 composed : chaps in vigorous exercise. Now leans a fellow 
 right back with his whole face to the firmament : Ale is his 
 adoration. He sighs not till he sees the end of the mug. 
 Now from one a laugh is sprung ; but, as if too early tapped, 
 he turns off the cock, and primes himself anew. Occupied 
 by their own requirements, these Britons allow that their 
 neighbours have rights: no cursing at waste of time is 
 heard when plates have to be passed: disagreeable, it is 
 still duty. Eield-Marshal Duty, the Briton's chief star,
 
 114 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 shines here. If one usurps more than his allowance of 
 elbow-room, bring your charge against them that fashioned 
 him : work away to arrive at some compass yourself. 
 
 Now the mustard ceases to travel, and the salt : the guests 
 have leisure to contemplate their achievements. Laughs 
 are more prolonged, and come from the depths. 
 
 Now Ale, which is to Beef what Eve was to Adam, 
 threatens to take possession of the field. Happy they who, 
 following Nature's direction, admitted not bright ale into 
 their Paradise till their manhood was strengthened with 
 beef. Some, impatient, had thirsted; had satisfied their 
 thirst; and the ale, the light though lovely spirit, with 
 nothing to hold it down, had mounted to their heads ; just 
 as Eve will do when Adam is not mature: just as she did — 
 Alas! 
 
 Now, the ruins of the feast being removed, and a clear 
 course left for the flow of ale, Farmer Broadmead, facing the 
 chairman, rises. He stands in an attitude of midway. He 
 speaks : 
 
 " Gentlemen ! 'Taint fust time you and I be met here, to 
 salbrate this here occasion. I say, not fust time, not by 
 many a time, 'taint. Well, gentlemen, I ain't much of a 
 speaker, gentlemen, as you know. Howsever, here I be. 
 No denyin' that. I'm on my legs. This here's a strange 
 enough world, and a man as 's a gentleman, I say, we ought 
 for to be glad when we got 'in. You know : I'm coming to it 
 shortly. I ain't much of a speaker, and if you wants some- 
 thin' new, you must ax elsewhere: but what I say is — dang 
 it ! here's good health and long life to Mr. Tom, up there ! " 
 
 " No names ! " shouts the chairman, in the midst of a 
 tremendous clatter. 
 
 Farmer Broadmead moderately disengages his breadth 
 from the seat. He humbly axes pardon, which is accorded 
 him with a blunt nod. 
 
 Ale (to Beef what Eve was to Adam) circulates beneath a 
 dazzling foam, fair as the first woman. 
 
 Mr. Tom (for the breach of the rules in mentioning whose 
 name on a night when identities are merged, we offer sincere 
 apologies every other minute), Mr. Tom is toasted. His 
 parents, who selected that day sixty years ago, for his bow
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE 115 
 
 to be made to the world, are alluded to with encomiums, 
 and float down to posterity on floods of liquid amber. 
 
 But to see all the subtle merits that now begin to bud out 
 from Mr. Tom, the chairman and giver of the feast; and 
 also rightly to appreciate the speeches, we require to be enor- 
 mously charged with Ale. Mr. Eaikes did his best to keep 
 bis head above the surface of the rapid flood. He conceived 
 the chairman in brilliant colours, and probably owing to the 
 energy called for by his brain, the legs of the young man 
 failed him twice, as he tried them. Attention was demanded. 
 Mr. Raikes addressed the meeting. 
 
 The three young gentlemen-cricketers had hitherto be- 
 haved with a certain propriety. It did not offend Mr. Raikes 
 to see them conduct themselves as if they were at a play, 
 and the rest of the company paid actors. He had likewise 
 taken a position, and had been the first to laugh aloud at a 
 particular slip of grammar ; while his shrugs at the aspirates 
 transposed and the pronunciation prevalent, had almost es- 
 tablished a free-masonry between him and one of the three 
 young gentlemen-cricketers — a fair-haired youth, with a 
 handsome, reckless face, who leaned on the table, humorously 
 eyeing the several speakers, and exchanging by-words and 
 laughs with his friends on each side of him. 
 
 But Mr. Raikes had the disadvantage of having come to 
 the table empty in stomach — thirsty exceedingly ; and, I 
 repeat, that as, without experience, you are the victim of 
 divinely-given Eve, so, with no foundation to receive it upon, 
 are you the victim of good sound Ale. He very soon lost 
 his head. He would otherwise have seen that he must pro- 
 duce a wonderfully-telling speech if he was to keep the 
 position he had taken, and had better not attempt one. The 
 three young cricketers were hostile from the beginning. All 
 of them leant forward, calling attention loudly, laughing for 
 the fun to come. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! " he said : and said it twice. The gap was 
 wide, and he said, " Gentlemen ! " again. 
 
 This commencement of a speech proves that you have made 
 the plunge, but not that you can swim. At a repetition of 
 " Gentlemen ! " expectancy resolved into cynicism. 
 
 " Gie'n a help," sang out a son of the plough to a neigh- 
 bour of the orator.
 
 116 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Dang it!" murmured another, "we ain't such gentlemen 
 as that comes to." 
 
 Mr. Raikes was politely requested to " tune his pipe." 
 
 With a gloomy curiosity as to the results of Jack's adven- 
 turous undertaking, and a touch of anger at the three whose 
 bearing throughout had displeased him, Evan regarded his 
 friend. He, too, had drunk, and upon emptiness. Bright 
 ale had mounted to his brain. A hero should be held as 
 sacred as the Grand Llama : so let no more be said than that 
 he drank still, nor marked the replenishing of his glass. 
 
 Raikes cleared his throat for a final assault : he had got 
 an image, and was dashing off ; but, unhappily, as if to 
 make the start seem fair, he was guilty of his reiteration, 
 " Gentlemen." 
 
 Everybody knew that it was a real start this time, and 
 indeed he had made an advance, and had run straight through 
 half a sentence. It was therefore manifestly unfair, inimical, 
 contemptuous, overbearing, and base, for one of the three 
 young cricketers at this period to fling back weariedly and 
 exclaim : " By the Lord ; too many gentlemen here ! " 
 
 Evan heard him across the table. Lacking the key of the 
 speaker's previous conduct, the words might have passed. As 
 it was, they, to the ale-invaded head of a young hero, feeling 
 himself the world's equal, and condemned nevertheless to 
 bear through life the insignia of Tailordom, not unnaturally 
 struck with peculiar offence. There was arrogance, too, in 
 the young man who had interposed. He was long in the 
 body, and, when he was not refreshing his sight by a careless 
 contemplation of his finger-nails, looked down on his company 
 at table, as one may do who comes from loftier studies. He 
 had what is popularly known as the nose of our aristocracy : 
 a nose that much culture of the external graces, ail( j affecta- 
 tion of suavity, are required to soften. Thereto were joined 
 thin lips and arched brows. Birth it was possible he could 
 boast, hardly brains. He sat to the right of the fair-haired 
 youth, who, with his remaining comrade, a quiet smiling 
 fellow, appeared to be better liked by the guests, and had 
 been hailed once or twice, under correction of the chairman, 
 as Mr. Harry. The three had distinguished one there by a 
 few friendly passages ; and this was he who had offered his 
 bed to Evan for the service of the girl. The recognition they
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE 117 
 
 extended to him did not affect him deeply. He was called 
 Drummond, and had his place near the chairman, whose 
 humours he seemed to relish. 
 
 The ears of Mr. Raikes were less keen at the moment 
 than Evan's, but his openness to ridicule was that of a man 
 on his legs solus, amid a company sitting, and his sense of 
 the same — when he saw himself the victim of it — acute. 
 His face was rather comic, and, under the shadow of embar- 
 rassment, twitching and working for ideas — might excuse 
 a want of steadiness and absolute gravity in the counte- 
 nances of others. 
 
 The chairman's neighbour, Drummond, whispered him : 
 " Laxley will get up a row with that fellow." 
 
 " It's young Jocelyn egging him on," said the chairman. 
 
 "Urn!" added Drummond: "it's the friend of that talka- 
 tive rascal that's dangerous, if it comes to anything." 
 
 Mr. Eaikes perceived that his host desired him to conclude. 
 So, lifting his voice and swinging his arm, he ended : " Allow 
 me to propose to you the Fly in Amber. In other words, 
 our excellent host embalmed in brilliant ale ! Drink him ! 
 and so let him live in our memories for ever ! " 
 
 He sat down very well contented with himself, very little 
 comprehended, and applauded loudly. 
 
 " The Flyin' Number ! " echoed Farmer Broadmead, con- 
 fidently and with clamour ; adding to a friend, when both 
 had drunk the toast to the dregs, " But what number that 
 be, or how many 'tis of 'em, dishes me ! But that's ne'ther 
 here nor there." 
 
 The chairman and host of the evening stood up to reply, 
 welcomed by thunders — " There ye be, Mr. Tom ! glad I 
 lives to see ye ! " and " No names ! " and u Long life to 
 him ! " 
 
 This having subsided, the chairman spoke, first nodding. 
 
 " You don't want many words, and if you do, you won't 
 get 'em from me." 
 
 Cries of " Got something better ! " took up the blunt 
 address. 
 
 "You've been true to it, most of you. I like men not to 
 forget a custom." 
 
 " Good reason so to be," and " A jolly good custom," re- 
 plied to both sentences.
 
 118 EVAN HAKEINGTON 
 
 "As to the beef, I hope you didn't find it tough: as to the 
 ale — I know all about that I" 
 
 " Aha ! good ! " rang the verdict. 
 
 " All I can say is, that this day next year it will be on the 
 table, and I hope that every one of you will meet Tom — will 
 meet me here punctually. I'm not a Parliament man, so 
 that'll do." 
 
 The chairman's breech of his own rules drowned the ter- 
 mination of his speech in an uproar. 
 
 Re-seating himself, he lifted his glass, and proposed: 
 " The Antediluvians ! " 
 
 Farmer Broadmead echoed : " The Anteddoovians ! " ap- 
 pending, as a private sentiment, " And dam rum chaps they 
 were ! " 
 
 The Antediluvians, undoubtedly the toast of the even- 
 ing, were enthusiastically drunk, and in an ale of treble 
 brew. 
 
 When they had quite gone down, Mr. Raikes ventured to 
 ask for the reason of their receiving such honour from a 
 posterity they had so little to do with. He put the question 
 mildly, but was impetuously snapped at by the chairman. 
 
 " You respect men for their luck, sir, don't you ? Don't 
 be a hypocrite, and say you don't — you do. Very well: 
 so do I. That's why I drink ' The Antediluvians ' ! " 
 
 " Our worthy host here " (Drummond, gravely smiling, 
 undertook to elucidate the case) " has a theory that the 
 constitutions of the Postdiluvians have been deranged, and 
 their lives shortened, by the miasmas of the Deluge. I be- 
 lieve he carries it so far as to say that Noah, in the light 
 of a progenitor, is inferior to Adam, owing to the shaking 
 he had to endure in the ark, and which he conceives to 
 have damaged the patriarch and the nervous systems of 
 his sons. It's a theory, you know." 
 
 " They lived close on a thousand years, hale, hearty — and 
 no water ! " said the chairman. 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed one, some way down the table, a 
 young farmer, red as a cock's comb: "no fools they, eh, 
 master? Where there's ale, would you drink water, my 
 hearty ? " and back he leaned to enjoy the tribute to his 
 wit ; a wit not remarkable, but nevertheless sufficient in the 
 noise it created to excite the envy of Mr. Raikes, who, in-
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE 119 
 
 veterately silly when not engaged in a contest, now began 
 to play on the names of the sons of Noah. 
 
 The chairman lanced a keen light at him from beneath 
 his bushy eyebrows. 
 
 Before long he had again to call two parties to order. To 
 Raikes, Laxley was a puppy : to Laxley, Mr. Raikes was a 
 snob. The antagonism was natural : ale did but put the match 
 to the magazine. But previous to an explosion, Laxley, who 
 had observed Evan's disgust at Jack's exhibition of himself, 
 and had been led to think, by his conduct and clothes in con- 
 junction, that Evan was his own equal ; — a gentleman con- 
 descending to the society of a low-born acquaintance ; — had 
 sought with sundry propitiations, intelligent glances, light 
 shrugs, and such like, to divide Evan from Jack. He did 
 this, doubtless, because he partly sympathized with Evan, 
 and to assure him that he took a separate view of him. 
 Probably Evan was already offended, or he held to Jack, as a 
 comrade should, or else it was that Tailordom and the pride 
 of his accepted humiliation bellowed in his ears, every fresh 
 minute: " Nothing assume!" I incline to think that the 
 more ale he drank the fiercer rebel he grew against conven- 
 tional ideas of rank, and those class-barriers which we scorn 
 so vehemently when we find ourselves kicking at them. 
 Whatsoever the reason that prompted him, he did not 
 respond to Laxley's advances; and Laxley, disregarding 
 him, dealt with Raikes alone. 
 
 In a tone plainly directed at him, he said: "Well, Harry, 
 tired of this ? The agricultural are good fun, but I can't 
 stand much of the small cockney. A blackguard who tries 
 to make jokes out of the Scriptures ought to be kicked ! " 
 
 Harry rejoined, with wet lips : " Wopping stuff, this ale ! 
 Who's that you want to kick ? " 
 
 "Somebody who objects to his bray, I suppose," Mr. 
 Raikes struck in, across the table, negligently thrusting out 
 his elbow to support his head. 
 
 " Did you allude to me, sir ? " Laxley inquired. 
 
 " I alluded to a donkey, sir." Raikes lifted his eyelids to 
 the same level as Laxley's : " a passing remark on that in- 
 teresting animal." 
 
 His friend Harry now came into the ring to try a fall. 
 
 " Are you an usher in a school ? " he asked, meaning by 
 his looks what men of science in fisticuffs call business.
 
 120 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Mr. Eaikes started in amazement. He recovered as 
 quickly. 
 
 ** No, sir, not quite : but I have no doubt I should be able 
 to instruct you upon a point or two." 
 
 " Good manners, for instance ? " remarked the third young 
 cricketer, without disturbing his habitual smile. 
 
 " Or what comes from not observing them," said Evan, un- 
 willing to have Jack over-matched. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll give me a lesson now ? " Harry indicated 
 a readiness to rise for either of them. 
 
 At this juncture the chairman interposed. 
 
 " Harmony, my lads ! — harmony to-night." 
 
 Farmer Broadmead, imagining it to be the signal for a 
 song, returned: 
 
 " All right, Mr. Mr. Chair ! but we an't got pipes in 
 
 yet. Pipes before harmony, you know, to-night." 
 
 The pipes were summoned forthwith. System appeared 
 to regulate the proceedings of this particular night at the 
 Green Dragon. The pipes charged, and those of the guests 
 who smoked, well fixed behind them, celestial Harmony was 
 invoked through the slowly curling clouds. In Britain the 
 Goddess is coy. She demands pressure to appear, and 
 great gulps of ale. Vastly does she swell the chests of her 
 island children, but with the modesty of a maid at the com- 
 mencement. Precedence again disturbed the minds of the 
 company. At last the red-faced young farmer led off with 
 " The Kose and the Thorn." In that day Chloe still lived ; 
 nor were the amorous transports of Strephon quenched. 
 Mountainous inflation — mouse-like issue characterized the 
 young farmer's first verse. Encouraged by manifest appro- 
 bation he now told Chloe that he " by Heaven ! never would 
 plant in that bosom a thorn," with such a volume of sound 
 as did indeed show how a lover's oath should be uttered in 
 the ear of a British damsel to subdue her. 
 
 "Good ! " cried Mr. Baikes, anxious to be convivial. 
 
 Subsiding into impertinence, he asked Laxley, "Could 
 you tip us a Strephonade, sir ? Bejoiced to listen to you, 
 I'm sure ! Promise you my applause beforehand." 
 
 Harry replied hotly : " Will you step out of the room with 
 me a minute ? " 
 
 " Have you a confession to make ? " quoth Jack, un-
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE 121 
 
 moved- " Have you planted a thorn in the feminine flower- 
 garden ? Make a clean breast of it at the table. Confess 
 openly and be absolved." 
 
 While Evan spoke a word of angry reproof to Raikes, 
 Harry had to be restrained by his two friends. The rest of 
 the company looked on with curiosity; the mouth of the 
 chairman was bunched. Drummond had his eyes on Evan, 
 who was gazing steadily at the three. Suddenly "The 
 fellow isn't a gentleman ! " struck the attention of Mr. 
 Raikes with alarming force. 
 
 Raikes — and it may be because he knew he could do 
 more than Evan in this respect — vociferated: "I'm the 
 son of a gentleman ! " 
 
 Drummond, from the head of the table, saw that a diver- 
 sion was imperative. He leaned forward, and with a look 
 of great interest said : 
 
 " Are you ? Pray, never disgrace your origin, then." 
 
 " If the choice were offered me, I think I would rather 
 have known his father," said the smiling fellow, yawning, 
 and rocking on his chair. 
 
 " You would, possibly, have been exceedingly intimate — 
 with his right foot," said Raikes. 
 
 The other merely remarked : " Oh ! that is the language 
 of the son of a gentleman." 
 
 The tumult of irony, abuse, and retort went on despite 
 the efforts of Drummond and the chairman. It was odd ; 
 for at Farmer Broadmead's end of the table, friendship had 
 grown maudlin : two were seen in a drowsy embrace, with 
 crossed pipes; and others were vowing deep amity, and 
 offering to fight the man that might desire it. 
 
 " Are ye a friend ? or are ye a foe ? " was heard repeat- 
 edly, and consequences to the career of the respondent, on 
 his choice of affirmatives to either of these two interroga- 
 tions, emphatically detailed. 
 
 It was likewise asked, in reference to the row at the 
 gentlemen's end: "Why doan' they stand up and have't 
 out ? " 
 
 " They talks, they speechifies — why doan' they fight for't, 
 and then be friendly ? " 
 
 "Where's the yarmony, Mr. Chair, I axes — so please 
 ye ? " sang out Farmer Broadmead.
 
 122 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Ay, ay ! Silence ! " the chairman called. 
 
 Mr. Raikes begged permission to pronounce his excuses, 
 but lapsed into a lamentation for the squandering of property 
 bequeathed to him by his respected uncle, and for which — 
 as far as he was intelligible — he persisted in calling the 
 three offensive young cricketers opposite to account. 
 
 Before he could desist, Harmony, no longer coy, burst on 
 the assembly from three different sources. " A Man who is 
 given to Liquor," soared aloft with "The Maid of sweet 
 Seventeen," who participated in the adventures of " Young 
 Molly and the Kicking Cow ; " while the guests selected the 
 chorus of the song that first demanded it. 
 
 Evan probably thought that Harmony was herself only 
 when she came single, or he was wearied of his fellows, and 
 wished to gaze a moment on the skies whose arms were over 
 and around his young beloved. He went to the window and 
 threw it up, and feasted his sight on the moon standing on 
 the downs. He could have wept at the bitter ignominy that 
 severed him from Rose. And again he gathered his pride 
 as a cloak, and defied the world, and gloried in the sacrifice 
 that degraded him. The beauty of the night touched him, 
 and mixed these feelings with a mournfulness. He quite 
 forgot the bellow and clatter behind. The beauty of the 
 night, and heaven knows what treacherous hope in the 
 depths of his soul, coloured existence warmly. 
 
 He was roused from his reverie by an altercation unmis- 
 takeably fierce. 
 
 Raikes had been touched on a tender point. In reply to 
 a bantering remark of his, Laxley had hummed over bits of 
 his oration, amid the chuckles of his comrades. Unfortu- 
 nately at a loss for a biting retort, he was reduced to that 
 plain confession of a lack of wit ; he offered combat. 
 
 " I'll tell you what," said Laxley, " I never soil my hands 
 with a blackguard ; and a fellow who tries to make fun of 
 Scripture, in my opinion is one. A blackguard — do you 
 hear ? But, if you'll give me satisfactory proofs that you 
 really are what I have some difficulty in believing — the son 
 of a gentleman — I'll meet you when and where you please." 
 
 " Fight him, anyhow," said Harry. " I'll take him my- 
 self after we finish the match to-morrow." 
 
 Laxley rejoined that Mr. Raikes must be left to him.
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE 123 
 
 " Then I'll take the other," said Harry. " Where is he ? " 
 
 Evan walked round to his place. 
 
 " I am here," he answered, " and at your service." 
 
 " Will you fight ? " cried Harry. 
 
 There was a disdainful smile on Evan's mouth, as he 
 replied : " I must first enlighten you. I have no pretensions 
 to your blue blood, or yellow. If, sir, you will deign to 
 challenge a man who is not the son of a gentleman, and 
 consider the expression of his thorough contempt for your 
 conduct sufficient to enable you to overlook that fact, you 
 may dispose of me. My friend here has, it seems, reason 
 to be proud of his connections. That you may not subse- 
 quently bring the charge against me of having led you to 
 ' soil your hands ' — as your friend there terms it — I, with 
 all the willingness in the world to chastise you or him for 
 your impertinence, must first give you a fair chance of 
 escape, by telling you that my father was a tailor." 
 
 The countenance of Mr. Eaikes at the conclusion of this 
 speech was a painful picture. He knocked the table pas- 
 sionately, exclaiming : 
 
 " Who'd have thought it ? " 
 
 Yet he had known it. But he could not have thought it 
 possible for a man to own it publicly. 
 
 Indeed, Evan could not have mentioned it, but for hot 
 fury and the ale. It was the ale in him expelling truth ; 
 and certainly, to look at him, none would have thought it. 
 
 "That will do," said Laxley, lacking the magnanimity to 
 despise the advantage given him, "you have chosen the 
 very best means of saving your skins." 
 
 "We'll come to you when our supply of clothes runs 
 short," added Harry. " A snip ! " 
 
 " Pardon me ! " said Evan, with his eyes slightly widen- 
 ing, "but if you come to me, I shall no longer give you a 
 choice of behaviour. I wish you good night, gentlemen. I 
 shall be in this house, and am to be found here, till ten 
 o'clock to-morrow morning. Sir," he addressed the chair- 
 man, " I must apologize to you for this interruption to your 
 kindness, for which I thank you very sincerely. It's * good 
 night,' now, sir," he pursued, bowing, and holding out his 
 hand, with a smile. 
 
 The chairman grasped it: "You're a hot-headed young
 
 124 EVAN HAKKINGTON" 
 
 fool, sir : you're an ill-tempered ferocious young ass. Can't 
 you see another young donkey without joining company in 
 kicks — eh ? Sit down, and don't dare to spoil the fun any 
 more. You a tailor ! Who'll believe it ? You're a noble- 
 man in disguise. Didn't your friend say so? — ha! ha! Sit 
 down." He pulled out his watch, and proclaiming that he 
 was born into this world at the hour about to strike, called 
 for a bumper all round. 
 
 While such of the company as had yet legs and eyes 
 unvanquished by the potency of the ale, stood up to drink 
 and cheer, Mark, the waiter, scurried into the room, and, to 
 the immense stupefaction of the chairman, and amusement 
 of his guests, spread the news of the immediate birth of a 
 little stranger on the premises, who was declared by Dr. 
 Pillie to be a lusty boy, and for whom the kindly landlady 
 solicited good luck to be drunk. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST NECKLET 
 
 The dramatic proportions to which ale will exalt the 
 sentiments within us, and our delivery of them, are apt to 
 dwindle and shrink even below the natural elevation when 
 we look back on them from the hither shore of the river of 
 sleep — in other words, wake in the morning : and it was 
 with no very self-satisfied emotions that Evan, dressing by 
 the full light of day, reviewed his share in the events of the 
 preceding night. Why, since he had accepted his fate, 
 should he pretend to judge the conduct of people his supe- 
 riors in rank ? And where was the necessity for him to 
 thrust the fact of his being that abhorred social pariah down 
 the throats of an assembly of worthy good fellows ? The 
 answer was, that he had not accepted his fate : that he con- 
 sidered himself as good a gentleman as any man living, and 
 was in absolute hostility with the prejudices of society. 
 That was the state of the case : but the evaporation of ale 
 in his brain caused him to view his actions from the humble
 
 MATCH OF FALLOW FIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 125 
 
 extreme of that delightful liquor, of which the spirit had 
 flown and the corpse remained. 
 
 Having revived his system with soda-water, and fiuding 
 no sign of his antagonist below, Mr. Kaikes, to disperse the 
 sceptical dimples on his friend's face, alluded during break- 
 fast to a determination he had formed to go forth and show 
 on the cricket-field. 
 
 "For, you know," he observed, "they can't have any 
 objection to fight me." 
 
 Evan, slightly colouring, answered : " Why, you said up- 
 stairs, you thought fighting duels disgraceful folly." 
 
 " So it is, so it is ; everybody knows that," returned Jack ; 
 " but what can a gentleman do ? " 
 
 " Be a disgraceful fool, I suppose," said Evan : and Raikes 
 went on with his breakfast, as if to be such occasionally was 
 the distinguished fate of a gentleman, of which others, not 
 so happy in their birth, might well be envious. 
 
 He could not help betraying that he bore in mind the 
 main incidents of the festival over-night ; for when he had 
 inquired who it might be that had reduced his friend to wear 
 mourning, and heard that it was his father (spoken by Evan 
 with a quiet sigh), Mr. Raikes tapped an egg, and his flexible 
 brows exhibited a whole Bar of contending arguments within. 
 More than for the love of pleasure, he had spent his money 
 to be taken for a gentleman. He naturally thought highly 
 of the position, having bought it. But Raikes appreciated 
 a capital fellow, and felt warmly to Evan, who, moreover, 
 was feeding him. 
 
 If not born a gentleman, this Harrington had the look of 
 one, and was pleasing in female eyes, as the landlady, now 
 present, bore witness, wishing them good morning, and 
 hoping they had slept well. She handed to Evan his purse, 
 telling him she had taken it last night, thinking it safer for 
 the time being in her pocket ; and that the chairman of the 
 feast paid for all in the Green Dragon up to twelve that 
 day, he having been born between the hours, and liking to 
 make certain : and that every year he did the same ; and 
 was a seemingly rough old gentleman, but as soft-hearted 
 as a chicken. His name must positively not be inquired, 
 she said; to be thankful to him was to depart, asking no 
 questions.
 
 126 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " And with a dart in the bosom from those eyes — those 
 eyes ! " cried Jack, shaking his head at the landlady's resist- 
 less charms. 
 
 " I hope you was not one of the gentlemen who came and 
 disturbed us last night, sir ? " she turned on him sharply. 
 
 Jack dallied with the imputation, but denied his guilt. 
 
 "No ; it wasn't your voice," continued the landlady. " A 
 parcel of young puppies calling themselves gentlemen ! I 
 know him. It's that young Mr. Laxley : and he the nephew 
 of a Bishop, and one of the Honourables ! and then the poor 
 gals get the blame. I call it a shame, I do. There's that 
 poor young creature up-stairs — somebody's victim she is : 
 and nobody's to suffer but herself, the little fool ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Raikes. "Ah! we regret these things in 
 after life ! " and he looked as if he had many gentlemanly 
 burdens of the kind on his conscience. 
 
 "It's a wonder, to my mind," remarked the landlady, 
 when she had placidly surveyed Mr. Raikes, " how young 
 gals can let some of you men-folk mislead 'em." 
 
 She turned from him huffily, and addressed Evan : " The 
 old gentleman is gone, sir. He slept on a chair, breakfasted, 
 and was off before eight. He left word, as the child was 
 born on his birthnight, he'd provide for it, and pay the 
 mother's bill, unless you claimed the right. I'm afraid he 
 suspected — what I never, never — no! but by what I've 
 seen of you — never will believe. For you, I'd say, must be 
 a gentleman, whatever your company. She asks one favour 
 of you, sir: — for you to go and let her speak to you once 
 before you go away for good. She's asleep now, and mustn't 
 be disturbed. Will you do it, by-and-by ? Please to com- 
 fort the poor creature, sir." 
 
 Evan consented. I am afraid also it was the landlady's 
 flattering speech made him, without reckoning his means, 
 add that the young mother and her child must be considered 
 under his care, and their expenses charged to him. The 
 landlady was obliged to think him a wealthy as well as a 
 noble youth, and admiringly curtsied. 
 
 Mr. John Raikes and Mr. Evan Harrington then strolled 
 into the air, and through a long court-yard, with brewhouse 
 and dairy on each side, and a pleasant smell of baking bread, 
 and dogs winking in the sun, cats at the corners of doors,
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 127 
 
 satisfied with life, and turkeys parading, and fowls, strutting 
 cocks, that overset the dignity of Mr. Raikes by awakening 
 his imitative propensities. Certain white-capped women, 
 who were washing in a tub, laughed, and one observed : 
 " He's for all the world like the little bantam cock stickin' 
 'self up in a crow against the Spaniar'." And this, and the 
 landlady's marked deference to Evan, induced Mr. Raikes 
 contemptuously to glance at our national blindness to the 
 true diamond, and worship of the mere plumes in which a 
 person is dressed. 
 
 They passed a pretty flower-garden, and entering a 
 smooth-shorn meadow, beheld the downs beautifully clear 
 under sunlight and slowly-sailing images of cloud. At the 
 foot of the downs, on a plain of grass, stood a white booth 
 topped by a flag, which signalled that on that spot Fallow- 
 field and Beckley were contending. 
 
 " A singular old gentleman ! A very singular old gentle- 
 man, that!" Raikes observed, following an idea that had 
 been occupying him. "We did wrong to miss him. We 
 ought to have waylaid him in the morning. Never miss a 
 chance, Harrington." 
 
 " What chance ? " Evan inquired. 
 
 "Those old gentlemen are very odd," Jack pursued: 
 "very strange. He wouldn't have judged me by my at- 
 tire. Admetus' flocks I guard, yet am a God ! Dress is 
 nothing to those old cocks. He's an eccentric. I know 
 it ; I can see it. He's a corrective of Cudford, who is 
 abhorrent to my soul. To give you an instance, now, of 
 what those old boys will do — I remember my father tak- 
 ing me, when I was quite a youngster, to a tavern he fre- 
 quented, and we met one night just such an old fellow as 
 this ; and the waiter told us afterwards that he noticed me 
 particularly. He thought me a very remarkable boy — pre- 
 dicted great things. For some reason or other my father 
 never took me there again. I remember our having a Welsh 
 rarebit there for supper, and when the waiter last night men- 
 tioned a rarebit, 'gad he started up before me. I gave chase 
 into my early youth. However, my father never took me to 
 meet the old fellow again. I believe it lost me a fortune." 
 
 Evan's thoughts were leaping to the cricket-field, or he 
 would have condoled with Mr. Raikes for a loss that evi- 
 dently afflicted him still.
 
 128 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Now, it must be told that the lady's maid of Mrs. Andrew 
 Cogglesby, borrowed temporarily by the Countess de Saldar 
 for service at Beckley Court, had slept in charge of the 
 Countess's boxes at the Green Dragon : the Countess hav- 
 ing told her, with the candour of high-born dames to their 
 attendants, that it would save expense ; and that, besides, 
 Admiral Combleman, whom she was going to see, or Sir Per- 
 kins Kipley (her father's old friend), whom she should visit 
 if Admiral Combleman was not at his mansion — both were 
 likely to have full houses, and she could not take them by 
 storm. An arrangement which left her upwards of twelve 
 hours' liberty, seemed highly proper to Maria Conning, this 
 lady's maid, a very demure young person. She was at her 
 bed-room window, as Evan passed up the court-yard of the 
 inn, and recognized him immediately. " Can it be him they 
 mean that's the low tradesman ? " was Maria's mysterious 
 exclamation. She examined the pair, and added : " Oh, no. 
 It must be the tall one they mistook for the small one. But 
 Mr. Harrington ought not to demean himself by keeping 
 company with such, and my lady should know of it." 
 
 My lady, alighting from the Lymport coach, did know 
 of it, within a few minutes after Evan had quitted the 
 Green Dragon, and turned pale, as high-born dames natu- 
 rally do when they hear of a relative's disregard of the com- 
 pany he keeps. 
 
 " A tailor, my lady ! " said scornful Maria ; and the Coun- 
 tess jumped and complained of a pin. 
 
 " How did you hear of tins, Conning ? " she presently 
 asked with composure. 
 
 " Oh, my lady, he was tipsy last night, and kept swearing 
 out loud he was a gentleman." 
 
 " Tipsy ! " the Countess murmured in terror. She had 
 heard of inaccessible truths brought to light by the magic 
 wand of alcohol. Was Evan intoxicated, and his dreadful 
 secret unlocked last night ? 
 
 " And who may have told you of this, Conning ? " she asked. 
 
 Maria plunged into one of the boxes, and was understood 
 to say that nobody in particular had told her, but that 
 among other flying matters it had come to her ears. 
 
 "My brother is Charity itself," sighed the Countess. 
 " He Avelcomes high or low."
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 129 
 
 " Yes, but, my lady, a tailor ! " Maria repeated, and the 
 Countess, agreeing with her scorn as she did, could have 
 killed her. At least she would have liked to run a bodkin 
 into her, and make her scream. In her position she could 
 not always be Charity itself : nor is this the required char- 
 acter for a high-born dame : so she rarely affected it. 
 
 " Order a fly : discover the direction Mr. Harrington has 
 taken; spare me further remarks," she said; and Maria 
 humbly flitted from her presence. 
 
 When she was gone, the Countess covered her face with 
 her hands. "Even this creature would despise us!" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 The young lady encountered by Mr. Raikes on the road 
 to Fallowfield, was wrong in saying that Beckley would be 
 seen out before the shades of evening caught up the ball. 
 Not one, but two men of Beckley — the last two — carried 
 out their bats, cheered handsomely by both parties. The 
 wickets pitched in the morning, they carried them in again, 
 and plaudits renewed proved that their fame had not slum- 
 bered. To stand before a field, thoroughly aware that every 
 successful stroke you make is adding to the hoards of 
 applause in store for you — is a joy to your friends, an 
 exasperation to your foes ; — I call this an exciting situation, 
 and one as proud as a man may desire. Then, again, the 
 two last men of an eleven are twins: they hold one life 
 between them ; so that he who dies extinguishes the other. 
 Your faculties are stirred to their depths. You become 
 engaged in the noblest of rivalries : in defending your own, 
 you fight for your comrade's existence. You are assured 
 that the dread of shame, if not emulation, is making him 
 equally wary and alert. 
 
 Behold, then, the two bold men of Beckley fighting to 
 preserve one life. Under the shadow of the downs they 
 stand, beneath a glorious day, and before a gallant company. 
 For there are ladies in carriages here, there are cavaliers ; 
 good county names may be pointed out. The sons of first- 
 rate families are in the two elevens, mingled with the yeo- 
 men and whoever can best do the business. Fallowfield 
 and Beckley, without regard to rank, have drawn upon their 
 muscle and science. One of the bold men of Beckley at 
 the wickets is Nick Frim, son of the gamekeeper at Beckley 
 
 9
 
 130 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Court; the other is young Tom Copping, son of Squire 
 Copping, of Dox Hall, in the parish of Beckley. Last year, 
 you must know, Fallowfield beat. That is why Nick Frirn, 
 a renowned out-hitter, good to finish a score brilliantly with 
 a pair of threes, has taken to blocking, and Mr. Tom cuts 
 with caution, though he loves to steal his runs, and is 
 usually dismissed by his remarkable cunning. 
 
 The field was ringing at a stroke of Nick Frim's, who 
 had lashed out in his old familiar style at last, and the 
 heavens heard of it, when Evan came into the circle of 
 spectators. Nick and Tom were stretching from post to 
 post, might and main. A splendid four was scored. The 
 field took breath with the heroes ; and presume not to doubt 
 that heroes they are. It is good to win glory for your 
 country ; it is also good to win glory for your village. A 
 Member of Parliament, Sir George Lowton, notes this em- 
 phatically, from the statesman's eminence, to a group of 
 gentlemen on horseback round a carriage wherein a couple 
 of fair ladies reclined. 
 
 "They didn't shout more at the news of the Battle of 
 Waterloo. Now this is our peculiarity, this absence of 
 extreme centralization. It must be encouraged. Local 
 jealousies, local rivalries, local triumphs — these are the 
 strength of the kingdom." 
 
 "If you mean to say that cricket's a " the old squire 
 
 speaking (Squire Uploft of Fallowfield) remembered the 
 saving presences, and coughed — " good thing, I'm one with 
 ye, Sir George. Encouraged, egad ! They don't want much 
 of that here. Give some of your lean London straws a strip 
 o' clean grass and a bit o' liberty, and you'll do 'em a service." 
 
 " What a beautiful hit ! " exclaimed one of the ladies, 
 languidly watching the ascent of the ball. 
 
 " Beautiful, d'ye call it ? " muttered the squire. 
 
 The ball, indeed, was dropping straight into the hands of 
 the long-hit-off. Instantly a thunder rolled. But it was 
 Beckley that took the joyful treble — Fallowfield the deeply- 
 cursing bass. The long-hit-off, he who never was known 
 to miss a catch — butter-fingered beast! — he has let the 
 ball slip through his fingers. 
 
 Are there Gods in the air? Fred Linnington, the un- 
 fortunate of Fallowfield, with a whole year of unhappy
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 131 
 
 recollection haunting him in prospect, ere he can retrieve 
 his character — Fred, if he does not accuse the powers of the 
 sky, protests that he cannot understand it, which means the 
 same. Fairfield's defeat — should such be the result of 
 the contest — he knows now will be laid at his door. Five 
 men who have bowled at the indomitable Beckleyans think 
 the same. Albeit they are Britons, it abashes them. They 
 are not the men they were. Their bowling is as the bowling 
 of babies; and see! Nick, who gave the catch, and pretends 
 he did it out of commiseration for Fallowfield, the ball has 
 flown from his bat sheer over the booth. If they don't add 
 six to the score, it will be the fault of their legs. But no : 
 they rest content with a fiver. Yet more they mean to do, 
 and cherish their wind. Success does not turn the heads of 
 these Britons, as it would of your frivolous foreigners. 
 
 And now small boys (who represent the Press here) spread 
 out from the marking-booth, announcing foremost, and in 
 larger type, as it were, quite in Press style, their opinion — 
 which is, that Fallowfield will get a jolly good hiding ; and 
 vociferating that Beckley is seventy-nine ahead, and that 
 Nick Friin, the favourite of the field, has scored fifty-one to 
 his own cheek. The boys are boys of both villages : but 
 they are British boys — they adore prowess. The Fallow- 
 field boys wish that Nick Frim would come and live on their 
 side; the boys of Beckley rejoice in possessing him. Nick 
 is the wicket-keeper of the Beckley eleven; long-limbed, 
 wiry, keen of eye. His fault as a batsman is, that he will 
 be a slashing hitter. He is too sensible of the joys of a 
 grand spanking hit. A short life and a merry one, has 
 hitherto been his motto. 
 
 But there were reasons for Nick's rare display of skill. 
 That woman may have the credit due to her (and, as there 
 never was a contest of which she did not sit at the springs, 
 so is she the source of all superhuman efforts exhibited by 
 men), be it told that Polly Wheedle is on the field ; Polly, 
 one of the upper housemaids of Beckley Court; Polly, 
 eagerly courted by Fred Linnington, humbly desired by 
 Nick Frim — a pert and blooming maiden — who, while her 
 suitors combat hotly for an undivided smile, improves her 
 holiday by instilling similar unselfish aspirations into the 
 breasts of others.
 
 132 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Between his enjoyment of society and the melancholy it 
 engendered in his mind by reflecting on him the age and 
 decrepitude of his hat, Mr. John Raikes was doubtful of his 
 happiness for some time. But as his taste for happiness 
 was sharp, he, with a great instinct amounting almost to 
 genius in its pursuit, resolved to extinguish his suspicion by 
 acting the perfectly happy man. To do this, it was neces- 
 sary that he should have listeners : Evan was not enough, 
 and was besides unsympathetic ; he had not responded to 
 Jack's cordial assurances of his friendship "in spite of any- 
 thing," uttered before they came into the field. 
 
 Heat and lustre were now poured from the sky, on whose 
 soft blue a fleet of clouds sailed heavily. Nick Frim was 
 very wonderful, no doubt. He deserved that the Gods 
 should recline on those gold-edged cushions above, and lean 
 over to observe him. Nevertheless, the ladies were begin- 
 ning to ask when Nick Frim would be out. The small 
 boys alone preserved their enthusiasm for Nick. As usual, 
 the men took a middle position. Theirs was the pleasure 
 of critics, which, being founded on the judgement, lasts 
 long, and is without disappointment at the close. It was 
 sufficient that the ladies should lend the inspiration of their 
 bonnets to this fine match. Their presence on the field is 
 another beautiful instance of the generous yielding of the 
 sex simply to grace our amusement, and their acute per- 
 ception of the part they have to play. 
 
 Mr. Raikes was rather shy of them at first. But his 
 acting rarely failing to deceive himself, he began to feel 
 himself the perfectly happy man he impersonated, and 
 where there were ladies he went, and talked of days when 
 he had creditably handled a bat, and of a renown in the 
 annals of Cricket cut short by mysterious calamity. The 
 foolish fellow did not know that they care not a straw for 
 cricketing fame. His gaiety presently forsook him as 
 quickly as it had come. Instead of remonstrating at Evan's 
 restlessness, it was he who now (bragged Evan from spot 
 to spot. He spoke low and nervously. 
 
 u We're watched ! " 
 
 There was indeed a man lurking near and moving as they 
 moved, with a speculative air. Writs were out against 
 Raikes. He slipped from his friend, saying : " Never mind
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 133 
 
 me. That old amphitryon's birthday hangs on till the 
 meridian ; you understand. His table invites. He is not 
 unlikely to enjoy my conversation. What mayn't that 
 lead to ? Seek me there." 
 
 Evan strolled on, relieved by the voluntary departure of 
 the weariful funny friend he would not shake off, but could 
 not well link with. 
 
 A long success is better when seen at a distance of time, 
 and Nick Frim was beginning to suffer from the monotony 
 of his luck. Fallowfield could do nothing with him. He 
 no longer blocked. He lashed out at every ball, and far 
 flew every ball that was bowled. The critics saw, in this 
 return to his old practices, promise of Nick's approaching 
 extinction. The ladies were growing hot and weary. The 
 little boys gasped on the grass, but like cunning circulators 
 of excitement, spread a report to keep it up, that Nick, on 
 going to his wickets the previous day, had sworn an oath 
 that he would not lay down his bat till he had scored a 
 hundred. So they had still matter to agitate their youthful 
 breasts, and Nick's gradual building up of tens, and prophe- 
 cies and speculations as to his chances of completing the 
 hundred, were still vehemently confided to the field, amid 
 a general mopping of faces. 
 
 Evan did become aware that a man was following him. 
 The man had not the look of a dreaded official. His coun- 
 tenance was sun-burnt and open, and he was dressed in a 
 countryman's holiday suit. When Evan met his eyes, they 
 showed perplexity. Evan felt he was being examined from 
 head to heel, but by one unaccustomed to his part, and 
 without the courage to decide what he ought consequently 
 to do while a doubt remained, though his inspection was 
 verging towards a certainty in his mind. 
 
 At last, somewhat annoyed that the man should continue 
 to dog him wherever he moved, he turned on him and asked 
 him what he wanted ? 
 
 "Be you a Muster Evv'n Harrington, Esquire? " the man 
 drawled out in the rustic music of inquiry. 
 
 "That is my name," said Evan. 
 
 "Ay," returned the man, "it's somebody lookin' like a 
 lord, and has a small friend wi' shockin' old hat, and I see 
 ye come out o' the Green Drag'n this mornin' — I don't
 
 134 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 reck'n there's e'er a mistaak, but I likes to make cock sure. 
 Be you been to Poortigal, sir? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Evan, "I have been to Portugal." 
 
 " What's the name o' the capital o' Poortigal, sir? " The 
 man looked immensely shrewd, and nodding his consent at 
 the laughing reply, added : 
 
 "And there you was born, sir? You'll excuse my bold- 
 ness, but I only does what's necessary." 
 
 Evan said he was not born there. 
 
 "No, not born there. That's good. Now, sir, did you 
 happen to be born anywheres within smell o' salt water?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Evan, "I was born by the sea." 
 
 "Not far beyond fifty mile from Fall'field here, sir?" 
 
 "Something less." 
 
 "All right. Now I'm cock sure," said the man. "Now, 
 if you'll have the kindness just to oblige me by — " he sped 
 the words and the instrument jointly at Evan, " — takin' 
 that there letter, I'll say good-bye, sir, and my work's 
 done for the day." 
 
 Saying which, he left Evan with the letter in his hands. 
 
 Evan turned it over curiously. It was addressed to " Evan 
 Harrington, Esquire, T of Lymport." 
 
 A voice paralyzed his fingers : the clear ringing voice of 
 a young horsewoman, accompanied by a little maid on a 
 pony, who galloped up to the carriage upon which Squire 
 Uploft, Sir George Lowton, Hamilton Jocelyn, and other 
 cavaliers, were in attendance. 
 
 " Here I am at last, and Beckley's in still ! How d'ye 
 do, Lady Roseley? How d'ye do, Sir George. How d'ye 
 do, everybody. Your servant, Squire ! We shall beat you. 
 Harry says we shall soon be a hundred a-head of you. 
 Fancy those boys! they would sleep at Fallowfield last 
 night. How I wish you had made a bet with me, Squire." 
 
 "Well, my lass, it's not too late," said the squire, detain- 
 ing her hand. 
 
 " Oh, but it wouldn't be fair now. And I'm not going 
 to be kissed on the field, if you please, Squire. Here, 
 Dorry will do instead. Dorry ! come and be kissed by the 
 squire." 
 
 It was Rose, living and glowing; Rose, who was the 
 brilliant young Amazon, smoothing the neck of a mettle-
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFTELD AGAINST BECKLEY 135 
 
 some grey cob. Evan's heart bounded up to her, but his 
 limbs were motionless. 
 
 The squire caught her smaller companion in his arms, 
 and sounded a kiss upon both her cheeks ; then settled her 
 in the saddle, and she went to answer some questions of 
 the ladies. She had the same lively eyes as Kose; quick 
 saucy lips, red, and open for prattle. Rolls of auburn hair 
 fell down her back, for being a child she was allowed privi- 
 leges. To talk as her thoughts came, as well as to wear 
 her hair as it grew, was a special privilege of this young 
 person, on horseback or elsewhere. 
 
 "Now, I know what you want to ask me, Aunt Shorne. 
 Isn't it about my Papa? He's not come, and he won't be 
 able to come for a week. — Glad to be with Cousin Rosey? 
 I should think I am! She's the nicest girl I ever could 
 suppose. She isn't a bit spoiled by Portugal ; only browned ; 
 and she doesn't care for that; no more do I. I rather like 
 the sun when it doesn't freckle you. I can't bear freckles, 
 and I don't believe in milk for them. People who have 
 them are such a figure. Drummond Forth has them, but 
 he's a man, and it doesn't matter for a man to have freckles. 
 
 — How's my uncle Mel? Oh, he's quite well. I mean he 
 has the gout in one of his fingers, and it's swollen so, it's 
 just like a great fat fir cone! He can't write a bit, and 
 rests his hand on a table. He wants to have me made to 
 write with my left hand as well as my right. As if I was 
 ever going to have the gout in one of my fingers ! " 
 
 Sir George Lowton observed to Hamilton Jocelyn, that 
 Melville must take to his tongue now. 
 
 "I fancy he will," said Hamilton. "My father won't 
 give up his nominee; so I fancy he'll try Pallowfield. Of 
 course, we go in for the agricultural interest; but there's a 
 cantankerous old ruffian down here — a brewer, or something 
 
 — he's got half the votes at his bidding. We shall see." 
 "Dorothy, my dear child, are you not tired? " said Lady 
 
 Roseley. "You are very hot." 
 
 "Yes, that's because Rose would tear along the road to 
 get here in time, after we had left those tiresome Copping 
 people, where she had to make a call. 'What a slow little 
 beast your pony is, Dorry ! ' — she said that at least twenty 
 times."
 
 136 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Oh, you naughty puss!" cried Eose. "Wasn't it, 
 'Bosey, Kosey, I'm sure we shall be too late, and shan't 
 see a thing: do come along as hard as you can? ' " 
 
 "I'm sure it was not," Miss Dorothy retorted, with the 
 large eyes of innocence. "You said you wanted to see 
 Nick Frim keeping the wicket, and Ferdinand Laxley bowl. 
 And, oh! you know something you said about Drummond 
 Forth." 
 
 "Now, shall I tell upon you? " said Kose. 
 
 "No, don't! " hastily replied the little woman, blushing. 
 And the cavaliers laughed out, and the ladies smiled, and 
 Dorothy added: "It isn't much, after all." 
 
 "Then, come; let's have it, or I shall be jealous," said 
 the squire. 
 
 "Shall I tell?" Rose asked slily. 
 
 "It's unfair to betray one of your sex, Eose," remarked 
 the sweetly-smiling lady. 
 
 "Yes, Lady Eoseley — mayn't a woman have secrets?" 
 Dorothy put it with great natural earnestness, and they all 
 laughed aloud. "But I know a secret of Eosey's," con- 
 tinued Miss Dorothy, "and if she tells upon me, I shall 
 tell upon her." 
 
 "They're out!" cried Eose, pointing her whip at the 
 wickets. "Good night to Beckley! Tom Copping's run 
 
 out." 
 
 Questions as to how it was done passed from mouth to 
 mouth. Questions as to whether it was fair sprang from 
 Tom's friends, and that a doubt existed was certain: the 
 whole field was seen converging toward the two umpires : 
 Farmer Broadmead for Fallowfield, Master Nat Hodges for 
 
 Beckley. 
 
 " It really is a mercy there's some change in the game, 
 said Mrs. Shorne, waving her parasol. "It's a charming 
 frame, but it wants variety — a little. When do you return, 
 Eose?" 
 
 " Not for some time," said Eose, primly. " I like variety 
 very well, but I don't seek it by running away the moment 
 I've come." 
 
 "No, but, my dear," Mrs. Shorne negligently fanned her 
 face, " you will have to come with us, I fear, when we go. 
 Your uncle accompanies us. I really think the squire will,
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 137 
 
 too ; and Mr. Forth is no chaperon. Even you understand 
 that." 
 
 "Oh, I can get an old man — don't be afraid," said Kose. 
 " Or must I have an old woman, aunt? " 
 
 The lady raised her eyelids slowly on Eose, and thought : 
 " If you were soundly whipped, my little madam, what a 
 good thing it would be for you." And that good thing 
 Mrs. Shorne was willing to do for Rose. She turned aside, 
 and received the salute of an unmistakeable curate on foot. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Parsley, you lend your countenance to the 
 game, then?" 
 
 The curate observed that sound Churchmen unanimously 
 supported the game. 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Rose. " How I like to hear you talk like 
 that, Mr. Parsley. I didn't think you had so much sense. 
 You and I will have a game together — single wicket. We 
 must play for something — what shall it be?" 
 
 "Oh — for nothing," the curate vacuously remarked. 
 
 " That's for love, you rogue ! " exclaimed the squire. 
 "Come, come, none o' that, sir — ha! ha!" 
 
 "Oh, very well; we'll play for love," said Rose. 
 
 "And I'll hold the stakes, my dear — eh?" 
 
 "You dear old naughty squire! — what do you mean?" 
 Rose laughed. But she had all the men surrounding her, 
 and Mrs. Shorne talked of departing. 
 
 Why did not Evan bravely march away? Why, he asked 
 himself, had he come on this cricket-field to be made thus 
 miserable? What right had such as he to look on Rose? 
 Consider, however, the young man's excuses. He could 
 not possibly imagine that a damsel who rode one day to a 
 match, would return on the following day to see it finished : 
 or absolutely know that unseen damsel to be Rose Jocelyn. 
 And if he waited, it was only to hear her sweet voice once 
 again, and go for ever. As far as he could fathom his 
 hopes, they were that Rose would not see him: but the 
 hopes of youth are deep. 
 
 Just then a toddling small rustic stopped in front of 
 Evan, and set up a howl for his "fayther." Evan lifted 
 him high to look over people's heads, and discover his 
 wandering parent. The urchin, when he had settled to his 
 novel position, surveyed the field, and shouting, " Fayther,
 
 138 EVAN HARRINGTON" 
 
 fayther! here I bes on top of a gentleman!" made lusty 
 signs, which attracted not his father alone. Rose sang out, 
 "Who can lend me a penny?" Instantly the curate and 
 the squire had a race in their pockets. The curate was 
 first, but Kose favoured the squire, took his money with a 
 nod and a smile, and rode at the little lad, to whom she 
 was saying : " Here, bonny boy, this will buy you " 
 
 She stopped and coloured. 
 
 "Evan!" 
 
 The child descended rapidly to the ground. 
 
 A bow and a few murmured words replied to her. 
 
 "Isn't this just like you, my dear Evan? Shouldn't I 
 know that whenever I met you, you would be doing some- 
 thing kind? How did you come here? You were on your 
 way to Beckley ! " 
 
 "To London," said Evan. 
 
 "To London! and not coming over to see me — us?" 
 
 Here the little fellow's father intervened to claim his 
 offspring, and thank the lady and the gentleman : and, with 
 his penny firmly grasped, he who had brought the lady and 
 the gentleman together, was borne off a wealthy human 
 creature. 
 
 Before much further could be said between them, the 
 Countess de Saldar drove up. 
 
 " My dearest Bose ! " and " My dear Countess ! " and 
 "Not Louisa, then?" and, "I am very glad to see you!" 
 without attempting the endearing " Louisa " — passed. 
 
 The Countess de Saldar then admitted the presence of 
 her brother. 
 
 "Think!" said Kose. "He talks of going on straight 
 from here to London." 
 
 " That pretty pout will alone suffice to make him deviate, 
 then," said the Countess, with her sweetest open slyness. 
 "I am now on the point of accepting your most kind invi- 
 tation. Our foreign habits allow us to visit — thus early! 
 He will come with me." 
 
 Evan tried to look firm, and speak as he was trying to 
 look. Rose fell to entreaty, and from entreaty rose to 
 command; and in both was utterly fascinating to the poor 
 youth. Luxuriously — while he hesitated and dwelt on 
 this and that faint objection — his spirit drank the deli-
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST RECKLEY 139 
 
 cious changes of her face. To have her face before him but 
 one day seemed so rich a boon to deny himself, that he was 
 beginning to wonder at his constancy in refusal ; and now 
 that she spoke to him so pressingly, devoting her guileless 
 eyes to him alone, he forgot a certain envious feeling that 
 had possessed him while she was rattling among the other 
 males — a doubt whether she ever cast a thought on Mr. 
 Evan Harrington. 
 
 " Yes ; he will come," cried Rose ; " and he shall ride 
 home with me and my friend Druinmond; and he shall 
 have my groom's horse, if he doesn't mind. Bob can ride 
 home in the cart with Polly, my maid ; and he'll like that, 
 because Polly's always good fun — when they're not in love 
 with her. Then, of course, she torments them." 
 
 " Naturally," said the Countess. 
 
 Mr. Evan Harrington's final objection, based on his not 
 having clothes, and so forth, was met by his foreseeing 
 sister. 
 
 " I have your portmanteau packed, in with me, my dear 
 brother; Conning has her feet on it. I divined that I 
 should overtake you." 
 
 Evan felt he was in the toils. After a struggle or two he 
 yielded; and, having yielded, did it with grace. In a 
 moment, and with a power of self-compression equal to that 
 of the adept Countess, he threw off his moodiness as easily 
 as if it had been his Spanish mantle, and assumed a gaiety 
 that made the Countess's eyes beam rapturously upon him, 
 and was pleasing to Rose, apart from the lead in admiration 
 the Countess had given her — not for the first time. We 
 mortals, the best of us, may be silly sheep in our likes and 
 dislikes : where there is no premeditated or instinctive 
 antagonism, we can be led into warm acknowledgment of 
 merits we have not sounded. This the Countess de Saldar 
 knew right well. 
 
 Rose now intimated her wish to perform the ceremony of 
 introduction between her aunt and uncle present, and the 
 visitors to Beckley Court. The Countess smiled, and in the 
 few paces that separated the two groups, whispered to her 
 brother : " Miss Jocelyn, my dear." 
 
 The eye-glasses of the Beckley group were dropped with 
 one accord. The ceremony was gone through. The softly-
 
 140 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 shadowed differences of a grand manner addressed to ladies, 
 and to males, were exquisitely accomplished by the Countess 
 de Saldar. 
 
 " Harrington ? Harrington ? " her quick ear caught on the 
 mouth of Squire Uploft, scanning Evan. 
 
 Her accent was very foreign, as she said aloud : " We are 
 entirely strangers to your game — your creecket. My 
 brother and myself are scarcely English. Nothing save 
 diplomacy are we adepts in ! " 
 
 " You must be excessively dangerous, madam," said Sir 
 George, hat in air. 
 
 " Even in that, I fear, we are babes and sucklings, and 
 might take many a lesson from you. Will you instruct me 
 in your creecket ? What are they doing now ? It seems 
 very unintelligible — indistinct — is it not ? " 
 
 Inasmuch as Farmer Broadmead and Master Nat Hodges 
 were surrounded by a clamorous mob, shouting both sides 
 of the case, as if the loudest and longest-winded were sure 
 to wrest a favourable judgement from those two infallible 
 authorities on the laws of cricket, the noble game was cer- 
 tainly in a state of indistinctness. 
 
 The squire came forward to explain, piteously entreated 
 not to expect too much from a woman's inapprehensive wits, 
 which he plainly promised (under eyes that had melted 
 harder men) he would not. His forbearance and bucolic 
 gallantry were needed, for he had the Countess's radiant 
 full visage alone. Her senses were dancing in her right 
 ear, which had heard the name of Lady Eoseley pronounced, 
 and a voice respond to it from the carriage. 
 
 Into what a pit had she suddenly plunged! You ask 
 why she did not drive away as fast as the horses would 
 carry her, and fly the veiled head of Demogorgon obscuring 
 valley and hill and the shining firmament, and threatening 
 to glare destruction on her ? You do not know an intriguer. 
 She relinquishes the joys of life for the joys of intrigue. 
 This is her element. The Countess did feel that the heavens 
 were hard on her. She resolved none the less to fight her 
 way to her object; for where so much had conspired to 
 favour her — the decease of the generous Sir Abraham 
 Harrington, of Torquay, and the invitation to Beckley 
 Court — could she believe the heavens in league against
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY 141 
 
 her ? Did she not nightly pray to them, in all humbleness 
 of body, for the safe issue of her cherished schemes ? And 
 in this, how unlike she was to the rest of mankind ! She 
 thought so; she relied on her devout observances; they 
 gave her sweet confidence, and the sense of being specially 
 shielded even when specially menaced. Moreover, tell a 
 woman to put back, when she is once clearly launched! 
 Timid as she may be, her light bark bounds to meet the 
 tempest. I speak of women who do launch : they are not 
 numerous, but, to the wise, the minorities are the representa- 
 tives. 
 
 " Indeed, it is an intricate game ! " said the Countess, at 
 the conclusion of the squire's explanation, and leaned over 
 to Mrs. Shorne to ask her if she thoroughly understood it. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose I do," was the reply; "it — rather than 
 the amusement they find in it." This lady had recovered 
 Mr. Parsley from Eose, but had only succeeded in making 
 the curate unhappy, without satisfying herself. 
 
 The Countess gave her the shrug of secret sympathy. 
 
 "We must not say so," she observed aloud, most art- 
 lessly, and fixed the squire with a bewitching smile, under 
 which her heart beat thickly. As her eyes travelled from 
 Mrs. Shorne to the squire, she had marked Lady Koseley 
 looking singularly at Evan, who was mounting the horse of 
 Bob the groom. 
 
 "Fine young fellow, that," said the squire to Lady 
 Eoseley, as Evan rode off with Eose. 
 
 " An extremely handsome, well-bred young man, " she an- 
 swered. Her eyes met the Countess's, and the Countess, 
 after resting on their surface with an ephemeral pause, 
 murmured: "I must not praise my brother," and smiled a 
 smile which was meant to mean : " I think with you, and 
 thank you, and love you for admiring him." 
 
 Had Lady Eoseley joined the smile and spoken with 
 animation afterwards, the Countess would have shuddered 
 and had chills of dread. As it was, she was passably con- 
 tent. Lady Eoseley slightly dimpled her cheek, for cour- 
 tesy's sake, and then looked gravely on the ground. This 
 was no promise; it was even an indication (as the Countess 
 read her) of something beyond suspicion in the lady's mind; 
 but it was a sign of delicacy, and a sign that her feelings had
 
 142 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 been touched, from which a truce might be reckoned on, and 
 no betrayal feared. 
 
 She heard it said that the match was for honour and glory. 
 A match of two days' duration under a broiling sun, all for 
 honour and glory ! Was it not enough to make her despise 
 the games of men? For something better she played. Her 
 game was for one hundred thousand pounds, the happiness 
 of her brother, and the concealment of a horror. To win 
 a game like that was worth the trouble. "Whether she 
 would have continued her efforts, had she known that the 
 name of Evan Harrington was then blazing on a shop-front 
 in Lymport, I cannot tell. The possessor of the name was 
 in love, and did not reflect. 
 
 Smiling adieu to the ladies, bowing to the gentlemen, and 
 apprehending all the homage they would pour out to her con- 
 descending beauty when she had left them, the Countess's 
 graceful hand gave the signal for Beckley. 
 
 She stopped the coachman ere the wheels had rolled off 
 the muffling turf, to enjoy one glimpse of Evan and Eose 
 riding together, with the little maid on her pony in the 
 rear. How suitable they seemed! how happy! She had 
 brought them together after many difficulties : — might it 
 not be? It was surely a thing to be hoped for! 
 
 Eose, galloping freshly, was saying to Evan : " Why did 
 you cut off your moustache?" 
 
 He, neck and neck with her, replied : " You complained 
 of it in Portugal." 
 
 And she: "Portugal's old times now to me — and I 
 always love old times. I'm sorry! And, oh, Evan! did 
 you really do it for me?" 
 
 And really, just then, flying through the air, close to the 
 darling of his heart, he had not the courage to spoil that 
 delicious question, but dallying with the lie, he looked in 
 her eyes lingeringly. 
 
 This picture the Countess contemplated. Close to her 
 carriage two young gentlemen-cricketers were strolling, 
 while Fallowfield gained breath to decide which men to 
 send in first to the wickets. 
 
 One of these stood suddenly on tiptoe, and, pointing to 
 the pair on horseback, cried, with the vivacity of astonish- 
 ment :
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD 143 
 
 "Look there! do you see that? What the deuce is little 
 Rosey doing with the tailor-fellow ? " 
 
 The Countess, though her cheeks were blanched, gazed 
 calmly in Demogorgon's face, took a mental impression of 
 the speaker, and again signalled for Beckley. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD OF ACTION 
 
 Now, to clear up a point or two: You may think the 
 Comic Muse is straining human nature rather toughly in 
 making the Countess de Saldar rush open-eyed into the jaws 
 of Demogorgon, dreadful to her. She has seen her brother 
 pointed out unmistakeably as the tailor-fellow. There is 
 yet time to cast him off or fly with him. Is it her extraor- 
 dinary heroism impelling her onward, or infatuated rash- 
 ness? or is it her mere animal love of conflict? 
 
 The Countess de Saldar, like other adventurers, has her 
 star. They who possess nothing on earth, have a right to 
 claim a portion of the heavens. In resolute hands, much 
 may be done with a star. As it has empires in its gift, so 
 may it have heiresses. The Countess's star had not blinked 
 balefully at her. That was one reason why she went straight 
 on to Beckley. 
 
 Again : the Countess was a born general. With her star 
 above, with certain advantages secured, with battalions of 
 lies disciplined and zealous, and with one clear prize in 
 view, besides other undeveloped benefits dimly shadowing 
 forth, the Countess threw herself headlong into the enemy's 
 country. 
 
 But, that you may not think too highly of this lady, I 
 must add that the trivial reason was the exciting cause — 
 as in many great enterprises. This was nothing more than 
 the simple desire to be located, if but for a day or two, on 
 the footing of her present rank, in the English country- 
 house of an offshoot of our aristocracy. She who had 
 moved in the first society of a foreign capital — who had
 
 144 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 married a Count, a minister of his sovereign, had enjoyed 
 delicious high-bred badinage with refulgent ambassadors, 
 could boast the friendship of duchesses, and had been the 
 amiable receptacle of their pardonable follies; she who, 
 moreover, heartily despised things English : — this lady 
 experienced thrills of proud pleasure at the prospect of 
 being welcomed at a third-rate English mansion. But 
 then, that mansion was Beckley Court. We return to our 
 lirst ambitions, as to our first loves : not that they are 
 dearer to us, — quit that delusion : our ripened loves and 
 mature ambitious are probably closest to our hearts, as they 
 deserve to be — but we return to them because our youth 
 has a hold on us which it asserts whenever a disappoint- 
 ment knocks us down. Our old loves (with the bad natures 
 I know in them) are always lurking to avenge themselves 
 on the new by tempting us to a little retrograde infidelity. 
 A schoolgirl in Fallowfield, the tailor's daughter, had 
 sighed for the bliss of Beckley Court. Beckley Court was 
 her Elysium ere the ardent feminine brain conceived a 
 loftier summit. Fallen from that attained eminence, she 
 sighed anew for Beckley Court. Nor was this mere spir- 
 itual longing; it had its material side. At Beckley Court 
 she could feel her foreign rank. Moving with our nobility 
 as an equal, she could feel that the short dazzling glitter 
 of her career was not illusory, and had left her something 
 solid; not coin of the realm exactly, but yet gold. She 
 could not feel this in the Cogglesby saloons, among piti- 
 able bourgeoises — middle-class people daily soiled by the 
 touch of tradesmen ! They dragged her down. Their very 
 homage was a mockery. 
 
 Let the Countess have due credit for still allowing Evan 
 to visit Beckley Court to follow up his chance. If Demo- 
 gorgon betrayed her there, the Count was her protector: a 
 woman rises to her husband But a man is what he is, 
 and must stand upon that. She was positive Evan had 
 committed himself in some manner. As it did not suit her 
 to think so, she at once encouraged an imaginary conver- 
 sation, in which she took the argument that it was quite 
 impossible Evan could have been so mad, and others in- 
 stanced his youth, his wrong-headed perversity, his ungen- 
 erous disregard for his devoted sister, and his known
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD 145 
 
 weakness : she replying, that undoubtedly they were right 
 so far: but that he could not have said he himself was 
 that horrible thing, because he was nothing of the sort: 
 which faith in Evan's stedfast adherence to facts, ulti- 
 mately silenced the phantom opposition, and gained the 
 day. 
 
 With admiration let us behold the Countess de Saldar 
 alighting on the gravel sweep of Beckley Court, the foot- 
 man and butler of the enemy bowing obsequious welcome 
 to the most potent visitor Beckley Court has ever yet 
 embraced. 
 
 The despatches of a general being usually acknowledged 
 to be the safest sources from which the historian of a cam- 
 paign can draw, I proceed to set forth a letter of the Count- 
 ess de Saldar, forwarded to her sister, Harriet Cogglesby, 
 three mornings after her arrival at Beckley Court; and 
 which, if it should prove false in a few particulars, does 
 nevertheless let us into the state of the Countess's mind, and 
 gives the result of that general's first inspection of the field of 
 action. The Countess's epistolary English does small credit 
 to her Fallowfield education ; but it is feminine, and flows 
 more than her ordinary speech. Besides, leaders of men 
 have always notoriously been above the honours of grammar. 
 
 "My dearest Harriet, 
 
 "Your note awaited me. No sooner my name an- 
 nounced, than servitors in yellow livery, with powder and 
 buckles started before me, and bowing one presented it on a 
 salver. A venerable butler — most impressive ! led the way. 
 In future, my dear, let it be de Saldar de Sancorvo. That is 
 our title by rights, and it may as well be so in England. 
 English Countess is certainly best. Always put the de. But 
 let us be systematic, as my poor Silva says. He would be in 
 the way here, and had better not come till I see something 
 he can do. Silva has great reliance upon me. The farther 
 he is from Lymport, my dear ! — and imagine me, Harriet, 
 driving through Fallowfield to Beckley Court ! I gave one 
 peep at Dubbins's, as I passed. The school still goes on. 
 I saw three little girls skipping, and the old swing-pole. 
 Seminary for young ladies as bright as ever ! I should 
 
 10
 
 146 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 have liked to have kissed the children and given them bon- 
 bons and a holiday. 
 
 " How sparing you English are of your crests and arms ! 
 I fully expected to see the Jocelyns' over my bed ; but no — 
 four posts totally without ornament ! Sleep, indeed, must 
 be the result of dire fatigue in such a bed. The Jocelyn 
 crest is a hawk in jesses. The Elburne arms are, Or, three 
 falcons on a field, vert. How heraldry reminds me of poor 
 Papa! the evenings we used to spend with him, when he 
 stayed at home, studying it so diligently under his directions ! 
 We never shall again ! Sir Franks Jocelyn is the third son 
 of Lord Elburne, made a Baronet for his patriotic support 
 of the Ministry in a time of great trouble. The people are 
 sometimes grateful, my dear. Lord Elburne is the fourteenth 
 of his line — originally simple country squires. They talk 
 of the Roses, but we need not go so very far back as that. 
 I do not quite understand why a Lord's son should con- 
 descend to a Baronetcy. Precedence of some sort for his 
 lady, I suppose. I have yet to learn whether she ranks by 
 his birth, or his present title. If so, a young Baronetcy 
 cannot possibly be a gain. One thing is certain. She cares 
 very little about it. She is most eccentric. But remember 
 what I have told you. It will be serviceable when you are 
 speaking of the family. 
 
 " The dinner-hour, six. It would no doubt be full seven 
 in Town. I am convinced you are half-an-hour too early. 
 I had the post of honour to the right of Sir Franks. Evan 
 to the right of Lady Jocelyn. Most fortunately he was in 
 the best of spirits — quite brilliant. I saw the eyes of that 
 sweet Bose glisten. On the other side of me sat my pet 
 diplomatist, and I gave him one or two political secrets 
 which astonished him. Of course, my dear, I was wheedled 
 out of them. His contempt for our weak intellects is in- 
 effable. But a woman must now and then ingratiate herself 
 at the expense of her sex. This is perfectly legitimate. 
 Tory policy at the table. The Opposition, as Andrew says, 
 not represented. So to show that we were human beings, 
 we differed among ourselves, and it soon became clear to me 
 that Lady Jocelyn is the rankest of Radicals. My secret 
 suspicion is, that she is a person of no birth whatever, 
 wherever her money came from. A fine woman — yes ; still
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD 147 
 
 to be admired, I suppose, by some kind of men ; but totally 
 wanting in the essentially feminine attractions. 
 
 "There was no party, so to say. I will describe the 
 people present, beginning with the insignificants. 
 
 "First, Mr. Parsley, the curate of Beckley. He eats 
 everything at table, and agrees with everything. A most 
 excellent orthodox young clergyman. Except that he was 
 nearly choked by a fish-bone, and could not quite conceal 
 his distress — and really Eose should have repressed her 
 desire to laugh till the time for our retirement — he made 
 no sensation. I saw her eyes watering, and she is not clever 
 in turning it off. In that nobody ever equalled dear Papa. 
 I attribute the attack almost entirely to the tightness of the 
 white neck-cloths the young clergymen of the Established 
 Church wear. But, my dear, I have lived too long away 
 from them to wish for an instant the slightest change in 
 anything they think, say, or do. The mere sight of this 
 young man was most refreshing to my spirit. He may be 
 the shepherd of a flock, this poor Mr. Parsley, but he is 
 a sheep to one young person. 
 
 "Mr. Drummond Porth. A great favourite of Lady 
 Jocelyn's ; an old friend. He went with them to the East. 
 Nothing improper. She is too cold for that. He is fair, 
 with regular features, very self-possessed, and ready — your 
 English notions of gentlemanly. But none of your men 
 treat a woman as a woman. We are either angels, or good 
 fellows, or heaven knows what that is bad. No exquisite 
 delicacy, no insinuating softness, mixed with respect, none 
 of that hovering over the border, as Papa used to say, none of 
 that happy indefiniteness of manner which seems to declare 
 { I would love you if I might,' or ' I do, but I dare not tell/ 
 even when engaged in the most trivial attentions — handing 
 a footstool, remarking on the soup, &c. You none of you 
 know how to meet a woman's smile, or to engage her eyes 
 without boldness — to slide off them, as it were, gracefully. 
 Evan alone can look between the eyelids of a woman. I 
 have had to correct him, for to me he quite exposes the 
 state of his heart towards dearest Eose. She listens to 
 Mr. Porth with evident esteem. In Portugal we do not 
 understand young ladies having male friends. 
 
 "Hamilton Jocelyn — all politics. The stiff Englishman.
 
 148 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Not a shade of manners. He invited me to drink wine. 
 Before I had finished my bow his glass was empty — the 
 man was telling an anecdote of Lord Livelyston ! You may 
 be sure, my dear, I did not say I had seen his lordship. 
 
 " Seymour Jocelyn, Colonel of Hussars. He did nothing 
 but sigh for the cold weather, and hunting. All I envied 
 him was his moustache for Evan. Will you believe that 
 the ridiculous boy has shaved ! 
 
 " Then there is Melville, my dear diplomatist ; and here 
 is another instance of our Harrington luck. He has the 
 gout in his right hand; he can only just hold knife and 
 fork, and is interdicted Port-wine and penmanship. The 
 dinner was not concluded before I had arranged that Evan 
 should resume (gratuitously, you know) his post of secretary 
 to him. So here is Evan fixed at Beckley Court as long as 
 Melville stays. Talking of him, I am horrified suddenly. 
 They call him the great Mel ! 
 
 " Sir Franks is most estimable, I am sure, as a man, and 
 redolent of excellent qualities — a beautiful disposition, very 
 handsome. He has just as much and no more of the English 
 polish one ordinarily meets. When he has given me soup 
 or fish, bowed to me over wine, and asked a conventional 
 question, he has done with me. I should imagine his 
 opinions to be extremely good, for they are not a multitude. 
 
 "Then his lady — but I have not grappled with her yet. 
 Now for the women, for I quite class her with the opposite sex. 
 
 " You must know that before I retired for the night, I 
 induced Conning to think she had a bad head-ache, and 
 Rose lent me her lady's maid — they call the creature Polly. 
 A terrible talker. She would tell all about the family. 
 Rose has been speaking of Evan. It would have looked 
 better had she been quiet — but then she is so English!" 
 
 Here the Countess breaks off to say, that from where she 
 is writing, she can see Rose and Evan walking out to the 
 cypress avenue, and that no eyes are on them ; great praise 
 being given to the absence of suspicion in the Jocelyn nature. 
 
 The communication is resumed the night of the same day. 
 
 " Two days at Beckley Court are over, and that strange 
 sensation I had of being an intruder escaped from Dub-
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD 149 
 
 bins's, and expecting every instant the old schoolmistress to 
 call for me, and expose me, and take me to the dark room, 
 is quite vanished, and I feel quite at home, quite happy. 
 Evan is behaving well. Quite the young nobleman. With 
 the women I had no fear of him; he is really admirable 
 with the men — easy, and talks of sport and politics, and 
 makes the proper use of Portugal. He has quite won the 
 heart of his sister. Heaven smiles on us, dearest Harriet ! 
 
 " We must be favoured, my dear, for Evan is very trouble- 
 some — distressingly inconsiderate ! I left him for a day — 
 remaining to comfort poor Mama — and on the road he 
 picked up an object he had known at school, and this crea- 
 ture, in shameful garments, is seen in the field where Eose 
 and Evan are riding — in a dreadful hat — Rose might well 
 laugh at it ! — he is seen running away from an old apple 
 ivoman, whose fruit he had consumed without means to 
 liquidate ; but, of course, he rushes bolt up to Evan before 
 all his grand company, and claims acquaintance, and Evan 
 was base enough to acknowledge him ! He disengaged him- 
 self so far well by tossing his purse to the wretch, but if he 
 knows not how to cut, I assure him it will be his ruin. 
 Resolutely he must cast the dust off his shoes, or he will 
 be dragged down to their level. By the way, as to hands 
 and feet, comparing him with the Jocelyn men, he has every 
 mark of better blood. Not a question about it. As Papa 
 would say — voe have Nature's proof. 
 
 "Looking out on a beautiful lawn, and the moon, and 
 all sorts of trees, I nmst now tell you about the ladies 
 here. 
 
 "Conning undid me to-night. While Conning remains 
 unattached, Conning is likely to be serviceable. If Evan 
 would only give her a crumb, she would be his most faithful 
 dog. I fear he cannot be induced, and Conning will be 
 snapped up by somebody else. You know how susceptible 
 she is behind her primness — she will be of no use on earth, 
 and I shall find excuse to send her back immediately. After 
 all, her appearance here was all that was wanted. 
 
 " Mrs. Melville and her dreadful juvenile are here, as you 
 may imagine — the complete Englishwoman. I smile on her, 
 but I could laugh. To see the crow's-feet under her eyes on 
 her white skin, and those ringlets, is really too ridiculous.
 
 150 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Then there is a Miss Carrington, Lady Jocelyn's cousin, 
 aged thirty -two — if she has not tampered with the register 
 of her birth. I should think her equal to it. Between dark 
 and fair. Always in love with some man, Conning tells me 
 she hears. Rose's maid, Polly, hinted the same. She has 
 a little money. 
 
 " But my sympathies have been excited by a little cripple 
 
 — a niece of Lady Jocelyn's and the favourite grand- 
 daughter of the rich old Mrs. Bonner — also here — Juliana 
 Bonner. Her age must be twenty. You would take her for 
 ten. In spite of her immense expectations, the Jocelyns 
 hate her. They can hardly be civil to her. It is the poor 
 child's temper. She has already begun to watch dear Evan 
 
 — certainly the handsomest of the men here as yet, though 
 I grant you, they are well-grown men, these Jocelyns, for 
 an untravelled Englishwoman. I fear, dear Harriet, we 
 have been dreadfully deceived about Rose. The poor child 
 has not, in her own right, much more than a tenth part of 
 what we supposed, I fear. It was that Mrs. Melville. I 
 have had occasion to notice her quiet boasts here. She said 
 this morning, ' when Mel is in the Ministry ' — he is not yet 
 in Parliament! I feel quite angry with the woman, and 
 she is not so cordial as she might be. I have her profile 
 very frequently while I am conversing with her. 
 
 " With Grandmama Bonner I am excellent good friends, 
 
 — venerable silver hair, high caps, &c. More of this most 
 interesting Juliana Bonner by-and-by. It is clear to me that 
 Rose's fortune is calculated upon the dear invalid's death ! 
 Is not that harrowing ? It shocks me to think of it. 
 
 " Then there is Mrs. Shorne. She is a Jocelyn — and such a 
 history ! She married a wealthy manufacturer — bartered her 
 blood for his money, and he failed, and here she resides, a 
 bankrupt widow, petitioning any man that may be willing 
 for his love and a decent home. And — I say in charity. 
 
 " Mrs. Shorne comes here to-morrow. She is at present 
 with — guess, my dear ! — with Lady Roseley. Do not be 
 alarmed. I have met Lady Roseley. She heard Evan's 
 name, and by that and the likeness I saw she knew at once, 
 and I saw a truce in her eyes. She gave me a tacit assurance 
 of it — she was engaged to dine here yesterday, and put it off 
 
 — probably to grant us time for composure. If she comes I
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD 151 
 
 do not fear her. Besides, has she not reasons ? Providence 
 may have designed her for a staunch ally — I will not say, 
 confederate. 
 
 " "Would that Providence had fixed this beautiful mansion 
 
 five hundred miles from L , though it were in a desolate 
 
 region ! And that reminds me of the Madre. She is in 
 health. She always will be overbearingly robust till the 
 day we are bereft of her. There was some secret in the 
 house when I was there, which I did not trouble to pene- 
 trate. That little Jane F was there — not improved. 
 
 "Pray, be firm about Torquay. Estates mortgaged, but 
 hopes of saving a remnant of the property. Third son ! 
 Don't commit yourself there. We dare not baronetize him. 
 You need not speak it — imply. More can be done that 
 way. 
 
 "And remember, dear Harriet, that you must manage 
 Andrew so that we may positively promise his vote to the 
 Ministry on all questions when Parliament next assembles. 
 I understood from Lord Livelyston, that Andrew's vote 
 would be thought much of. A most amusing nobleman ! He 
 pledged himself to nothing ! But we are above such a thing 
 as a commercial transaction. He must countenance Silva. 
 Women, my dear, have sent out armies — why not fleets 9 
 Do not spare me your utmost aid in my extremity, my dear- 
 est sister. 
 
 " As for Strike, I refuse to speak of him. He is insuffera- 
 ble and next to useless. How can one talk with any confi- 
 dence of relationship with a Major of Marines ? When I 
 reflect on what he is, and his conduct to Caroline, I have 
 inscrutable longings to slap his face. Tell dear Carry her 
 husband's friend — the chairman or something of that won- 
 derful company of Strike's — you know — the Duke of Bel- 
 field is coming here. He is a blood-relation of the Elburnes, 
 therefore of the Jocelyns. It will not matter at all. Brew- 
 eries, I find, are quite in esteem in your England. It was 
 highly commendable in his Grace to visit you. Did he come 
 to see the Major of Marines? Caroline is certainly the love- 
 liest woman I ever beheld, and I forgive her now the pangs 
 of jealousy she used to make me feel. 
 
 "Andrew, I hope, has received the most kind invitations 
 of the Jocelyns. He must come. Melville must talk with
 
 152 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 him about the votes of his abominable brother in Fallowfield. 
 .We must elect Melville and have the family indebted to us. 
 But pray be careful that Andrew speaks not a word to his 
 odious brother about our location here. It would set him 
 dead against these hospitable Jocelyns. It will perhaps be 
 as well, dear Harriet, if you do not accompany Andrew. You 
 would not be able to account for him quite thoroughly. Do 
 as you like — I do but advise, and you know I may be trusted 
 — for our sakes, dear one ! I am working for Carry to come 
 with Andrew. Beautiful women always welcome. A prod- 
 igy f — if they wish to astonish the Duke. Adieu ! Heaven 
 bless your babes ! " 
 
 The night passes, and the Countess pursues : 
 
 " Awakened by your fresh note from a dream of Evan on 
 horseback, and a multitude hailing him Count Jocelyn for 
 Fallowfield! A morning dream. They might desire that 
 he should change his name; but 'Count' is preposterous, 
 though it may conceal something. 
 
 "You say Andrew will come, and talk of his bringing 
 Caroline. Anything to give our poor darling a respite from 
 her brute. You deserve great credit for your managing of 
 that dear little good-natured piece of obstinate man. I will 
 at once see to prepare dear Caroline's welcome, and trust her 
 stay may be prolonged in the interest of common humanity. 
 They have her story here already. 
 
 " Conning has come in, and says that young Mr. Harry 
 Jocelyn will be here this morning from Fallowfield, where he 
 has been cricketing. The family have not spoken of him in 
 my hearing. He is not, I think, in good odour at home — a 
 scapegrace. Bose's maid, Polly, quite flew out when I hap- 
 pened to mention him, and broke one of my laces. These 
 English maids are domesticated savage animals. 
 
 "My chocolate is sent up, exquisitely concocted, in plate 
 of the purest quality — lovely little silver cups! I have 
 already quite set the fashion for the ladies to have chocolate 
 in bed. The men, I hear, complain that there is no lady at 
 the breakfast-table. They have Miss Carrington to superin- 
 tend. I read, in the subdued satisfaction of her eyes (com- 
 pletely without colour), how much she thanks me and the
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD 153 
 
 institution of chocolate in bed. Poor Miss Carrington is no 
 match for her opportunities. One may give them to her 
 without dread. 
 
 " It is ten on the Sabbath morn. The sweet church-bells 
 are ringing. It seems like a dream. There is nothing but 
 the religion attaches me to England ; but that — is not that 
 everything ? How I used to sigh on Sundays to hear them 
 in Portugal ! 
 
 " I have an idea of instituting toilette-receptions. They 
 will not please Miss Carrington so well. 
 
 " Now to the peaceful village church, and divine worship. 
 Adieu, my dear. I kiss my fingers to Silva. Make no effort 
 to amuse him. He is always occupied. Bread ! — he asks no 
 more. Adieu ! Carry will be invited with your little man. 
 . . . You unhappily unable. . . . She, the sister I pine to 
 see, to show her worthy of my praises. Expectation and 
 excitement ! Adieu ! " 
 
 Filled with pleasing emotions at the thought of the ser- 
 vice in the quiet village church, and worshipping in the 
 principal pew, under the blazonry of the Jocelyn arms, the 
 Countess sealed her letter and addressed it, and then exam- 
 ined the name of Cogglesby ; which plebeian name, it struck 
 her, would not sound well to the menials of Beckley Court. 
 While she was deliberating what to do to conceal it, she 
 heard, through her open window, the voices of some young 
 men laughing. She beheld her brother pass these young 
 men, and bow to them. She beheld them stare at him with- 
 out at all returning his salute, and then one of them — the 
 same who had filled her ears with venom at Pallowiield — 
 turned to the others and laughed outrageously, crying : 
 
 " By Jove ! this comes it strong. Paney the snipocracy 
 here — eh?" 
 
 What the others said the Countess did not wait to hear. 
 She put on her bonnet hastily, tried the effect of a peculiar 
 smile in the mirror, and lightly ran down-stairs.
 
 154 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A CAPTUKE 
 
 The three youths were standing in the portico when the 
 Countess appeared among them. She singled out him who 
 was specially obnoxious to her, and sweetly inquired the 
 direction to the village post. With the renowned gallantry 
 of his nation, he offered to accompany her, but presently, 
 with a different exhibition of the same, proposed that they 
 should spare themselves the trouble by dropping the letter 
 she held prominently, in the bag. 
 
 " Thanks," murmured the Countess, " I will go." Upon 
 which his eager air subsided, and he fell into an awkward 
 silent march at her side, looking so like the victim he was 
 to be, that the Countess could have emulated his power of 
 laughter. 
 
 " And you are Mr. Harry Jocelyn, the very famous 
 cricketer ? " 
 
 He answered, glancing back at his friends, that he was, 
 but he did not know about the "famous." 
 
 " Oh ! but I saw you — I saw you hit the ball most beauti- 
 fully, and dearly wished my brother had an equal ability. 
 Brought up in the Court of Portugal, he is barely English. 
 There they have no manly sports. You saw him pass you? " 
 
 " Him ! Who ? " asked Harry. 
 
 "My brother, on the lawn, this moment. Your sweet 
 sister's friend. Your uncle Melville's secretary." 
 
 " What's his name ? " said Harry, in blunt perplexity. 
 
 The Countess repeated his name, which in her pronuncia- 
 tion was " Hawington," adding, " That was my brother. I 
 am his sister. Have you heard of the Countess de Saldar ? " 
 
 "Countess!" muttered Harry. "Dash it! here's a mistake." 
 
 She continued, with elegant fan-like motion of her gloved 
 fingers : " They say there is a likeness between us. The 
 dear Queen of Portugal often remarked it, and in her it 
 was a compliment to me, for she thought my brother a 
 model ! You I should have known from your extreme 
 resemblance to your lovely young sister."
 
 A CAPTURE 155 
 
 Coarse food, but then Harry was a youthful Englishman ; 
 and the Countess dieted the vanity according to the nation- 
 ality. With good wine to wash it down, one can swallow 
 anything. The Countess lent him her eyes for that pur- 
 pose; eyes that had a liquid glow under the dove-like 
 drooping lids. It was a principle of hers, pampering our 
 poor sex with swinish solids or the lightest ambrosia, never 
 to let the accompanying cordial be other than of the finest 
 quality. She knew that clowns, even more than aristo- 
 crats, are flattered by the inebriation of delicate celestial 
 liquors. 
 
 " Now," she said, after Harry had gulped as much of the 
 dose as she chose to administer direct from the founts, 
 " you must accord me the favour to tell me all about your- 
 self, for I have heard much of you, Mr. Harry Jocelyn, and 
 you have excited my woman's interest. Of me you know 
 nothing." 
 
 " Haven't I ? " cried Harry, speaking to the pitch of his 
 new warmth. " My uncle Melville goes on about you tre- 
 mendously — makes his wife as jealous as fire. How could 
 I tell that was your brother ? " 
 
 " Your uncle has deigned to allude to me ? " said the 
 Countess, meditatively. "But not of him — of you, Mr. 
 Harry ! What does he say ? " 
 
 " Says you're so clever you ought to be a man." 
 
 " Ah ! generous ! " exclaimed the Countess. " The idea, 
 I think, is novel to him. Is it not ? " 
 
 " Well, I believe, from what I hear, he didn't back you 
 for much over in Lisbon," said veracious Harry. 
 
 " I fear he is deceived in me now. I fear I am but a 
 woman — I am not to be 'backed.' But you are not talking 
 of yourself." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind me," was Harry's modest answer. 
 
 " But I do. Try to imagine me as clever as a man, and 
 talk to me of your doings. Indeed I will endeavour to 
 comprehend you." 
 
 Thus humble, the Countess bade him give her his arm. 
 He stuck it out with abrupt eagerness. 
 
 "Not against my cheek." She laughed forgivingly. 
 "And you need not start back half-a-mile," she pursued 
 with plain humour : " and please do not look irresolute and
 
 156 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 awkward — It is not necessary," she added. " There ! " 
 and she settled her ringers on him, " I am glad I can find 
 one or two things to instruct you in. Begin. You are a 
 great cricketer. What else ? " 
 
 Ay ! what else ? Harry might well say he had no wish 
 to talk of himself. He did not know even how to give his 
 arm to a lady ! The first flattery and the subsequent chid- 
 ing clashed in his elated soul, and caused him to deem him- 
 self one of the blest suddenly overhauled by an inspecting 
 angel and found wanting: or, in his own more accurate 
 style of reflection, "What a rattling fine woman this is, 
 and what a deuce of a fool she must think me ! " 
 
 The Countess leaned on his arm with dainty languor. 
 
 " You walk well," she said. 
 
 Harry's backbone straightened immediately. 
 
 " No, no ; I do not want you to be a drill-sergeant. Can 
 you not be told you are perfect without seeking to improve, 
 vain boy ? You can cricket, and you can walk, and will 
 very soon learn how to give your arm to a lady. I have 
 hopes of you. Of your friends, from whom I have ruth- 
 lessly dragged you, I have not much. Am I personally 
 offensive to them, Mr. Harry ? I saw them let my brother 
 pass without returning his bow, and they in no way ac- 
 knowledged my presence as I passed. Are they gentle- 
 men?" 
 
 "Yes," said Harry, stupefied by the question. "One's 
 Ferdinand Laxley, Lord Laxley's son, heir to the title ; the 
 other's William Harvey, son of the Chief Justice — both 
 friends of mine." 
 
 "But not of your manners," interposed the Countess. 
 "I have not so much compunction as I ought to have in 
 divorcing you from your associates for a few minutes. I 
 think I shall make a scholar of you in one or two essentials. 
 You do want polish. Have I not a right to take you in 
 hand ? I have defended you already." 
 
 " Me ? " cried Harry. 
 
 "None other than Mr. Harry Jocelyn. Will he vouch- 
 safe to me his pardon ? It has been whispered in my ears 
 that his ambition is to be the Don Juan of a country district, 
 and I have said for him, that however grovelling his undi- 
 rected tastes, he is too truly noble to plume himself upon
 
 A CAPTURE 157 
 
 the reputation they have procured him. Why did I defend 
 you? Women, you know, do not shrink from Don Juans — 
 even provincial Don Juans — as they should, perhaps, for 
 their own sakes ! You are all of you dangerous, if a woman 
 is not strictly on her guard. But you will respect your 
 champion, will you not ? " 
 
 Harry was about to reply with wonderful briskness. He 
 stopped, and murmured boorishly that he was sure he was 
 very much obliged. 
 
 Command of countenance the Countess possessed in com- 
 mon with her sex. Those faces on which we make them 
 depend entirely, women can entirely control. Keenly sen- 
 sible to humour as the Countess was, her face sidled up to 
 his immovably sweet. Harry looked, and looked away, and 
 looked again. The poor fellow was so profoundly aware 
 of his foolishness that he even doubted whether he was 
 admired. 
 
 The Countess trifled with his English nature; quietly 
 watched him bob between tugging humility and airy con- 
 ceit, and went on : 
 
 " Yes ! I will trust you, and that is saying very much, 
 for what protection is a brother ? I am alone here — 
 defenceless ! " 
 
 Men, of course, grow virtuously zealous in an instant on 
 behalf of the lovely dame who tells them bewitchingly, she 
 is alone and defenceless, with pitiful dimples round the 
 dewy mouth that entreats their guardianship and mercy ! 
 
 The provincial Don Juan found words — a sign of clearer 
 sensations within. He said : 
 
 "Upon my honour, I'd look after you better than fifty 
 brothers ! " 
 
 The Countess eyed him softly, and then allowed herself 
 the luxury of a laugh. 
 
 " No, no ! it is not the sheep, it is the wolf I fear." 
 
 And she went through a bit of the concluding portion of 
 the drama of Little Red Riding Hood very prettily, and 
 tickled him so that he became somewhat less afraid of her. 
 
 "Are you truly so bad as report would have you to be, 
 Mr. Harry ? " she asked, not at all in the voice of a censor. 
 
 " Pray don't think me — a — anything you wouldn't have 
 me," the youth stumbled into an apt response.
 
 158 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " We shall see," said the Countess, and varied her admi- 
 ration for the noble creature beside her with gentle ejacula- 
 tions on the beauty of the deer that ranged the park of 
 Beckley Court, the grand old oaks and beeches, the clumps 
 of flowering laurel, and the rich air swarming Summer. 
 
 She swept out her arm. "And this most magnificent 
 estate will be yours ? How happy will she be who is led 
 hither to reside by you, Mr. Harry ! " 
 
 "Mine? No; there's the bother," he answered, with 
 unfeigned chagrin. " Beckley isn't Elburne property, you 
 know. It belongs to old Mrs. Bonner, Rose's grandmama." 
 
 "Oh!" interjected the Countess, indifferently. 
 
 " /shall never get it — no chance," Harry pursued. " Lost 
 my luck with the old lady long ago." He waxed excited on 
 a subject that drew him from his shamefacedness. "It goes 
 to Juley Bonner, or to Rosey ; it's a toss-up which. If I'd 
 stuck up to Juley, I might have had a pretty fair chance. 
 They wanted me to, that's why I scout the premises. But 
 fancy Juley Bonner ! " 
 
 " You couldn't, upon your honour ! " rhymed the Countess. 
 (And Harry let loose a delighted " Ha ! ha ! " as at a fine 
 stroke of wit.) " Are we enamoured of a beautiful maiden, 
 Serlor Harry?" 
 
 " Not a bit," he assured her, eagerly. " I don't know any 
 girl. I don't care for 'em. I don't, really." 
 
 The Countess impressively declared to him that he must 
 be guided by her; and that she might the better act his 
 monitress, she desired to hear the pedigree of the estate, 
 and the exact relations in which it at present stood toward 
 the Elburne family. 
 
 Glad of any theme he could speak on, Harry informed 
 her that Beckley Court was bought by his grandfather 
 Bonner from the proceeds of a successful oil speculation. 
 
 " So we ain't much on that side," he said. 
 
 " Oil ! " was the Countess's weary exclamation. " I 
 imagined Beckley Court to be your ancestral mansion. 
 Oil ! " 
 
 Harry deprecatingly remarked that oil was money. 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " but you are not one to mix oil with 
 your Elburne blood. Let me see — oil ! That, I conceive, 
 is grocery. So, you are grocers on one side ! "
 
 A CAPTURE 159 
 
 " Oh, come ! hang it ! " cried Harry, turning red. 
 
 " Am I leaning on the grocer's side, or on the lord's ? " 
 
 Harry felt dreadfully taken down. " One ranks with 
 one's father," he said. 
 
 " Yes," observed the Countess ; " but you should ever be 
 careful not to expose the grocer. When I beheld my brother 
 bow to you, and that your only return was to stare at him in 
 that singular way, I was not aware of this, and could not 
 account for it." 
 
 " I declare I'm very sorry," said Harry, with a nettled air. 
 " Do just let me tell you how it happened. We were at an 
 inn, where there was an odd old fellow gave a supper ; and 
 there was your brother, and another fellow — as thorough 
 an upstart as I ever met, and infernally impudent. He got 
 drinking, and wanted to fight us. Now I see it! Your 
 brother, to save his friend's bones, said he was a tailor ! Of 
 course no gentleman could fight a tailor ; and it blew over 
 with my saying we'd order our clothes of him." 
 
 " Said he was a ! " exclaimed the Countess, gazing 
 
 blankly. 
 
 "I don't wonder at your feeling annoyed," returned 
 Harry. "I saw him with Rosey next day, and began to 
 smell a rat then, but Laxley won't give up the tailor. He's 
 as proud as Lucifer. He wanted to order a suit of your 
 
 brother to-day ; but I said not while he's in the house, 
 
 however he came here." 
 
 The Countess had partially recovered. They were now 
 in the village street, and Harry pointed out the post-office. 
 
 " Your divination with regard to my brother's most ec- 
 centric behaviour was doubtless correct," she said. "He 
 wished to succour his wretched companion. Anywhere — it 
 matters not to him what ! — he allies himself with miserable 
 mortals. He is the modern Samaritan. You should thank 
 him for saving you an encounter with some low creature." 
 
 Swaying the letter to and fro, she pursued archly : " I can 
 read your thoughts. You are dying to know to whom this 
 dear letter is addressed ! " 
 
 Instantly Harry, whose eyes had previously been quite 
 empty of expression, glanced at the letter wistfully. 
 
 " Shall I tell you ? " 
 
 " Yes, do."
 
 160 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " It's to somebody I love." 
 
 "Are you in love then?" was his disconcerted rejoinder. 
 
 " Am I not married ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but every woman that's married isn't in love with 
 her husband, you know." 
 
 " Oh ! Don Juan of the provinces ! " she cried, holding 
 the seal of the letter before him in playful reproof. " Fie ! " 
 
 " Come ! who is it ? " Harry burst out. 
 
 " I am not, surely, obliged to confess my correspondence 
 to you ? Eemember ! " she laughed lightly. " He already 
 assumes the airs of a lord and master ! You are rapid, Mr. 
 Harry." 
 
 " Won't you really tell me ? " he pleaded. 
 
 She put a corner of the letter in the box. " Must I ? " 
 
 All was done with the archest elegance : the bewildering 
 condescension of a Goddess to a boor. 
 
 " I don't say you must, you know : but I should like to 
 see it," retiirned Harry. 
 
 " There ! " She showed him a glimpse of " Mrs.," cleverly 
 concealing plebeian " Cogglesby," and the letter slid into 
 darkness. " Are you satisfied ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Harry, wondering why he felt a relief at the 
 sight of " Mrs." written on a letter by a lady he had only 
 known half-an-hour. 
 
 "And now," said she, "I shall demand a boon of you, Mr. 
 Harry. Will it be accorded ? " 
 
 She was hurriedly told that she might count upon him for 
 whatever she chose to ask; and after much trifling and 
 many exaggerations of the boon in question, he heard that 
 she had selected him as her cavalier for the day, and that he 
 was to consent to accompany her to the village church. 
 
 " Is it so great a request, the desire that you should sit 
 beside a solitary lady for so short a space ? " she asked, not- 
 ing his rueful visage. 
 
 Harry assured her he would be very happy, but hinted 
 at the bother of having to sit and listen to that fool of a 
 Parsley : again assuring her, and with real earnestness, 
 which the lady now affected to doubt, that he would be 
 extremely happy. 
 
 " You know, I haven't been there for ages," he explained. 
 
 " I hear it ! " she sighed, aware of the credit his escort
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN 161 
 
 would bring her in Beckley, and especially with Harry's 
 grandmama Bonner. 
 
 They went together to the village church. The Countess 
 took care to be late, so that all eyes beheld her stately march 
 up the aisle, with her captive beside her. Nor was her 
 captive less happy than he professed he would be. Charm- 
 ing comic side-play, at the expense of Mr. Parsley, she 
 mingled with exceeding devoutness, and a serious attention 
 to Mr. Parsley's discourse. In her heart this lady really 
 thought her confessed daily sins forgiven her by the recov- 
 ery of the lost sheep to Mr. Parsley's fold. 
 
 The results of this small passage of arms were, that 
 Evan's disclosure at Fallowfield was annulled in the mind 
 of Harry Jocelyn, and the latter gentleman became the 
 happy slave of the Countess de Saldar. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LEADS TO A SMALL SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN 
 
 Lady Jocelyn belonged properly to that order which the 
 Sultans and the Roxalanas of earth combine to exclude from 
 their little games, under the designation of blues, or strong- 
 minded women : a kind, if genuine, the least dangerous and 
 staunchest of the sex, as poor fellows learn when the flippant 
 and the frail fair have made mummies of them. She had the 
 frankness of her daughter, the same direct eyes and firm 
 step : a face without shadows, though no longer bright with 
 youth. It may be charged to her as one of the errors of her 
 strong mind, that she believed friendship practicable be- 
 tween men and women, young or old. She knew the world 
 pretty well, and was not amazed by extraordinary accidents ; 
 but as she herself continued to be an example of her faith, 
 we must presume it natural that her delusion should cling 
 to her. She welcomed Evan as her daughter's friend, walked 
 half-way across the room to meet him on his introduction to 
 her, and with the simple words, " I have heard of you," let 
 him see that he stood upon his merits in her house. The 
 
 11
 
 162 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 young man's spirit caught something of hers even in their 
 first interview, and at once mounted to that level. Uncon- 
 sciously he felt that she took, and would take, him for what 
 he was, and he rose to his worth in the society she presided 
 over. A youth like Evan could not perceive, that in loving 
 this lady's daughter, and accepting the place she offered him, 
 he was guilty of a breach of confidence ; or reflect, that her 
 entire absence of suspicion imposed upon him a correspond- 
 ing honesty toward her. He fell into a blindness. Without 
 dreaming for a moment that she designed to encourage his 
 passion for Eose, he yet beheld himself in the light she had 
 cast on him ; and, received as her daughter's friend, it 
 seemed to him not so utterly monstrous that he might be 
 her daughter's lover. A haughty, a grand, or a too familiar 
 manner, would have kept his eyes clearer on his true condi- 
 tion. Lady Jocelyn spoke to his secret nature, and eclipsed 
 in his mind the outward aspects with which it was warring. 
 To her he was a gallant young man, a fit companion for 
 Eose, and when she and Sir Franks said, and showed him, 
 that they were glad to know him, his heart swam in a flood 
 of happiness they little suspected. 
 
 This was another of the many forms of intoxication to 
 which circumstances subjected the poor lover. In Fallow- 
 field, among impertinent young men, Evan's pride proclaimed 
 him a tailor. At Beckley Court, acted on by one genuine 
 soul, he forgot it, and felt elate in his manhood. The shades 
 of Tailordom dispersed like fog before the full southwest 
 breeze. When I say he forgot it, the fact was present 
 enough to him, but it became an outward fact: he had 
 ceased to feel it within him. It was not a portion of his 
 being, hard as Mrs. Mel had struck to fix it. Consequently, 
 though he was in a far worse plight than when he parted 
 with Eose on board the Jocasta, he felt much less of an im- 
 postor now. This may have been partly because he had 
 endured his struggle with the Demogorgon the Countess 
 painted to him in such frightful colours, and found him 
 human after all; but it was mainly owing to the hearty 
 welcome Lady Jocelyn had extended to him as the friend 
 of Eose. 
 
 Loving Eose, he nevertheless allowed his love no tender 
 liberties. The eyes of a lover are not his own; but his
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN 163 
 
 hands and lips are, till such time as they are claimed. The 
 sun must smile on us with peculiar warmth to woo us forth 
 utterly — pluck our hearts out. Rose smiled on many. She 
 smiled on Drummond Forth, Ferdinand Laxley, "William 
 Harvey, and her brother Harry ; and she had the same eyes 
 for all ages. Once, previous to the arrival of the latter three, 
 there was a change in her look, or Evan fancied it. They 
 were going to ride out together, and Evan, coming to his 
 horse on the gravel walk, saw her talking with Drummond 
 Forth. He mounted, awaiting her, and either from a slight 
 twinge of jealousy, or to mark her dainty tread with her 
 riding-habit drawn above her heels, he could not help turn- 
 ing his head occasionally. She listened to Drummond with 
 attention, but presently broke from him, crying : " It's an 
 absurdity. Speak to them yourself — I shall not." 
 
 On the ride that day, she began prattling of this and that 
 with the careless glee that became her well, and then sank 
 into a reverie. Betweenwhiles her eyes had raised tumults 
 in Evan's breast by dropping on him in a sort of question- 
 ing way, as if she wished him to speak, or wished to fathom 
 something she would rather have unspoken. Ere they had 
 finished their ride, she tossed off what burden may have been 
 on her mind as lightly as a stray lock from her shoulders. 
 He thought that the singular look recurred. It charmed 
 him too much for him to speculate on it. 
 
 The Countess's opportune ally, the gout, which had re- 
 duced the Hon. Melville Jocelyn's right hand to a state of 
 uselessness, served her with her brother equally : for, hav- 
 ing volunteered his services to the invalided diplomatist, 
 it excused his stay at Beckley Court to himself, and was a 
 mask to his intimacy with Rose, besides earning him the 
 thanks of the family. Harry Jocelyn, released from the 
 wing of the Countess, came straight to him, and in a rough 
 kind of way begged Evan to overlook his rudeness. 
 
 " You took us all in at Fallowfield, except Drummond," 
 he said. "Drummond would have it you were joking. I 
 see it now. And you're a confoundedly clever fellow into 
 the bargain, or you wouldn't be quill-driving for Uncle 
 Mel. Don't be uppish about it — will you?" 
 
 "You have nothing to fear on that point," said Evan. 
 With which promise the peace was signed between them.
 
 164 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Drummond and William Harvey were cordial, and just 
 laughed over the incident. Laxley, however, held aloof. 
 His retention of ideas once formed befitted his rank and 
 station. 
 
 Some trifling qualms attended Evan's labours with the 
 diplomatist ; but these were merely occasioned by the itera- 
 tion of a particular phrase. Mr. Goren, an enthusiastic 
 tailor, had now and then thrown out to Evan stirring hints 
 of an invention he claimed: the discovery of a Balance in 
 Breeches : apparently the philosopher's stone of the tailor 
 craft, a secret that should ensure harmony of outline to the 
 person and an indubitable accommodation to the most diffi- 
 cult legs. 
 
 Since Adam's expulsion, it seemed, the tailors of this 
 wilderness had been in search of it. But like the doctors 
 of this wilderness, their science knew no specific : like the 
 Babylonian workmen smitten with confusion of tongues, they 
 had but one word in common, and that word was "cut." 
 Mr. Goren contended that to cut was not the key of the 
 science : but to find a Balance was. An artistic admirer of 
 the frame of man, Mr. Goren was not wanting in veneration 
 for the individual who had arisen to do it justice. He spoke 
 of his Balance with supreme self-appreciation. Nor less so 
 the Honourable Melville, who professed to have discovered 
 the Balance of Power, at home and abroad. It was a capital 
 Balance, but inferior to Mr. Goren's. The latter gentleman 
 guaranteed a Balance with motion : whereas one step not 
 only upset the Honourable Melville's, but shattered the 
 limbs of Europe. Let us admit that it is easier to fit a 
 man's legs than to compress expansive empires. 
 
 Evan enjoyed the doctoring of kingdoms quite as well as 
 the diplomatist. It suited the latent grandeur of soul in- 
 herited by him from the great Mel. He liked to prop 
 Austria and arrest the Czar, and keep a watchful eye on 
 Erance ; but the Honourable Melville's deep-mouthed phrase 
 conjured up to him a pair of colossal legs imperiously de- 
 manding their Balance likewise. At first the image scared 
 him. In time he was enabled to smile it into phantom 
 vagueness. The diplomatist diplomatically informed him, 
 it might happen that the labours he had undertaken might 
 be neither more nor less than education for a profession he
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN 165 
 
 might have to follow. Out of this, an ardent imagination, 
 with the Countess de Saldar for an interpreter, might con- 
 strue a promise of some sort. Evan soon had high hopes. 
 What though his name blazed on a shop-front ? The sun 
 might yet illumine him to honour ! 
 
 Where a young man is getting into delicate relations with 
 a young woman, the more of his sex the better — they serve 
 as a blind ; and the Countess hailed fresh arrivals warmly. 
 There was Sir John Loring, Dorothy's father, who had 
 married the eldest of the daughters of Lord Elburne. A 
 widower, handsome, and a flirt, he capitulated to the Countess 
 instantly, and was played off against the provincial Don 
 Juan, who had reached that point with her when youths of 
 his description make bashful confidences of their successes, 
 and receive delicious chidings for their naughtiness — re- 
 bukes which give immeasurable rebounds. Then came Mr. 
 Gordon Graine, with his daughter, Miss Jenny Graine, an 
 early friend of Eose's, and numerous others. For the pres- 
 ent, Miss Isabella Current need only be chronicled among 
 the visitors — a sprightly maid fifty years old, without a 
 wrinkle to show for it — the Aunt Bel of fifty houses where 
 there were young women and little boys. Aunt Bel had 
 quick wit and capital anecdotes, and tripped them out aptly 
 on a sparkling tongue with exquisite instinct for climax and 
 when to strike for a laugh. No sooner had she entered the 
 hall than she announced the proximate arrival of the Duke 
 of Belfield at her heels, and it was known that his Grace 
 was as sure to follow as her little dog, who was far better 
 paid for his devotion. 
 
 The dinners at Beckley Court had hitherto been rather 
 languid to those who were not intriguing or mixing young 
 love with the repast. Miss Current was an admirable neu- 
 tral, sent, as the Countess fervently believed, by Providence. 
 Till now the Countess had draAvn upon her own resources to 
 amuse the company, and she had been obliged to restrain 
 herself from doing it with that unctuous feeling for rank 
 which warmed her Portuguese sketches in low society and 
 among her sisters. She retired before Miss Current and 
 formed audience, glad of a relief to her inventive labour. 
 While Miss Current and her ephemerals lightly skimmed 
 the surface of human life, the Countess worked in the depths.
 
 166 EVAN HAEEINGTON 
 
 Vanities, passions, prejudices beneath the surface, gave her 
 full employment. How naturally poor Juliana Bonner was 
 moved to mistake Evan's compassion for a stronger senti- 
 ment ! The Countess eagerly assisted Providence to shuffle 
 the company into their proper places. Harry Jocelyn was 
 moodily happy, but good ; greatly improved in the eyes of 
 his grandmama Bonner, who attributed the change to the 
 Countess, and partly forgave her the sinful consent to the 
 conditions of her love-match with the foreign Count, which 
 his penitent wife had privately confessed to that strict 
 Churchwoman. 
 
 "Thank Heaven that you have no children," Mrs. Bonner 
 had said; and the Countess humbly replied : "It is indeed 
 my remorseful consolation ! " 
 
 "Who knows that it is not your punishment?" added 
 Mrs. Bonner; the Countess weeping. 
 
 She went and attended morning prayers in Mrs. Bonner's 
 apartments, alone with the old lady. " To make up for lost 
 time in Catholic Portugal ! " she explained it to the house- 
 hold. 
 
 On the morning after Miss Current had come to shape 
 the party, most of the inmates of Beckley Court being at 
 breakfast, Rose gave a lead to the conversation. 
 
 "Aunt Bel! I want to ask you something. We've been 
 making bets about you. Now, answer honestly, we're all 
 friends. Why did you refuse all your offers?" 
 
 "Quite simple, child," replied the unabashed ex-beauty. 
 " A matter of taste. I liked twenty shillings better than a 
 sovereign." 
 
 Rose looked puzzled, but the men laughed, and Rose 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Now I see! How stupid I am! You mean, you may 
 have friends when you are not married. Well, I think 
 that's the wisest, after all. You don't lose them, do you? 
 Pray, Mr. Evan, are you thinking Aunt Bel might still alter 
 her mind for somebody, if she knew his value?" 
 
 "I was presuming to hope there might be a place vacant 
 among the twenty," said Evan, slightly bowing to both. 
 "Am I pardoned?" 
 
 "I like you!" returned Aunt Bel, nodding at him. 
 "Where do you come from? A young man who'll let him- 
 self go for small coin's a jewel worth knowing."
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN 167 
 
 "Where do I come from?" drawled Laxley, who had 
 been tapping an egg with a dreary expression. 
 
 "Aunt Bel spoke to Mr. Harrington," said Eose, pet- 
 tishly. 
 
 "Asked him where he came from," Laxley continued his 
 drawl. " He didn't answer, so I thought it polite for another 
 of the twenty to strike in." 
 
 "I must thank you expressly," said Evan, and achieved 
 a cordial bow. 
 
 Eose gave Evan one of her bright looks, and then called 
 the attention of Ferdinand Laxley to the fact that he had 
 lost a particular bet made among them. 
 
 " What bet? " asked Laxley. " About the profession? " 
 
 A stream of colour shot over Rose's face. Her eyes flew 
 nervously from Laxley to Evan, and then to Drummond. 
 Laxley appeared pleased as a man who has made a witty 
 sally : Evan was outwardly calm, while Drummond replied 
 to the mute appeal of Kose, by saying : 
 
 "Yes; we've all lost. But who could hit it? The lady 
 admits no sovereign in our sex." 
 
 "So you've been betting about me?" said Aunt Bel. 
 "I'll settle the dispute. Let him who guessed 'Latin' 
 pocket the stakes, and, if I guess him, let him hand them 
 over to me." 
 
 " Excellent ! " cried Eose. " One did guess 'Latin, ' Aunt 
 Bel! Now, tell us which one it was." 
 
 "Not you, my dear. You guessed 'temper.' " 
 
 "No! you dreadful Aunt Bel! " 
 
 "Let me see," said Aunt Bel, seriously. "A young man 
 would not marry a woman with Latin, but would not guess 
 it the impediment. Gentlemen moderately aged are mad 
 enough to slip their heads under any yoke, but see the 
 
 obstruction It was a man of forty guessed 'Latin.' 
 
 I request the Hon. Hamilton Everard Jocelyn to con- 
 firm it." 
 
 Amid laughter and exclamations Hamilton confessed 
 himself the man who had guessed Latin to be the cause 
 of Miss Current's remaining an old maid; Eose, crying: 
 " You really are too clever, Aunt Bel ! " 
 
 A divergence to other themes ensued, and then Miss 
 Jenny Graine said : " Isn't Juley learning Latin? I should 
 like to join her while I'm here."
 
 168 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "And so should I," responded Eose. "My friend 
 Evan is teaching her during the intervals of his arduous 
 diplomatic labours. Will you take us into your class, 
 Evan?" 
 
 "Don't be silly, girls," interposed Aunt Bel. "Do you 
 want to graduate for my state with your eyes open?" 
 
 Evan objected his poor qualifications as a tutor, and 
 Aunt Bel remarked, that if Juley learnt Latin at all, she 
 should have regular instruction. 
 
 " I am quite satisfied, " said Juley, quietly. 
 
 "Of course you are," Rose snubbed her cousin. "So 
 would anybody be. But Mama really was talking of a tutor 
 for Juley, if she could find one. There's a school at Bodley; 
 but that's too far for one of the men to come over." 
 
 A school at Bodley ! thought Evan, and his probationary 
 years at the Cudford Establishment rose before him; and 
 therewith, for the first time since his residence at Beckley, 
 the figure of John Raikes. 
 
 "There's a friend of mine," he said, aloud, "I think if 
 Lady Jocelyn does wish Miss Bonner to learn Latin thor- 
 oughly, he would do very well for the groundwork, and 
 would be glad of the employment. He is very poor." 
 
 "If he's poor and a friend of yours, Evan, we'll have 
 him," said Rose: "we'll ride and fetch him." 
 
 "Yes," added Miss Carrington, "that must be quite 
 sufficient qualification." 
 
 Juliana was not gazing gratefully at Evan for his pro- 
 posal. 
 
 Rose asked the name of Evan's friend. 
 
 "His name is Raikes," answered Evan. "I don't know 
 where he is now. He may be at Fallowfield. If Lady 
 Jocelyn pleases, I will ride over to-day and see." 
 
 "My dear Evan!" cried Rose, "you don't mean that 
 absurd figure we saw on the cricket-field? " She burst out 
 laughing. "Oh! what fun it will be! Let us have him 
 here by all means." 
 
 "I shall not bring him to be laughed at," said Evan. 
 
 "I will remember he is your friend," Rose returned 
 demurely; and again laughed, as she related to Jenny 
 Graine the comic appearance Mr. Raikes had presented. 
 
 Laxley waited for a pause, and then said : " I have met
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN 169 
 
 this Mr. Eaikes. As a friend of the family, I should pro- 
 test against his admission here in any office whatever — 
 into the upper part of the house, at least. He is not a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "We don't want teachers to be gentlemen," observed 
 Eose. 
 
 "This fellow is the reverse," Laxley pronounced, and 
 desired Harry to confirm it; but Harry took a gulp of 
 coffee. 
 
 "Oblige me by recollecting that I have called him a 
 friend of mine, " said Evan. 
 
 Eose murmured to him: "Pray forgive me! I forgot." 
 Laxley hummed something about "taste." Aunt Bel led 
 from the theme by a lively anecdote. 
 
 After breakfast the party broke into knots, and canvassed 
 Laxley's behaviour to Evan, which was generally con- 
 demned. Eose met the young men strolling on the lawn ; 
 and, with her usual bluntness, accused Laxley of wishing 
 to insult her friend. 
 
 "I speak to him — do I not?" said Laxley. "What 
 would you have more? I admit the obligation of speaking 
 to him when I meet him in your house. Out of it — that's 
 another matter." 
 
 " But what is the cause for your conduct to him, Ferdi- 
 nand? " 
 
 "By Jove! " cried Harry, "I wonder he puts up with it: 
 I wouldn't. I'd have a shot with you, my boy." 
 
 "Extremely honoured," said Laxley. "But neither you 
 nor I care to fight tailors." 
 
 "Tailors!" exclaimed Eose. There was a sharp twitch 
 in her body, as if she had been stung or struck. 
 
 "Look here, Eose," said Laxley; "I meet him, he insults 
 me, and to get out of the consequences tells me he's the son 
 of a tailor, and a tailor himself; knowing that it ties my 
 hands. Very well, he puts himself hors de combat to save 
 his bones. Let him unsay it, and choose whether he'll 
 apologize or not, and I'll treat him accordingly. At pres- 
 ent I'm not bound to do more than respect the house I find 
 he has somehow got admission to." 
 
 "It's clear it was that other fellow," said Harry, casting 
 a side-glance up at the Countess's window.
 
 170 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Kose looked straight at Laxley, and abruptly turned on 
 her heel. 
 
 In the afternoon, Lady Jocelyn sent a message to Evan 
 that she wished to see him. Kose was with her mother. 
 Lady Jocelyn had only to say, that if he thought his friend 
 a suitable tutor for Miss Bonner, they would be happy to 
 give him the office at Beckley Court. Glad to befriend poor 
 Jack, Evan gave the needful assurances, and was requested 
 to go and fetch him forthwith. When he left the room, 
 Rose marched out silently beside him. 
 
 "Will you ride over with me, Rose?" he said, though 
 scarcely anxious that she should see Mr. Raikes immedi- 
 ately. 
 
 The singular sharpness of her refusal astonished him 
 none the less. 
 
 "Thank you, no; I would rather not." 
 
 A lover is ever ready to suspect that water has been 
 thrown on the fire that burns for him in the bosom of his 
 darling. Sudden as the change was, it was very decided'. 
 His sensitive ears were pained by the absence of his Chris- 
 tian name, which her lips had lavishly made sweet to him. 
 
 He stopped in his walk. 
 
 " You spoke of riding to Eallowfield. Is it possible you 
 don't want me to bring my friend here? There's time to 
 prevent it." 
 
 Judged by the Countess de Saldar, the behaviour of this 
 well-born English maid was anything but well-bred. She 
 absolutely shrugged her shoulders and marched a-head of 
 him into the conservatory, where she began smelling at 
 flowers and plucking off sere leaves. 
 
 In such cases a young man always follows ; as her womanly 
 instinct must have told her, for she expressed no surprise 
 when she heard his voice two minutes after. 
 
 "Rose! what have I done?" 
 
 "Nothing at all," she said, sweeping her eyes over his a 
 moment, and resting them on the plants. 
 
 " I must have uttered something that has displeased you." 
 
 "No." 
 
 Brief negatives are not re-assuring to a lover's uneasy 
 mind. 
 
 " I beg you — Be frank with me, Rose ! "
 
 IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 171 
 
 A flame of the vanished fire shone in her face, but sub- 
 sided, and she shook her head darkly. 
 
 " Have you any objection to my friend? " 
 
 Her fingers grew petulant with an orange leaf. Eyeing 
 a spot on it, she said hesitatingly: 
 
 "Any friend of yours I am sure I should like to help. 
 But — but I wish you wouldn't associate with that — that 
 kind of friend. It gives people all sorts of suspicions." 
 
 Evan drew a sharp breath. 
 
 The voices of Master Alec and Miss Dorothy were heard 
 shouting on the lawn. Alec gave Dorothy the slip and 
 approached the conservatory on tip-toe, holding his hand 
 out behind him to enjoin silence and secrecy. The pair 
 could witness the scene through the glass before Evan 
 spoke. 
 
 "What suspicions?" he asked. 
 
 Rose looked up, as if the harshness of his tone pleased 
 her. 
 
 "Do you like red roses best, or white?" was her answer, 
 moving to a couple of trees in pots. 
 
 " Can't make up your mind? " she continued, and plucked 
 both a white and red rose, saying: "There! choose your 
 colour by-and-by, and ask Juley to sew the one you choose 
 in your button-hole." 
 
 She laid the roses in his hand, and walked away. She 
 must have known that there was a burden of speech on his 
 tongue. She saw him move to follow her, but this time she 
 did not linger, and it may be inferred that she wished to 
 hear no more. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 
 
 The only philosophic method of discovering what a young 
 woman means, and what is in her mind, is that zigzag pro- 
 cess of inquiry conducted by following her actions, for she 
 can tell you nothing, and if she does not want to know a
 
 172 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 particular matter, it must be a strong beam from the cen- 
 tral system of facts that shall penetrate her. Clearly there 
 was a disturbance in the bosom of Eose Jocelyn, and one 
 might fancy that amiable mirror as being wilfully ruffled 
 to confuse a thing it was asked by the heavens to reflect : 
 a good fight fought by all young people at a certain period, 
 and now and then by an old fool or two. The young it 
 seasons and strengthens; the old it happily kills off; and 
 thus, what is, is made to work harmoniously with what we 
 would have be. 
 
 After quitting Evan, Eose hied to her friend Jenny 
 Graine, and in the midst of sweet millinery talk, darted 
 the odd question, whether baronets or knights ever were 
 tradesmen: to which Scottish Jenny, entirely putting aside 
 the shades of beatified aldermen and the illustrious list of 
 mayors that have welcomed royalty, replied that it was a 
 thing quite impossible. Eose then wished to know if 
 tailors were thought worse of than other tradesmen. 
 Jenny, premising that she was no authority, stated she 
 imagined she had heard that they were. 
 
 "Why?" said Eose, no doubt because she was desirous 
 of seeing justice dealt to that class. But Jenny's bosom 
 was a smooth reflector of facts alone. 
 
 Eose pondered, and said with compressed eagerness, 
 "Jenny, do you think you could ever bring yourself to 
 consent to care at all for anybody ever talked of as belong- 
 ing to them? Tell me." 
 
 Now Jenny had come to Beckley Court to meet William 
 Harvey: she was therefore sufficiently soft to think she 
 could care for him whatever his origin were, and composed 
 in the knowledge that no natal stigma was upon him to try 
 the strength of her affection. Designing to generalize, as 
 women do (and seem tempted to do most when they are 
 secretly speaking from their own emotions), she said, shyly 
 moving her shoulders, with a forefinger laying down the 
 principle : 
 
 " You know, my dear, if one esteemed such a person very 
 very much, and were quite sure, without any doubt, that he 
 liked you in return — that is, completely liked you, and was 
 quite devoted, and made no concealment — I mean, if he was 
 very superior, and like other men — you know what I mean
 
 IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 173 
 
 — and had none of the cringing ways some of them have — 
 I mean, supposing him gay and handsome, taking " 
 
 " Just like William," Rose cut her short; and we may 
 guess her to have had some one in her head for her to con- 
 ceive that Jenny must be speaking of any one in particular. 
 
 A young lady who can have male friends, as well as 
 friends of her own sex, is not usually pressing and secret 
 in her confidences, possibly because such a young lady is 
 not always nursing baby-passions, and does not require her 
 sex's coddling and posseting to keep them alive. With 
 Rose love will be full grown when it is once avowed, and 
 will know where to go to be nourished. 
 
 "Merely an idea I had," she said to Jenny, who betrayed 
 her mental pre-occupation by putting the question for the 
 questions last. 
 
 Her uncle Melville next received a visit from the rest- 
 less young woman. To him she spoke not a word of the 
 inferior classes, but as a special favourite of the diploma- 
 tist's, begged a gift of him for her proximate birthday. 
 Pushed to explain what it was, she said, " It's something I 
 want you to do for a friend of mine, Uncle Mel." 
 
 The diplomatist instanced a few of the modest requests 
 little maids prefer to people they presume to have power 
 to grant. 
 
 "No, it's nothing nonsensical," said Kose; "I want you 
 to get my friend Evan an appointment. You can if you 
 like, you know, Uncle Mel, and it's a shame to make him 
 lose his time when he's young and does his work so well — 
 that you can't deny! Now, please, be positive, Uncle Mel. 
 You know I hate — I have no faith in your 'nous verrons. } 
 Say you will, and at once." 
 
 The diplomatist pretended to have his weather-eye awa- 
 kened. 
 
 "You seem very anxious about feathering the young 
 fellow's nest, Eosey?" 
 
 "There," cried Rose, with a maiden's mature experience 
 of us, "isn't that just like men? They never can believe 
 you can be entirely disinterested ! " 
 
 "Hulloa!" the diplomatist sung out, "I didn't say any- 
 thing, Rosey." 
 
 She reddened at her hastiness, but retrieved it by saying :
 
 174 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "No, but you listen to your wife; you know you do, 
 Uncle Mel; and now there's Aunt Shorne and the other 
 women, who make you think just what they like about 
 me, because they hate Mama." 
 
 "Don't use strong words, my dear." 
 
 " But it's abominable ! " cried Kose. " They asked Mama 
 yesterday what Evan's being here meant? Why, of course, 
 he's your secretary, and my friend, and Mama very prop- 
 erly stopped them, and so will I ! As for me, I intend to 
 stay at Beckley, I can tell you, dear old boy." Uncle Mel 
 had a soft arm round his neck, and was being fondled. 
 " And I'm not going to be bred up to go into a harem, you 
 may be sure." 
 
 The diplomatist whistled, " You talk your mother with 
 a vengeance, Rosey." 
 
 "And she's the only sensible woman I know," said Rose. 
 "Now promise me — in earnest. Don't let them mislead 
 you, for you know you're quite a child, out of your politics, 
 and I shall take you in hand myself. Why, now, think, 
 Uncle Mel! wouldn't any girl, as silly as they make me 
 out, hold her tongue — not talk of him, as I do ; and because 
 I really do feel for him as a friend. See the difference be- 
 tween me and Juley ! " 
 
 It was a sad sign if Rose was growing a bit of a hypo- 
 crite, but this instance of Juliana's different manner of 
 showing her feelings toward Evan would have quieted sus- 
 picion in shrewder men, for Juliana watched Evan's shadow, 
 and it was thought by two or three at Beckley Court, that 
 Evan would be conferring a benefit on all by carrying off 
 the romantically-inclined but little presentable young lady. 
 
 The diplomatist, with a placid " Well, well ! " ultimately 
 promised to do his best for Rose's friend, and then Rose 
 said, "Now I leave you to the Countess," and went and sat 
 with her mother and Drummond Forth. The latter was 
 strange in his conduct to Evan. While blaming Laxley's 
 unmannered behaviour, he seemed to think Laxley had 
 grounds for it, and treated Evan with a sort of cynical def- 
 erence that had, for the last couple of days, exasperated 
 Rose. 
 
 "Mama, you must speak to Ferdinand," she burst upon 
 the conversation, " Drummond is afraid to — he can stand
 
 m WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 175 
 
 by and see my friend insulted. Ferdinand is insufferable 
 with his pride — he's jealous of everybody who has man- 
 ners, and Drummond approves him, and I will not bear it." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn hated household worries, and quietly re- 
 marked that the young men must fight it out together. 
 
 "No, but it's your duty to interfere, Mama," said Rose; 
 "and I know you will when I tell you that Ferdinand 
 declares my friend Evan is a tradesman — beneath his 
 notice. Why, it insults me!" 
 
 Lady Jocelyn looked out from a lofty window on such 
 veritable squabbles of boys and girls as Eose revealed. 
 
 " Can't you help them to run on smoothly while they're 
 here?" she said to Drummond, and he related the scene at 
 the Green Dragon. 
 
 " I think I heard he was the son of Sir Something Har- 
 rington, Devonshire people," said Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 "Yes, he is," cried Eose, "or closely related. I'm sure 
 I understood the Countess that it was so. She brought the 
 paper with the death in it to us in London, and shed tears 
 over it." 
 
 "She showed it in the paper, and shed tears over it?" 
 said Drummond, repressing an inclination to laugh. " Was 
 her father's title given in full?" 
 
 " Sir Abraham Harrington," replied Eose. " I think she 
 said father, if the word wasn't too common-place for her." 
 
 " You can ask old Tom when he comes, if you are anxious 
 to know," said Drummond to her ladyship. "His brother 
 married one of the sisters. By the way, he's coming, too. 
 He ought to clear up the mystery." 
 
 " Now you're sneering, Drummond," said Eose : " for you 
 know there's no mystery to clear up." 
 
 Drummond and Lady Jocelyn began talking of old Tom 
 Cogglesby, whom, it appeared, the former knew intimately, 
 and the latter had known. 
 
 " The Cogglesbys are sons of a cobbler, Eose," said Lady 
 Jocelyn. " You must try and be civil to them." 
 
 " Of course I shall, Mama," Eose answered seriously. 
 
 "And help the poor Countess to bear their presence as 
 well as possible," said Drummond. " The Harringtons have 
 had to mourn a dreadful mesalliance. Pity the Countess ! " 
 
 "Oh! the Countess! the Countess!" exclaimed Eose to
 
 176 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Drummond's pathetic shake of the head. She and Drum- 
 mond were fully agreed about the Countess; Drummond 
 mimicking the lady : " In verity, she is most mellifluous ! " 
 while Rose sugared her lips and leaned gracefully forward 
 with "De Saldar, let me petition you — since we must en- 
 dure our title — since it is not to be your Louisa ? " and her 
 eyes sought the ceiling, and her hand slowly melted into 
 her drapery, as the Countess was wont to effect it. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn laughed, but said: "You're too hard upon 
 the Countess. The female euphuist is not to be met with 
 every day. It's a different kind from the Precieuse. She 
 is not a Precieuse. She has made a capital selection of her 
 vocabulary from Johnson, and does not work it badly, if we 
 may judge by Harry and Melville. Euphuism in ' woman ' 
 is the popular ideal of a Duchess. She has it by nature, or 
 she has studied it : and if so, you must respect her abilities." 
 
 « Y es — Harry ! " said Rose, who was angry at a loss of 
 influence over her rough brother, "any one could manage 
 Harry ! and Uncle Mel's a goose. You should see what a 
 1 female euphuist ' Dorry is getting. She says in the Coun- 
 tess's hearing : < Rose ! I should in verity wish to play, if it 
 were pleasing to my sweet cousin ? ' I'm ready to die with 
 laughing. I don't do it, Mama." 
 
 The Countess, thus being discussed, was closeted with old 
 Mrs. Bonner: not idle. Like Hannibal in Italy, she had 
 crossed her Alps in attaining Beckley Court, and here in 
 the enemy's country the wary general found herself under 
 the necessity of throwing up entrenchments to fly to in case 
 of defeat. Sir Abraham Harrington of Torquay, who had 
 helped her to cross the Alps, became a formidable barrier 
 against her return. 
 
 Meantime Evan was riding over to Eallowfield, and as he 
 rode under black visions between the hedgeways crowned 
 with their hop-garlands, a fragrance of roses saluted his 
 nostril, and he called to mind the red and the white the 
 peerless representative of the two had given him, and which 
 he had thrust sullenly in his breast-pocket: and he drew 
 them out to look at them reproachfully and sigh farewell to 
 all the roses of life, when in company with them he found 
 in his hand the forgotten letter delivered to him on the 
 cricket-field the day of the memorable match. He smelt
 
 IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 177 
 
 at the roses, and turned the letter this way and that. His 
 name was correctly worded on the outside. With an odd 
 reluctance to open it, he kept trifling over the flowers, and 
 then broke the broad seal, and these are the words that met 
 his eyes : 
 
 " Mr. Evan Harrington. 
 
 " You have made up your mind to be a tailor, instead of 
 a Tomnoddy. You're right. Not too many men in the 
 world — plenty of nincompoops. 
 
 " Don't be made a weathercock of by a parcel of women. 
 I want to find a man worth something. If you go on with 
 it, you shall end by riding in your carriage, and cutting it 
 as fine as any of them. I'll take care your belly is not 
 punished while you're about it. 
 
 " From the time your name is over your shop, I give you 
 3001. per annum. 
 
 " Or stop. There's nine of you. They shall have 40Z. per 
 annum apiece, 9 times 40, eh ? That's better than 300Z., if 
 you know how to reckon. Don't you wish it was ninety- 
 nine tailors to a man ! I could do that too, and it would 
 not break me ; so don't be a proud young ass, or I'll throw 
 my money to the geese. Lots of them in the world. How 
 many geese to a tailor ? 
 
 " Go on for five years, and I double it. 
 
 " Give it up, and I give you up. 
 
 " No question about me. The first tailor can be paid his 
 40?. in advance, by applying at the offices of Messrs. Grist, 
 Gray's Inn Square, Gray's Inn. Let him say he is tailor 
 No. 1, and show this letter, signed Agreed, with your name 
 in full at bottom. This will do — money will be paid — no 
 questions one side or other. So on — the whole nine. The 
 end of the year they can give a dinner to their acquaint- 
 ance. Send in bill to Messrs. Grist. 
 
 " The advice to you to take the cash according to terms 
 mentioned is advice of 
 
 "A Friend." 
 
 " P. S. You shall have your wine. Consult among your- 
 selves, and carry it by majority what wine it's to be. Five 
 carries it. Dozen and half per tailor, per annum — that's 
 the limit." 
 
 12
 
 178 EVAN HAEEINGTON 
 
 It was certainly a very hot day. The pores of his skin 
 were prickling, and his face was fiery ; and yet he increased 
 his pace, and broke into a wild gallop for a mile or so ; then 
 suddenly turned his horse's head back for Beckley. The 
 secret of which evolution was, that he had caught the idea 
 of a plotted insult of Laxley's in the letter, for when the 
 blood is up we are drawn the way the tide sets strongest, 
 and Evan was prepared to swear that Laxley had written 
 the letter, because he was burning to chastise the man who 
 had injured him with Rose. 
 
 Sure that he was about to confirm his suspicion, he read 
 it again, gazed upon Beckley Court in the sultry light, and 
 turned for Fallowfield once more, devising to consult Mr. 
 John Raikes on the subject. 
 
 The letter had a smack of crabbed age hardly counter- 
 feit. The savour of an old eccentric sour generosity was 
 there. Evan fell into bitter laughter at the idea of Rose 
 glancing over his shoulder and asking him what nine of 
 him to a man meant. He heard her clear voice pursuing 
 him. He could not get away from the mocking sound of 
 Rose beseeching him to instruct her on that point. How 
 if the letter were genuine ? He began to abhor the sight 
 and touch of the paper, for it struck division cold as death 
 between him and his darling. He saw now the immeas- 
 urable hopes his residence at Beckley had lured him to. 
 Rose had slightly awakened him : this letter was blank day 
 to his soul. He saw the squalid shop, the good, stern, bar- 
 ren-spirited mother, the changeless drudgery, the existence 
 which seemed indeed no better than what the ninth of a 
 man was fit for. The influence of his mother came on him 
 once more. Dared he reject the gift if true ? No spark of 
 gratitude could he feel, but chained, dragged at the heels 
 of his fate, he submitted to think it true ; resolving the 
 next moment that it was a fabrication and a trap : but he 
 flung away the roses. 
 
 As idle as a painted cavalier upon a painted drop-scene, 
 the figure of Mr. John Raikes was to be observed leaning 
 with crossed legs against a shady pillar of the Green Dragon ; 
 eyeing alternately, with an indifference he did not care to 
 conceal, the assiduous pecking in the dust of some cocks 
 and hens that had strayed from the yard of the inn, and
 
 IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 179 
 
 the sleepy blinking in the sun of an old dog at his feet : 
 nor did Evan's appearance discompose the sad sedateness 
 of his demeanour. 
 
 " Yes ; I am here still," he answered Evan's greeting, 
 with a flaccid gesture. "Don't excite me too much. A 
 little at a time. I can't bear it ! " 
 
 " How now ? What is it now, Jack ? " said Evan. 
 
 Mr. Eaikes pointed at the dog. " I've made a bet with 
 myself he won't wag his tail within the next ten minutes. 
 I beg of you, Harrington, to remain silent for both our 
 sakes." 
 
 Evan was induced to look at the dog, and the dog looked 
 at him, and gently moved his tail. 
 
 "I've lost!" cried Raikes, in languid anguish. "He's 
 getting excited. He'll go mad. We're not accustomed to 
 this in Fallowfield." 
 
 Evan dismounted, and was going to tell him the news he 
 had for him, when his attention was distracted by the sight 
 of Rose's maid, Polly Wheedle, splendidly bonneted, who 
 slipped past them into the inn, after repulsing Jack's care- 
 less attempt to caress her chin ; which caused him to tell 
 Evan that he could not get on without the society of intel- 
 lectual women. 
 
 Evan called a boy to hold the horse. 
 
 " Have you seen her before, Jack ? " 
 
 Jack replied : " Once. Your pensioner up-stairs she 
 comes to visit. I do suspect there kinship is betwixt them. 
 Ay ! one might swear them sisters. She's a relief to the 
 monotony of the petrified street — the old man with the 
 brown-gaitered legs and the doubled-up old woman with 
 the crutch. I heard the London horn this morning." 
 
 Evan thrust the letter in his hands, telling him to read 
 and form an opinion on it, and went in the track of Miss 
 Wheedle. 
 
 Mr. Raikes resumed his station against the pillar, and 
 held the letter out on a level with his thigh. Acting (as 
 it was his nature to do off the stage), he had not exagger- 
 ated his profound melancholy. Of a light soil and with 
 a tropical temperament, he had exhausted all lively recol- 
 lection of his brilliant career, and, in the short time since 
 Evan had parted with him, sunk abjectly down into the
 
 180 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 belief that he was fixed in Fallowfield for life. His spirit 
 pined for agitation and events. The horn of the London 
 coach had sounded distant metropolitan glories in the ears 
 of the exile in rustic parts. 
 
 Sighing heavily, Eaikes opened the letter, in simple obedi- 
 ence to the wishes of his friend; for he would have pre- 
 ferred to stand contemplating his own state of hopeless 
 stagnation. The sceptical expression he put on when he 
 had read the letter through must not deceive us. John 
 Raikes had dreamed of a beneficent eccentric old gentleman 
 for many years : one against whom, haply, he had bumped 
 in a crowded thoroughfare, and had with cordial politeness 
 begged pardon of ; had then picked up his walking-stick ; 
 restored it, venturing a witty remark ; retired, accidentally 
 dropping his card-case ; subsequently, to his astonishment 
 and gratification, receiving a pregnant missive from that 
 old gentleman's lawyer. Or it so happened that Mr. Raikes 
 met the old gentleman at a tavern, and, by the exercise of 
 a signal dexterity, relieved him from a bone in his throat, 
 and reluctantly imparted his address on issuing from the 
 said tavern. Or perhaps it was a lonely highway where the 
 old gentleman walked, and John Raikes had his name in 
 the papers for a deed of heroism, nor was man ungrateful. 
 Since he had eaten up his uncle, this old gentleman of his 
 dreams walked in town and country — only, and alas ! Mr. 
 Raikes could never encounter him in the flesh. The muscles 
 of his face, therefore, are no index to the real feelings of 
 the youth when he had thoroughly mastered the contents of 
 the letter, and reflected that the dream of his luck — his 
 angelic old gentleman — had gone and wantonly bestowed 
 himself upon Evan Harrington, instead of the expectant 
 and far worthier John Raikes. Worthier inasmuch as he 
 gave him credence for existing long ere he knew of him 
 and beheld him manifest. 
 
 Raikes retreated to the vacant parlour of the Green 
 Dragon, and there Evan found him staring at the unfolded 
 letter, his head between his cramped fists, with a contrac- 
 tion of his mouth. Evan was troubled by what he had seen 
 up-stairs, and did not speak till Jack looked up and said, 
 " Oh, there you are." 
 
 " Well, what do you think, Jack ?"
 
 IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 181 
 
 "Yes — it's all right," Raikes rejoined in most matter-of- 
 course tone, and then he stepped to the window, and puffed 
 a very deep breath indeed, and glanced from the straight 
 line of the street to the heavens, with whom, injured as he 
 was, he felt more at home now that he knew them capable 
 of miracles. 
 
 " Is it a bad joke played upon me?" said Evan. 
 
 Raikes upset a chair. "It's quite childish. You're 
 made a gentleman for life, and you ask if it's a joke played 
 upon you ! It's maddening ! There — there goes my hat ! " 
 
 With a vehement kick, Mr. Raikes despatched his ancient 
 head-gear to the other end of the room, saying that he must 
 have some wine, and would ; and disdainful was his look at 
 Evan, when the latter attempted to reason him into economy. 
 He ordered the wine ; drank a glass, which coloured a new 
 mood in him ; and affecting a practical manner, said : 
 
 "I confess I have been a little hurt with you, Harrington. 
 You left me stranded on the desert isle. I thought myself 
 abandoned. I thought I should never see anything but the 
 lengthening of an endless bill on my landlady's face — my 
 sole planet. I was resigned till I heard my friend ' to-lootl ' 
 this morning. He kindled recollection. But, this is a tidy 
 Port, and that was a delectable sort of young lady that you 
 were riding with when we parted last ! She laughs like the 
 true metal. I suppose you know it's the identical damsel I 
 met the day before, and owe it too for my run on the downs 
 
 — I've a compliment ready made for her." 
 
 "You think that letter written in good faith?" said 
 Evan. 
 
 " Look here." Mr. Raikes put on a calmness. " You got 
 up the other night, and said you were a tailor — a devotee 
 of the cabbage and the goose. Why the notion didn't strike 
 me is extraordinary — I ought to have known my man. 
 However, the old gentleman who gave the supper — he's 
 evidently one of your beastly rich old ruffianly republicans 
 
 — spent part of his time in America, I dare say. Put two 
 and two together." 
 
 But as Harrington desired plain prose, Mr. Raikes tamed 
 his imagination to deliver it. He pointed distinctly at the 
 old gentleman who gave the supper as the writer of the 
 letter. Evan, in return, confided to him his history and
 
 182 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 present position, and Mr. Raikes, without cooling to his 
 fortunate friend, became a trifle patronizing. 
 
 "You said your father — I think I remember at old Cud- 
 ford's — was a cavalry officer, a bold dragoon ? " 
 
 " I did," replied Evan. " I told a lie." 
 
 " We knew it ; but we feared your prowess, Harrington." 
 
 Then they talked over the singular letter uninterruptedly, 
 and Evan, weak among his perplexities of position and 
 sentiment: wanting money for the girl up-stairs, for this 
 distasteful comrade's bill at the Green Dragon, and for his 
 own immediate requirements, and with the bee buzzing of 
 Eose in his ears : " She despises you," consented in a des- 
 peration ultimately to sign his name to it, and despatch 
 Jack forthwith to Messrs. Grist. 
 
 " You'll find it's an imposition," he said, beginning less to 
 think it so, now that his name was put to the hated mon- 
 strous thing ; which also now fell to pricking at curiosity. 
 For he was in the early steps of his career, and if his lady, 
 holding to pride, despised him — as, he was tortured into 
 the hypocrisy of confessing, she justly might, — why, then, 
 unless he was the sport of a farceur, here seemed a gilding 
 of the path of duty : he could be serviceable to friends. 
 His claim on fair young Rose's love had grown in the short 
 while so prodigiously asinine that it was a minor matter to 
 constitute himself an old eccentric's puppet. 
 
 "No more an imposition than it's 50 of Virgil," quoth the 
 rejected usher. 
 
 " It smells of a plot," said Evan. 
 
 "It's the best joke that will be made in my time," said 
 Mr. Raikes, rubbing his hands. 
 
 " And now listen to your luck," said Evan ; " I wish mine 
 were like it ! " and Jack heard of Lady Jocelyn's offer. 
 He heard also that the young lady he was to instruct was 
 an heiress, and immediately inspected his garments, and 
 showed the sacred necessity there was for him to refit in 
 London, under the hands of scientific tailors. Evan wrote 
 him an introduction to Mr. Goren, counted out the contents 
 of his purse (which Jack had reduced in his study of the 
 pastoral game of skittles, he confessed), and calculated in a 
 niggardly way, how far it would go to supply the fellow's 
 wants ; sighing, as he did it, to think of Jack installed at
 
 IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR 183 
 
 Beckley Court, while Jack, comparing his luck with Evan's, 
 had discovered it to be dismally inferior. 
 
 " Oh, confound those bellows you keep blowing ! " he ex- 
 claimed. "I wish to be decently polite, Harrington, but 
 you annoy me. Excuse me, pray, but the most unexampled 
 case of a lucky beggar that ever was known — and to hear 
 him panting and ready to whimper! — it's outrageous. 
 You've only to put up your name, and there you are — an 
 independent gentleman! By Jove! this isn't such a dull 
 world. John Raikes ! thou livest in times. I feel warm in 
 the sun of your prosperity, Harrington. Now listen to me. 
 Propound thou no inquiries anywhere about the old fellow 
 who gave the supper. Humour his whim — he won't have 
 it. All Fallowfield is paid to keep him secret ; I know it 
 for a fact. I plied my rustic friends every night. 'Eat 
 you yer victuals, and drink yer beer, and none o' yer pryin's 
 and peerin's among we ! ' That's my rebuff from Farmer 
 Broadmead. And that old boy knows more than he will 
 tell, i" saw his cunning old eye on-cock. Be silent, Har- 
 rington. Let discretion be the seal of thy luck." 
 
 " You can reckon on my silence," said Evan. " I believe 
 in no such folly. Men don't do these things." 
 
 " Ha ! " went Mr. Raikes contemptuously. 
 
 Of the two he was the f oolisher fellow ; but quacks have 
 cured incomprehensible maladies, and foolish fellows have 
 an instinct for eccentric actions. 
 
 Telling Jack to finish the wine, Evan rose to go. 
 
 " Did you order the horse to be fed ? " 
 
 " Did I order the feeding of the horse ? " said Jack, rising 
 and yawning. " No, I forgot him. Who can think of 
 horses now ? " 
 
 "Poor brute!" muttered Evan, and went out to see to 
 him. 
 
 The ostler had required no instructions to give the horse 
 a feed of corn. Evan mounted, and rode out of the yard to 
 where Jack was standing, bare-headed, in his old posture 
 against the pillar, of which the shade had rounded, and the 
 evening sun shone full on him over a black cloud. He now 
 looked calmly gay. 
 
 "I'm laughing at the agricultural Broadmead!" he said: 
 "'None o' yer pryin's and peerin's!' He thought my
 
 184 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 powers of amusing prodigious. 'Dang 'un, he do maak a 
 chap laugh ! ' Well, Harrington, that sort of homage isn't 
 much, I admit." 
 
 Raikes pursued: "There's something in a pastoral life, 
 after all." 
 
 " Pastoral ! " muttered Evan. " I was speaking of you at 
 Beckley, and hope when you're there you won't make me 
 regret my introduction of you. Keep your mind on old Cud- 
 ford's mutton-bone." 
 
 " I perfectly understood you," said Jack. " I'm presumed 
 to be in luck. Ingratitude is not my fault — I'm afraid 
 ambition is ! " 
 
 "Console yourself with it or what you can get till we 
 me et — here or in London. But the Dragon shall be the 
 address for both of us," Evan said, and nodded, trotting off. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 IN WHICH EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 
 
 The young cavalier perused that letter again in memory. 
 Genuine, or a joke of the enemy, it spoke wakening facts to 
 him. He leapt from the spell Rose had encircled him 
 with. Strange that he should have rushed into his dream 
 with eyes open ! But he was fully awake now. He would 
 speak his last farewell to her, and so end the earthly happi- 
 ness he paid for in deep humiliation, and depart into that 
 grey cold mist where his duty lay. It is thus that young 
 men occasionally design to burst from the circle of the pas- 
 sions, and think that they have done it, when indeed they 
 are but making the circle more swiftly. Here was Evan 
 mouthing his farewell to Rose, using phrases so profoundly 
 humble, that a listener would have taken them for bitter 
 irony. He said adieu to her, — pronouncing it with a pathos 
 to melt scornful princesses. He tried to be honest, and was 
 as much so as his disease permitted. 
 
 The black cloud had swallowed the sun ; and turning off to 
 the short cut across the downs, Evan soon rode between the
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 185 
 
 wind and the storm. He could see the heavy burden breast- 
 ing the beacon-point, round which curled leaden arms, and a 
 low internal growl saluted him advancing. The horse laid 
 back his ears. A last gust from the opposing quarter shook 
 the furzes and the clumps of long pale grass, and straight fell 
 columns of rattling white rain, and in a minute he was closed 
 in by a hissing ring. Men thus pelted abandon without pro- 
 test the hope of retaining a dry particle of clothing on their 
 persons. Completely drenched, the track lost, everything in 
 dense gloom beyond the white enclosure that moved with 
 him, Evan flung the reins to the horse, and curiously watched 
 him footing on ; for physical discomfort balanced his mental 
 perturbation, and he who had just been chafing was now 
 quite calm. 
 
 Was that a shepherd crouched under the thorn? The 
 place betokened a shepherd, but it really looked like a bundle 
 of the opposite sex ; and it proved to be a woman gathered 
 up with her gown over her head. Apparently, Mr. Evan 
 Harrington was destined for these encounters. The thunder 
 rolled as he stopped by her side and called out to her. She 
 heard him, for she made a movement, but without sufficiently 
 disengaging her head of its covering to show him a part of 
 her face. 
 
 Bellowing against the thunder, Evan bade her throw back 
 her garment, and stand and give him up her arms, that 
 he might lift her on the horse behind him. 
 
 There came a muffled answer, on a big sob, as it seemed. 
 And as if heaven paused to hear, the storm was mute. 
 
 Could he have heard correctly ? The words he fancied he 
 had heard sobbed were : 
 
 " Best bonnet." 
 
 The elements hereupon crashed deep and long from end to 
 end, like a table of Titans passing a jest. 
 
 Rain-drops, hard as hail, were spattering a pool on her 
 head. Evan stooped his shoulder, seized the soaked garment, 
 and pulled it back, revealing the features of Polly Wheedle, 
 and the splendid bonnet in ruins — all limp and stained. 
 
 Polly blinked at him penitentially. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Harrington ; oh, ain't I punished ! " she whim- 
 pered. 
 
 In truth, the maid resembled a well-watered poppy .
 
 186 EVAN HAERINGTON 
 
 Evan told her to stand up close to the horse, and Polly 
 stood up close, looking like a creature that expected a whip- 
 ping. She was suffering, poor thing, from that abject sense 
 of the lack of a circumference, which takes the pride out of 
 women more than anything. Note, that in all material 
 fashions, as in all moral observances, women demand a cir- 
 cumference, and enlarge it more and more as civilization 
 advances. Kespect the mighty instinct, however mysterious 
 it seem. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Harrington, don't laugh at me," said Polly. 
 
 Evan assured her that he was seriously examining her 
 bonnet. 
 
 " It's the bonnet of a draggletail," said Polly, giving up 
 her arms, and biting her under lip for the lift. 
 
 With some display of strength, Evan got the lean creature 
 up behind him, and Polly settled there, and squeezed him 
 tightly with her arms, excusing the liberty she took. 
 
 They mounted the beacon, and rode along the ridge whence 
 the West became visible, and a washed edge of red over 
 Beckley church spire and the woods of Beckley Court.. 
 
 " And what have you been doing to be punished ? What 
 brought you here ? " said Evan. 
 
 " Somebody drove me to Eallowfield to see my poor sister 
 Susan," returned Polly, half crying. 
 
 " Well, did he bring you here and leave you ? " 
 
 " No : he wasn't true to his appointment the moment I 
 wanted to go back ; and I, to pay him out, I determined I'd 
 walk it where he shouldn't overtake me, and on came the 
 storm .... And my gown spoilt, and such a bonnet ! " 
 
 " Who was the somebody ? " 
 
 " He's a Mr. Nicholas Prim, sir." 
 
 "Mr. Nicholas Frim will be very unhappjr, I should 
 think." 
 
 " Yes, that's one comfort," said Polly ruefully, drying her 
 eyes. 
 
 Closely surrounding a young man as a young woman 
 must be when both are on the same horse, they, as a rule, 
 talk confidentially together in a very short time. His " Are 
 you cold ? " when Polly shivered, and her " Oh, no ; not very," 
 and a slight screwing of her body up to him, as she spoke, 
 to assure him and herself of it, soon made them intimate.
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 187 
 
 " I think Mr. Nicholas Frim mustn't see us riding into 
 Beckley," said Evan. 
 
 " Oh, my gracious ! Ought I to get down, sir ? " Polly 
 made no move, however. 
 
 " Is he jealous ? " 
 
 " Only when I make him, he is." 
 
 " That's very naughty of you." 
 
 " Yes, I know it is — all the Wheedles are. Mother says, 
 we never go right till we've once got in a pickle." 
 
 " You ought to go right from this hour," said Evan. 
 
 "It's 'dizenzy does it," said Polly. "And then we're 
 ashamed to show it. My poor Susan went to stay with her 
 aunt at Bodley, and then at our cousin's at Hillford, and then 
 she was off to Lymport to drown her poor self, I do believe, 
 when you met her. And all because we can't bear to be seen 
 when we're in any of our pickles. I wish you wouldn't look 
 at me, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 " You look very pretty." 
 
 "It's quite impossible I can now," said Polly, with a 
 wretched effort to spread open her collar. " I can see nryself 
 a fright, like my Miss Rose did, making a face in the look- 
 ing-glass when I was undressing her last night. But, do you 
 know, I would much rather Nicholas saw us than somebody." 
 
 "Who's that?" 
 
 " Miss Bonner. She'd never forgive me." 
 
 " Is she so strict ? " 
 
 "She only uses servants for spies," said Polly. "And 
 since my Miss Rose come — though I'm up a step — I'm still 
 a servant, and Miss Bonner'd be in a fury to see my — though 
 I'm sure we're quite respectable, Mr. Harrington — my hav- 
 ing hold of you as I'm obliged to, and can't help myself. 
 But she'd say I ought to tumble off rather than touch her 
 engaged with a little finger." 
 
 " Her engaged ? " cried Evan. 
 
 " Ain't you, sir ? " quoth Polly. " I understand you were 
 going to be, from my lady, the Countess. We all think so 
 at Beckley. Why, look how Miss Bonner looks at you, and 
 she's sure to have plenty of money." 
 
 This was Polly's innocent way of bringing out a word 
 about her own young mistress. 
 
 Evan controlled any denial of his pretensions to the hand
 
 188 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 of Miss Bonner. He said: "Is it your mistress's habit to 
 make faces in the looking-glass ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you how it happened," said Polly. " But I'm 
 afraid I'm in your way, sir. Shall I get off now ? " 
 
 "Not by any means," said Evan. "Make your arm 
 tighter." 
 
 " Will that do ? " asked Polly. 
 
 Evan looked round and met her appealing face, over which 
 the damp locks of hair straggled. The maid was fair : it 
 was fortunate that he was thinking of the mistress. 
 
 "Speak on," said Evan, but Polly put the question 
 whether her face did not want washing, and so earnestly that 
 he had to regard it again, and compromised the case by 
 saying that it wanted kissing by Nicholas Frim, which set 
 Polly's lips in a pout. 
 
 " I'm sure it wants kissing by nobody," she said, adding 
 with a spasm of passion: "Oh! I knoio the colours of my 
 bonnet are all smeared over it, and I'm a dreadful fright." 
 
 Evan failed to adopt the proper measures to make Miss 
 Wheedle' s mind easy with regard to her appearance, and 
 she commenced her story rather languidly. 
 
 " My Miss Kose — what was it I was going to tell ? Oh ! 
 — my Miss Rose. You must know, Mr. Harrington, she's 
 very fond of managing; I can see that, though I haven't 
 known her long before she gave up short frocks ; and she 
 said to Mr. Laxley, who's going to marry her some day, 
 ' She didn't like my lady, the Countess, taking Mr. Harry to 
 herself like that.' I can't abear to speak his name, but I 
 suppose he's not a bit more selfish than the rest of men. 
 So Mr. Laxley said — just like the jealousy of men — they 
 needn't talk of women ! I'm sure nobody can tell what we 
 have to put up with. We mustn't look out of this eye, or 
 out of the other, but they're up and — oh, dear me ! there's 
 such a to-do as never was known — all for nothing ! — " 
 
 " My good girl ! " said Evan, recalling her to the subject- 
 matter with all the patience he could command. 
 
 " Where was I ? " Polly travelled meditatively back. 
 " I do feel a little cold." 
 
 "Come closer," said Evan. "Take this handkerchief — 
 it's the only dry thing I have — cover your chest with it." 
 
 " The shoulders feel wettest," Polly replied, " and they
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 189 
 
 can't be helped. I'll tie it round my neck, if you'll stop, 
 sir. There, now I'm warmer." 
 
 To show how concisely women can narrate when they 
 feel warmer, Polly started off : 
 
 "So, you know, Mr. Harrington, Mr. Laxley said — he 
 said to Miss Rose, ' You have taken her brother, and she 
 has taken yours.' And Miss Rose said, ' That was her own 
 business, and nobody else's.' And Mr. Laxley said, 'He 
 was glad she. thought it a fair exchange.' / heard it all ! 
 And then Miss Rose said — for she can be in a passion about 
 some things — 'What do you mean, Ferdinand,' was her 
 words, ' I insist upon your speaking out.' Miss Rose always 
 will call gentlemen by their Christian names when she likes 
 them ; that's always a sign with her. And he wouldn't tell 
 her. And Miss Rose got awful angry, and she's clever, is 
 my Miss Rose, for what does she do, Mr. Harrington, but 
 begins praising you up so that she knew it must make him 
 mad, only because men can't abide praise of another man 
 when it's a woman that says it — meaning, young lady ; for 
 my Miss Rose has my respect, however familiar she lets her- 
 self be to us that she likes. The others may go and drown 
 themselves. Are you took ill, sir ? " 
 
 " No," said Evan, " I was only breathing." 
 
 "The doctors say it's bad to take such long breaths," 
 remarked artless Polly. "Perhaps my arms are pressing 
 you ? " 
 
 "It's the best thing they can do," murmured Evan, 
 dejectedly. 
 
 " What, sir ? " 
 
 " Go and drown themselves ! " 
 
 Polly screwed her lips, as if she had a pin between them, 
 and continued : 
 
 " Miss Rose was quite sensible when she praised you as 
 her friend; she meant it — every word; and then sudden 
 what does Mr. Laxley do, but say you was something else 
 besides friend — worse or better ; and she was silent, which 
 made him savage, I could hear by his voice. And he said, 
 Mr. Harrington, ' You meant it if she did not.' < No,' says 
 she, < I know better ; he's as honest as the day.' Out he flew 
 and said such things : he said, Mr. Harrington, you wasn't 
 fit to be Miss Rose's friend, even. Then she said, she heard
 
 190 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 he had told lies about you to her Mama, and her aunts; but 
 her Mama, my lady, laughed at him, aud she at her aunts. 
 Then he said you — oh, abominable of him ! " 
 
 " What did he say ? " asked Evan, waking up. 
 
 "Why, if I were to tell my Miss Rose some things of 
 him," Polly went on, " she'd never so much as speak to him 
 another instant." 
 
 " What did he say ? " Evan repeated. 
 
 " I hate him ! " cried Polly. " It's Mr. Laxley that mis- 
 leads Mr. Harry, who has got his good nature, and means 
 no more harm than he can help. Oh, I didn't hear what he 
 said of you, sir. Only I know it was abominable, because 
 Miss Rose was so vexed, and you were her dearest friend." 
 
 " Well, and about the looking-glass ? " 
 
 " That was at night, Mr. Harrington, when I was undress- 
 ing of her. Miss Rose has a beautiful figure, and no need 
 of lacing. But I'd better get down now." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, stay where you are." 
 
 "I tell her she stands as if she'd been drilled for a soldier," 
 Polly quietly continued. " You're squeezing my arm with 
 your elbow, Mr. Harrington. It didn't hurt me. So when 
 I had her nearly undressed, we were talking about this and 
 that, and you amongst 'em — and I, you know, rather like 
 you, sir, if you'll not think me too bold — she started off by 
 asking me what was the nickname people gave to tailors. 
 It was one of her whims. I told her they were called snips 
 — I'm off ! " 
 
 Polly gave a shriek. The horse had reared as if violently 
 stung. 
 
 "Go on," said Evan. "Hold hard, and go on." 
 
 "Snips — Oh! and I told her they were called snips. It 
 is a word that seems to make you hate the idea. I shouldn't 
 like to hear my intended called snip. Oh, he's going to 
 gallop ! " 
 
 And off in a gallop Polly was borne. 
 
 " Well," said Evan, " well ? " 
 
 " I can't, Mr. Harrington ; I have to press you so," cried 
 Polly ; " and I'm bounced so — I shall bite my tongue." 
 
 After a sharp stretch, the horse fell to a canter, and then 
 trotted slowly, and allowed Polly to finish. 
 
 "So Miss Rose was standing sideways to the glass, and
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 191 
 
 she turned her neck, and just as I'd said ' snip/ I saw her 
 saying it in the glass ; and you never saw anything so funny. 
 It was enough to make anybody laugh ; but Miss Rose, she 
 seemed as if she couldn't forget how ugly it had made her 
 look. She covered her face with her hands, and she shud- 
 dered ! It is a word — snip ! that makes you seem to de- 
 spise yourself." 
 
 Beckley was now in sight from the edge of the downs, 
 lying in its foliage dark under the grey sky backed by mo- 
 tionless mounds of vapour. Miss Wheedle to her great sur- 
 prise was suddenly though safely dropped ; and on her 
 return to the ground the damsel instantly ' knew her place/ 
 and curtseyed becoming gratitude for his kindness ; but he 
 was off in a fiery gallop, the gall of Demogorgon in his soul. 
 
 What's that the leaves of the proud old trees of Beckley 
 Court hiss as he sweeps beneath them ? What has suddenly 
 cut him short ? Is he diminished in stature ? Are the 
 lackeys sneering ? The storm that has passed has marvel- 
 lously chilled the air. 
 
 His sister, the Countess, once explained to him what Demo- 
 gorgon was, in the sensation it entailed. " You are skinned 
 alive ! " said the Countess. Evan was skinned alive. Fly, 
 wretched young man ! Summon your pride, and fly ! Fly, 
 noble youth, for whom storms specially travel to tell you 
 that your mistress makes faces in the looking-glass! Fly 
 where human lips and noses are not scornfully distorted, 
 and get thee a new skin, and grow and attain to thy natural 
 height in a more genial sphere ! You, ladies and gentlemen, 
 who may have had a matter to conceal, and find that it is 
 oozing out : you, whose skeleton is seen stalking beside you, 
 you know what it is to be breathed upon: you, too, are 
 skinned alive : but this miserable youth is not only flayed, 
 he is doomed calmly to contemplate the hideous image of 
 himself burning on the face of her he loves ; making beauty 
 ghastly. In vain — for he is two hours behind the dinner- 
 bell — Mr. Burley, the butler, bows and offers him viands and 
 wine. How can he eat, with the phantom of Rose there, cov- 
 ering her head, shuddering, loathing him ? But he must ap- 
 pear in company : he has a coat, if he has not a skin. Let 
 him button it, and march boldly. Our comedies are fre- 
 quently youth's tragedies. We will smile reservedly as we
 
 192 EVAN HARKINGTON 
 
 mark Mr. Evan Harrington step into the midst of the fair 
 society of the drawing-room. Rose is at the piano. Near her 
 reclines the Countess de Saldar, fanning the languors from 
 her cheeks, with a word for the diplomatist on one side, a 
 whisper for Sir John Loring on the other, and a very quiet 
 pair of eyes for everybody. Providence, she is sure, is keep- 
 ing watch to shield her sensitive cuticle ; and she is besides 
 exquisitely happy, albeit outwardly composed : for, in the 
 room sits his Grace the Duke of Belrield, newly arrived. He 
 is talking to her sister, Mrs. Strike, masked by Miss Current. 
 The wife of the Major has come this afternoon, and Andrew 
 Cogglesby, who brought her, chats with Lady Jocelyn like 
 an old acquaintance. 
 
 Evan shakes the hands of his relatives. "Who shall turn 
 over the leaves of the fair singer's music-book ? The young 
 men are in the billiard-room : Drummond is engaged in con- 
 verse with a lovely person with Giorgione hair, which the 
 Countess intensely admires, and asks the diplomatist whether 
 he can see a soupqon of red in it. The diplomatist's taste is 
 for dark beauties : the Countess is dark. 
 
 Evan must do duty by Rose. And now occurred a phenom- 
 enon in him. Instead of shunning her, as he had rejoiced 
 in doing after the Jocasta scene, ere she had wounded him, 
 he had a curious desire to compare her with the phantom 
 that had dispossessed her in his fancy. Unconsciously when 
 he saw her, he transferred the shame that devoured him, 
 from him to her, and gazed coldly at the face that could 
 twist to that despicable contortion. 
 
 He was in love, and subtle love will not be shamed and 
 smothered. Love sits, we must remember, mostly in two 
 hearts at the same time, and the one that is first stirred by 
 any of the passions to wakefulness, may know more of the 
 other than its owner. Why had Rose covered her head and 
 shuddered ? Would the girl feel that for a friend ? If his 
 pride suffered, love was not so downcast ; but to avenge him 
 for the cold she had cast on him, it could be critical, and 
 Evan made his bearing to her a blank. 
 
 This somehow favoured him with Rose. Sheep's eyes are 
 a dainty dish for little maids, and we know how largely they 
 indulge in it; but when they are just a bit doubtful of the 
 quality of the sheep, let the good animal shut his lids forth-
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 193 
 
 with, for a time. Had she not been a little unkind to him 
 in the morning ? She had since tried to help him, and that 
 had appeased her conscience, for in truth he was a good 
 young man. Those very words she mentally pronounced, 
 while he was thinking, " Would she feel it for a friend ? " 
 We dare but guess at the puzzle young women present now 
 and then, but I should say that Evan was nearer the mark, 
 and that the ' good young man ' was a sop she threw to that 
 within her which wanted quieting, and was thereby passably 
 quieted. Perhaps the good young man is offended ? Let us 
 assure him of our disinterested graciousness. 
 
 "Is your friend coming?" she asked, and to his reply 
 said, " I'm glad ; " and pitched upon a new song — one that, 
 by hazard, did not demand his attentions, and he surveyed 
 the company to find a vacant seat with a neighbour. Juley 
 Bonner was curled up on the sofa, looking like a damsel who 
 has the lost third volume of an exciting novel, and is divining 
 the climax. He chose to avoid Miss Bonner. Drummond 
 was leaving the side of the Giorgione lady. Evan passed 
 leisurely, and Drummond said : 
 
 " You know Mrs. Evremonde ? Let me introduce you." 
 
 He was soon in conversation with the glorious-haired 
 dame. 
 
 " Excellently done, my brother ! " thinks the Countess de 
 Saldar. 
 
 Bose sees the matter coolly. What is it to her ? But she 
 has finished with song. Jenny takes her place at the piano ; 
 and, as Bose does not care for instrumental music, she natu- 
 rally talks and laughs with Drummond, and Jenny does not 
 altogether like it, even though she is not playing to the ear 
 of William Harvey, for whom billiards have such attractions ; 
 but, at the close of the performance, Bose is quiet enough, 
 and the Countess observes her sitting, alone, pulling the 
 petals of a flower in her lap, on which her eyes are fixed. 
 Is the doe wounded ? The damsel of the disinterested gra- 
 ciousness is assuredly restless. She starts up and goes out 
 upon the balcony to breathe the night-air, mayhap regard 
 the moon, and no one follows her. 
 
 Had Bose been guiltless of offence, Evan might have left 
 Beckley Court the next day, to cherish his outraged self-love. 
 Love of woman is strongly distinguished from pure egoism 
 
 13
 
 194 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 when it has got a wound : for it will not go into a corner 
 complaining, it will fight its duel on the field or die. Did 
 the young lady know his origin, and scorn him ? He re- 
 solved to stay and teach her that the presumption she had 
 imputed to him was her own mistake. And from this Evan 
 graduated naturally enough the finer stages of self-deception 
 downward. 
 
 A lover must have his delusions, just as a man must have 
 a skin. But here was another singular change in Evan. 
 After his ale-prompted speech in Fallowfield, he was nerved 
 to face the truth in the eyes of all save Rose. Now that the 
 truth had enmeshed his beloved, he turned to battle with it; 
 he was prepared to deny it at any moment ; his burnt flesh 
 was as sensitive as the Countess's. Let Rose accuse him, 
 and he would say, "This is true, Miss Jocelyn — what 
 then ? " and behold Rose confused and dumb ! Let not an- 
 other dare suspect it. For the fire that had scorched him 
 was in some sort healing, though horribly painful ; but con- 
 tact with the general air was not to be endured — was death ! 
 This, I believe, is common in cases of injury by fire. 
 
 So it befell that Evan, meeting Rose the next morning, 
 was playfully asked by her what choice he had made be- 
 tween the white and the red ; and he, dropping on her the 
 shallow eyes of a conventional smile, replied, that unable 
 to decide and form a choice, he had thrown both away ; at 
 which Miss Jocelyn gave him a look in the centre of his 
 brows, let her head slightly droop, and walked off. 
 
 " She can look serious as well as grimace," was all that 
 Evan allowed himself to think, and he strolled out on the 
 lawn with the careless serenity of lovers when they fancy 
 themselves heart-free. 
 
 Rose, whipping the piano in the drawing-room, could see 
 him go to sit by Mrs. Evremonde, till they were joined by 
 Drummond, when he left her and walked with Harry, and 
 apparently shadowed the young gentleman's unreflective 
 face ; after which Harry was drawn away by the appear- 
 ance of that dark star, the Countess de Saldar, whom Rose 
 was beginning to detest. Jenny glided by William Harvey's 
 side, far off. Rose, the young Queen of Friendship, was left 
 deserted on her music-stool for a throne, and when she 
 ceased to hammer the notes she was insulted by a voice that
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 195 
 
 cried from below : " Go on, Rose, it's nice in the sun to hear 
 yon," causing her to close her performances and the instru- 
 ment vigorously. ' ■ 
 
 Rose was much behind her age : she could not tell what 
 was the matter with her. In these little torments young 
 people have to pass through they gain a rapid maturity. 
 Let a girl talk with her own heart an hour, and she is almost 
 a woman. Rose came down-stairs dressed for riding. Lax- 
 ley was doing her the service of smoking one of her rose- 
 trees. Evan stood disengaged, prepared for her summons. 
 She did not notice him, but beckoned to Laxley drooping 
 over a bud, while the curled smoke floated from his lips. 
 
 " The very gracefullest of chimney-pots — is he not ? " 
 says the Countess to Harry, whose immense guffaw fails not 
 to apprise Laxley that something has been said of him, for 
 in his dim state of consciousness absence of the power of 
 retort is the prominent feature, and when he has the sus- 
 picion of malicious tongues at their work, all he can do is 
 silently to resent it. Probably this explains his conduct to 
 Evan. Some youths have an acute memory for things that 
 have shut their mouths. 
 
 The Countess observed to Harry that his dear friend Mr. 
 Laxley appeared, by the cast of his face, to be biting a sour 
 apple. 
 
 "Grapes, you mean?" laughed Harry. "Never mind! 
 she'll bite at him when he comes in for the title." 
 
 " Anything crude will do," rejoined the Countess. " Why 
 are you not courting Mrs. Evremonde, naughty Don ? " 
 
 '•'Oh! she's occupied — castle's in possession. Be- 
 sides — ! " and Harry tried hard to look sly. 
 
 " Come and tell me about her," said the Countess. 
 
 Rose, Laxley, and Evan were standing close together. 
 
 " You really are going alone, Rose ? " said Laxley. 
 
 " Didn't I say so ? — unless you wish to join us ? " She 
 turned upon Evan. 
 
 " I am at your disposal," said Evan. 
 
 Rose nodded briefly. 
 
 " I think I'll smoke the trees," said Laxley, perceptibly 
 huffing. 
 
 " You won't come, Ferdinand ? " 
 
 " I only offered to fill up the gap. One does as well as 
 another."
 
 196 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Kose flicked her whip, and then declared she would not 
 ride at all, and, gathering up her skirts, hurried back to the 
 house. 
 
 As Laxley turned away, Evan stood before him. 
 
 The unhappy fellow was precipitated by the devil of his 
 false position. 
 
 " I think one of us two must quit the field ; if I go I will 
 wait for you," he said. 
 
 " Oh ! I understand," said Laxley. " But if it's what I 
 suppose you to mean, I must decline." 
 
 " I beg to know your grounds." 
 
 " You have tied my hands." 
 
 " You would escape under cover of superior station ? " 
 
 "Escape ! You have only to unsay — tell me you have a 
 right to demand it." 
 
 The battle of the sophist victorious within him was done 
 in a flash, as Evan measured his qualities beside this young 
 man's, and without a sense of lying, said : " I have." 
 
 He spoke firmly. He looked the thing he called himself 
 now. The Countess, too, was a dazzling shield to her 
 brother. The beautiful Mrs. Strike was a completer vindi- 
 cator of him ; though he had queer associates, and talked 
 oddly of his family that night in Fallowfield. 
 
 " Very well, sir ; I admit you manage to annoy me," said 
 Laxley. " I can give you a lesson as well as another, if you 
 want it." 
 
 Presently the two youths were seen boAving in the stiff, 
 curt style of those cavaliers who defer a passage of temper 
 for an appointed statement. Harry rushed off to them with 
 a shout, and they separated; Laxley speaking a word to 
 Drummond, Evan — most judiciously, the Countess thought 
 — joining his fair sister Caroline, whom the Duke held in 
 converse. 
 
 Drummond returned laughing to the side of Mrs. Evre- 
 monde, nearing whom, the Countess, while one ear was 
 being filled by Harry's eulogy of her brother's recent hand- 
 ling of Laxley, and while her intense gratification at the 
 success of her patient management of her most difficult sub- 
 ject made her smiles no mask, heard, "Is it not impossible 
 to suppose such a thing?" A hush ensued — the Countess 
 passed.
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 197 
 
 In the afternoon, the Jocelyns, William Harvey, and 
 Drummond met together to consult about arranging the dis- 
 pute ; and deputations went to Laxley and to Evan. The 
 former demanded an apology for certain expressions that 
 day ; and an equivalent to an admission that Mr. Harrington 
 had said, in Fallowfield, that he was not a gentleman, in 
 order to escape the consequences. All the Jocelyns laughed 
 at his tenacity, and "gentleman" began to be bandied about 
 in ridicule of the arrogant lean-headed adolescent. Evan 
 was placable enough, but dogged; he declined to make any 
 admission, though within himself he admitted that his 
 antagonist was not in the position of an impostor ; which he 
 for one honest word among them would be exposed as being, 
 and which a simple exercise of resolution to fly the place 
 would save him from being further. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn enjoyed the fun, and still more the serious 
 way in which her relatives regarded it. 
 
 " This comes of Rose having friends, Emily," said Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 There would have been a dispute to arrange between Lady 
 Jocelyn and Mrs. Shorne, had not her ladyship been so firmly 
 established in her phlegmatic philosophy. She said : " Quelle 
 enfantillage ! I dare say Rose was at the bottom of it : she 
 can settle it best. Defer the encounter between the boys 
 until they see they are in the form of donkeys. They will ; 
 and then they'll run on together, as long as their goddess 
 permits." 
 
 " Indeed, Emily," said Mrs. Shorne, " I desire you, by all 
 possible means, to keep the occurrence secret from Rose. 
 She ought not to hear of it." 
 
 "No ; I dare say she ought not," returned Lady Jocelyn ; 
 " but I wager you she does. You can teach her to pretend 
 not to, if you like. Ecce signum." 
 
 Her ladyship pointed through the library window at Rose, 
 who was walking with Laxley, and showing him her pearly 
 teeth in return for one of his jokes : an exchange so mani- 
 festly unfair, that Lady Jocelyn's womanhood, indifferent 
 as she was, could not but feel that Rose had an object in 
 view ; which was true, for she was flattering Laxley into a 
 consent to meet Evan half way. 
 
 The ladies murmured and hummed of these proceedings,
 
 198 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 and of Rose's familiarity with Mr. Harrington ; and the 
 Countess in trepidation took Evan to herself, and spoke to 
 him seriously ; a thing she had not done since her residence 
 in Beckley. She let him see that he must be on a friendly 
 footing with everybody in the house, or go : which latter 
 alternative Evan told her he had decided on. 
 
 " Yes," said the Countess, " and then you give people full 
 warrant to say it was jealousy drove you hence ; and you 
 do but extinguish yourself to implicate dear Rose. In love, 
 Evan, when you run away, you don't live to fight another 
 day." 
 
 She was commanded not to speak of love. 
 
 " Whatever it may be, my dear," said the Countess, " Mr. 
 Laxley has used you ill. It may be that you put yourself at 
 his feet ; " and his sister looked at him, sighing a great sigh. 
 She had, with violence, stayed her mouth concerning what 
 she knew of the Fallowfield business, dreading to alarm his 
 sensitiveness ; but she could not avoid giving him a little 
 slap. It was only to make him remember by the smart that 
 he must always suffer when he would not be guided by her. 
 
 Evan professed to the Jocelyns that he was willing to 
 apologize to Laxley for certain expressions ; determining to 
 leave the house when he had done it. The Countess heard 
 and nodded. The young men, sounded on both sides, were 
 accordingly lured to the billiard-room, and pushed together: 
 and when he had succeeded in thrusting the idea of Rose 
 from the dispute, it did seem such folly to Evan's common 
 sense, that he spoke with pleasant bonhommie about it. 
 That done, he entered into his acted part, and towered in 
 his conceit considerably above these aristocratic boors, who 
 were speechless and graceless, but tigers for their privileges 
 and advantages. 
 
 It will not be thought that the Countess intended to per- 
 mit her brother's departure. To have toiled, and yet more, 
 to have lied and fretted her conscience, for nothing, was as 
 little her principle, as to quit the field of action till she is 
 forcibly driven from it is that of any woman. 
 
 " Going, my dear," she said coolly. " To-morrow ? Oh ! 
 very well. You are the judge. And this creature — the 
 insolvent to the apple-woman, who is coming, whom you 
 would push here — will expose us, without a soul to guide
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN 199 
 
 his conduct, for / shall not remain. And Carry will not 
 
 remain. Carry !" The Countess gave a semi-sob. 
 
 "Carry must return to her brute — " meaning the gallant 
 Marine, her possessor. 
 
 And the Countess, knowing that Evan loved his sister 
 Caroline, incidentally related to him an episode in the 
 domestic life of Major and Mrs. Strike. 
 
 " Greatly redounding to the credit of the noble martinet 
 for the discipline he upholds," the Countess said, smiling at 
 the stunned youth. 
 
 " I would advise you to give her time to recover from one 
 bruise," she added. " You will do as it pleases you." 
 
 Evan was sent rushing from the Countess to Caroline, 
 with whom the Countess was content to leave him. 
 
 The young man was daintily managed. Caroline asked 
 him to stay, as she did not see him often, and (she brought 
 it in at the close) her home was not very happy. She did 
 not entreat him, but looking resigned, her lovely face con- 
 jured up the Major to Evan, and he thought, "Can I drive 
 her back to her tyrant ? " For so he juggled with himself 
 to have but another day in the sunshine of Rose. 
 
 Andrew, too, threw out genial hints about the Brewery. 
 Old Tom intended to retire, he said, and then they would 
 see what they would see ! He silenced every word about 
 Lymport; called him a brewer already, and made absurd 
 jokes, that were serviceable stuff nevertheless to the Count- 
 ess, who deplored to this one and to that the chance exist- 
 ing that Evan might, by the urgent solicitations of his 
 brother-in-law, give up diplomacy and its honours for a brew- 
 ery and lucre ! 
 
 Of course Evan knew that he was managed. The memoirs 
 of a managed man have yet to be written ; but if he be sin- 
 cere he will tell you that he knew it all the time. He longed 
 for the sugar-plum ; he knew it was naughty to take it : he 
 dared not for fear of the devil, and he shut his eyes while 
 somebody else popped it into his mouth, and assumed his 
 responsibility. Being man-driven or chicaned, is different 
 from being managed. Being managed implies being led the 
 way this other person thinks you should go : altogether for 
 your own benefit, mind : you are to see with her eyes, that 
 you may not disappoint your own appetites : which does
 
 200 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 not hurt the flesh, certainly; but does damage the con- 
 science ; and from the moment you have once succumbed, 
 that function ceases to perform its office of moral strainer 
 so well. 
 
 After all, was he not happier when he wrote himself 
 tailor, than when he declared himself gentleman? 
 
 So he now imagined, till Rose, wishing him "Good 
 night" on the balcony, and abandoning her hand with a 
 steady sweet voice and gaze, said : " How generous of you 
 to forgive my friend, dear Evan ! " And the ravishing little 
 glimpse of womanly softness in her, set his heart beating. 
 If he thought at all, it was that he would have sacrificed 
 body and soul for her. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS 
 
 We do not advance very far in this second despatch, and 
 it will be found chiefly serviceable for the indications it 
 affords of our General's skill in mining, and addiction to 
 that branch of military science. For the moment I must 
 beg that a little indulgence be granted to her. 
 
 "Purely business. Great haste. Something has hap- 
 pened. An event? I know not; but events may flow 
 from it. 
 
 "A lady is here who has run away from the conjugal 
 abode, and Lady Jocelyn shelters her, and is hospitable to 
 another, who is more concerned in this lady's sad fate than 
 he should be. This may be morals, my dear: but please do 
 not talk of Portugal now. A fine-ish woman with a great 
 deal of hair worn as if her maid had given it one comb 
 straight down and then rolled it up in a hurry round one 
 finger. Malice would say carrots. It is called gold. Mr. 
 Forth is in a glass house, and is wrong to cast his sneers at 
 perfectly inoffensive people. 
 
 " Perfectly impossible we can remain at Beckley Court
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS 201 
 
 together — if not dangerous. Any means that Providence 
 may designate, I would employ. It will be like exorcising 
 a demon. Always excusable. I only ask a little more time 
 for stupid Evan. He might have little Bonner now. I 
 should not object ; but her family is not so good. 
 
 "Now, do attend. At once obtain a copy of Strike's 
 Company people. You understand — prospectuses. Tell 
 me instantly if the Captain Evremonde in it is Captain 
 Lawson Evremonde. Pump Strike. Excuse vulgar words. 
 Whether he is not Lord Laxley's half-brother. Strike shall 
 
 be of use to us. Whether he is not mad. Captain E 's 
 
 address. Oh! when I think of Strike — brute! and poor 
 beautiful uncomplaining Carry and her shoulder! But let 
 us indeed most fervently hope that his Grace may be balm 
 to it. We must not pray for vengeance. It is sinful. 
 Providence will inflict that. Always Jcnoiv that Providence 
 is quite sure to. It comforts exceedingly. 
 
 " Oh, that Strike were altogether in the past tense ! No 
 knowing what the Duke might do — a widower and com- 
 pletely subjugated. It makes my bosom bound. The man 
 tempts me to the wickedest Frenchy ideas. There ! 
 
 " We progress with dear venerable Mrs. Bonner. Truly 
 pious — interested in your Louisa. She dreads that my 
 husband will try to convert me to his creed. I can but 
 weep and say — never ! 
 
 " I need not say I have my circle. To hear this ridiculous 
 boy Harry Jocelyn grunt under my nose when he has led 
 me unsuspectingly away from company — Harriet ! dearest ! 
 He thinks it a sigh! But there is no time for laughing. 
 
 " My maxim in any house is — never to despise the good 
 opinion of the nonentities. They are the majority. I think 
 they all look up to me. But then of course you must fix 
 that by seducing the stars. My diplomatist praises my 
 abilities — Sir John Loring my style — the rest follow and 
 I do not withhold my smiles, and they are happy, and I 
 should be but that for ungrateful Evan's sake I sacrificed 
 my peace by binding myself to a dreadful sort of half-story. 
 I know I did not quite say it. It seems as if Sir A.'s ghost 
 were going to haunt me. And then I have the most dread- 
 ful fears that what I have done has disturbed him in the 
 other world. Can it be so? It is not money or estates we
 
 202 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 took at all, dearest ! And these excellent young curates — 
 I almost wish it was Protestant to speak a word behind a 
 board to them and imbibe comfort. For after all it is 
 nothing: and a word even from this poor thin mopy Mr. 
 Parsley might be relief to a poor soul in trouble. Catholics 
 tell you that what you do in a good cause is redeemable if 
 not exactly right. And you know the Catholic is the oldest 
 Religion of the two. I would listen to the Pope, staunch 
 Protestant as I am, in preference to King Henry the Eighth. 
 Though, as a woman, I bear him no rancour, for his wives 
 were — fools, point blank. No man was ever so manage- 
 able. My diplomatist is getting liker and liker to him 
 every day. Leaner, of course, and does not habitually 
 straddle. Whiskers and morals, I mean. We must be 
 silent before our prudish sister. Not a prude? We talk 
 diplomacy, dearest. He complains of the exclusiveness of 
 the port of Oporto, and would have strict alliance between 
 Portugal and England, with mutual privileges. I wish the 
 alliance, and think it better to maintain the exclusiveness. 
 Very trifling; but what is life! 
 
 " Adieu. One word to leave you laughing. Imagine her 
 situation ! This stupid Miss Carrington has offended me. 
 She has tried to pump Conning, who, I do not doubt, gave 
 her as much truth as I chose she should have in her well. 
 But the quandary of the wretched creature ! She takes Con- 
 ning into her confidence — a horrible malady just covered 
 by high-neck dress ! Skin ! and impossible that she can tell 
 
 her engaged — who is — guess — Mr. George Up ! Her 
 
 name is Louisa Carrington. There ivas a Louisa Harrington 
 once. Similarity of names perhaps. Of course I could not 
 let him come to the house; and of course Miss C. is in a state 
 of wonderment and bad passions, I fear. I went straight to 
 Lady Roseley, my dear. There was nothing else for it but 
 to go and speak. She is truly a noble woman — serves us 
 in every way. As she should! — much affected by sight of 
 Evan, and keeps aloof from Beckley Court. The finger of 
 Providence is in all. Adieu! but do pray think of Miss 
 Carrington! It was foolish of her to offend me. Drives 
 and walks — the Duke attentive. Description of him when 
 I embrace you. I give amiable Sir Franks Portuguese 
 dishes. Ah, my dear, if we had none but men to contend
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS 203 
 
 against, and only women for our tools ! But this is asking 
 for the world, and nothing less. 
 
 "Open again," she pursues. "Dear Carry just come in. 
 There are fairies, I think, where there are dukes ! Where 
 could it have come from? Could any human being have 
 sent messengers post to London, ordered, and had it de- 
 spatched here within this short time? You shall not be 
 mystified! I do not think I even hinted; but the after- 
 noon walk I had with his Grace, on the first day of his 
 arrival, I did shadoiu it very delicately how much it was to 
 be feared our poor Carry could not, that she dared not, 
 betray her liege lord in an evening dress. Nothing more, 
 upon my veracity! And Carry has this moment received 
 the most beautiful green box, containing two of the most 
 heavenly old lace shawls that you ever beheld. We divine 
 it is to hide poor Carry's matrimonial blue mark! We 
 know nothing. Will you imagine Carry is for not accepting 
 it! Priority of birth does not imply superior wits, dear — 
 no allusion to you. I have undertaken all. Arch looks, but 
 nothing pointed. His Grace will understand the exquisite 
 expression of feminine gratitude. It is so sweet to deal 
 with true nobility. Carry has only to look as she always 
 does. One sees Strike sitting on her. Her very pliability 
 has rescued her from being utterly squashed long ere this ! 
 The man makes one vulgar. It would have been not the 
 slightest use asking me to be a Christian had I wedded 
 Strike. But think of the fairy presents! It has deter- 
 mined me not to be expelled by Mr. Forth — quite. Tell 
 Silva he is not forgotten. But, my dear, between us alone, 
 men are so selfish, that it is too evident they do not care 
 for private conversations to turn upon a lady's husband: not 
 to be risked, only now and then. 
 
 " I hear that the young ladies and the young gentlemen 
 have been out riding a race. The poor little Bonner girl 
 cannot ride, and she says to Carry that Rose wishes to break 
 our brother's neck. The child hardly wishes that, but she 
 is feelingless. If Evan could care for Miss Bonner, he 
 might have B. C. ! Oh, it is not so very long a shot, my 
 dear. I am on the spot, remember. Old Mrs. Bonner is 
 a most just-minded spirit. Juliana is a cripple, and her 
 grandmother wishes to be sure that when she departs to
 
 204 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 her Lord the poor cripple may not be chased from this 
 home of hers. Rose cannot calculate — Harry is in dis- 
 grace — there is really no knowing. This is how I have 
 reckoned; 10,000L extra to Rose; perhaps 1000Z. or nothing 
 to H. ; all the rest of ready-money — a large sum — no use 
 guessing — to Lady Jocelyn; and B. C. to little Bonner — 
 it is worth 40,000Z. Then she sells, or stops — permanent 
 resident. It might be so soon, for I can see worthy Mrs. 
 Bonner to be breaking visibly. But young men will not 
 see with wiser eyes than their own. Here is Evan risking 
 his neck for an indifferent — there's some word for 'not 
 soft.' In short, Rose is the cold-blooded novice, as I have 
 always said, the most selfish of the creatures on two legs. 
 
 "Adieu! Would you have dreamed that Major Night- 
 mare's gallantry to his wife would have called forth a gal- 
 lantry so truly touching and delicate? Can you not see 
 Providence there? Out of evil — the Catholics again! 
 
 "Address. If Lord Lax— 's half-brother. If wrong in 
 noddle. This I know you will attend to scrupulously. 
 Ridiculous words are sometimes the most expressive. Once 
 more, may Heaven bless you all ! I thought of you in church 
 last Sunday. 
 
 " I may tell you this : young Mr. Laxley is here. He — 
 but it was Evan's utter madness was the cause, and I have 
 not ventured a word to him. He compelled Evan to assert 
 his rank, and Mr. Forth' s face has been one concentrated 
 sneer since then. He must know the origin of the Cog- 
 glesbys, or something. Noio you will understand the 
 importance. I cannot be more explicit. Only — the man 
 must go. 
 
 " P. S. I have just ascertained that Lady Jocelyn is quite 
 familiar with Andrew's origin! ! She must think my poor 
 Harriet an eccentric woman. Of course I have not pre- 
 tended to rank here, merely gentry. It is gentry in reality, 
 for had poor Papa been legitimitized, he would have been a 
 nobleman. You know that; and between the two we may 
 certainly claim gentry. I twiddle your little good Andrew 
 to assert it for us twenty times a day. Of all the dear little 
 manageable men! It does you infinite credit that you 
 respect him as you do. What would become of me I do 
 not know.
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OP THE COUNTESS 205 
 
 "P.S. I said too shawls — a black and a white. The 
 black not so costly — very well. And so delicate of him 
 to think of the mourning 1 But the white, my dear, must 
 be family — must ! Old English point. Exquisitely chaste. 
 So different from that Brussels poor Andrew surprised you 
 with. I know it cost money, but this is a question of taste. 
 The Duke reconciles me to England and all my troubles ! 
 He is more like poor Papa than any one of the men I have 
 yet seen. The perfect gentleman ! I do praise myself for 
 managing an invitation to our Carry. She has been a 
 triumph." 
 
 Admire the concluding stroke. The Countess calls this 
 letter a purely business communication. Commercial men 
 might hardly think so; but perhaps ladies will perceive it. 
 She rambles concentrically, if I may so expound her. Full 
 of luxurious enjoyment of her position, her mind is active, 
 and you see her at one moment marking a plot, the next, 
 with a light exclamation, appeasing her conscience, proud 
 that she has one; again she calls up rival forms of faith, 
 that she may show the Protestant its little shortcomings, 
 and that it is slightly in debt to her (like Providence) for 
 her constancy, notwithstanding. The Protestant you see, 
 does not confess, and she has to absolve herself, and must 
 be doing it internally while she is directing outer matters. 
 Hence her slap at King Henry VIII. In fact, there is 
 much more business in this letter than I dare to indicate; 
 but as it is both impertinent and unpopular to dive for any 
 length of time beneath the surface (especially when there 
 are few pearls to show for it), we will discontinue our 
 examination. 
 
 The Countess, when she had dropped the letter in the 
 bag, returned to her chamber, and deputed Dorothy Loring, 
 whom she met on the stairs, to run and request Rose to 
 lend her her album to beguile the afternoon with; and 
 Dorothy dances to Rose, saying, " The Countess de Lispy- 
 Lispy would be delighted to look at your album all the 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Oh what a woman that is! " says Rose. " Countess de 
 Lazy-Lazy, I think." 
 
 The Countess, had she been listening, would have cared 
 little for accusations on that head. Idlesse was fashionable :
 
 206 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 exquisite languors were a sign of breeding ; and she always 
 had an idea that she looked more interesting at dinner after 
 reclining on a couch the whole of the afternoon. The great 
 Mel and his mate had given her robust health, and she was 
 able to play the high-born invalid without damage to her 
 constitution. Anything amused her ; Rose's album even, 
 and the compositions of W. H., E. H., D. F., and F. L. The 
 initials F. L. were diminutive, and not unlike her own hand, 
 she thought. They were appended to a piece of facetious- 
 ness that would not have disgraced the abilities of Mr. John 
 Raikes ; but we know that very stiff young gentlemen be- 
 tray monkey-minds when sweet young ladies compel them 
 to disport. On the whole, it was not a lazy afternoon that 
 the Countess passed, and it was not against her wish that 
 others should think it was. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP 
 
 The August sun was in mid-sky, when a troop of ladies 
 and cavaliers issued from the gates of Beckley Court, and 
 winding through the hopgardens, emerged on the cultivated 
 slopes bordering the downs. Foremost, on her grey cob, was 
 Rose, having on her right her uncle Seymour, and on her 
 left Ferdinand Laxley. Behind came Mrs. Evremonde, 
 flanked by Drummond and Evan. Then followed Jenny 
 Graine, supported by Harry and William Harvey. In the 
 rear came an open carriage, in which Miss Carrington and 
 the Countess de Saldar were borne, attended by Lady 
 Jocelyn and Andrew Cogglesby on horseback. The expedi- 
 tion had for its object the selection of a run of ground for an 
 amateur steeple-chase : the idea of which had sprung from 
 Laxley's boasts of his horsemanship: and (lose, quick as fire, 
 had backed herself, and Drummond and Evan, to beat him. 
 The mention of the latter was quite enough for Laxley. 
 
 "If he follows me, let him take care of his neck," said 
 that youth.
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP 207 
 
 "Why, Ferdinand, he can beat you in anything!" ex- 
 claimed Rose, imprudently. 
 
 But the truth was, she was now more restless than ever. 
 She was not distant with Evan, but she had a feverish man- 
 ner, and seemed to thirst to make him show his qualities, 
 and excel, and shine. Billiards, or jumping, or classical 
 acquirements, it mattered not — Evan must come first. He 
 had crossed the foils with Laxley, and disarmed him ; for 
 Mel his father had seen him trained for a military career. 
 Rose made a noise about the encounter, and Laxley was 
 eager for his opportunity, which he saw in the proposed 
 mad gallop. 
 
 Now Mr. George Uploft, who usually rode in buckskins 
 whether he was after the fox or fresh air, was out on this 
 particular morning ; and it happened that, as the cavalcade 
 wound beneath the down, Mr. George trotted along the ridge. 
 He Avas a fat-faced, rotund young squire — a bully where he 
 might be, and an obedient creature enough where he must be 
 — good humoured when not interfered with ; fond of the table, 
 and brimful of all the jokes of the county, the accent of which 
 just seasoned his speech. He had somehow plunged into a 
 sort of half-engagement with Miss Carrington. At his age, 
 and to ladies of Miss Carrington's age, men unhappily do 
 not plunge head-foremost, or Miss Carrington would have 
 had him long before. But he was at least in for it half 
 a leg; and a desperate maiden, on the criminal side of 
 thirty, may make much of that. Previous to the visit of 
 the Countess de Saldar, Mr. George had been in the habit 
 of trotting over to Beckley three or four times a week. 
 Miss Carrington had a little money : Mr. George was heir 
 to his uncle. Miss Carrington was lean and blue-eyed : 
 Mr. George black-eyed and obese. By everybody, except 
 Mr. George, the match was made : but that exception goes 
 for little in the country, where half the population are 
 talked into marriage, and. gossips entirely devote them- 
 selves to continuing the species. Mr. George was certain 
 that he had not been fighting shy of the fair Carrington 
 of late, nor had he been unfaithful. He had only been 
 in an extraordinary state of occupation. Messages for 
 Lady Roseley had to be delivered, and he had become her 
 cavalier and escort suddenly. The young squire was bewil-
 
 208 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 dered ; but as he was only one leg in love — if the sentiment 
 may be thus spoken of figuratively — his vanity in his present 
 office kept him from remorse or uneasiness. He rode at an 
 easy pace within sight of the home of his treasure, and his 
 back turned to it. Presently there rose a cry from below. 
 Mr. George looked about. The party of horsemen hallooed : 
 Mr. George yoicked. Rose set her horse to gallop up ; Sey- 
 mour Jocelyn cried "fox," and gave the view; hearing which 
 Mr. George shouted, and seemed inclined to surrender; but 
 the fun seized him, and, standing up in his stirrups, he 
 gathered his coat-tails in a bunch, and waggled them with a 
 jolly laugh, which was taken up below, and the clamp of hoofs 
 resounded on the turf as Mr. George led off, after once more, 
 with a jocose twist in his seat, showing them the brush 
 mockingly. Away went fox, and a mad chase began. Sey- 
 mour acted as master of the hunt. Rose, Evan, Drummond, 
 and Mrs. Evremonde and Dorothy, skirted to the right, all 
 laughing, and full of excitement. Harry bellowed the direc- 
 tion from above. The ladies in the carriage, with Lady 
 Jocelyn and Andrew, watched them till they flowed one and 
 all over the shoulder of the down. 
 
 " And who may the poor hunted animal be ? " inquired 
 the Countess. 
 
 "George Uploft," said Lady Jocelyn, pulling out her 
 watch. " I give him twenty minutes." 
 
 "Providence speed him!" breathed the Countess, with 
 secret fervour. 
 
 " Oh, he hasn't a chance," said Lady Jocelyn. " The 
 squire keeps wretched beasts." 
 
 " Is there not an attraction that will account for his hasty 
 capture ? " said the Countess, looking tenderly at Miss Car- 
 rington, who sat a little straighter, and the Countess, hating 
 manifestations of stiff-backedness, could not forbear adding : 
 " I am at war with my sympathies, which should be with 
 the poor brute flying from his persecutors." 
 
 She was in a bitter state of trepidation, or she would have 
 thought twice before she touched a nerve of the enamoured 
 lady, as she knew she did in calling her swain a poor brute, 
 and did again by pertinaciously pursuing : " Does he then 
 shun his captivity ? " 
 
 "Touching a nerve" is one of those unforgivable small
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP 209 
 
 offences which, in our civilized state, produce the social ven- 
 dettas and dramas that, with savage nations, spring from the 
 spilling of blood. Instead of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a 
 tooth, we demand a nerve for a nerve. " Thou hast touched 
 me where I am tender — thee, too, will I touch." 
 
 Miss Carrington had been alarmed and hurt at the strange 
 evasion of Mr. George ; nor could she see the fun of his mimi- 
 cry of the fox and his flight away from instead of into her 
 neighbourhood. She had also, or she now thought it, remarked 
 that when Mr. George had been spoken of casually, the Count- 
 ess had not looked a natural look. Perhaps it was her pres- 
 ent inflamed fancy. At any rate the Countess was offensive 
 now. She was positively vulgar, in consequence, to the mind 
 of Miss Carrington, and Miss Carrington was drawn to think 
 of a certain thing Ferdinand Laxley had said he had heard 
 from the mouth of this lady's brother when ale was in him. 
 Alas ! how one seed of a piece of folly will lurk and sprout 
 to confound us ; though, like the cock in the eastern tale, we 
 peck up zealously all but that one ! 
 
 The carriage rolled over the turf, attended by Andrew and 
 Lady Jocelyn, and the hunt was seen ; Mr. George some forty 
 paces a-head ; Seymour gaining on him, Kose next. 
 
 " Who's that breasting Kose ? " said Lady Jocelyn, lifting 
 her glass. 
 
 " My brother-in-law, Harrington," returned Andrew. 
 
 "He doesn't ride badly," said Lady Jocelyn. "A little 
 too military. He must have been set up in England." 
 
 "Oh, Evan can do anything," said Andrew enthusiasti- 
 cally. " His father was a capital horseman, and taught him 
 fencing, riding, and every accomplishment. You won't find 
 such a young fellow, my lady " 
 
 " The brother like him at all ? " asked Lady Jocelyn, still 
 eyeing the chase. 
 
 " Brother ? He hasn't got a brother," said Andrew. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn continued : " I mean the present baronet." 
 
 She was occupied with her glass, and did not observe the 
 flush that took hold of Andrew's ingenuous cheeks, and his 
 hurried glance at and off the quiet eye of the Countess. 
 Miss Carrington did observe it. 
 
 Mr. Andrew dashed his face under the palm of his hand, 
 and murmured : 
 
 14
 
 210 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Oh — yes! His brother-in-law isn't much like him — 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 And then the poor little man rubbed his hands, uncon- 
 scious of the indignant pity for his wretched abilities in the 
 gaze of the Countess ; and he must have been exposed — 
 there was a fear that the ghost of Sir Abraham would have 
 darkened this day, for Miss Carrington was about to speak, 
 when Lady Jocelyn cried : " There's a purl ! Somebody's 
 down." 
 
 The Countess was unaware of the nature of a purl, but 
 she could have sworn it to be a piece of Providence. 
 
 "Just by old Nat Hodges' farm, on Squire Copping's 
 ground," cried Andrew, much relieved by the particular 
 individual's misfortune. " Dear me, my lady ! how old Tom 
 and I used to jump the brook there, to be sure ! and when 
 you were no bigger than little Miss Loring — do you re- 
 member old Tom ? We're all fools one time in our lives ! " 
 
 " Who can it be ? " said Lady Jocelyn, spying at the 
 discomfited horseman. " I'm afraid it's poor Ferdinand." 
 
 They drove on to an eminence from which the plain was 
 entirely laid open. 
 
 " I hope my brother will enjoy his ride this day," sighed 
 the Countess. "It will be his limit of enjoyment for a 
 lengthened period ! " 
 
 She perceived that Mr. George's capture was inevitable, 
 and her heart sank; for she was sure he would recognize 
 her, and at the moment she misdoubted her powers. She 
 dreamed of flight. 
 
 " You're not going to leave us ? " said Lady Jocelyn. 
 " My dear Countess, what will the future member do with- 
 out you ? We have your promise to stay till the election 
 is over." 
 
 "Thanks for your extreme kind courtesy, Lady Jocelyn," 
 murmured the Countess: "but my husband — the Count." 
 
 "The favour is yours," returned her ladyship. "And 
 if the Count cannot come, you at least are at liberty ? " 
 
 " You are most kind," said the Countess. 
 
 " Andrew and his wife I should not dare to separate for 
 more than a week," said Lady Jocelyn. " He is the great 
 British husband. The proprietor ! ' My wife ' is his unan- 
 swerable excuse."
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP 211 
 
 "Yes," Andrew replied cheerily. "I don't like division 
 between man and wife, I must say." 
 
 The Countess dared no longer instance the Count, her 
 husband. She was heard to murmur that citizen feelings 
 were not hers. 
 
 " You suggested Fallowfield to Melville, did you not ? " 
 asked Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 "It was the merest suggestion," said the Countess, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Then you must really stay to see us through it," said 
 her ladyship. " Where are they now ? They must be 
 making straight for break-neck fence. They'll have him 
 there. George hasn't pluck for that." 
 
 " Hasn't what ? " 
 
 It was the Countess who requested to know the name of 
 this other piece of Providence Mr. George Uploft was defi- 
 cient in. 
 
 " Pluck — go," said her ladyship hastily, and telling the 
 coachman to drive to a certain spot, trotted on with Andrew, 
 saying to him : " I'm afraid we are thought vulgar by the 
 Countess." 
 
 Andrew considered it best to reassure her gravely. 
 
 "The young man, her brother, is well-bred," said Lady 
 Jocelyn, and Andrew was very ready to praise Evan. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn, herself in slimmer days a spirited horse- 
 woman, had correctly estimated Mr. George's pluck. He 
 was captured by Harry and Evan close on the leap, in the 
 act of shaking his head at it ; and many who inspected the 
 leap would have deemed it a sign that wisdom weighted 
 the head that would shake long at it ; for it consisted of a 
 post and rails, with a double ditch. 
 
 Seymour Jocelyn, Mrs. Evremonde, Drummond, Jenny 
 Graine, and William Harvey, rode with Mr. George in 
 quest of the carriage, and the captive was duly delivered 
 over. 
 
 " But where's the brush? " said Lady Jocelyn, laughing, 
 and introducing him to the Countess, who dropped her head, 
 and with it her veil. 
 
 "Oh! they leave that on for my next run," said Mr. 
 George, bowing civilly. 
 
 " You are going to run again? "
 
 212 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Miss Carrington severely asked this question; and Mr. 
 George protested. 
 
 "Secure him, Louisa," said Lady Jocelyn. "See here: 
 what's the matter with poor Dorothy?" 
 
 Dorothy came slowly trotting up to them along the green 
 lane, and thus expressed her grief, between sobs : 
 
 "Isn't it a shame? Rose is such a tyrant. They're 
 going to ride a race and a jump down in the field, and it's 
 break-neck leap, and Rose won't allow me to stop and see 
 it, though she knows I'm just as fond of Evan as she is; 
 and if he's killed I declare it will be her fault; and it's all 
 for her stupid, dirty old pocket handkerchief! " 
 
 " Break-neck fence ! " said Lady Jocelyn ; " that's rather 
 mad." 
 
 "Do let's go and see it, darling Aunty Joey," pleaded the 
 little maid. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn rode on, saying to herself: "That girl has 
 a great deal of devil in her." The lady's thoughts were of 
 Rose. 
 
 "Black Lymport 'd take the leap," said Mr. George, 
 following her with the rest of the troop. "Who's that 
 fellow on him?" 
 
 "His name's Harrington," quoth Drummond. 
 
 " Oh, Harrington ! " Mr. George responded ; but imme- 
 diately laughed — "Harrington? 'Gad, if he takes the 
 leap it'll be odd — another of the name. That's where old 
 Mel had his spill." 
 
 "Who?" Drummond inquired. 
 
 " Old Mel Harrington — the Lymport wonder. Old Mar- 
 quis Mel," said Mr. George. "Haven't ye heard of him?" 
 
 "What! the gorgeous tailor!" exclaimed Lady Jocelyn. 
 "How I regret never meeting that magnificent snob! that 
 efflorescence of sublime imposture! I've seen the Regent; 
 but one's life doesn't seem complete without having seen 
 his twin-brother. You must give us warning when you 
 have him down at Croftlands again, Mr. George." 
 
 "'Gad, he'll have to come a long distance — poor old 
 Mel ! " said Mr. George ; and was going on, when Seymour 
 Jocelyn stroked his moustache to cry, "Look! Rosey's 
 starting 'em, by Jove! " 
 
 The leap, which did not appear formidable from where
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP 213 
 
 they stood, was four fields distant from the point where 
 Rose, with a handkerchief in her hand, was at that moment 
 giving the signal to Laxley and Evan. 
 
 Miss Carrington and the Countess begged Lady Jocelyn 
 to order a shout to be raised to arrest them, but her lady- 
 ship marked her good sense by saying: "Let them go, now 
 they're about it;" for she saw that to make a fuss now 
 matters had proceeded so far, was to be uncivil to the 
 inevitable. 
 
 The start was given, and off they flew. Harry Jocelyn, 
 behind them, was evidently caught by the demon, and 
 clapped spurs to his horse to have his fling as well, for 
 the fun of the thing; but Rose, farther down the field, rode 
 from her post straight across him, to the imminent peril of 
 a mutual overset; and the party on the height could see 
 Harry fuming, and Rose coolly looking him down, and let- 
 ting him understand what her will was ; and her mother, 
 and Drummond, and Seymour who beheld this, had a com- 
 mon sentiment of admiration for the gallant girl. But 
 away went the rivals. Black Lymport was the favourite, 
 though none of the men thought he would be put at the 
 fence. The excitement became contagious. The Countess 
 threw up her veil. Lady Jocelyn, and Seymour, and 
 Drummond, galloped down the lane, and Mr. George was 
 for accompanying them, till the line of Miss Carrington's 
 back gave him her unmistakeable opinion of such a course 
 of conduct, and he had to dally and fret by her side. 
 Andrew's arm was tightly grasped by the Countess. The 
 rivals were crossing the second field, Laxley a little a-head. 
 
 "He's holding in the black mare — that fellow!" said 
 Mr. George. "'Gad, it looks like going at the fence. 
 Fancy Harrington ! " 
 
 They were now in the fourth field, a smooth shorn meadow. 
 Laxley was two clear lengths in advance, but seemed riding, 
 as Mr. George remarked, more for pace than to take the jump. 
 The ladies kept plying random queries and suggestions : the 
 Countess wishing to know whether they could not be stopped 
 by a countryman before they encountered any danger. In the 
 midst of their chatter, Mr. George rose in his stirrups, cry- 
 ing : " Bravo, the black mare ! " 
 
 " Has he done it ? " said Andrew, wiping his poll.
 
 214 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " He ? No, the mare ! " shouted Mr. George, and bolted 
 off, no longer to be restrained. 
 
 The Countess, doubly relieved, threw herself back in the car- 
 riage, and Andrew drew a breath, saying : " Evan has beat 
 him — I saw that! The other's horse swerved right round." 
 
 " I fear," said Mrs. Evremonde, " Mr. Harrington has had 
 a fall. Don't be alarmed — it may not be much." 
 
 " A fall ! " exclaimed the Countess, equally divided between 
 alarms of sisterly affection and a keen sense of the romance 
 of the thing. 
 
 Miss Carrington ordered the carriage to be driven round. 
 They had not gone far when they were met by Harry Jocelyn 
 riding in hot haste, and he bellowed to the coachman to drive 
 as hard as he could, and stop opposite Brook's farm. 
 
 The scene on the other side of the fence would have been 
 a sweet one to the central figure in it had his eyes then been 
 open. Surrounded by Lady Jocelyn, Drummond, Seymour, 
 and the rest, Evan's dust-stained body was stretched along 
 the road, and. his head was lying in the lap of Kose, who, 
 pale, heedless of anything spoken by those around her, and 
 with her lips set and her eyes turning wildly from one to the 
 other, held a gory handkerchief to his temple with one hand, 
 and with the other felt for the motion of his heart. 
 
 But heroes don't die, you know. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 TRIBULATIONS AND TACTICS OF THE COUNTESS 
 
 "You have murdered my brother, Kose Jocelyn !" 
 
 " Don't say so now." 
 
 Such was the interchange between the two that loved the 
 senseless youth, as he was being lifted into the carriage. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn sat upright in her saddle, giving directions 
 about what was to be done with Evan and the mare, impar- 
 tially. 
 
 " Stunned, and a good deal shaken, I suppose ; Lymport's 
 knees are terribly cut," she said to Drummond, who merely
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS 215 
 
 nodded. And Seymour remarked, " Fifty guineas knocked 
 off her value!" One added, " Nothing worse, I should 
 think;" and another, "A little damage inside, perhaps." 
 Difficult to say whether they spoke of Evan or the brute. 
 
 No violent outcries ; no reproaches cast on the cold-blooded 
 coquette ; no exclamations on the heroism of her brother ! 
 They could absolutely spare a thought for the animal ! And 
 Evan had risked his life for this, and might die unpitied. 
 The Countess diversified her grief with a deadly bitterness 
 against the heartless Jocelyns. 
 
 Oh, if Evan dies ! will it punish Kose sufficiently ? 
 
 Andrew expressed emotion, but not of a kind the Countess 
 liked a relative to be seen exhibiting ; for in emotion worthy 
 Andrew betrayed to her his origin offensively. 
 
 " Go away and puke, if you must," she said, clipping poor 
 Andrew's word about his " dear boy." She could not help 
 speaking in that way — he was so vulgar. A word of sym- 
 pathy from Lady Jocelyn might have saved her from the 
 sourness into which her many conflicting passions were resolv- 
 ing ; and might also have saved her ladyship from the ran- 
 cour she had sown in the daughter of the great Mel by her 
 selection of epithets to characterize him. 
 
 Will it punish Eose at all, if Evan dies ? 
 
 Eose saw that she was looked at. How could the Countess 
 tell that Eose envied her the joy of holding Evan in the car- 
 riage there? Eose, to judge by her face, was as calm as 
 glass. Not so well seen through, however. Mrs. Evre- 
 monde rode beside her, whose fingers she caught, and 
 twined her own with them tightly once for a fleeting in- 
 stant. Mrs. Evremonde wanted no further confession of 
 her state. 
 
 Then Eose said to her mother, "Mama, may I ride to 
 have the doctor ready?" 
 
 Ordinarily, Eose would have clapped heel to horse the 
 moment the thought came. She waited for the permission, 
 and flew off at a gallop, waving back Laxley, who was for 
 joining her. 
 
 "Franks will be a little rusty about the mare," the 
 Countess heard Lady Jocelyn say; and Harry just then 
 stooped his head to the carriage, and said, in his blunt 
 fashion, "After all, it won't show much."
 
 216 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "We are not cattle!" exclaimed the frenzied Countess, 
 within her bosom. Alas! it was almost a democratic out- 
 cry they made her guilty of; but she was driven past pa- 
 tience. And as a further provocation, Evan would open 
 his eyes. She laid her handkerchief over them with loving 
 delicacy, remembering in a flash that her own face had been 
 all the while exposed to Mr. George Uploft; and then the 
 terrors of his presence at Beckley Court came upon her, 
 and the fact that she had not for the last ten minutes been 
 the serene Countess de Saldar; and she quite hated Andrew, 
 for vulgarity in others evoked vulgarity in her, which was 
 the reason why she ranked vulgarity as the chief of the 
 deadly sins. Her countenance for Harry and all the others 
 save poor Andrew was soon the placid heaven-confiding sis- 
 ter's again; not before Lady Jocelyn had found cause to 
 observe to Drummond: 
 
 "Your Countess doesn't ruffle well." 
 
 But a lady who is at war with two or three of the facts 
 of Providence, and yet will have Providence for her ally, 
 can hardly ruffle well. 
 
 Do not imagine that the Countess's love for her brother 
 was hollow. She was assured when she came up to the 
 spot where he fell, that there was no danger ; he had but 
 dislocated his shoulder, and bruised his head a little. 
 Hearing this, she rose out of her clamorous heart, and 
 seized the opportunity for a small burst of melodrama. 
 Unhappily, Lady Jocelyn, who gave the tone to the rest, 
 was a Spartan in matters of this sort; and as she would 
 have seen those dearest to her bear the luck of the field, 
 she could see others. When the call for active help reached 
 her, you beheld a different woman. 
 
 The demonstrativeness the Countess thirsted for was 
 afforded her by Juley Bonner, and in a measure by her 
 sister Caroline, who loved Evan passionately. The latter 
 was in riding attire, about to mount to ride and meet them, 
 accompanied by the Duke. Caroline had hastily tied xip 
 her hair; a rich golden brown lump of it hung round her 
 cheek; her limpid eyes and anxiously-nerved brows im- 
 pressed the Countess wonderfully as she ran down the 
 steps and bent her fine well -filled bust forward to ask the 
 first hurried question.
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS 217 
 
 The Countess patted her shoulder. "Safe, dear," she 
 said aloud, as one who would not make much of it. And 
 in a whisper, "You look superb." 
 
 I must charge it to Caroline's beauty under the ducal 
 radiance, that a stream of sweet feelings entering into the 
 Countess made her forget to tell her sister that George 
 Uploft was by. Caroline had not been abroad, and her 
 skin was not olive-hued; she was a beauty, and a majestic 
 figure, little altered since the day when the wooden marine 
 marched her out of Lymport. 
 
 The Countess stepped from the carriage to go and cherish 
 Juliana's petulant distress; for that unhealthy little body 
 was stamping with impatience to have the story told to her, 
 to burst into fits of pathos ; and while Seymour and Harry 
 assisted Evan to descend, trying to laugh off the pain he 
 endured, Caroline stood by, soothing him with words and 
 tender looks. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn passed him, and took his hand, saying, 
 "Not killed this time!" 
 
 "At your ladyship's service to-morrow," he replied, and 
 his hand was kindly squeezed. 
 
 "My darling Evan, you will not ride again?" Caroline 
 cried, kissing him on the steps ; and the Duke watched the 
 operation, and the Countess observed the Duke. 
 
 That Providence should select her sweetest moments to 
 deal her wounds, was cruel ; but the Countess just then dis- 
 tinctly heard Mr. George Uploft ask Miss Carrington : " Is 
 that lady a Harrington?" 
 
 " You perceive a likeness ? " was the answer. 
 
 Mr. George went "Whew! — tit — tit — tit!" with the 
 profound expression of a very slow mind. 
 
 The scene was quickly over. There was barely an hour 
 for the ladies to dress for dinner. Leaving Evan in the 
 doctor's hand, and telling Caroline to dress in her room, the 
 Countess met Eose, and gratified her vindictiveness, while 
 she furthered her projects, by saying: 
 
 " Not till my brother is quite convalescent will it be advis- 
 able that you should visit him. I am compelled to think of 
 him entirely now. In his present state he is not fit to be 
 played with." 
 
 Rose, steadfastly eyeing her, seemed to swallow down 
 something in her throat, and said :
 
 218 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " I will obey you, Countess. I hoped you would allow me 
 to nurse him." 
 
 " Quiet above all things, Kose Jocelyn ! " returned the 
 Countess, with the suavity of a governess, who must be civil 
 in her sourness. " If you would not complete this morning's 
 achievement — stay away." 
 
 The Countess declined to see that Rose's lip quivered. She 
 saw an unpleasantness in the bottom of her eyes; and now 
 that her brother's decease was not even remotely to be appre- 
 hended, she herself determined to punish the cold, unimpres- 
 sionable coquette of a girl. Before returning to Caroline, 
 she had five minutes' conversation with Juliana, which fully 
 determined her to continue the campaign at Beckley Court, 
 commence decisive movements, and not to retreat, though 
 fifty George Uplofts menaced her. Consequently, having 
 dismissed Conning on a message to Harry Jocefyn, to ask 
 him for a list of the names of the new people they were to 
 meet that day at dinner, she said to Caroline : 
 
 " My dear, I think it will be incumbent on us to depart 
 very quickly." 
 
 Much to the Countess's chagrin and astonishment, Caroline 
 replied : 
 
 " I shall hardly be sorry." 
 
 "Not sorry? Why, what now, dear one? Is it true, 
 then, that a flagellated female kisses the rod ? Are you so 
 eager for a repetition of Strike ? " 
 
 Caroline, with some hesitation, related to her more than 
 the Countess had ventured to petition for in her prayers. 
 
 "Oh! how exceedingly generous !" the latter exclaimed. 
 " How very refreshing to think that there are nobles in your 
 England as romantic, as courteous, as delicate as our own 
 foreign ones ! But his Grace is quite an exceptional noble- 
 man. Are you not touched, dearest Carry ? " 
 
 Caroline pensively glanced at the reflection of her beauti- 
 ful arm in the glass, and sighed, pushing back the hair from 
 her temples. 
 
 "But, for mercy's sake!" resumed the Countess, in alarm 
 at the sigh, " do not be too — too touched. Do, pray, pre- 
 serve your wits. You weep! Caroline, Caroline! O my 
 goodness ; it is just five-and-twenty minutes to the first 
 dinner-bell, and you are crying ! For God's sake, think of
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS 219 
 
 your face ! Are you going to be a Gorgon ? And you show 
 the marks twice as long as any other, you fair women. 
 Squinnying like this! Caroline, for your Louisa's sake, 
 do not!" 
 
 Hissing which, half angrily and half with entreaty, the 
 Countess dropped on her knees. Caroline's fit of tears sub- 
 sided. The eldest of the sisters, she was the kindest, the 
 fairest, the weakest. 
 
 "Not," said the blandishing Countess, when Caroline's 
 face was clearer, " not that my best of Carry s does not look 
 delicious in her shower. Cry, with your hair down, and you 
 would subdue any male creature on two legs. And that 
 reminds me of that most audacious Marquis de Kemilla. He 
 saw a dirty drab of a fruit-girl crying in Lisbon streets one 
 day, as he was riding in the carriage of the Duchesse de Col 
 da Kosta, and her husband and duefia, and he had a letter for 
 her — the Duchesse. They loved ! How deliver the letter ? 
 ' Save me!' he cried to the Duchesse, catching her hand, 
 and pressing his heart, as if very sick. The Duchesse felt 
 the paper — turned her hand over on her knee, and he with- 
 drew his. What does my Carry think was the excuse he 
 tendered the Duke ? This — and this gives you some idea 
 of the wonderful audacity of those dear Portuguese — that he 
 — he must precipitate himself and marry any woman he saw 
 weep, and be her slave for the term of his natural life, unless 
 another woman's hand at the same moment restrained him! 
 There ! " and the Countess's eyes shone brightly. 
 
 " How excessively imbecile ! " Caroline remarked, hith- 
 erto a passive listener to these Lusitanian contes. 
 
 It was the first sign she had yet given of her late inter- 
 course with a positive Duke, and the Countess felt it, and 
 drew back. No more anecdotes for Caroline, to whom she 
 quietly said: 
 
 " You are very English, dear ! " 
 
 "But now, the Duke — his Grace," she went on, "how 
 did he inaugurate ? " 
 
 " I spoke to him of Evan's position. God forgive me ! — 
 I said that was the cause of my looks being sad." 
 
 " You could have thought of nothing better," interposed 
 the Countess. " Yes ? " 
 
 "He said, if he might clear them he should be happy."
 
 220 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "In exquisite language, Cany, of course." 
 
 "No; just as others talk." 
 
 " Hum ! " went the Countess, and issued again brightly 
 from a cloud of reflection, with the remark : " It was to 
 seem business-like — the commerciality of the English mind. 
 To the point — / know. Well, you perceive, my sweetest, 
 that Evan's interests are in your hands. You dare not quit 
 the field. In one week, I fondly trust, he will be secure. 
 What more did his Grace say ? May we not be the reposi- 
 tory of such delicious secrecies ? " 
 
 Caroline gave tremulous indications about the lips, and 
 the Countess jumped to the bell and rang it, for they were 
 too near dinner for the trace of a single tear to be permitted. 
 The bell and the appearance of Conning effectually checked 
 the flood. 
 
 While speaking to her sister, the Countess had hesitated 
 to mention George Uploft's name, hoping that, as he had no 
 dinner-suit, he would not stop to dinner that day, and would 
 fall to the charge of Lady Roseley once more. Conning, 
 however, brought in a sheet of paper on which the names of 
 the guests were written out by Harry, a daily piece of ser- 
 vice he performed for the captivating dame, and George 
 Uploft's name was in the list. 
 
 "We will do the rest, Conning — retire," she said, and 
 then folding Caroline in her arms, murmured, the moment 
 they were alone, " Will my Carry dress her hair plain to- 
 day, for the love of her Louisa ? " 
 
 " Goodness ! what a request ! " exclaimed Caroline, throw- 
 ing back her head to see if her Louisa could be serious. 
 
 " Most inexplicable — is it not ? Will she do it ? " 
 
 " Flat, dear ? It makes a fright of me." 
 
 " Possibly. May I beg it ? " 
 
 " But why, dearest, why ? If I only knew why !" 
 
 " For the love of your Louy." 
 
 " Plain along the temples ? " 
 
 " And a knot behind." 
 
 " And a band along the forehead ? " 
 
 " Gems, if they meet your favour." 
 
 " But my cheek-bones, Louisa? " 
 
 " They are not too prominent, Carry." 
 
 " Curls relieve them."
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS 221 
 
 " The change will relieve the curls, dear one." 
 
 Caroline looked in the glass, at the Countess, as polished 
 a reflector, and fell into a chair. Her hair was accustomed 
 to roll across her shoulders in heavy curls. The Duke would 
 find a change of the sort singular. She should not at all 
 know herself with her hair done differently : and for a 
 lovely woman to be transformed to a fright is hard to bear 
 in solitude, or in imagination. 
 
 " Really ! " she petitioned. 
 
 "Really — yes, or no?" added the Countess. 
 
 " So unaccountable a whim ! " Caroline looked in the glass 
 dolefully, and pulled up her thick locks from one cheek, 
 letting them fall on the instant. 
 
 " She will ? " breathed the Countess. 
 
 " I really cannot," said Caroline, with vehemence. 
 
 The Countess burst into laughter, replying: "My poor 
 child! it is not my whim — it is your obligation. George 
 Uploft dines here to-day. Now do you divine it ? Disguise 
 is imperative for you." 
 
 Mrs. Strike, gazing in her sister's face, answered slowly, 
 
 " George ? But how will you meet him ? " she hurriedly 
 
 asked. 
 
 " I have met him," rejoined the Countess, boldly. " I 
 defy him to know me. I brazen him ! 'You with your hair 
 in my style are equally safe. You see there is no choice. 
 Pooh ! contemptible puppy ! " 
 
 "But I never," — Caroline was going to say she never 
 could face him. " I will not dine. I will nurse Evan." 
 
 " You have faced him, my dear," said the Countess, " and 
 you are to change your head-dress simply to throw him off 
 his scent." 
 
 As she spoke the Countess tripped about, nodding her 
 head like a girl. Triumph in the sense of her power over 
 all she came in contact with, rather elated the lady. 
 
 Do you see why she worked her sister in this roundabout 
 fashion ? She would not tell her George Uploft was in the 
 house till she was sure he intended to stay, for fear of 
 frightening her. When the necessity became apparent, she 
 put it under the pretext of a whim in order to see how far 
 Caroline, whose weak compliance she could count on, and 
 whose reticence concerning the Duke annoyed her, would
 
 222 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 submit to it to please her sister ; and if she rebelled posi- 
 tively, why to be sure it was the Duke she dreaded to shock : 
 and, therefore, the Duke had a peculiar hold on her : and, 
 therefore, the Countess might reckon that she would do 
 more than she pleased to confess to remain with the Duke, 
 and was manageable in that quarter. All this she learnt 
 without asking. I need not add, that Caroline sighingly did 
 her bidding. 
 
 "We must all be victims in our turn, Carry," said the 
 Countess. "Evan's prospects — it may be, Silva's restora- 
 tion — depend upon your hair being dressed plain to-day. 
 Reflect on that ! " 
 
 Poor Caroline obeyed ; but she was capable of reflecting 
 only that her face was unnaturally lean and strange to 
 her. 
 
 The sisters tended and arranged one another, taking care 
 to push their mourning a month or two a-head : and the 
 Countess animadverted on the vulgar mind of Lady Joce- 
 lyn, who would allow a " gentleman to sit down at a gentle- 
 woman's table, in full company, in pronounced undress:" 
 and Caroline, utterly miserable, would pretend that she 
 wore a mask and kept grimacing as they do who are not 
 accustomed to paint on the cheeks, till the Countess checked 
 her by telling her she should ask her for that before the 
 Duke. 
 
 After a visit to Evan, the sisters sailed together into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 " Uniformity is sometimes a gain," murmured the Coun- 
 tess, as they were parting in the middle of the room. She 
 saw that their fine figures, and profiles, and resemblance in 
 contrast, produced an effect. The Duke wore one of those 
 calmly intent looks by which men show they are aware of 
 change in the heavens they study, and are too devout wor- 
 shippers to presume to disapprove. Mr. George was stand- 
 ing by Miss Carrington, and he also watched Mrs. Strike. 
 To bewilder him yet more the Countess persisted in fixing 
 her eyes upon his heterodox apparel, and Mr. George be- 
 came conscious and uneasy. Miss Carrington had to address 
 her question to him twice before he heard. Melville Joce- 
 lyn, Sir John Loring, Sir Franks, and Hamilton surrounded 
 the Countess, and told her what they had decided on with
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS 223 
 
 regard to the election during the day; for Melville was 
 warm in his assertion that they would not talk to the Count- 
 ess five minutes without getting a hint worth having. 
 
 " Call to us that man who is habited like a groom," said 
 the Countess, indicating Mr. George. " I presume he is in 
 his right place up here ? " 
 
 " Whew — take care, Countess — our best man. He s good 
 for a dozen," said Hamilton. 
 
 Mr. George was brought over and introduced to the 
 Countess de Saldar. 
 
 " So the oldest Tory in the county is a fox ? " she said, in 
 allusion to the hunt. Never did Caroline Strike admire her 
 sister's fearful genius more than at that moment. 
 
 Mr. George ducked and rolled his hand over his chin, 
 with " ah-um ! " and the like, ended by a dry laugh. 
 
 " Are you our supporter, Mr. Uplof t ? " 
 
 "Tory interest, ma-um — my lady." 
 
 " And are you staunch and may be trusted ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my honour, I think I have that reputation." 
 
 "And you would not betray us if we give you any 
 secrets ? Say ' 'Pon my honour,' again. You launch it out 
 so courageously." 
 
 The men laughed, though they could not see what the 
 Countess was driving at. She had for two minutes spoken 
 as she spoke when a girl, and George — entirely off his 
 guard and unsuspicious — looked unenlightened. If he 
 knew, there were hints enough for him in her words. If 
 he remained blind, they might pass as air. The appearance 
 of the butler cut short his protestation as to his powers of 
 secrecy. 
 
 The Countess dismissed him. 
 
 " You will be taken into our confidence when we require 
 you." And she resumed her foreign air in a most elaborate 
 and overwhelming bow. 
 
 She was now perfectly satisfied that she was safe from 
 Mr. George, and, as she thoroughly detested the youthful 
 squire, she chose to propagate a laugh at him by saying, 
 with the utmost languor and clearness of voice, as they 
 descended the stairs : 
 
 "After all, a very clever fox may be a very dull dog — 
 don't you think ? "
 
 224 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Gentlemen in front of her, and behind, heard it, and at 
 Mr. George's expense her reputation rose. 
 
 Thus the genius of this born general prompted her to 
 adopt the principle in tactics — boldly to strike when you 
 are in the dark as to your enemy's movements. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 IN WHICH THE DAUGHTERS OF THE GREAT MEL HAVE TO 
 DIGEST HIM AT DINNER 
 
 You must know, if you would form an estimate of the 
 Countess's heroic impudence, that a rumour was current in 
 Lymport that the fair and well-developed Louisa Harring- 
 ton, in her sixteenth year, did advisedly, and with the inten- 
 tion of rendering the term indefinite, entrust her guileless 
 person to Mr. George Uploft's honourable charge. The 
 rumour, unflavoured by absolute malignity, was such; and 
 it went on to say, that the sublime Mel, alive to the honour 
 of his family, followed the fugitives with a pistol, and with 
 a horsewhip, that he might chastise the offender according 
 to the degree of his offence. It was certain that he had not 
 used the pistol: it was said that he had used the whip. 
 The details of the interview between Mel and Mr. George 
 were numerous, but at the same time various. Some de- 
 clared that he put a pistol to Mr. George's ear, and under 
 pressure of that persuader got him into the presence of a 
 clergyman, when he turned sulky; and when the pistol was 
 again produced, the ceremony would have been performed, 
 had not the outraged Church cried out for help. Some 
 vowed that Mr. George had referred all questions implying 
 a difference between himself and Mel to their mutual fists 
 for decision. At any rate, Mr. George turned up in Fallow- 
 field subsequently ; the fair Louisa, unhurt and with a quiet 
 mind, in Lymport ; and this amount of truth the rumours 
 can be reduced to — that Louisa and Mr. George had been 
 acquainted. Rumour and gossip know how to build : they 
 always have some solid foundation, however small.
 
 THE DINNER 225 
 
 Upwards of twelve years had run since Louisa went to 
 the wife of the brewer — a period quite long enough for Mr. 
 George to forget any one in ; and she was altogether a dif- 
 ferent creature ; and, as it was true that Mr. George was 
 a dull one, she was, after the test she had put him to, justi- 
 fied in hoping that Mel's progeny might pass unchallenged 
 anywhere out of Lymport. So, with Mr. George facing her 
 at table, the Countess sat down, determined to eat and be 
 happy. 
 
 A man with the education and tastes of a young country 
 squire is not likely to know much of the character of women ; 
 and of the marvellous power they have of throwing a veil 
 of oblivion between themselves and what they don't want to 
 remember, few men know much. Mr. George had thought, 
 when he saw Mrs. Strike leaning to Evan, and heard she 
 was a Harrington, that she was rather like the Lymport 
 family ; but the reappearance of Mrs. Strike, the attention 
 of the Duke of Belfield to her, and the splendid tactics of 
 the Countess, which had extinguished every thought in the 
 thought of himself, drove Lymport out of his mind. 
 
 There were some dinner guests at the table — people of 
 Eallowfield, Beckley, and Bodley. The Countess had the 
 diplomatist on one side, the Duke on the other. Caroline 
 was under the charge of Sir Franks. The Countess, almost 
 revelling in her position opposite Mr. George, was ambi- 
 tious to lead the conversation, and commenced, smiling at 
 Melville : 
 
 " We are to be spared politics to-day ? I think politics 
 and cookery do not assimilate." 
 
 " I'm afraid you won't teach the true Briton to agree with 
 you," said Melville, shaking his head over the sums involved 
 by this British propensity. 
 
 "No," said Seymour. " Election dinners are a part of the 
 Constitution : " and Andrew laughed : " They make Radi- 
 cals pay as well as Tories, so it's pretty square." 
 
 The topic was taken up, flagged, fell, and was taken up 
 again. And then Harry Jocelyn said : 
 
 " I say, have you worked the flags yet ? The great Mel 
 must have his flags." 
 
 The flags were in the hands of ladies, and ladies would 
 look to the rosettes, he was told. 
 
 15
 
 226 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Then a lady of the name of Barrington laughed lightly, 
 and said : 
 
 "Only, pray, my dear Harry, don't call your uncle the 
 'Great Mel' at the election." 
 
 " Oh ! very well," quoth Harry : " why not ? " 
 
 " You'll get him laughed at — that's all." 
 
 " Oh ! well, then, I won't," said Harry, whose wits were 
 attracted by the Countess's visage. 
 
 Mrs. Barrington turned to Seymour, her neighbour, and 
 resumed : 
 
 " He really would be laughed at. There was a tailor — 
 he was called the Great Mel — and he tried to stand for Fal- 
 lowfield once. I believe he had the support of Squire Up- 
 lof t — George's uncle — and others. They must have done 
 it for fun ! Of course he did not get so far as the hustings ; 
 but I believe he had flags, and principles, and all sorts of 
 things worked ready. He certainly canvassed." 
 
 "A tailor — canvassed — for Parliament?" remarked an 
 old Dowager, the mother of Squire Copping. " My ! what 
 are we coming to next ? " 
 
 " He deserved to get in," quoth Aunt Bel : " After 
 having his principles worked ready, to eject the man was 
 infamous." 
 
 Amazed at the mine she had sprung, the Countess sat 
 through it, lamenting the misery of owning a notorious 
 father. Happily Evan was absent, on his peaceful blessed 
 bed! 
 
 Bowing over wine with the Duke, she tried another 
 theme, while still, like a pertinacious cracker, the Great 
 Mel kept banging up and down the table. 
 
 " We are to have a feast in the open air, I hear. What 
 you call pic-nic." 
 
 The Duke believed there was a project of the sort. 
 
 " How exquisitely they do those things in Portugal ! I 
 suppose there would be no scandal in my telling something 
 now. At least we are out of Court-jurisdiction." 
 
 " Scandal of the Court ! " exclaimed his Grace, in mock 
 horror. 
 
 " The option is yours to listen. The Queen, when young, 
 was sweetly pretty ; a divine complexion ; and a habit of 
 smiling on everybody. I presume that the young Habral,
 
 THE DINNER 227 
 
 son of the first magistrate of Lisbon, was also smiled on. 
 Most innocently, I would swear ! But it operated on the 
 wretched youth ! He spent all his fortune in the purchase 
 and decoration of a fairy villa, bordering on the Val das 
 Rosas, where the Court enjoyed its rustic festivities, and 
 one day a storm ! all the ladies hurried their young mistress 
 to the house where the young Habral had been awaiting her 
 for ages. None so polished as he ! Musicians started up, 
 the floors were ready, and torches beneath them ! — there 
 was a feast of exquisite wines and viands sparkling. Quite 
 enchantment. The girl-Queen was in ecstasies. She deigned 
 a dance with the young Habral, and then all sat down to 
 supper ; and in the middle of it came the cry of Fire ! The 
 Queen shrieked; the flames were seen all around; and if 
 the arms of the young Habral were opened to save her, or 
 perish, could she cast a thought on Royalty, and refuse? 
 The Queen was saved, the villa was burnt ; the young Habral 
 was ruined, but, if I know a Portuguese, he was happy till 
 he died, and well remunerated ! For he had held a Queen 
 to his heart ! So that was a pic-nic ! " 
 
 The Duke slightly inclined his head. 
 
 " Vrai Portughez derrendo," he said. " They tell a similar 
 story in Spain, of one of the Queens — I forget her name. 
 The difference between us and your Peninsular cavaliers is, 
 that we would do as much for uncrowned ladies." 
 
 " Ah ! your Grace ! " The Countess swam in the pleasure 
 of a nobleman's compliment. 
 
 " What's the story ? " interposed Aunt Bel. 
 
 An outline of it was given her. Thank heaven, the table 
 was now rid of the Great Mel. For how could he have any, 
 the remotest relation with Queens and Peninsular pic-nics ? 
 You shall hear. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn happened to catch a word or two of the 
 story. 
 
 "Why," said she, "that's English ! Franks, you remem- 
 ber the ballet divertissement they improvised at the Bodley 
 race-ball, when the magnificent footman fired a curtain and 
 caught up Lady Roseley, and carried her — " 
 
 " Heaven knows where ! " cried Sir Franks. " I remember 
 it perfectly. It was said that the magnificent footman did 
 it on purpose to have that pleasure."
 
 228 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Ay, of course," Hamilton took him up. " They talked 
 of prosecuting the magnificent footman." 
 
 "Ay," followed Seymour, "and nobody could tell where 
 the magnificent footman bolted. He vanished into thin air." 
 
 " Ay, of course," Melville struck in ; " and the magic en- 
 veloped the lady for some time." 
 
 At this point Mr. George Uploft gave a horse-laugh. He 
 jerked in his seat excitedly. 
 
 " Bodley race-ball ! " he cried ; and looking at Lady 
 Jocelyn : " Was your ladyship there, then ? Why — ha ! 
 ha ! why, you have seen the Great Mel, then ! That tre- 
 mendous footman was old Mel himself ! " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn struck both her hands on the table, and 
 rested her large grey eyes, full of humorous surprise, on 
 Mr. George. 
 
 There was a pause, and then the ladies and gentlemen 
 laughed. 
 
 "Yes," Mr. George went on, "that was old Mel. I'll 
 swear to him." 
 
 " And that's how it began ? " murmured Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 Mr. George nodded at his plate discreetly. 
 
 " Well," said Lady Jocelyn, leaning back, and lifting her 
 face upward in the discursive fulness of her fancy, " I feel 
 I am not robbed. II y a des miracles, et j'en ai vue. One's 
 life seems more perfect when one has seen what nature can 
 do. The fellow was stupendous ! I conceive him present. 
 Who'll fire a house for me ? Is it my deficiency of attrac- 
 tion, or a total dearth of gallant snobs ? " 
 
 The Countess was drowned. The muscles of her smiles 
 were horribly stiff and painful. Caroline was getting pale. 
 Could it be accident that thus resuscitated Mel, their father, 
 and would not let the dead man die ? Was not malice at 
 the bottom of it? The Countess, though she hated Mr. 
 George infinitely, was clear-headed enough to see that Provi- 
 dence alone was trying her. No glances were exchanged 
 between him and Laxley, or Drummond. 
 
 Again Mel returned to his peace, and again he had to 
 come forth. 
 
 "Who was this singular man you were speaking about 
 just now ? " Mrs. Evremonde asked. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn answered her : " The light of his age. The
 
 THE DINNER 229 
 
 embodied protest against our social prejudice. Combine — 
 say, Mirabeau and Alcibiades, and the result is the Lymport 
 Tailor : — he measures your husband in the morning : in the 
 evening he makes love to you, through a series of panto- 
 mimic transformations. He was a colossal Adonis, and I'm 
 sorry he's dead ! " 
 
 "But did the man get into society?" said Mrs. Evre- 
 monde. " How did he manage that ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! and what sort of a society ! " the dowager 
 Copping interjected. "None but bachelor-tables, I can 
 assure you. Oh ! I remember him. They talked of fetch- 
 ing him to Dox Hall. I said, No, thank you, Tom ; this 
 isn't your Vauxhall." 
 
 " A sharp retort," said Lady Jocelyn, " a most conclusive 
 rhyme ; but you're mistaken. Many families were glad to 
 see him, I hear. And he only consented to be treated like 
 a footman when he dressed like one. The fellow had some 
 capital points. He fought two or three duels, and behaved 
 like a man. Franks wouldn't have him here, or I would 
 have received him. I hear that, as a conteur, he was inimi- 
 table. In short, he was a robust Brummel, and the Kegent 
 of low life." 
 
 This should have been Mel's final epitaph. 
 
 Unhappily, Mrs. Melville would remark, in her mincing 
 manner, that the idea of the admission of a tailor into society 
 seemed very unnatural ; and Aunt Bel confessed that her 
 experience did not comprehend it. 
 
 "As to that," said Lady Jocelyn, "phenomena are un- 
 natural. The rules of society are lightened by the excep- 
 tions. What I like in this Mel is, that though he was a 
 snob, and an impostor, he could still make himself respected 
 by his betters. He was honest, so far ; he acknowledged his 
 tastes, which were those of Franks, Melville, Seymour, and 
 George — the tastes of a gentleman. I prefer him infinitely 
 to your cowardly democrat, who barks for what he can't get, 
 and is generally beastly. In fact, I'm not sure that I haven't 
 a secret passion for the great tailor." 
 
 " After all, old Mel wasn't so bad," Mr. George Uplof t 
 chimed in. " Granted a tailor — you didn't see a bit of it at 
 table. I've known him taken for a lord. And when he once 
 got hold of you, you couldn't give him up. The squire met
 
 230 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 him first in the coach, one winter. Ke took him for a Rus- 
 sian nobleman — didn't find out what he was for a month or 
 so. Says Mel, ' Yes, I make clothes. You find the notion 
 unpleasant ; guess how disagreeable it is to me.' The old 
 squire laughed, and was glad to have him at Croftlands as 
 often as he chose to come. Old Mel and I used to spar 
 sometimes ; but he's gone, and I should like to shake his fist 
 again." 
 
 Then Mr. George told the ' Bath ' story, and episodes in 
 Mel's career as Marquis ; and while he held the ear of the 
 table, Rose, who had not spoken a word, and had scarcely 
 eaten a morsel during dinner, studied the sisters with serious 
 eyes. Only when she turned them from the Countess to 
 Mrs. Strike, they were softened by a shadowy drooping of 
 the eyelids, as if for some reason she deeply pitied that 
 lady. 
 
 Next to Rose sat Drummond, with a face expressive of 
 cynical enjoyment. He devoted uncommon attention to the 
 Countess, whom he usually shunned and overlooked. He 
 invited her to exchange bows over wine, in the fashion of 
 that day, and the Countess went through the performance 
 with finished grace and ease. Poor Andrew had all the time 
 been brushing back his hair, and making strange depreca- 
 tory sounds in his throat, like a man who felt bound to 
 assure everybody at table he was perfectly happy and 
 comfortable. 
 
 "Material enough for a Sartoriad," said Drummond to 
 Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 "Excellent. Pray write it forthwith, Drummond," re- 
 plied her ladyship ; and as they exchanged talk unintelli- 
 gible to the Countess, this lady observed to the Duke : 
 
 "It is a relief to have buried that subject." 
 
 The Duke smiled, raising an eyebrow ; but the persecuted 
 Countess perceived she had been much too hasty when 
 Drummond added : 
 
 " I'll make a journey to Lymport in a day or two, and 
 master his history." 
 
 " Do," said her ladyship ; and flourishing her hand, " ' I 
 sing the Prince of Snobs ! ' " 
 
 "Oh, if it's about old Mel, I'll sing you material enough," 
 said Mr. George. " There ! you talk of it's being unnatural,
 
 THE DINNER 231 
 
 his dining out at respectable tables. Why, I believe — 
 upon my honour, I believe it's a fact — he's supped and 
 thrown dice with the Kegent." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn clapped her hands. " A noble culmination, 
 Drummond ! The man's an Epic ! " 
 
 " Well, I think old Mel was equal to it," Mr. George pur- 
 sued. " He gave me pretty broad hints ; and this is how it 
 was, if it really happened, you know. Old Mel had a friend ; 
 some say he was more. Well, that was a fellow, a great 
 gambler. I dare say you've heard of him — Burley Bennet 
 
 — him that won Kyelands Park of one of the royal dukes 
 
 — died worth upwards of 100,000?. ; and old Mel swore he 
 ought to have had it, and would if he hadn't somehow 
 offended him. He left the money to Admiral Harrington, 
 and he was a relation of Mel's." 
 
 " But are we then utterly mixed up with tailors ? " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Barrington. 
 
 " Well, those are the facts," said Mr. George. 
 
 The wine made the young squire talkative. It is my 
 belief that his suspicions were not awake at that moment, 
 and that, like any other young country squire, having got a 
 subject he could talk on, he did not care to discontinue it. 
 The Countess was past the effort to attempt to stop him. 
 She had work enough to keep her smile in the right 
 place. 
 
 Every dinner may be said to have its special topic, just 
 as every age has its marked reputation. They are put up 
 twice or thrice, and have to contend with minor lights, and 
 to swallow them, and then they command the tongues of 
 men and flow uninterruptedly. So it was with the great Mel 
 upon this occasion. Curiosity was aroused about him. 
 Aunt Bel agreed with Lady Jocelyn that she would have 
 liked to know the mighty tailor. Mrs. Shorne but very 
 imperceptibly protested against the notion, and from one 
 to another it ran. His Grace of Belfield expressed positive 
 approval of Mel as one of the old school. 
 
 " Si ce n'est pas le gentilhomme, au moins, c'est le gentil- 
 homme manque"," said Lady Jocelyn. "He is to be re- 
 gretted, Duke. You are right. The stuff was in him, but 
 the Fates were unkind. I stretch out my hand to the 
 pauvre diable."
 
 232 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " I think one learns more from the mock magnifico than 
 from anything else," observed his Grace. 
 
 " When the lion saw the donkey in his own royal skin," 
 said Aunt Bel, "add the rhyme at your discretion — he was 
 a wiser lion, that's all." 
 
 " And the ape that strives to copy one — he's an animal 
 of judgement," said Lady Jocelyn. " We will be tolerant 
 to the tailor, and the Countess must not set us down as a 
 nation of shopkeepers : philosophically tolerant." 
 
 The Countess started, and ran a little broken " Oh ! " 
 affably out of her throat, dipped her lips to her table- 
 napkin, and resumed her smile. 
 
 " Yes," pursued her ladyship ; " old Mel stamps the age 
 gone by. The gallant adventurer tied to his shop ! Alter- 
 nate footman and marquis, out of intermediate tailor ! Isn't 
 there something fine in his buffoon imitation of the real 
 thing ? I feel already that old Mel belongs to me. Where 
 is the great man buried ? Where have they set the funeral 
 brass that holds his mighty ashes ? " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn's humour was fully entered into by the 
 men. The women smiled vacantly, and had a common 
 thought that it was ill-bred of her to hold forth in that way 
 at table, and unfeminine of any woman to speak continu- 
 ously anywhere. 
 
 " Oh, come ! " cried Mr. George, who saw his own subject 
 snapped away from him by sheer cleverness; "old Mel 
 wasn't only a buffoon, my lady, you know. Old Mel had 
 his qualities. He was as much a ' no-nonsense ' fellow, in 
 his way, as a magistrate, or a minister." 
 
 "Or a king, or a constable," Aunt Bel helped his illus- 
 tration. 
 
 " Or a prince, a poll-parrot, a Perigord-pie," added Drum- 
 mond, whose gravity did not prevent Mr. George from seeing 
 that he was laughed at. 
 
 " Well, then, now, listen to this," said Mr. George, leaning 
 his two hands on the table resolutely. Dessert was laid, 
 and with a full glass beside him, and a pear to peel, he 
 determined to be heard. 
 
 The Countess's eyes went mentally up to the vindictive 
 heavens. She stole a glance at Caroline, and was alarmed at 
 her excessive pallor. Providence had rescued Evan from this !
 
 THE DINNER 233 
 
 "Now, I know this to be true," Mr. George began. 
 " When old Mel was alive, he and I had plenty of sparring, 
 and that — but he's dead, and I'll do him justice. I spoke 
 of Burley Bennet just now. Now, my lady, old Burley was, 
 I think, Mel's half-brother, and he came, I know, somewhere 
 out of Drury Lane — one of the courts near the theatre — I 
 don't know much of London. However, old Mel wouldn't 
 have that. Nothing less than being born in St. James's 
 Square would content old Mel, and he must have a Marquis 
 for his father. I needn't be more particular. Before ladies 
 — ahem ! But Burley was the shrewd hand of the two. 
 Oh-h-h ! such a card ! He knew the way to get into com- 
 pany without false pretences. Well, I told you, he had lots 
 more than 100,000Z. — some said two — and he gave up Rye- 
 lands ; never asked for it, though he won it. Consequence 
 was, he commanded the services of somebody pretty high. 
 And it was he got Admiral Harrington made a captain, 
 posted, commodore, admiral, and K.C.B., all in seven years! 
 In the Army it'd have been half the time, for the H.B.H. 
 was stronger in that department. Now, I know old Burley 
 promised Mel to leave him his money, and called the Admiral 
 an ungrateful dog. He didn't give Mel much at a time — 
 now and then a twenty-pounder or so — I saw the cheques. 
 And old Mel expected the money, and looked over his 
 daughters like a turkey-cock. Nobody good enough for 
 them. Whacking handsome gals — three ! used to be called 
 the Three Graces of Lymport. And one day Burley comes 
 and visits Mel, and sees the girls. And he puts his finger 
 on the eldest, I can tell you. She was a spanker ! She was 
 the handsomest gal, I think, ever I saw. For the mother's 
 a fine woman, and what with the mother, and what with 
 old Mel — " 
 
 " We won't enter into the mysteries of origin," quoth Lady 
 Jocelyn. 
 
 " Exactly, my lady. Oh, your servant, of course. Before 
 
 ladies. A Burley Bennet, I said. Long and short 
 
 was, he wanted to take her up to London. Says old Mel : 
 1 London's a sad place.' 'Place to make money/ says Bur- 
 ley. ' That's not work for a young gal,' says Mel. Long 
 and short was, Burley wanted to take her, and Mel wouldn't 
 let her go." Mr. George lowered his tone, and mumbled,
 
 234 EVAN HABEINGTON 
 
 " Don't know how to explain it very well before ladies. 
 What Burley wanted was — it wasn't quite honourable, you 
 know, though there was a good deal of spangles on it, and 
 whether a real H.E.H., or a Marquis, or a Viscount, I can't 
 say, but the offer was tempting to a tradesman. ' No,' says 
 Mel, like a chap planting his flagstaff and sticking to it. 
 I believe that to get her to go with him, Burley offered to 
 make a will on the spot, and to leave every farthing of his 
 money and property — upon my soul, I believe it to be true 
 — to Mel and his family, if he'd let the gal go. 'No,' says 
 Mel. I like the old bird ! And Burley got in a rage, and 
 said he'd leave every farthing to the sailor. Says Mel : 
 ' I'm a poor tradesman ; but I have and I always will have 
 the feelings of a gentleman, and they're more to me than 
 hard cash, and the honour of my daughter, sir, is dearer to 
 me than my blood. Out of the house ! ' cries Mel. And away 
 old Burley went, and left every penny to the sailor, Admiral 
 Harrington, who never noticed 'em an inch. Now, there ! " 
 
 All had listened to Mr. George attentively, and he had 
 slurred the apologetic passages, and emphasized the pro- 
 pitiatory ' before ladies' in a way to make himself well 
 understood a generation back. 
 
 " Bravo, old Mel ! " rang the voice of Lady Jocelyn, and 
 a murmur ensued, in the midst of which Rose stood up and 
 hurried round the table to Mrs. Strike, who was seen to rise 
 from her chair ; and as she did so, the ill-arranged locks fell 
 from their unnatural restraint down over her shoulders ; 
 one great curl half forward to the bosom, and one behind her 
 right ear. Her eyes were wide, her whole face, neck, and 
 fingers, white as marble. The faintest tremor of a frown 
 on her brows, and her shut lips, marked the continuation 
 of some internal struggle, as if with her last conscious force 
 she kept down a flood of tears and a wild outcry which it 
 was death to hold. Sir Franks felt his arm touched, and 
 looked up, and caught her, as Rose approached. The Duke 
 and other gentlemen went to his aid, and as the beautiful 
 woman was borne out white and still as a corpse, the Countess 
 had this dagger plunged in her heart from the mouth of 
 Mr. George, addressing Miss Carrington : 
 
 " I swear I didn't do it on purpose. She's Carry Harring- 
 ton, old Mel's daughter, as sure as she's flesh and blood ! "
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF 235 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF 
 
 Running through Beckley Park, clear from th9 chalk, a 
 little stream gave light and freshness to its pasturage. Near 
 where it entered, a bathing-house of white marble had been 
 built, under which the water flowed, and the dive could be 
 taken to a paved depth, and you swam out over a pebbly 
 bottom into sun-light, screened by the thick-weeded banks, 
 loose-strife and willow-herb, and mint, nodding over you, and 
 in the later season long-plumed yellow grasses. Here at 
 sunrise the young men washed their limbs, and here since 
 her return home English Rose loved to walk by night. She 
 had often spoken of the little happy stream to Evan in 
 Portugal, and when he came to Beckley Court, she arranged 
 that he should sleep in a bed-room overlooking it. The view 
 was sweet and pleasant to him, for all the babbling of the 
 water was of Rose, and winding in and out, to East, to 
 North, it wound to embowered hopes in the lover's mind, to 
 tender dreams ; and often at dawn, when dressing, his rest- 
 less heart embarked on it, and sailed into havens, the phan- 
 tom joys of which coloured his life for him all the day. But 
 most he loved to look across it when the light fell. The 
 palest solitary gleam along its course spoke to him rich 
 promise. The faint blue beam of a star chained all his 
 longings, charmed his sorrows to sleep. Rose like a fairy 
 had breathed her spirit here, and it was a delight to the 
 silly luxurious youth to lie down, and fix some image of a 
 flower bending to the stream on his brain, and in the cradle 
 of fancies that grew round it, slide down the tide of sleep. 
 
 From the image of a flower bending to the stream, like 
 his own soul to the bosom of Rose, Evan built sweet fables. 
 It was she that exalted him, that led him through glittering 
 chapters of adventure. In his dream of deeds achieved for 
 her sake, you may be sure the young man behaved worthily, 
 though he was modest when she praised him, and his limbs 
 trembled when the land whispered of his great reward to 
 come. The longer he stayed at Beckley the more he lived in
 
 236 EVAN HAREINGTON 
 
 this world -within world, and if now and then the harsh outer 
 life smote him, a look or a word from Rose encompassed him 
 again, and he became sensible only of a distant pain. 
 
 At first his hope sprang wildly to possess her, to believe, 
 that after he had done deeds that would have sent ordinary 
 men in the condition of shattered hulks to the hospital, she 
 might be his. Then blow upon blow was struck, and he 
 prayed to be near her till he died: no more. Then she, 
 herself, struck him to the ground, and sitting in his chamber, 
 sick and weary, on the evening of his mishap, Evan's sole 
 desire was to obtain the handkerchief he had risked his neck 
 for. To have that, and hold it to his heart, and feel it as a 
 part of her, seemed much. 
 
 Over a length of the stream the red round harvest-moon 
 was rising, and the weakened youth was this evening at the 
 mercy of the charm that encircled him. The water curved, 
 and dimpled, and flowed flat, and the whole body of it rushed 
 into the spaces of sad splendour. The clustered trees stood 
 like temples of darkness ; their shadows lengthened super- 
 naturally ; and a pale gloom crept between them on the sward. 
 He had been thinking for some time that Rose would knock 
 at his door, and give him her voice, at least ; but she did not 
 come; and when he had gazed out on the stream till his 
 eyes ached, he felt that he must go and walk by it. 
 Those little flashes of the hurrying tide spoke to him of a 
 secret rapture and of a joy-seeking impulse; the pouring 
 onward of all the blood of life to one illumined heart, 
 mournful from excess of love. 
 
 Pardon me, I beg. Enamoured young men have these 
 notions. Ordinarily Evan had sufficient common sense and 
 was as prosaic as mankind could wish him ; but he has had a 
 terrible fall in the morning, and a young woman rages in his 
 brain. Better, indeed, and 'more manly,' were he to strike 
 and raise huge bosses on his forehead, groan, and so have 
 done with it. We must let him go his own way. 
 
 At the door he was met by the Countess. She came into 
 the room without a word or a kiss, and when she did speak, 
 the total absence of any euphuism gave token of repressed 
 excitement yet more than her angry eyes and eager step. 
 Evan had grown accustomed to her moods, and if one moment 
 she was the halcyon, and another the petrel, it no longer
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF 237 
 
 disturbed him, seeing that he was a stranger to the influences 
 by which she was affected. The Countess rated him severely 
 for not seeking repose and inviting sympathy. She told him 
 that the Jocelyns had one and all combined in an infamous 
 plot to destroy the race of Harrington, and that Caroline had 
 already succumbed to their assaults ; that the Jocelyns would 
 repent it, and sooner than they thought for ; and that the 
 only friend the Harringtons had in the house was Miss 
 Bonner, whom Providence would liberally reward. 
 
 Then the Countess changed to a dramatic posture, and 
 whispered aloud, "Hush: she is here. She is so anxious. 
 Be generous, my brother, and let her see you ! " 
 
 " She ? " said Evan, faintly. " May she come, Louisa ? " 
 He hoped for Kose. 
 
 "I have consented to mask it," returned the Countess. 
 " Oh, what do I not sacrifice for you." 
 
 She turned from him, and to Evan's chagrin introduced 
 Juliana Bonner. 
 
 " Five minutes, remember ! " said the Countess. " I must 
 not hear of more." And then Evan found himself alone with 
 Miss Bonner, and very uneasy. This young lady had restless 
 brilliant eyes, and a contraction about the forehead which 
 gave one the idea of a creature suffering perpetual headache. 
 She said nothing, and when their eyes met she dropped hers 
 in a manner that made silence too expressive. Feeling which, 
 Evan began : 
 
 "May I tell you that I think it is I who ought to be 
 nursing you, not you me ? " 
 
 Miss Bonner replied by lifting her eyes and dropping them 
 as before, murmuring subsequently, " Would you do so ? " 
 
 " Most certainly, if you did me the honour to select me." 
 
 The fingers of the young lady commenced twisting and 
 intertwining on her lap. Suddenly she laughed : 
 
 " It would not do at all. You won't be dismissed from 
 your present service till you're unfit for any other." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Evan, thinking more of the 
 unmusical laugh than of the words. 
 
 He received no explanation, and the irksome silence caused 
 him to look through the window, as an escape for his mind, 
 at least. The waters streamed on endlessly into the golden 
 arms awaiting them. The low moon burnt through the
 
 238 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 foliage. In the distance, over a reach of the flood, one tall 
 aspen shook against the lighted sky. 
 
 "Are you in pain?" Miss Bonner asked, and broke his 
 reverie. 
 
 "No; I am going away, and perhaps I sigh involuntarily." 
 
 " You like these grounds ? " 
 
 " I have never been so happy in any place." 
 
 " With those cruel young men about you ? " 
 
 Evan now laughed. "We don't call young men cruel, 
 Miss Bonner." 
 
 " But were they not ? To take advantage of what Rose 
 told them — it was base ! " 
 
 She had said more than she intended, possibly, for she 
 coloured under his inquiring look, and added: "I wish I 
 could say the same as you of Beckley. Do you know, I am 
 called Rose's thorn ? " 
 
 "Not by Miss Jocelyn herself, certainly ! " 
 
 "How eager you are to defend her. But am I not — tell 
 me — do I not look like a thorn in company with her ? " 
 
 "There is but the difference that ill health would make." 
 
 " 111 health ? Oh, yes ! And Rose is so much better 
 born." 
 
 " To that, I am sure, she does not give a thought." 
 
 "Not Rose? Oh!" 
 
 An exclamation, properly lengthened, convinces the feel- 
 ings more satisfactorily than much logic. Though Evan 
 claimed only the handkerchief he had won, his heart sank 
 at the sound. Miss Bonner watched him, and springing 
 forward, said sharply : 
 
 " May I tell you something ? " 
 
 " You may tell me what you please." 
 
 " Then, whether I offend you or not, you had better leave 
 this." 
 
 "I am going," said Evan. "I am only waiting to intro- 
 duce your tutor to you." 
 
 She kept her eyes on him, and in her voice as well there 
 was a depth, as she returned : 
 
 " Mr. Laxley, Mr. Forth, and Harry, are going to Lymport 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Evan was looking at a figure, whose shadow was thrown 
 towards the house from the margin of the stream.
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF 239 
 
 He stood up, and taking the hand of Miss Bonner, said : 
 
 "I thank you. I may, perhaps, start with them. At any 
 rate, you have done me a great service, which I shall not 
 forget." 
 
 The figure by the stream he knew to be that of Rose. He 
 released Miss Bonner's trembling moist hand, and as he 
 continued standing, she moved to the door, after once fol- 
 lowing the line of his eyes into the moonlight. 
 
 Outside the door a noise was audible. Andrew had come 
 to sit with his dear boy, and the Countess had met and 
 engaged and driven him to the other end of the passage, 
 where he hung remonstrating with her. 
 
 " Why, Van," he said, as Evan came up to him, " I thought 
 yon were in a profound sleep. Louisa said — " 
 
 " Silly Andrew ! " interposed the Countess, " do you not 
 observe he is sleep-walking now ? " and she left them with 
 a light laugh to go to Juliana, whom she found in tears. 
 The Countess was quite aware of the efficacy of a little bit 
 of burlesque lying to cover her retreat from any petty 
 exposure. 
 
 Evan soon got free from Andrew. He was under the dim 
 stars, walking to the great fire in the East. The cool air 
 refreshed him. He was simply going to ask for his own, 
 before he went, and had no cause to fear what would be 
 thought by any one. A handkerchief ! A man might fairly 
 win that, and carry it out of a very noble family, without 
 having to blush for himself. 
 
 I cannot say whether he inherited his feeling for rank 
 from Mel, his father, or that the Countess had succeeded in 
 instilling it, but Evan never took Bepublican ground in 
 opposition to those who insulted him, and never lashed his 
 ' manhood,' to assert itself, nor compared the fineness of his 
 instincts with the behaviour of titled gentlemen. Rather 
 he seemed to admit the distinction between his birth and 
 that of a gentleman, admitting it to his own soul, as it were, 
 and struggled simply as men struggle against a destiny. 
 The news Miss Bonner had given him sufficed to break a 
 spell which could not have endured another week ; and 
 Andrew, besides, had told him of Caroline's illness. He 
 walked to meet Rose, honestly intending to ask for his 
 own, and wish her good-bye.
 
 240 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Rose saw him approach, and knew him in the distance. 
 She was sitting on a lower branch of the aspen, that shot 
 out almost from the root, and stretched over the intervolving 
 rays of light on the tremulous water. She could not move 
 to meet him. She was not the Eose whom we have hitherto 
 known. Love may spring in the bosom of a young girl, like 
 Hesper in the evening sky, a grey speck in a field of grey, 
 and not be seen or known, till surely as the circle advances 
 the faint planet gathers fire, and, coming nearer earth, 
 dilates, and will and must be seen and known. When Evan 
 lay like a dead man on the ground, Rose turned upon her- 
 self as the author of his death, and then she felt this pres- 
 ence within her, and her heart all day had talked to her of 
 it, and was throbbing now, and would not be quieted. She 
 could only lift her eyes and give him her hand ; she could 
 not speak. She thought him cold, and he was ; cold enough 
 to think that she and her cousin were not unlike in their 
 manner, though not deep enough to reflect that it was from 
 the same cause. 
 
 She was the first to find her wits : but not before she 
 spoke did she feel, and start to feel, how long had been the 
 silence, and that her hand was still in his. 
 
 " Why did you come out, Evan ? It was not right." 
 
 " I came to speak to you. I shall leave early to-morrow, 
 and may not see you alone." 
 
 " You are going ? " 
 
 She checked her voice, and left the thrill of it wavering 
 in him. 
 
 " Yes, Rose, I am going ; I should have gone before." 
 
 " Evan ! " she grasped his hand, and then timidly retained 
 it. " You have not forgiven me ? I see now. I did not 
 think of any risk to you. I only wanted you to beat. I 
 wanted you to be first and best. If you knew how I thank 
 God for saving you ! What my punishment would have 
 been ! " 
 
 Till her eyes were full she kept them on him, too deep in 
 emotion to be conscious of it. 
 
 He could gaze on her tears coldly. 
 
 " I should be happy to take the leap any day for the prize 
 you offered. I have come for that." 
 
 "For what, Evan?" But while she was speaking the
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF 241 
 
 colour mounted in her cheeks, and she went on rapidly: 
 " Did you think it unkind of me not to come to nurse you. 
 I must tell you, to defend myself. It was the Countess, 
 Evan. She is offended with me — very justly, I dare say. 
 She would not let me come. What could I do ? I had no 
 claim to come." 
 
 Eose was not aware of the import of her speech. Evan, 
 though he felt more in it, and had some secret nerves set 
 tingling and dancing, was not to be moved from his demand. 
 
 " Do you intend to withhold it, Eose ? " 
 
 " Withhold what, Evan ? Anything that you wish for is 
 yours." 
 
 " The handkerchief. Is not that mine ? " 
 
 Eose faltered a word. Why did he ask for it ? Because 
 he asked for nothing else, and wanted no other thing save 
 that. 
 
 Why did she hesitate ? Because it was so poor a gift, and 
 so unworthy of him. 
 
 And why did he insist ? Because in honour she was 
 bound to surrender it. 
 
 And why did she hesitate still ? Let her answer. 
 
 " Oh, Evan ! I would give you anything but that ; and if 
 you are going away, I should beg so much to keep it." 
 
 He must have been in a singular state not to see her heart 
 in the refusal, as was she not to see his in the request. But 
 Love is blindest just when the bandage is being removed 
 from his forehead. 
 
 " Then you will not give it me, Eose ? Do you think I 
 shall go about boasting 'This is Miss Jocelyn's handker- 
 chief, and I, poor as I am, have won it ' ? " 
 
 The taunt struck aslant in Eose's breast with a peculiar 
 sting. She stood up. 
 
 " I will give it you, Evan." 
 
 Turning from him she drew it forth, and handed it to him 
 hurriedly. 
 
 It was warm. It was stained with his blood. He guessed 
 where it had been nestling, and now, as if by revelation, 
 he saw that large sole star in the bosom of his darling, and 
 was blinded by it and lost his senses. 
 
 "Eose! beloved!" 
 
 Like the flower of his nightly phantasy bending over the 
 
 16
 
 242 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 stream, he looked and saw in her sweet face the living 
 wonders that encircled his image ; she murmuring : " No, 
 you must hate me." 
 
 " I love you, Kose, and dare to say it — and it's unpardon- 
 able. Can you forgive me ? " 
 
 She raised her face to him. 
 
 " Forgive you for loving me ? " she said. 
 
 Holy to them grew the stillness : the ripple suffused in 
 golden moonlight: the dark edges of the leaves against 
 superlative brightness. Not a chirp was heard, nor anything 
 save the cool and endless carol of the happy waters, whose 
 voices are the spirits of silence. Nature seemed consenting 
 that their hands should be joined, their eyes intermingling. 
 And when Evan, with a lover's craving, wished her lips to 
 say what her eyes said so well, Rose drew his fingers up, 
 and, with an arch smile and a blush, kissed them. The 
 simple act set his heart thumping, and from the look of love, 
 she saw an expression of pain pass through him. Her fealty 
 — her guileless, fearless truth — which the kissing of his 
 hand brought vividly before him, conjured its contrast as 
 well in this that was hidden from her, or but half suspected. 
 Did she know — know and love him still ? He thought it 
 might be : but that fell dead on her asking : 
 
 " Shall I speak to Mama to-night ? " 
 
 A load of lead crushed him. 
 
 "Rose!" he said; but could get no farther. 
 
 Innocently, or with well-masked design, Rose branched 
 off into little sweet words about his bruised shoulder, touch- 
 ing it softly, as if she knew the virtue that was in her touch, 
 and accusing her selfish self as she caressed it : " Dearest 
 Evan ! you must have been sure I thought no one like you. 
 Why did you not tell me before ? I can hardly believe it 
 now ! Do you know," she hurried on, " they think me cold 
 and heartless, — am I ? I must be, to have made you run 
 such risk ; but yet I'm sure I could not have survived you." 
 
 Dropping her voice, Rose quoted Ruth. As Evan lis- 
 tened, the words were like food from heaven poured into 
 his spirit. 
 
 "To-morrow," he kept saying to himself, " to-morrow I 
 will tell her all. Let her think well of me a few short 
 hours."
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT 243 
 
 But the passing minutes locked them closer ; each had a 
 new link — in a word, or a speechless breath, or a touch : and 
 to break the marriage of their eyes there must be infinite 
 baseness on one side, or on the other disloyalty to love. 
 
 The moon was a silver ball, high up through the aspen- 
 leaves. Evan kissed the hand of Eose, and led her back to 
 the house. He had appeased his conscience by restraining 
 his wild desire to kiss her lips. 
 
 In the hall they parted. Rose whispered, " Till death ! " 
 giving him her hands. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT 
 
 There is a peculiar reptile whose stroke is said to deprive 
 men of motion. On the day after the great Mel had stalked 
 the dinner-table of Beckley Court, several of the guests were 
 sensible of the effect of this creature's mysterious touch, 
 without knowing what it was that paralyzed them. Drum- 
 mond Forth had fully planned to go to Lymport. He had 
 special reasons for making investigations with regard to the 
 great Mel. Harry, who was fond of Drummond, offered to 
 accompany him, and Laxley, for the sake of a diversion, 
 fell into the scheme. Mr. George Uploft was also to be of 
 the party, and promised them fun. But when the time came 
 to start, not one could be induced to move : Laxley was 
 pressingly engaged by Rose : Harry showed the rope the 
 Countess held him by; Mr. George made a singular face, 
 and seriously advised Drummond to give up the project. 
 
 "Don't rub that woman the wrong way," he said, in a 
 private colloquy they had. " By Jingo, she's a Tartar. She 
 was as a gal, and she isn't changed, Lou Harrington. Eancy 
 now: she knew me, and she faced me out, and made me 
 think her a stranger ! Gad, I'm glad I didn't speak to the 
 others. Lord's sake, keep it quiet. Don't rouse that woman, 
 now, if you want to keep a whole skin." 
 
 Drummond laughed at his extreme earnestness in caution-
 
 244 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 ing him, and appeared to enjoy his dread of the Countess. 
 Mr. George would not tell how he had been induced to change 
 his mind. He repeated his advice with a very emphatic 
 shrug of the shoulder. 
 
 " You seem afraid of her," said Drummond. 
 
 "I am. I ain't ashamed to confess it. She's a regular 
 viper, my boy ! " said Mr. George. " She and I once were 
 pretty thick — least said soonest mended, you know. I 
 offended her. "Wasn't quite up to her mark — a tailor's 
 daughter, you know. Gad, if she didn't set an Irish Dra- 
 goon Captain on me ! — I went about in danger of my life. 
 The fellow began to twist his damned black moustaches the 
 moment he clapped eyes on me — bullied me till, upon my 
 soul, I was almost ready to fight him ! Oh, she was a little 
 tripping Tartar of a bantam hen then. She's grown since 
 she's been countessed, and does it peacocky. Now, I give 
 you fair warning, you know. She's more than any man's 
 match." 
 
 " I dare say I shall think the same when she has beaten 
 me," quoth cynical Drummond, and immediately went and 
 gave orders for his horse to be saddled, thinking that he 
 would tread on the head of the viper. 
 
 But shortly before the hour of his departure, Mrs. Evre- 
 monde summoned him to her, and showed him a slip of 
 paper, on which was written, in an uncouth small hand : 
 
 "Madam: a friend warns you that your husband is 
 coming here. Deep interest in your welfare is the cause of 
 an anonymous communication. The writer wishes only to 
 warn you in time." 
 
 Mrs. Evremonde told Drummond that she had received it 
 from one of the servants when leaving the breakfast-room. 
 Beyond the fact that a man on horseback had handed it to a 
 little boy, who had delivered it over to the footman, Drum- 
 mond could learn nothing. Of course, all thought of the 
 journey to Lymport was abandoned. If but to excogitate a 
 motive for the origin of the document, Drummond was 
 forced to remain; and now he had it, and now he lost it 
 again; and as he was wandering about in his maze, the 
 Countess met him with a " Good morning, Mr. Forth. Have
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT 245 
 
 I impeded your expedition by taking my friend Mr. Harry 
 to cavalier me to-day ? " 
 
 Drummond smilingly assured her that she had not in any 
 way disarranged his projects, and passed with so absorbed a 
 brow that the Countess could afford to turn her head and 
 inspect him, without fear that he would surprise her in the 
 act. Knocking the pearly edge of her fan on her teeth, she 
 eyed him under her joined black lashes, and deliberately 
 read his thoughts in the mere shape of his back and 
 shoulders. She read him through and through, and was un- 
 conscious of the effective attitude she stood in for the space 
 of two full minutes, and even then it required one of our 
 unhappy sex to recall her. This was Harry Jocelyn. 
 
 " My friend," she said to him, with a melancholy smile, 
 " my one friend here ! " 
 
 Harry went through the form of kissing her hand, which 
 he had been taught, and practised cunningly as the first 
 step of the ladder. 
 
 " I say, you looked so handsome, standing as you did just 
 now," he remarked ; and she could see how far beneath her 
 that effective attitude had precipitated the youth. 
 
 " Ah ! " she sighed, walking on, with the step of majesty 
 in exile. 
 
 " What the deuce is the matter with everybody to-day ? " 
 cried Harry. " I'm hanged if I can make it out. There's 
 the Carrington, as you call her, I met her with such a pair 
 of eyes, and old George looking as if he'd been licked, at 
 her heels ; and there's Drummond and his lady fair moping 
 about the lawn, and my mother positively getting excited — 
 there's a miracle! and Juley's sharpening her nails for 
 somebody, and if Ferdinand don't look out, your brother'll 
 be walking off with Kosey — that's my opinion." 
 
 " Indeed," said the Countess. " You really think so ? " 
 
 " Well, they come it pretty strong together." 
 
 "And what constitutes the 'come it strong,' Mr. 
 Harry ? " 
 
 "Hold of hands, you know," the young gentleman indi- 
 cated. 
 
 " Alas, then ! must not we be more discreet ? " 
 
 " Oh ! but it's different. With young people one knows 
 what that means."
 
 246 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Deus ! " exclaimed the Countess, tossing her head 
 weariedly, and Harry perceived his slip, and down he went 
 again. 
 
 What wonder that a youth in such training should consent 
 to fetch and carry, to listen and relate, to play the spy and 
 know no more of his office than that it gave him astonish- 
 ing thrills of satisfaction, and now and then a secret sweet 
 reward ? 
 
 The Countess had sealed Miss Carrington's mouth by one 
 of her most dexterous strokes. On leaving the dinner-table 
 over-night, and seeing that Caroline's attack would preclude 
 their instant retreat, the gallant Countess turned at bay. A 
 word aside to Mr. George Uplof t, and then the Countess took 
 a chair by Miss Carrington. She did all the conversation, 
 and supplied all the smiles to it, and when a lady has to do 
 that she is justified in striking, and striking hard, for to 
 abandon the pretence of sweetness is a gross insult from 
 one woman to another. 
 
 The Countess then led circuitously, but with all the ease in 
 the world, to the story of a Portuguese lady, of a marvellous 
 beauty, and who was deeply enamoured of the Chevalier 
 Miguel de Rasadio, and engaged to be married to him : but, 
 alas for her ! in the insolence of her happiness she wantonly 
 made an enemy in the person of a most unoffending lady, and 
 she repented it. While sketching the admirable Chevalier, 
 the Countess drew a telling portrait of Mr. George Uplof t, and 
 gratified her humour and her wrath at once by strong truth 
 to nature in the description and animated encomiums on the 
 individual. The Portuguese lady, too, a little resembled 
 Miss Carrington, in spite of her marvellous beauty. And it 
 was odd that Miss Carrington should give a sudden start and 
 a horrified glance at the Countess just when the Countess was 
 pathetically relating the proceeding taken by the revengeful 
 lady on the beaiitiful betrothed of the Chevalier Miguel de 
 Rasadio : which proceeding was nothing other than to bring 
 to the Chevalier's knowledge that his beauty had a defect con- 
 cealed by her apparel, and that the specks in his fruit were 
 not one, or two, but, Oh ! And the dreadful sequel to the 
 story the Countess could not tell : preferring ingeniously to 
 throw a tragic veil over it. Miss Carrington went early to 
 bed that night.
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT 247 
 
 The courage that mounteth with occasion -was eminently 
 the attribute of the Countess de Saldar. After that dreadful 
 dinner she (since the weaknesses of great generals should not 
 be altogether ignored) did pray for flight and total obscurity, 
 but Caroline could not be left in her hysteric state, and now 
 that she really perceived that Evan was progressing and on 
 the point of sealing his chance, the devoted lady resolved to 
 hold her ground. Besides, there was the pic-nic. The Count- 
 ess had one dress she had not yet appeared in, and it was for 
 the pic-nic she kept it. That small motives are at the bottom 
 of many illustrious actions is a modern discovery ; but I shall 
 not adopt the modern principle of magnifying the small 
 motive till it overshadows my noble heroine. I remember 
 that the small motive is only to be seen by being borne into 
 the range of my vision by a powerful microscope ; and if I do 
 more than see — if I carry on my reflections by the aid of the 
 glass, I arrive at conclusions that must be false. Men who 
 dwarf human nature do this. The gods are juster. The 
 Countess, though she wished to remain for the pic-nic, and 
 felt warm in anticipation of the homage to her new dress, was 
 still a gallant general and a devoted sister, and if she said to 
 herself, " Come what may, I will stay for that pic-nic, and 
 they shall not brow-beat me out of it," it is that trifling pleas- 
 ures are noisiest about the heart of human nature : not that 
 they govern us absolutely. There is mob-rule in minds as in 
 communities, but the Countess had her appetites in excellent 
 drill. This pic-nic surrendered, represented to her defeat in 
 all its ignominy. The largest longest-headed of schemes ask 
 occasionally for something substantial and immediate. So 
 the Countess stipulated with Providence for the pic-nic. It 
 was a point to be passed: "Thorough flood, thorough 
 fire." 
 
 In vain poor Andrew Cogglesby, to whom the dinner had 
 been torture, and who was beginning to see the position 
 they stood in at Beckley, begged to be allowed to take 
 them away, or to go alone. The Countess laughed him 
 into submission. As a consequence of her audacious spirits 
 she grew more charming and more natural, and the humour 
 that she possessed, but which, like her other faculties, was 
 usually subordinate to her plans, gave spontaneous bursts 
 throughout the day, and delighted her courtiers. Nor did
 
 248 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 the men at all dislike the difference of her manner with 
 them, and with the ladies. I may observe that a woman 
 who shows a marked depression in the presence of her own 
 sex will be thought very superior by ours ; that is, suppos- 
 ing she is clever and agreeable. Manhood distinguishes 
 what natters it. A lady approaches. "We must be 
 proper," says the Countess, and her hearty laugh dies 
 with suddenness and is succeeded by the maturest gravity. 
 And the Countess can look a profound merriment with per- 
 fect sedateness when there appears to be an equivoque in 
 company. Finely secret are her glances, as if under every 
 eye-lash there lurked the shade of a meaning. What she 
 meant was not so clear. All this was going on, and Lady 
 Jocelyn was simply amused, and sat as at a play. 
 
 "She seems to have stepped out of a book of French 
 memoirs," said her ladyship. "La vie galante et devote — 
 voila la Comtesse." 
 
 In contradistinction to the other ladies, she did not 
 detest the Countess because she could not like her. 
 
 " Where's the harm in her? " she asked. " She doesn't 
 damage the men, that I can see. And a person you can 
 laugh at and with, is inexhaustible." 
 
 "And how long is she to stay here?" Mrs. Shorne 
 inquired. Mrs. Melville remarking: "Her visit appears 
 to be inexhaustible." 
 
 "I suppose she'll stay till the Election business is over," 
 said Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 The Countess had just driven with Melville to Fallow- 
 field in Caroline's black lace shawl. 
 
 "Upwards of four weeks longer!" Mrs. Melville inter- 
 jected. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn chuckled. 
 
 Miss Carrington was present. She had been formerly 
 sharp in her condemnation of the Countess — her affected- 
 ness, her euphuism, and her vulgarity. Now she did not 
 say a word, though she might have done it with impunity. 
 
 "I suppose, Emily, you see what Rose is about?" said 
 Mrs. Melville. "I should not have thought it advisable to 
 have that young man here, myself. I think I let you know 
 that." 
 
 "One young man's as good as another," responded her
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKER HERSELF FELT 249 
 
 ladyship. " I've my doubts of the one that's much better. 
 I fancy Eose is as good a judge by this time as you or I." 
 Mrs. Melville made an effort or two to open Lady Jocelyn's 
 eyes, and then relapsed into the confident serenity inspired 
 by evil prognostications. 
 
 " But there really does seem some infatuation about these 
 people!" exclaimed Mrs. Shorne, turning to Miss Current. 
 "Can you understand it? The Duke, my dear! Things 
 seem to be going on in the house, that really — and so 
 openly." 
 
 "That's one virtue," said Miss Current, with her imper- 
 turbable metallic voice, and face like a cold clear northern 
 sky. " Things done in secret throw on the outsiders the 
 onus of raising a scandal." 
 
 "You don't believe, then?" suggested Mrs. Shorne. 
 Miss Current replied: "I always wait for a thing to 
 happen first." 
 
 "But haven't you seen, my dear?" 
 "I never see anything, my dear." 
 " Then you must be blind, my dear. " 
 "On the contrary, that's how I keep my sight, my dear." 
 "I don't understand you," said Mrs. Shorne. 
 "It's a part of the science of optics, and requires study," 
 said Miss Current. 
 
 Neither with the worldly nor the unworldly woman could 
 the ladies do anything. But they were soon to have their 
 triumph. 
 
 A delicious morning had followed the lovely night. The 
 stream flowed under Evan's eyes, like something in a lower 
 sphere, now. His passion took him up, as if a genie had 
 lifted him into mid-air, and showed him the world on a 
 palm of a hand; and yet, as he dressed by the window, 
 little chinks in the garden wall, and nectarines under their 
 shiny leaves, and the white walks of the garden, were 
 stamped on his hot brain accurately and lastingly. Ruth 
 upon the lips of Rose : that voice of living constancy made 
 music to him everywhere. "Thy God shall be my God." 
 He had heard it all through the night. He had not yet 
 broken the tender charm sufficiently to think that he must 
 tell her the sacrifice she would have to make. When partly 
 he did, the first excuse he clutched at was, that he had not
 
 250 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 even kissed her on the forehead. Surely he had been 
 splendidly chivalrous ? Just as surely he would have 
 brought on himself the scorn of the chivalrous or of the 
 commonly balanced if he had been otherwise. The gran- 
 deur of this or of any of his proceedings, then, was for- 
 feited, as it must needs be when we are in the false 
 position: we can have no glory though martyred. The 
 youth felt it, even to the seeing of why it was; and he 
 resolved, in justice to the dear girl, that he would break 
 loose from his fetters, as we call our weakness. Behold, 
 Rose met him descending the stairs, and, taking his hand, 
 sang, unabashed, by the tell-tale colour coming over her 
 face, a stave of a little Portuguese air that they had both 
 been fond of in Portugal; and he, listening to it, and look- 
 ing in her eyes, saw that his feelings in the old time had 
 been hers. Instantly the old time gave him its breath, the 
 present drew back. 
 
 Kose, now that she had given her heart out, had no idea 
 of concealment. She would have denied nothing to her 
 aunts : she was ready to confide it to her mother. Was she 
 not proud of the man she loved? When Evan's hand 
 touched hers she retained it, and smiled up at him frankly, 
 as it were to make him glad in her gladness. If before 
 others his eyes brought the blood to her cheeks, she would 
 perhaps drop her eye-lids an instant, and then glance quickly 
 level again to reassure him. And who would have thought 
 that this boisterous, boyish creature had such depths of eye ! 
 Cold, did they call her? Let others think her cold. The 
 tender knowledge of her — the throbbng secret they held in 
 common sang at his heart. Rose made no confidante, but 
 she attempted no mystery. Evan should have risen to the 
 height of the noble girl. But the dearer and sweeter her 
 bearing became, the more conscious he was of the dead 
 weight he was dragging: in truth her behaviour stamped 
 his false position to hard print the more he admired her 
 for it, and he had shrinkings from the feminine part it 
 imposed on him to play.
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 251 
 CHAPTER XXY 
 
 IN WHICH THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 
 
 An Irish retriever-pup of the Shannon breed, Pat by 
 name, was undergoing tuition on the sward close by the 
 kennels, Pose's hunting-whip being passed through his col- 
 lar to restrain erratic propensities. The particular point of 
 instruction which now made poor Pat hang out his tongue, 
 and agitate his crisp brown curls, was the performance of 
 the "down-charge;" a ceremony demanding implicit obe- 
 dience from the animal in the midst of volatile gambadoes, 
 and a simulation of profound repose when his desire to be 
 up and bounding was mighty. Pat's Irish eyes were watch- 
 ing Rose, as he lay with his head couched between his fore- 
 paws in the required attitude. He had but half learnt his 
 lesson, and something in his half-humorous, half-melan- 
 choly look talked to Rose more eloquently than her friend 
 Ferdinand at her elbow. Laxley was her assistant dog- 
 breaker. Rose would not abandon her friends because she 
 had accepted a lover. On the contrary, Rose was very kind 
 to Ferdinand, and perhaps felt bound to be so to-day. To- 
 day, also, her face was lighted ; a readiness to colour, and an 
 expression of deeper knowledge, which she now had, made 
 the girl dangerous to friends. This was not Rose's fault : 
 but there is no doubt among the faculty that love is a con- 
 tagious disease, and we ought not to come within miles of 
 the creatures in whom it lodges. 
 
 Pat's tail kept hinting to his mistress that a change 
 would afford him satisfaction. After a time she withdrew 
 her wistful gaze from him, and listened entirely to Ferdi- 
 nand : and it struck her that he spoke particularly well to- 
 day, though she did not see so much in his eyes as in Pat's. 
 The subject concerned his departure, and he asked Rose if 
 she should be sorry. Rose, to make him sure of it, threw 
 a music into her voice dangerous to friends. For she had 
 given heart and soul to Evan, and had a sense, therefore, 
 of being irredeemably in debt to her old associates, and 
 wished to be doubly kind to them.
 
 252 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Pat took advantage of the diversion to stand up quietly 
 and have a shake. He then began to kiss his mistress's 
 hand, to show that all was right on both sides; and fol- 
 lowed this with a playful pretence at a bite, that there 
 might be no subsequent misunderstanding, and then a bark 
 and a whine. As no attention was paid to this amount of 
 plain-speaking, Pat made a bolt. He got no farther than 
 the length of the whip, and all he gained was to bring on 
 himself the terrible word of drill once more. But Pat had 
 tasted liberty. Irish rebellion against constituted authority 
 was exhibited. Pat would not : his ears tossed over his head, 
 and he jumped to right and left, and looked the raggedest 
 rapparee that ever his ancestry trotted after. Rose laughed 
 at his fruitless efforts to get free ; but Ferdinand medita- 
 tively appeared to catch a sentiment in them. 
 
 "Down-charge, sir, will you? Ah, Pat! Pat! You'll 
 have to obey me, my boy. Now, down-charge ! " 
 
 While Rose addressed the language of reason to Pat, 
 Ferdinand slipped in a soft word or two. Presently she 
 saw him on one knee. 
 
 "Pat won't, and I will," said he. 
 
 "But Pat shall, and you had better not," said she. 
 "Besides, my dear Ferdinand," she added, laughing, "you 
 don't know how to do it." 
 
 "Do you want me prostrate on all fours, Rose?" 
 
 "No. I hope not. Do get up, Ferdinand. You'll be 
 seen from the windows." 
 
 Instead of quitting his posture, he caught her hand, and 
 scared her with a declaration. 
 
 " Of all men, you to be on your knees ! and to me, Ferdi- 
 nand!" she cried, in discomfort. 
 
 "Why shouldn't I, Rose?" was this youth's answer. 
 
 He had got the idea that foreign cavalier manners would 
 take with her; but it was not so easy to make his speech 
 correspond with his posture, and be lost his opportunity, 
 which was pretty. However, he spoke plain English. The 
 interview ended by Rose releasing Pat from drill, and run- 
 ning off in a hurry. Where was Evan? she must have his 
 consent to speak to her mother, and prevent a recurrence of 
 these silly scenes. 
 
 Evan was with Caroline, his sister.
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 253 
 
 It was contrary to the double injunction of the Countess 
 that Caroline should receive Evan during her absence, or 
 that he should disturb the dear invalid with a visit. These 
 two were not unlike both in organization and character, and 
 they had not sat together long before they found each other 
 out. Now, to further Evan's love-suit, the Countess had 
 induced Caroline to continue yet awhile in the Purgatory 
 Beckley Court had become to her; but Evan, in speaking 
 of Rose, expressed a determination to leave her, and Caro- 
 line caught at it. 
 
 "Can you? — will you? Oh, dear Van! have you the 
 courage? I — look at me — you know the home I go to, 
 and — and I think of it here as a place to be happy in. 
 What have our marriages done for us? Better that we had 
 married simple stupid men who earn their bread, and would 
 not have been ashamed of us ! And, my dearest, it is not 
 only that. None can tell what our temptations are. Louisa 
 has strength, but I feel I have none ; and though, dear, for 
 your true interest, I would indeed sacrifice myself — I 
 would, Van! I would! — it is not good for you to stay, — 
 I know it is not. For you have Papa's sense of honour 
 — and oh! if you should learn to despise me, my dear 
 brother ! " 
 
 She kissed him ; her nerves were agitated by strong men- 
 tal excitement. He attributed it to her recent attack of 
 illness, but could not help asking, while he caressed her : 
 
 " What's that? Despise you? " 
 
 It may have been that Caroline felt then, that to speak 
 of something was to forfeit something. A light glimmered 
 across the dewy blue of her beautiful eyes. Desire to 
 breathe it to him, and have his loving aid : the fear of for- 
 feiting it, evil as it was to her, and at the bottom of all, 
 that doubt we choose to encourage of the harm in a pleasant 
 sin unaccomplished ; these might be read in the rich dim 
 gleam that swept like sunlight over sea-water between 
 breaks of cloud. 
 
 "Dear Van! do you love her so much?" 
 
 Caroline knew too well that she was shutting her own 
 theme with iron clasps when she once touched on Evan's. 
 
 Love her ? Love Rose ? It became an endless carol 
 with Evan. Caroline sighed for him from her heart.
 
 254 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "You know — you understand me ; don't you?" he said, 
 after a breathless excursion of his fancy. 
 
 " I believe you love her, dear. I think I have never loved 
 any one but my one brother." 
 
 His love for Rose he could pour out to Caroline ; when it 
 came to Rose's love for him his blood thickened, and his 
 tongue felt guilty. He must speak to her, he said, — tell 
 her all. 
 
 "Yes, tell her all," echoed Caroline. "Do, do tell her. 
 Trust a woman utterly if she loves you, dear. Go to her 
 instantly." 
 
 "Could you bear it?" said Evan. He began to think it 
 was for the sake of his sisters that he had hesitated. 
 
 " Bear it? bear anything rather than perpetual imposture. 
 What have I not borne? Tell her, and then, if she is cold 
 to you, let us go. Let us go. I shall be glad to. Ah, 
 Van! I love you so." Caroline's voice deepened. "I love 
 you so, my dear. You won't let your new love drive me 
 out? Shall you always love me?" 
 
 Of that she might be sure, whatever happened. 
 
 " Should you love me, Van, if evil befel me?" 
 
 Thrice as well, he swore to her. 
 
 "But if I — if I, Van Oh! my life is intolerable! 
 
 Supposing I should ever disgrace you in any way, and not 
 turn out all you fancied me. I am very weak and unhappy." 
 
 Evan kissed her confidently, with a warm smile. He said 
 a few words of the great faith he had in her : words that 
 were bitter comfort to Caroline. This brother who might 
 save her, to him she dared not speak. Did she wish to be 
 saved? She only knew that to wound Evan's sense of 
 honour and the high and chivalrous veneration for her sex 
 and pride in himself and those of his blood, would be wicked 
 and unpardonable, and that no earthly pleasure could drown 
 it. Thinking this, with her hands joined in pale dejection, 
 Caroline sat silent, and Evan left her to lay bare his heart 
 to Rose. On his way to find Rose he was stopped by the 
 announcement of the arrival of Mr. Raikes, who thrust a 
 bundle of notes into his hand, and after speaking loudly of 
 "his curricle," retired on important business, as he said, 
 with a mysterious air. "I'm beaten in many things, but 
 not in the article Luck," he remarked; "you will hear of 
 me, though hardly as a tutor in this academy."
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 255 
 
 Scanning the bundle of notes, without a reflection beyond 
 the thought that money was in his hand ; and wondering at 
 the apparition of the curricle, Evan was joined by Harry 
 Jocelyn, and Harry linked his arm in Evan's and plunged 
 with extraordinary spontaneity and candour into the state 
 of his money affairs. What the deuce he was to do for 
 money he did not know. From the impressive manner in 
 which he put it, it appeared to be one of Nature's great 
 problems that the whole human race were bound to set their 
 heads together to solve. A hundred pounds — Harry wanted 
 no more, and he could not get it. His uncles? they were 
 as poor as rats ; and all the spare money they could club 
 was going for Mel's Election expenses. A hundred and 
 fifty was what Harry really wanted; but he could do with 
 a hundred. Ferdinand, who had plenty, would not even 
 lend him fifty. Ferdinand had dared to hint at a debt 
 already unsettled, and he called himself a gentleman ! 
 
 " You wouldn't speak of money matters now, would you, 
 Harrington? " 
 
 "I dislike the subject, I confess," said Evan. 
 
 "And so do I." Harry jumped at the perfect similarity 
 between them. "You can't think how it bothers one to 
 have to talk about it. You and I are tremendously alike." 
 
 Evan might naturally suppose that a subject Harry 
 detested, he would not continue, but for a whole hour 
 Harry turned it over and over with grim glances at Jewry. 
 
 "You see," he wound up, "I'm in a fix. I want to help 
 that poor girl, and one or two things " 
 
 "It's for that you want it?" cried Evan, brightening to 
 him. "Accept it from me." 
 
 It is a thing familiar to the experience of money-bor- 
 rowers, that your " last chance " is the man who is to accom- 
 modate you; but we are always astonished, nevertheless; 
 and Harry was, when notes to the amount of the largest 
 sum named by him were placed in his hand by one whom 
 he looked upon as the last to lend. 
 
 " What a trump you are, Harrington ! " was all he could 
 say ; and then he was for hurrying Evan into the house, to 
 find pen and paper, and write down a memorandum of the 
 loan: but Evan insisted upon sparing him the trouble, 
 though Harry, with the admirable scruples of an inveterate
 
 256 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 borrower, begged hard to be allowed to bind himself legally 
 to repay the money. 
 
 " 'Pon my soul, Harrington, you make me remember I 
 once doubted whether you were one of us — rather your own 
 fault, you know! " said Harry; "bury that, won't you?" 
 
 "Till your doubts recur," Evan observed; and Harry 
 burst out, " 'Gad, if you weren't such a melancholy beggar, 
 you'd be the jolliest fellow I know ! There, go after Eosey. 
 Dashed if I don't think you're ahead of Ferdinand, long 
 chalks. Your style does for girls, /like women." 
 
 With a chuckle and a wink, Harry swung off. Evan had 
 now to reflect that he had just thrown away part of the price 
 of his bondage to Tailordom ; the mention of Rose filled his 
 mind. Where was she? Both were seeking one another. 
 Rose was in the cypress walk. He saw the star-like figure 
 up the length of it, between the swelling tall dark pillars, 
 and was hurrying to her, resolute not to let one minute of 
 deception blacken further the soul that loved so true a soul. 
 She saw him, and stood smiling, when the Countess issued, 
 shadow-like, from a side path, and declared that she must 
 claim her brother for a few instants. Would her sweet 
 Rose pardon her? Rose bowed coolly. The hearts of the 
 lovers were chilled, not that they perceived any malice in 
 the Countess, but their keen instincts felt an evil fate. 
 
 The Countess had but to tell Evan that she had met the 
 insolvent in apples, and recognized him under his change of 
 fortune, and had no doubt that at least he would amuse the 
 company. Then she asked her brother the superfluous ques- 
 tion, whether he loved her, which Evan answered satisfacto- 
 rily enough, as he thought ; but practical ladies require proofs. 
 
 "Quick," said Evan, seeing Rose vanish, "what do you 
 want? I'll do anything." 
 
 "Anything? Ah, but this will be disagreeable to you." 
 
 "Name it at once. I promise beforehand." 
 
 The Countess wanted Evan to ask Andrew to be the very 
 best brother-in-law in the world, and win, unknown to him- 
 self, her cheerful thanks, by lending Evan to lend to her 
 the sum of one hundred pounds, as she was in absolute 
 distress for money. 
 
 " Really, Louisa, this is a thing you might ask him your- 
 self," Evan remonstrated.
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 257 
 
 " It would not become nie to do so, dear," said the Countess, 
 demurely; and inasmuch as she had already drawn on 
 Andrew in her own person pretty largely, her views of 
 propriety were correct in this instance. 
 
 Evan had to consent before he could be released. He 
 ran to the end of the walk through the portal, into the 
 park. Hose was not to be seen. She had gone in to dress 
 for dinner. The opportunity might recur, but would his 
 courage come with it? His courage had sunk on a sudden; 
 or it may have been that it was worse for this young man 
 to ask for a loan of money, than to tell his beloved that he 
 was basely born, vile, and unworthy, and had snared her 
 into loving him; for when he and Andrew were together, 
 money was not alluded to. Andrew, however, betrayed 
 remarkable discomposure. He said plainly that he wanted 
 to leave Beckley Court, and wondered why he didn't leave, 
 and whether he was on his head or his feet, and how he had 
 been such a fool as to come. 
 
 "Do you mean that for me?" said sensitive Evan. 
 
 "Oh, you! You're a young buck," returned Andrew, 
 evasively. "We common-place business men — we're out 
 of our element; and there's poor Carry can't sit down to 
 their dinners without an upset. I thank God I'm a Radi- 
 cal, Van; one man's the same as another to me, how he's 
 born, as long as he's honest and agreeable. But a chap like 
 that George Uploft to look down on anybody! 'Gad, I've 
 a good mind to bring in a Bill for the Abolition of the 
 Squirearchy." 
 
 Ultimately, Andrew somehow contrived to stick a hint 
 or two about the terrible dinner in Evan's quivering flesh. 
 He did it as delicately as possible, half begging pardon, and 
 perspiring profusely. Evan grasped his hand, and thanked 
 him. Caroline's illness was now explained to him. 
 
 " I'll take Caroline with me to-morrow, " he said. " Louisa 
 wishes to stay — there's a pic-nic. Will you look to her, 
 and bring her with you? " 
 
 "My dear Van," replied Andrew, "stop with Louisa? 
 Now, in confidence, it's as bad as a couple of wives; no 
 disrespect to my excellent good Harry at home ; but Louisa 
 — I don't know how it is — but Louisa, — you lose your 
 head, you're in a whirl, you're an automaton, a teetotum! 
 
 17
 
 258 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 I haven't a notion of what I've been doing or saying since I 
 came here. My belief is, I've been lying right and left. 
 I shall be found out to a certainty. Oh ! if she's made her 
 mind up for the pic-nic, somebody must stop. I can only 
 tell you, Van, it's one perpetual vapour-bath to me. 
 There'll be room for two in my trousers when I get back. 
 I shall have to get the tailor to take them in a full half." 
 
 Here occurred an opening for one of those acrid pleas- 
 antries which console us when there is horrid warfare 
 within. 
 
 "You must give me the work," said Evan, partly pleased 
 with his hated self for being able to jest on the subject, as 
 a piece of preliminary self -conquest. 
 
 "Aha! " went Andrew, as if the joke were too good to be 
 dwelt on ; " Hem ; " and by way of diverting from it cleverly 
 and naturally, he remarked that the weather was fine. This 
 made Evan allude to his letter written from Lymport, upon 
 which Andrew said : "tush! pish! humbug! nonsense! won't 
 hear a word. Don't know anything about it. Van, you're 
 going to be a brewer. I say you are. You're afraid you 
 can't? I tell you, sir, I've got a bet on it. You're not 
 going to make me lose, are you — eh? I have, and a stiff 
 bet, too. You must and shall, so there's an end. Only we 
 can't make arrangements just yet, my bo}\ Old Tom — 
 very good old fellow — but, you know — must get old Tom 
 out of the way, first. Now go and dress for dinner. And 
 Lord preserve us from the Great Mel to-day ! " Andrew 
 mumbled as he turned away. 
 
 Evan could not reach his chamber without being waylaid 
 by the Countess. Had he remembered the sister who sacri- 
 ficed so much for him ? " There, there ! " cried Evan, and 
 her hand closed on the delicious golden whispers of bank- 
 notes. And " Oh, generous Andrew ! dear good Evan ! " 
 were the exclamations of the gratified lady. 
 
 There remained nearly another hundred. Evan laid out 
 the notes, and eyed them while dressing. They seemed to 
 say to him, " We have you now." He was clutched by 
 a beneficent or a most malignant magician. The former 
 seemed due to him, considering the cloud on his fortunes. 
 This enigma might mean, that by submitting to a temporary 
 humiliation, for a trial of him — in fact, by his acknow-
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 259 
 
 ledgement of the fact, loathed though it was — he won a 
 secret overlooker's esteem, gained a powerful ally. Here 
 was the proof, he held the proof. He had read Arabian 
 Tales and could believe in marvels ; especially could he 
 believe in the friendliness of a magical thing that astounded 
 without hurting him. 
 
 He sat down in his room at night and wrote a fairly 
 manful letter to Rose; and it is to be said of the wretch 
 he then saw himself, that he pardoned her for turning from 
 so vile a pretender. He heard a step in the passage. It 
 was Polly Wheedle. Polly had put her young mistress to 
 bed, and was retiring to her own slumbers. He made her 
 take the letter and promise to deliver it immediately. 
 Would not to-morrow morning do, she asked, as Miss Rose 
 was very sleepy. He seemed to hesitate — he was pictur- 
 ing how Rose looked when very sleepy. Why should 
 he surrender this darling? And subtler question — why 
 shoidd he make her unhappy ? Why disturb her at all 
 in her sweet sleep? 
 
 "Well," said Evan. "To-morrow will do. — No, take it 
 to-night, for God's sake ! " he cried, as one who bursts the 
 spell of an opiate. "Go at once." The temptation had 
 almost overcome him. 
 
 Polly thought his proceedings queer. And what could 
 the letter contain ? A declaration, of course. She walked 
 slowly along the passage, meditating on love, and remotely 
 on its slave, Mr. Nicholas Frim. Nicholas had never written 
 her a letter; but she was determined that he should, some 
 day. She wondered what love-letters were like? Like 
 valentines without the Cupids. Practical valentines, one 
 might say. Not vapoury and wild, but hot and to the 
 point. Delightful things! No harm in peeping at a love- 
 letter, if you do it with the eye of a friend. 
 
 Polly spelt just a word when a door opened at her 
 elbow. She dropped her candle and curtsied to the Count- 
 ess's voice. The Countess desired her to enter, and all in 
 a tremble Polly crept in. Her air of guilt made the Count- 
 ess thrill. She had merely called her in to extract daily 
 gossip. The corner of the letter sticking up under Polly's 
 neck attracted her strangely, and beginning with the famil- 
 iar, " Well, child," she talked of things interesting to Polly,
 
 260 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 and then exhibited the pic-nic dress. It was a lovely half- 
 mourning; airy sorrows, gauzy griefs, you might imagine 
 to constitute the wearer. White delicately striped, exqui- 
 sitely trimmed, and of a stuff to make the feminine mouth 
 water ! 
 
 Could Polly refuse to try it on, when the flattering pro- 
 posal met her ears ? Blushing, shame-faced, adoring the 
 lady who made her look adorable, Polly tried it on, and the 
 Countess complimented her, and made a doll of her, and 
 turned her this way and that way, and intoxicated her. 
 
 " A rich husband, Polly, child ! and you are a lady ready 
 made." 
 
 Infamous poison to poor Polly ; but as the thunder destroys 
 small insects, exalted schemers are to be excused for riding 
 down their few thousands. Moreover, the Countess really 
 looked upon domestics as being only half-souls. 
 
 Dressed in her own attire again, Polly felt in her pockets, 
 and at her bosom, and sang out : " Oh, my ! Oh, where ! 
 Oh!" 
 
 The letter was lost. The letter could not be found. The 
 Countess grew extremely fatigued, and had to dismiss Polly, 
 in spite of her eager petitions to be allowed to search under 
 the carpets and inside the bed. 
 
 In the morning came Evan's great trial. There stood Rose. 
 She turned to him, and her eyes were happy and unclouded 
 
 " You are not changed ? " he said. 
 
 " Changed ? what could chauge me ? " 
 
 The God of true hearts bless her ! He could hardly be- 
 lieve it. 
 
 " You are the Rose I knew yesterday ? " 
 
 "Yes, Evan. But you — you look as if you had not 
 slept." 
 
 " You will not leave me this morning, before I go, Rose ? 
 Oh, my darling ! this that you do for me is the work of an 
 angel — nothing less ! I have been a coward. And my 
 beloved! to feel vile is agony to me — it makes me feel 
 unworthy of the hand I press. Now all is clear between us. 
 I go : I am forgiven." 
 
 Rose repeated his last words, and then added hurriedly : 
 '•' All is clear between us ? Shall 1 speak to Mama this 
 morning? Dear Evan! it will be right that 1 should."
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 261 
 
 For the moment he could not understand why, but suppos- 
 ing a scrupulous honesty in her, said: "Yes: tell Lady 
 Jocelyn all." 
 
 " And then, Evan, you will never need to go." 
 
 They separated. The deep-toned sentence sang in Evan's 
 heart. Rose and her mother were of one stamp. And Rose 
 might speak for her mother. To take the hands of such a 
 pair and be lifted out of the slough, he thought no shame : 
 and all through the hours of the morning the image of two 
 angels stooping to touch a leper, pressed on his brain like a 
 reality, and went divinely through his blood. 
 
 Toward mid-day Rose beckoned to him, and led him out 
 across the lawn into the park, and along the borders of the 
 stream. 
 
 " Evan," she said, " shall I really speak to Mama ? " 
 
 " You have not yet ? " he answered. 
 
 "No. I have been with Juliana and with Drummond. 
 Look at this, Evan." She showed a small black speck in the 
 palm of her hand, which turned out, on your viewing it 
 closely, to be a brand of the letter L. " Mama did that when 
 I was a little girl, because I told lies. I never could dis- 
 tinguish between truth and falsehood ; and Mama set that 
 mark on me, and I have never told a lie since. She forgives 
 anything but that. She will be our friend ; she will never 
 forsake us, Evan, if we do not deceive her. Oh, Evan! it 
 never is of any use. But deceive her, and she cannot for- 
 give you. It is not in her nature." 
 
 Evan paused before he replied : " You have only to tell 
 her what I have told you. You know everything." 
 
 Rose gave him a flying look of pain : " Everything, Evan ? 
 What do I know ? " 
 
 " Ah, Rose ! do you compel me to repeat it ? " 
 
 Bewildered, Rose thought : " Have I slept and forgotten 
 it?" 
 
 He saw the persistent grieved interrogation of her eye- 
 brows. 
 
 " Well ! " she sighed resignedly : "lam yours ; you know 
 that, Evan." 
 
 But he was a lover, and quarrelled with her sigh. 
 
 " It may well make you sad now, Rose." 
 
 " Sad ? no, that does not make me sad. No ; but my
 
 262 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 hands are tied. I cannot defend you or justify myself, and 
 induce Mama to stand by us. Oh, Evan ! you love me ! why 
 can you not open your heart to me entirely, and trust me ? " 
 
 " More ? " cried Evan : " Can I trust you more ? " He 
 spoke of the letter : Rose caught his hand. 
 
 " I never had it, Evan. You wrote it last night ? and all 
 was written in it ? I never saw it — but I know all." 
 
 Their eyes fronted. The gates of Rose's were wide open, 
 and he saw no hurtful beasts or lurking snakes in the happy 
 garden within, but Love, like a fixed star. 
 
 " Then you know why I must leave, Rose." 
 
 " Leave ? Leave me ? On the contrary, you must stay 
 by me, and support me. Why, Evan, we have to fight a 
 battle." 
 
 Much as he worshipped her, this intrepid directness of 
 soul startled him — almost humbled him. And her eyes 
 shone with a firm cheerful light, as she exclaimed: "It 
 makes me so happy to think you were the first to mention 
 this. You meant to be, and that's the same thing. I heard 
 it this morning : you wrote it last night. It's you I love, 
 Evan. Your birth, and what you were obliged to do — that's 
 nothing. Of course I'm sorry for it, dear. But I'm more 
 sorry for the pain I must have sometimes put you to. It 
 happened through my mother's father being a merchant; 
 and that side of the family the men and women are quite 
 sordid and unendurable ; and that's how it came that I spoke 
 of disliking tradesmen. I little thought I should ever love 
 one sprung from that class." 
 
 She turned to him tenderly. 
 
 " And in spite of what my birth is, you love me, Rose ? " 
 
 " There's no spite in it, Evan. I do." 
 
 Hard for him, while his heart was melting to caress her, 
 the thought that he had snared this bird of heaven in a net ! 
 Rose gave him no time for reflection, or the moony imagin- 
 ing of their raptures lovers love to dwell upon. 
 
 " You gave the letter to Polly, of course ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh, naughty Polly ! I must punish you," Rose apostro- 
 phized her. " You might have divided us for ever. Well, 
 we shall have to fight a battle, you understand that. Will 
 you stand by me ? "
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 263 
 
 Would he not risk his soul for her ? 
 
 "Very well, Evan. Then — but don't be sensitive. Oh, 
 how sensitive you are ! I see it all now. This is what we 
 shall have to do. We shall have to speak to Mama to-day 
 — this morning. Drummond has told me he is going to 
 speak to her, and we must be first. That's decided. I 
 begged a couple of hours. You must not be offended with 
 Drummond. He does it out of pure affection for us, and I 
 can see he's right — or, at least, not quite wrong. He ought, 
 I think, to know that he cannot change me. Very well, we 
 shall win Mama by what we do. My mother has ten times 
 my wits, and yet 1 manage her like a feather. I have only 
 to be honest and straightforward. Then Mama will gain 
 over Papa. Papa, of course, won't like it. He's quiet and 
 easy, but he likes blood, but he also likes peace better ; and 
 I think he loves Rosey — as well as somebody — almost ? 
 Look, dear, there is our seat where we — where you would 
 rob me of my handkerchief. I can't talk any more." 
 
 Rose had suddenly fallen from her prattle, soft and short- 
 breathed. 
 
 " Then, dear," she went on, " we shall have to fight the 
 family. Aunt Shorne will be terrible. My poor uncles ! I 
 pity them. But they will come round. They always have 
 thought what I did was right, and why should they change 
 their minds now ? I shall tell them that at their time of 
 life a change of any kind is very unwise and bad for them. 
 Then there is Grandmama Bonner. She can hurt us really, 
 if she pleases. Oh, my dear Evan ! if you had only been a 
 curate ! Why isn't your name Parsley ? Then my Grand- 
 mama the Countess of Elburne. Well, we have a Countess 
 on our side, haven't we ? And that reminds me, Evan, if 
 we're to be happy and succeed, you must promise one thing : 
 you will not tell the Countess, your sister. Don't confide 
 this to her. Will you promise ? " 
 
 Evan assured her he was not in the habit of pouring 
 secrets into any bosom, the Countess's as little as another's. 
 
 " Very well, then, Evan, it's unpleasant while it lasts, but 
 we shall gain the day. Uncle Melville will give you an 
 appointment, and then ? " 
 
 "Yes, Rose," he said, "I will do this, though I don't 
 think you can know what I shall have to endure — not in
 
 264 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 confessing what I am, but in feeling that I have brought 
 you to my level." 
 
 " Does it not raise me ? " she cried. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " But in reality, Evan — apart from mere appearances — 
 in reality it does ! it does ! " 
 
 " Men will not think so, Rose, nor can I. Oh, my Rose ! 
 how different you make me. Up to this hour I have been 
 so weak ! torn two ways ! You give me double strength." 
 
 Then these lovers talked of distant days — compared their 
 feelings on this and that occasion with mutual wonder and 
 delight. Then the old hours lived anew. And — did you 
 really think that, Evan ? And — Oh, Rose ! was that your 
 dream ? And the meaning of that by-gone look : was it what 
 they fancied ? And such and such a tone of voice ; would 
 it bear the wished interpretation ? Thus does Love avenge 
 himself on the unsatisfactory Past and call out its essence. 
 
 Could Evan do less than adore her ? She knew all, and 
 she loved him ! Since he was too shy to allude more than 
 once to his letter, it was natural that he should not ask her 
 how she came to know, and how much the " all " that she 
 knew comprised. In his letter he had told all ; the condi- 
 tion of his parents, and his own. Honestly, now, what with 
 his dazzled state of mind, his deep inward happiness, and 
 love's endless delusions, he abstained from touching the sub- 
 ject further. Honestly, therefore, as far as a lover can be 
 honest. 
 
 So they toyed, and then Rose, setting her fingers loose, 
 whispered: "Are you ready?" And Evan nodded; and 
 Rose, to make him think light of the matter in hand, 
 laughed: "Pluck not quite up yet?" 
 
 " Quite, my Rose ! " said Evan, and they walked to the 
 house, not quite knowing what they were going to do. 
 
 On the steps they met Drummond with Mrs. Evremonde. 
 Little imagining how heart and heart the two had grown, 
 and that Evan would understand him, Drummond called to 
 Rose playfully : " Time's up." 
 
 " Is it ? " Rose answered, and to Mrs. Evremonde : " Give 
 Drummond a walk. Poor Drummond is going silly." 
 
 Evan looked into his eyes calmly as he passed. 
 
 " Where are you going, Rose ? " said Mrs. Evremonde.
 
 MES. MEL MAKES A BED 265 
 
 " Going to give my maid Polly a whipping for losing a 
 letter she ought to have delivered to me last night," said 
 Eose, in a loud voice, looking at Drummond. " And then 
 going to Mama. Pleasure first — duty after. Isn't that 
 the proverb, Drummond ? " 
 
 She kissed her fingers rather scornfully to her old friend. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVI 
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED FOE HERSELF AND FAMILY 
 
 The last person thought of by her children at this period 
 was Mrs. Mel : nor had she been thinking much of them till 
 a letter from Mr. Goren arrived one day, which caused her 
 to pass them seriously in review. Always an early bird, and 
 with maxims of her own on the subject of rising and getting 
 the worm, she was standing in a small perch in the corner 
 of the shop, dictating accounts to Mrs. Fiske, who was copy- 
 ing hurriedly, that she might earn sweet intervals for gossip, 
 when Dandy limped up and delivered the letter. Mrs. Fiske 
 worked hard while her aunt was occupied in reading it, for 
 a great deal of fresh talk follows the advent of the post, and 
 may be reckoned on. Without looking up, however, she could 
 tell presently that the letter had been read through. Such 
 being the case, and no conversation coming of it, her curi- 
 osity was violent. Her aunt's face, too, was an index of 
 something extraordinary. That inflexible woman, instead 
 of alluding to the letter in any way, folded it up, and re- 
 neAved her dictation. It became a contest between them 
 which should show her human nature first. Mrs. Mel had 
 to repress what she knew ; Mrs. Fiske to control the pas- 
 sion for intelligence. The close neighbourhood of one anx- 
 ious to receive, and one capable of giving, waxed too much 
 for both. 
 
 "I think, Ann, you are stupid this morning," said Mrs. 
 Mel. 
 
 "Well, I am, aunt," said Mrs. Fiske, pretending not to see 
 which was the first to unbend, " I don't know what it is.
 
 266 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 The figures seem all dazzled like. I shall really be glad 
 when Evan comes to take his proper place." 
 
 " Ah ! " went Mrs. Mel, and Mrs. Fiske heard her mutter- 
 ing. Then she cried out: "Are Harriet and Caroline as 
 great liars as Louisa ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fiske grimaced. " That would be difficult, would it 
 not, aunt ? " 
 
 " And I have been telling everybody that my son is in 
 town learning his business, when he's idling at a country 
 house, and trying to play his father over again ! Upon my 
 word, what with liars and fools, if you go to sleep a minute 
 you have a month's work on your back." 
 
 " What is it, aunt ? " Mrs. Fiske feebly inquired. 
 
 " A gentleman, I suppose ! He wouldn't take an order if 
 it was offered. Upon my word, when tailors think of win- 
 ning heiresses it's time we went back to Adam and Eve." 
 
 "Do you mean Evan, aunt?" interposed Mrs. Fiske, who 
 probably did not see the turns in her aunt's mind. 
 
 " There — read for yourself," said Mrs. Mel, and left her 
 with the letter. 
 
 Mrs. Fiske read that Mr. Goren had been astonished at 
 Evan's non-appearance, and at his total silence ; which he 
 did not consider altogether gentlemanly behaviour, and cer- 
 tainly not such as his father would have practised. Mr. 
 Goren regretted his absence the more as he would have 
 found him useful in a remarkable invention he was about to 
 patent, being a peculiar red cross upon shirts — a fortune to 
 the patentee ; but as Mr. Goren had no natural heirs of his 
 body, he did not care for that. What affected him pain- 
 fully was the news of Evan's doings at a noble house, 
 Beckley Court, to wit, where, according to the report of a 
 rich young gentleman friend, Mr. Raikes (for whose custom 
 Mr. Goren was bound to thank Evan), the youth who should 
 have been learning the science of Tailoring, had actually 
 passed himself off as a lord, or the son of one, or something 
 of the kind, and had got engaged to a wealthy heiress, and 
 would, no doubt, marry her if not found out. Where the 
 chances of detection were so numerous, Mr. Goren saw much 
 to condemn in the idea of such a marriage. But "like 
 father like son," said Mr. Goren. He thanked the Lord 
 that an honest tradesman was not looked down upon in this
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED 267 
 
 country; and, in fact, gave Mrs. Mel a few quiet digs to 
 waken her remorse in having missed the man that he was. 
 
 When Mrs. Fiske met her aunt again she returned her the 
 letter, and simply remarked : " Louisa." 
 
 Mrs. Mel nodded. She understood the implication. 
 
 The General who had schemed so successfully to gain 
 Evan time at Beckley Court, in his own despite and against 
 a hundred obstructions, had now another enemy in the field, 
 and one who, if she could not undo her work, could punish 
 her. By the afternoon coach, Mrs. Mel, accompanied by 
 Dandy her squire, was journeying to Fallowfield, bent upon 
 things. The faithful squire was kept by her side rather as 
 a security for others than for his particular services. 
 Dandy's arms were crossed, and his countenance was 
 gloomy. He had been promised a holiday that afternoon 
 to give his mistress, Sally, Kilne's cook, an airing, and 
 Dandy knew in his soul that Sally, when she once made up 
 her mind to an excursion, would go, and would not go alone, 
 and that her very force of will endangered her constancy. 
 He had begged humbly to be allowed to stay, but Mrs. Mel 
 could not trust him. She ought to have told him so, per- 
 haps. Explanations were not approved of by this well- 
 intended despot, and however beneficial her resolves might 
 turn out for all parties, it was natural that in the interim 
 the children of her rule should revolt, and Dandy, picturing 
 his Sally flaunting on the arm of some accursed low marine, 
 haply, kicked against Mrs. Mel's sovereignty, though all 
 that he did was to shoot out his fist from time to time, and 
 grunt through his set teeth : " Iron ! " to express the char- 
 acter of her awful rule. 
 
 Mrs. Mel alighted at the Dolphin, the landlady of which 
 was a Mrs. Hawkshaw, a rival of Mrs. Sockley of the Green 
 Dragon. She was welcomed by Mrs. Hawkshaw with con- 
 siderable respect. The great Mel had sometimes slept at 
 the Dolphin. 
 
 "Ah, that black!" she sighed, indicating Mrs. Mel's 
 dress and the story it told. 
 
 " I can't give you his room, my dear Mrs. Harrington, — 
 wishing I could ! I'm sorry to say it's occupied, for all I 
 ought to be glad, I dare say, for he's an old gentleman who 
 does you a good turn, if you study him. But there ! I'd
 
 268 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 rather have had poor dear Mr. Harrington in my best bed 
 than old or young — Princes or nobodies, I would — he was 
 that grand and pleasant." 
 
 Mrs. Mel had her tea in Mrs. Hawkshaw's parlour, and 
 was entertained about her husband up to the hour of sup- 
 per, when a short step and a querulous voice were heard in 
 the passage, and an old gentleman appeared before them. 
 
 " Who's to carry up my trunk, ma'am ? No man here ? " 
 
 Mrs. Hawkshaw bustled out and tried to lay her hand on 
 a man. Failing to find the growth spontaneous, she returned 
 and begged the old gentleman to wait a few moments and 
 the trunk would be sent up. 
 
 " Parcel o' women ! " was his reply. " Regularly be- 
 devilled. Gets worse and worse. I'll carry it up myself." 
 
 With a wheezy effort he persuaded the trunk to stand on 
 one end, and then looked at it. The exertion made him 
 hot, which may account for the rage he burst into when 
 Mrs. Hawkshaw began flutteringly to apologize. 
 
 "You're sure, ma'am, sure — what are you sure of? I'll 
 tell you what I am sure of — eh? This keeping clear of 
 men's a damned pretence. You don't impose upon me. 
 Don't believe in your pothouse nunneries — not a bit. 
 Just like you! when you are virtuous it's deuced incon- 
 venient. Let one of the maids try ? No. Don't believe 
 in 'em." 
 
 Having thus relieved his spleen the old gentleman ad- 
 dressed himself to further efforts and waxed hotter. He 
 managed to tilt the trunk over, and thus gained a length, 
 and by this method of progression arrived at the foot of the 
 stairs, where he halted, and wiped his face, blowing lustily. 
 
 Mrs. Mel had been watching him with calm scorn all the 
 while. She saw him attempt most ridiculously to impel the 
 trunk upwards by a similar process, and thought it time to 
 interfere. 
 
 " Don't you see you must either take it on your shoulders, 
 or have a help ? " 
 
 The old gentleman sprang up from his peculiarly tight 
 posture to blaze round at her. He had the words well- 
 peppered on his mouth, but somehow he stopped, and was 
 subsequently content to growl : " Where's the help in a 
 parcel of petticoats ? "
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED 269 
 
 Mrs. Mel did not consider it necessary to give him an 
 answer. She went up two or three steps, and took hold of 
 one handle of the trunk, saying : " There ; I think it can be 
 managed this way," and she pointed for him to seize the 
 other end with his hand. 
 
 He was now in that unpleasant state of prickly heat 
 when testy old gentlemen could commit slaughter with 
 ecstasy. Had it been the maid holding a candle who had 
 dared to advise, he would have overturned her undoubtedly, 
 and established a fresh instance of the impertinence, the 
 uselessness and weakness of women. Mrs. Mel topped him 
 by half a head, and in addition stood three steps above him ; 
 towering like a giantess. The extreme gravity of her large 
 face dispersed all idea of an assault. The old gentleman 
 showed signs of being horribly injured: nevertheless, he 
 put his hand to the trunk ; it was lifted, and the procession 
 ascended the stairs in silence. 
 
 The landlady waited for Mrs. Mel to return, and then 
 said: 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Harrington, you are clever. That lifting 
 that trunk's as good as a lock and bolt on him. You've as 
 good as made him a Dolphin — him that was one o' the 
 oldest Green Dragons in Fallifield. My thanks to you most 
 sincere." 
 
 Mrs. Mel sent out to hear where Dandy had got to : after 
 which, she said : " Who is the man ? " 
 
 "I told you, Mrs. Harrington — the oldest Green Dragon. 
 His name, you mean ? Do you know, if I was to breathe it 
 out, I believe he'd jump out of the window. He'd be off, 
 that you might swear to. Oh, such a whimsical ! not ill- 
 meaning — quite the contrary. Study his whims, and you'll 
 never want. There's Mrs. Sockley — she's took ill. He 
 won't go there — that's how I've caught him, my dear — but 
 he pays her medicine, and she looks to him the same. He 
 hate a sick house : but he pity a sick woman. Now, if I can 
 only please him, I can always look on him as half a Dolphin, 
 to say the least ; and perhaps to-morrow I'll tell you who he 
 is, and what, but not to-night ; for there's his supper to get 
 over, and that, they say, can be as bad as the busting of one 
 of his own vats. Awful ! " 
 
 " What does he eat ? " said Mrs. Mel.
 
 270 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " A pair o' chops. That seem simple, now, don't it ? And 
 yet they chops make my heart go pitty-pat." 
 
 " The commonest things are the worst done," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " It ain't that ; but they must be done his particular way, 
 do you see, Mrs. Harrington. Laid close on the tire, he say, 
 so as to keep in the juice. But he ups and bounces in a 
 minute at a speck o' black. So, one thing or the other, there 
 you are : no blacks, no juices, I say." 
 
 " Toast the chops," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 The landlady of the Dolphin accepted this new idea with 
 much enlightenment, but ruefully declared that she was 
 afraid to go against his precise instructions. Mrs. Mel then 
 folded her hands, and sat in quiet reserve. She was one of 
 those numerous women who always know themselves to be 
 right. She was also one of those very few whom Providence 
 favours by confounding dissentients. She was positive the 
 chops would be ill-cooked : but what could she do ? She 
 was not in command here ; so she waited serenely for the cer- 
 tain disasters to enthrone her. Not that the matter of the 
 chops occupied her mind particularly : nor could she dream 
 that the pair in question were destined to form a part of her 
 history, and divert the channel of her fortunes. Her thoughts 
 were about her own immediate work ; and when the land- 
 lady rushed in with the chops under a cover, and said: 
 " Look at 'em, dear Mrs. Harrington ! " she had forgotten 
 that she was again to be proved right by the turn of events. 
 
 "Oh, the chops!" she responded. "Send them while 
 they are hot." 
 
 " Send 'em ! Why you don't think I'd have risked their 
 cooling ? I have sent 'em ; and what do he do but send 'em 
 travelling back, and here they be ; and what objections his is 
 I might study till I was blind, and I shouldn't see 'em." 
 
 " No ; I suppose not," said Mrs. Mel. " He Avon't eat 'em ? " 
 
 "Won't eat anything: but his bed-room candle immedi- 
 ately. And whether his sheets are aired. And Mary says he 
 sniffed at the chops ; and that gal really did expect he'd fling 
 them at her. I told you what he was. Oh, dear ! " 
 
 The bell was heard ringing in the midst of the landlady's 
 lamentations. 
 
 "Go to him yourself," said Mrs. Mel. "No Christian 
 man should go to sleep without his supper."
 
 MRS, MEL MAKES A BED 271 
 
 " Ah ! but he ain't a common Christian/' returned Mrs. 
 Hawkshaw. 
 
 The old gentleman was in a hurry to know when his bed- 
 room candle was coming up, or whether they intended to give 
 him one at all that night 3 if not, let them say so, as he liked 
 plain-speaking. The moment Mrs. Hawkshaw touched upon 
 the chops, he stopped her mouth. 
 
 " Go about your business, ma'am. You can't cook 'em. I 
 never expected you could : I was a fool to try you. It re- 
 quires at least ten years' instruction before a man can get a 
 woman to cook his chop as he likes it." 
 
 "But what was your complaint, sir ? " said Mrs. Hawkshaw, 
 imploringly. 
 
 " That's right ! " and he rubbed his hands, and brightened 
 his eyes savagely. " That's the way. Opportunity for gos- 
 sip! Thing's well done — down it goes: you know that. 
 You can't have a word over it — eh ? Thing's done fit to 
 toss on a dungheap, aha ! Then there's a cackle ! My be- 
 lief is, you do it on purpose. Can't be such rank idiots. 
 You do it on purpose. All done for gossip ! " 
 
 " Oh, sir, no ! " The landlady half curtsied. 
 
 " Oh, ma'am, yes ! " The old gentleman bobbed his head. 
 
 "No, indeed, sir ! " The landlady shook hers. 
 
 " Damn it, ma'am, I swear you do." 
 
 Symptoms of wrath here accompanied the declaration; 
 and, with a sigh and a very bitter feeling, Mrs. Hawkshaw 
 allowed him to have the last word. Apparently this — 
 which I must beg to call the lady's morsel — comforted his 
 irascible system somewhat ; for he remained in a state of 
 composure eight minutes by the clock. And mark how little 
 things hang together. Another word from the landlady, pre- 
 cipitating a retort from him, and a gesture or muttering from 
 her ; and from him a snapping outburst, and from her a sign 
 that she held out still ; in fact, had she chosen to battle for 
 that last word, as in other cases she might have done, then 
 would he have exploded, gone to bed in the dark, and in- 
 sisted upon sleeping : the consequence of which would have 
 been to change this history. Now while Mrs. Hawkshaw 
 was up-stairs, Mrs. Mel called the servant, who took her to 
 the kitchen, where she saw a prime loin of mutton ; off which 
 she cut two chops with a cunning hand : and these she
 
 272 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 toasted at a gradual distance, putting a plate beneath them, 
 and a tin behind, and hanging the chops so that they would 
 turn without having to be pierced. The bell rang twice be- 
 fore she could say the chops were ready. The first time, the 
 maid had to tell the old gentleman she was taking up his 
 water. Her next excuse was, that she had dropped her 
 candle. The chops ready — who was to take them ? 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Harrington, you are so clever, you ought, if 
 I might be so bold as say so ; you ought to end it yourself," 
 said the landlady. " I can't ask him to eat them : he was 
 all but on the busting point when I left him." 
 
 " And that there candle did for him quite," said Mary, the 
 maid. 
 
 "I'm afraid it's chops cooked for nothing," added the 
 landlady. 
 
 Mrs. Mel saw them endangered. The maid held back : 
 the landlady feared. 
 
 " We can but try," she said. 
 
 " Oh ! I wish, mum, you'd face him, 'stead o' me," said 
 Mary ; " I do dread that old bear's den." 
 
 " Here, I will go," said Mrs. Mel. " Has he got his ale ? 
 Better draw it fresh, if he drinks any." 
 
 And up-stairs she marched, the landlady remaining below 
 to listen for the commencement of the disturbance. An 
 utterance of something certainly followed Mrs. Mel's en- 
 trance into the old bear's den. Then silence. Then what 
 might have been question and answer. Then — was Mrs. 
 Mel assaulted ? and which was knocked down ? It really 
 was a chair being moved to the table. The door opened. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; do what you like," the landlady heard. 
 Mrs. Mel descended, saying: "Send him up some fresh ale." 
 
 "And you have made him sit down obedient to those 
 chops ? " cried the landlady. " Well might poor dear Mr. 
 Harrington — pleasant man as he was ! — say, as he used to 
 say, 'There's lovely women in the world, Mrs. Hawkshaw,' 
 he'd say, 'and there's Duchesses,' he'd say, 'and there's they 
 that can sing, and can dance, and some/ he says, ' that can 
 cook.' But he'd look sly as he'd stoop his head and shake 
 it. 'Roll 'em into one,' he says, ' and not any of your grand 
 ladies can match my wife at home.' And, indeed, Mrs. Har- 
 rington, he told me he thought so many a time in the great 
 company he frequented."
 
 MES. MEL MAKES A BED 273 
 
 Perfect peace reigning above, Mrs. Hawkshaw and Mrs. 
 Mel sat down to supper below ; and Mrs. Hawkshaw talked 
 much of the great one gone. His relict did not care to 
 converse about the dead, save in their practical aspect as 
 ghosts ; but she listened, and that passed the time. By- 
 and-by the old gentleman rang, and sent a civil message to 
 know if the landlady had ship's rum in the house. 
 
 "Dear! here's another trouble," cried the poor woman. 
 " No — none ! " 
 
 " Say, yes," said Mrs. Mel, and called Dandy, and charged 
 him to run down the street to the square, and ask for the 
 house of Mr. Coxwell, the maltster, and beg of him, in her 
 name, a bottle of his ship's rum. 
 
 " And don't you tumble down and break the bottle, Dandy. 
 Accidents with spirit-bottles are not excused." 
 
 Dandy went on the errand, after an energetic grunt. 
 
 In due time he returned with the bottle, whole and sound, 
 and Mr. Coxwell's compliments. Mrs. Mel examined the 
 cork to see that no process of suction had been attempted, 
 and then said : 
 
 " Carry it up to him, Dandy. Let him see there's a man 
 in the house besides himself." 
 
 "Why, my dear," the landlady turned to her, "it seems 
 natural to you to be mistress where you go. I don't at all 
 mind, for ain't it my profit ? But you do take us off our 
 legs." 
 
 Then the landlady, warmed by gratitude, told her that 
 the old gentleman was the great London brewer, who brewed 
 there with his brother, and brewed for himself five miles 
 out of Fallowfield, half of which and a good part of the 
 neighbourhood he owned, and his name was Mr. Tom 
 Cogglesby. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mrs. Mel. " And his brother is Mr. Andrew." 
 
 " That's it," said the landlady. " And because he took it 
 into his head to go and to choose for himself, and be mar- 
 ried, no getting his brother, Mr. Tom, to speak to him. 
 Why not, indeed ? If there's to be no marrying, the sooner 
 we lay down and give up, the better, I think. But that's his 
 way. He do hate us women, Mrs. Harrington. I have heard 
 he was crossed. Some say it was the lady of Beckley Court, 
 who was a Beauty, when he was only a poor cobbler's son." 
 
 13
 
 274 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Mrs. Mel breathed nothing of her relationship to Mr. Tom, 
 but continued from time to time to express solicitude about 
 Dandy. They heard the door open, and old Tom laughing 
 in a capital good temper, and then Dandy came down, evi- 
 dently full of ship's rum. 
 
 " He's pumped me ! " said Dandy, nodding heavily at his 
 mistress. 
 
 Mrs. Mel took him up to his bed-room, and locked the 
 door. On her way back she passed old Tom's chamber, and 
 his chuckles were audible to her. 
 
 " They finished the rum," said Mrs. Hawkshaw. 
 
 "I shall rate him for that to-morrow," said Mrs. Mel. 
 " Giving that poor beast liquor ! " 
 
 "Kate Mr. Tom! Oh! Mrs. Harrington! Why, he'll 
 snap your head off for a word." 
 
 Mrs. Mel replied that her head would require a great deal 
 of snapping to come off. 
 
 During this conversation they had both heard a singular 
 intermittent noise above. Mrs. Hawkshaw was the first to 
 ask: 
 
 " "What can it be ? More trouble with him ? He's in his 
 bed-room now." 
 
 " Mad with drink, like Dandy, perhaps," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Hark ! " cried the landlady. " Oh ! " 
 
 It seemed that Old Tom was bouncing about in an ex- 
 traordinary manner. Now came a pause, as if he had sworn 
 to take his rest : now the room shook and the windows 
 rattled. 
 
 "One 'd think, really, his bed was a frying-pan, and him 
 a live fish in it," said the landlady. " Oh — there, again ! 
 My goodness ! have he got a flea ? " 
 
 The thought was alarming. Mrs. Mel joined in: 
 
 «Or a " 
 
 " Don't ! don't, my dear ! " she was cut short. " Oh ! one 
 o' them little things 'd be ruin to me. To think o' that ! 
 Hark at him ! It must be. And what's to do ? I've sent 
 the maids to bed. We haven't a man. If I was to go and 
 knock at his door, and ask ? " 
 
 " Better try and get him to be quiet somehow." 
 
 " Ah ! I dare say I shall make him fire out fifty times 
 worse."
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED 275 
 
 Mrs. Hawkshaw stipulated that Mrs. Mel should stand by 
 her, and the two women went up-stairs and stood at Old 
 Tom's door. There they could hear him fuming and mut- 
 tering imprecations, and anon there was an interval of 
 silence, and then the room was shaken, and the cursings 
 recommenced. 
 
 " It must be a fight he's having with a flea," said the land- 
 lady. " Oh ! pray heaven, it is a flea. For a flea, my dear 
 — gentlemen may bring that theirselves ; but a b — , that's 
 a stationary, and born of a bed. Don't you hear ? The 
 other thing 'd give him a minute's rest ; but a flea's hop — 
 hop — off and on. And he sound like an old gentleman 
 worried by a flea. What are you doing ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel had knocked at the door. The landlady waited 
 breathlessly for the result. It appeared to have quieted 
 Old Tom. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " said Mrs. Mel, severely. 
 
 The landlady implored her to speak him fair, and reflect 
 on the desperate things he might attempt. 
 
 " What's the matter ? Can anything be done for you ? " 
 
 Mr. Tom Cogglesby's reply comprised an insinuation so 
 infamous regarding women when they have a solitary man 
 in their power, that it cannot be placed on record. 
 
 " Is anything the matter with your bed ? " 
 
 "Anything? Yes; anything is the matter, ma'am. Hope 
 twenty live geese inside it's enough — eh ? bed, do you call 
 it ? It's the rack ! It's damnation ! Bed ? Ha ! " 
 
 After delivering this, he was heard stamping up and down 
 the room. 
 
 "My very best bed ! " whispered the landlady. " Would 
 it please you, sir, to change — I can give you another ? " 
 
 "I'm not a man of experiments, ma'am — 'specially in 
 strange houses." 
 
 " So very, very sorry ! " 
 
 " What the deuce ! " Old Tom came close to the door. 
 " You whimpering ! You put a man in a beast of a bed — 
 you drive him half mad — and then begin to blubber ! Go 
 away." 
 
 " I am so sorry, sir ! " 
 
 " If you don't go away, ma'am, I shall think your inten- 
 tions are improper."
 
 276 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Oh, my goodness ! " cried poor Mrs. Hawkshaw. " What 
 can one do with him ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel put Mrs. Hawkshaw behind her. 
 
 " Are you dressed ? " she called out. 
 
 In this way Mrs. Mel tackled Old Tom. He was told that 
 should he consent to cover himself decently, she would come 
 into his room and make his bed comfortable. And in a 
 voice that dispersed armies of innuendoes, she bade him 
 take his choice, either to rest quiet or do her bidding. 
 
 Had Old Tom found his master at last, and in one of the 
 hated sex ? 
 
 Breathlessly Mrs. Hawkshaw waited his answer, and she 
 was an astonished woman when it came. 
 
 " Very well, ma'am. Wait a couple of minutes. Do as 
 you like." 
 
 On their admission to the interior of the chamber, Old 
 Tom was exhibited in his daily garb, sufficiently subdued 
 to be civil and explain the cause of his discomfort. Lumps 
 in his bed : he was bruised by them. He supposed he 
 couldn't ask women to judge for themselves — they'd be 
 shrieking — but he could assure them he was blue all down 
 his back. 
 
 Mrs. Mel and Mrs. Hawkshaw turned the bed about, and 
 punched it, and rolled it. 
 
 " Ha ! " went Old Tom, " what's the good of that ? That's 
 just how I found it. Moment I got into bed geese began to 
 put up their backs." 
 
 Mrs. Mel seldom indulged in a joke, and then only when 
 it had a proverbial cast. On the present occasion, the truth 
 struck her forcibly, and she said : 
 
 " One fool makes many, and so, no doubt, does one goose." 
 
 Accompanied by a smile the words would have seemed 
 impudent ; but spoken as a plain fact, and with a grave face, 
 it set Old Tom blinking like a small boy ten minutes after 
 the whip. 
 
 " Now," she pursued, speaking to him as to an old child, 
 " look here. This is how you manage. Knead down in the 
 middle of the bed. Then jump into the hollow. Lie there, 
 and you needn't wake till morning." 
 
 Old Tom came to the side of the bed. He had prepared 
 himself for a wretched night, an uproar, and eternal com-
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED 277 
 
 plaints against the house, its inhabitants, and its founda- 
 tions ; but a woman stood there who as much as told him 
 that digging his fist into the flock and jumping into the 
 hole — into that hole under his eyes — was all that was 
 wanted ! that he had been making a noise for nothing, and 
 because he had not the wit to hit on a simple contrivance ! 
 Then, too, his jest about the geese — this woman had put a 
 stop to that! He inspected the hollow cynically. A man 
 might instruct him on a point or two: Old Tom was not 
 going to admit that a woman could. 
 
 "Oh, very well; thank you, ma'am; that's your idea. 
 I'll try it. Good night." 
 
 "Good night," returned Mrs. Mel. "Don't forget to 
 jump into the middle." 
 
 " Head foremost, ma'am ? " 
 
 "As you weigh," said Mrs. Mel, and Old Tom crumped 
 his lips, silenced if not beaten. Beaten, one might almost 
 say, for nothing more was heard of him that night. 
 
 He presented himself to Mrs. Mel after breakfast next 
 morning. 
 
 " Slept well, ma'am." 
 
 " Oh ! then you did as I directed you," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Those chops, too, very good. I got through 'em." 
 
 "Eating, like scratching, only wants a beginning," said 
 Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Ha ! you've got your word, then, as well as everybody 
 else. Where's your Dandy this morning, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Locked up. You ought to be ashamed to give that poor 
 beast liquor. He won't get fresh air to-day." 
 
 "Ha! May I ask you where you're going to-day, 
 ma'am ? " 
 
 " I am going to Beckley." 
 
 "So am I, ma'am. What d'ye say, if we join company. 
 Care for insinuations ? " 
 
 " I want a conveyance of some sort," returned Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Object to a donkey, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Not if he's strong and will go." 
 
 "Good," said Old Tom; and while he spoke a donkey- 
 cart stopped in front of the Dolphin, and a well-dressed 
 man touched his hat. 
 
 " Get out of that damned bad habit, will you ? " growled
 
 278 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Old Tom. " What do ye mean by wearing out the brim o' 
 your hat in that way ? Help this woman in." 
 
 Mrs. Mel helped herself to a part of the seat. 
 
 " We are too much for the donkey," she said. 
 
 "Ha, that's right. What I have, ma'am, is good. I 
 can't pretend to horses, but my donkey's the best. Are 
 you going to cry about him ? " 
 
 "No. When he's tired I shall either walk or harness 
 you," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 This was spoken half-way down the High Street of Fal- 
 lowfield. Old Tom looked full in her face, and bawled out : 
 
 " Deuce take it. Are you a woman ? " 
 
 " I have borne three girls and one boy," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " What sort of a husband ? " 
 
 " He is dead." 
 
 " Ha ! that's an opening, but 'tain't an answer. I'm off 
 to Beckley on a marriage business. I'm the son of a cob- 
 bler, so I go in a donkey-cart. No damned pretences for 
 me. I'm going to marry off a young tailor to a gal he's 
 been playing the lord to. If she cares for him she'll take 
 him : if not, they're all the luckier, both of 'em." 
 
 " What's the tailor's name ? " said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " You are a woman," returned Old Tom. " Now, come, 
 ma'am, don't you feel ashamed of being in a donkey-cart ? " 
 
 "I'm ashamed of men, sometimes," said Mrs. Mel; 
 " never of animals." 
 
 " 'Shamed o' me, perhaps." 
 
 " I don't know you." 
 
 " Ha ! well ! I'm a man with no pretences. Do you like 
 'em ? How have you brought up your three girls and one 
 boy ? No pretences — eh ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel did not answer, and Old Tom jogged the reins 
 and chuckled, and asked his donkey if he wanted to be a 
 racer. 
 
 "Should you take me for a gentleman, ma'am?" 
 
 " I dare say you are, sir, at heart. Not from your manner 
 of speech." 
 
 " I mean appearances, ma'am." 
 
 "I judge by the disposition." 
 
 "You do, ma'am? Then, deuce take it, if you are a 
 woman, you're " Old Tom had no time to conclude.
 
 rose's generalship 279 
 
 A great noise of wheels, and a horn blown, caused them 
 both to turn their heads, and they beheld a curricle descend- 
 ing upon them vehemently, and a fashionably attired young 
 gentleman straining with all his might at the reins. The 
 next instant they were rolling on the bank. About twenty 
 yards ahead the curricle was halted and turned about to see 
 the extent of the mischief done. 
 
 " Pardon, a thousand times, my worthy couple," cried the 
 sonorous Mr. Eaikes. " What we have seen we swear not 
 to divulge. Franko and Fred — your pledge ! " 
 
 " We swear ! " exclaimed this couple. 
 
 But suddenly the cheeks of Mr. John Raikes flushed. He 
 alighted from the box, and rushing up to Old Tom, was 
 shouting, " My bene — " 
 
 " Do you want my toe on your plate ? " Old Tom stopped 
 him with. 
 
 The mysterious words completely changed the aspect of 
 Mr. John Raikes. He bowed obsequiously and made his 
 friend Franko step down and assist in the task of re-estab- 
 lishing the donkey, who fortunately had received no damage. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 EXHIBITS ROSE'S GENERALSHIP; EVAN'S PERFORMANCE ON 
 THE SECOND FIDDLE ; AND THE WRETCHEDNESS OF THE 
 COUNTESS. 
 
 We left Rose and Evan on their way to Lady Jocelyn. 
 At the library-door Rose turned to him, and with her chin 
 archly lifted sideways, said : 
 
 "I know what you feel; you feel foolish." 
 
 Now the sense of honour, and of the necessity of acting 
 the part it imposes on him, may be very strong in a young 
 man ; but certainly, as a rule, the sense of ridicule is more 
 poignant, and Evan was suffering horrid pangs. We none 
 of us like to play second fiddle. To play second fiddle to a 
 young woman is an abomination to us all. But to have to 
 perform upon that instrument to the darling of our hearts —
 
 280 EYAX HAETMNGTON 
 
 would we not rather die ? nay, almost rather end the duet 
 precipitately and with violence. Evan, when he passed 
 Drummond into the house, and quietly returned his gaze, 
 endured the first shock of this strange feeling. There could 
 be no doubt that he was playing second fiddle to Rose. 
 And what was he about to do ? Oh, horror ! to stand like 
 a criminal, and say, or worse, have said for him, things to 
 tip the ears with fire ! To tell the young lady's mother that 
 he had won her daughter's love, and meant — what did he 
 mean ? He knew not. Alas ! he was second fiddle ; he 
 could only mean what she meant. Evan loved Rose deeply 
 and completely, but noble manhood was strong in him. You 
 may sneer at us, if you please, ladies. We have been edu- 
 cated in a theory, that when you lead off with the bow, the 
 order of Nature is reversed, and it is no wonder therefore, 
 that, having stripped us of one attribute, our fine feathers 
 moult, and the majestic cock-like march which distinguishes 
 us degenerates. You unsex us, if I may dare to say so. 
 Ceasing to be men, what are we ? If we are to please you 
 rightly, always allow us to play First. 
 
 Poor Evan did feel foolish. Whether Rose saw it in his 
 walk, or had a loving feminine intuition of it, and was 
 aware of the golden rule I have just laid down, we need not 
 inquire. She hit the fact, and he could only stammer, and 
 bid her open the door. 
 
 "No," she said, after a slight hesitation, "it will be 
 better that I should speak to Mama alone, I see. Walk 
 out on the lawn, dear, and wait for me. And if you meet 
 Drummond, don't be angry with him. Drummond is very 
 fond of me, and of course I shall teach him to be fond of 
 you. He only thinks . . . what is not true, because he does 
 not know you. I do thoroughly, and there, you see, I give 
 you my hand." 
 
 Evan drew the dear hand humbly to his lips. Rose then 
 nodded meaningly, and let her eyes dwell on him, and went 
 in to her mother to open the battle. 
 
 Could it be that a flame had sprung up in those grey eyes 
 latterly? Once they were like morning before sunrise. How 
 soft and warm and tenderly transparent they could now be ! 
 Assuredly she loved him. And he, beloved by the noblest 
 girl ever fashioned, why should he hang his head, and shrink
 
 rose's generalship 281 
 
 at the thought of human faces, like a wretch doomed to the 
 pillory? He visioned her last glance, and lightning emo- 
 tions of pride and happiness flashed through his veins. The 
 generous, brave heart ! Yes, with her hand in his, he could 
 stand at bay — meet any fate. Evan accepted Rose because 
 he believed in her love, and judged it by the strength of his 
 own; her sacrifice of her position he accepted, because in 
 his soul he knew he should have done no less. He mounted 
 to the level of her nobleness, and losing nothing of the 
 beauty of what she did, it was not so strange to him. 
 
 Still there was the baleful reflection that he was second 
 fiddle to his beloved. No harmony came of it in his mind. 
 How could he take an initiative? He walked forth on the 
 lawn, where a group had gathered under the shade of a 
 maple, consisting of Drummond Forth, Mrs. Evremonde, 
 Mrs. Shorne, Mr. George Uploft, Seymour Jocelyn, and 
 Ferdinand Laxley. A little apart Juliana Bonner was 
 walking with Miss Carrington. Juliana, when she saw 
 him, left her companion, and passing him swiftly, said, 
 "Follow me presently into the conservatory." 
 
 Evan strolled near the group, and bowed to Mrs. Shorne, 
 whom he had not seen that morning. 
 
 The lady's acknowledgment of his salute was constrained, 
 and but a shade on the side of recognition. They were 
 silent till he was out of earshot. He noticed that his second 
 approach produced the same effect. In the conservatory 
 Juliana was awaiting him. 
 
 " It is not to give you roses I called you here, Mr. Har- 
 rington," she said. 
 
 "Not if I beg one?" he responded. 
 
 "Ah! but you do not want them from ... It depends 
 on the person." 
 
 "Pluck this," said Evan, pointing to a white rose. 
 
 She put her fingers to the stem. 
 
 " What folly ! " she cried, and turned from it. 
 
 "Are you afraid that I shall compromise you?" asked 
 Evan. 
 
 "You care for me too little for that." 
 
 "My dear Miss Bonner! " 
 
 " How long did you know Rose before you called her by 
 her Christian name? "
 
 282 r.VAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Evan really could not remember, and was beginning to 
 wonder what he had been called there for. The little lady 
 had feverish eyes and fingers, and seemed to be burning to 
 speak, but afraid. 
 
 "I thought you had gone," she dropped her voice, "with- 
 out wishing me good-bye." 
 
 "I certainly should not do that, Miss Bonner." 
 
 " Formal ! " she exclaimed, half to herself. " Miss Bonner 
 thanks you. Do you think I wish you to stay? No friend 
 of yours would wish it. You do not know the selfishness 
 — brutal! — of these people of birth, as they call it." 
 
 "I have met with nothing but kindness here," said Evan. 
 
 "Then go while you can feel that," she answered; "for 
 it cannot last another hour. Here is the rose." She broke 
 it from the stem and handed it to him. " You may wear 
 that, and they are not so likely to call you an adventurer, 
 and names of that sort. I am hardly considered a lady by 
 them." 
 
 An adventurer! The full meaning of the phrase struck 
 Evan's senses when he was alone. Miss Bonner knew 
 something of his condition, evidently. Perhaps it was 
 generally known, and perhaps it was thought that he had 
 come to win Rose for his worldly advantage ! The idea was 
 overwhelmingly new to him. Up started self-love in arms. 
 He would renounce her. 
 
 It is no insignificant contest when love has to crush self- 
 love utterly. At moments it can be done. Love has divine 
 moments. There are times also when Love draws part of 
 his being from self-love, and can find no support with- 
 out it. 
 
 But how could he renounce her, when she came forth to 
 him, smiling, speaking freshly and lightly, and with the 
 colour on her cheeks which showed that she had done her 
 part? How could he retract a step? 
 
 " I have told Mama, Evan. That's over. She heard it 
 first from me." 
 
 "And she?" 
 
 "Dear Evan, if you are going to be sensitive, I'll run 
 away. You that fear no danger, and are the bravest man 
 I ever knew ! I think you are really trembling. She will 
 speak to Papa, and then — and then, I suppose, they will
 
 rose's generalship 283 
 
 both ask you whether you intend to give me up, or no. 
 I'm afraid you'll do the former." 
 
 "Your mother — Lady Jocelyn listened to you, Rose? 
 You told her all?" 
 
 "Every bit." 
 
 "And what does she think of me?" 
 
 "Thinks you very handsome and astonishing, and me 
 very idiotic and natural, and that there is a great deal of 
 bother in the world, and that my noble relatives will lay 
 the blame of it on her. No, dear, not all that; but she 
 talked very sensibly to me, and kindly. You know she is 
 called a philosopher: nobody knows how deep-hearted she 
 is, though. My mother is true as steel. I can't separate 
 the kindness from the sense, or I would tell you all she 
 said. When I say kindness, I don't mean any 'Oh, my 
 child,' and tears, and kisses, and maundering, you know. 
 You mustn't mind her thinking me a little fool. You want 
 to know what she thinks of you. She said nothing to hurt 
 you, Evan, and we have gained ground so far, and now we'll 
 go and face our enemies. Uncle Mel expects to hear about 
 your appointment, in a day or two, and " 
 
 "Oh, Rose! " Evan burst out. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Why must I owe everything to you?" 
 
 "Why, dear? Why, because, if you do, it's very much 
 better than your owing it to anybody else. Proud again? " 
 
 Not proud : only second fiddle. 
 
 "You know, dear Evan, when two people love, there is 
 no such thing as owing between them." 
 
 " Rose, I have been thinking. It is not too late. I love 
 you, God knows ! I did in Portugal: I do now — more 
 
 and more. But Oh, my bright angel! " he ended the 
 
 sentence in his breast. 
 
 "Well? but — what?" 
 
 Evan sounded down the meaning of his "but." Stripped 
 of the usual heroics, it was, "what will be thought of me?" 
 not a small matter to any of us. He caught a distant 
 glimpse of the little bit of bare selfishness, and shrank 
 from it. 
 
 "Too late," cried Rose. "The battle has commenced 
 now, and, Mr. Harrington, I will lean on your arm, and be
 
 284 EVAN HABRINGTON 
 
 led to my dear friends yonder. Do they think that I am 
 going to put on a mask to please them? Not for anybody! 
 What they are to know they may as well know at once." 
 
 She looked in Evan's face. 
 
 " Do you hesitate? " 
 
 He felt the contrast between his own and hers ; between 
 the niggard spirit of the beggarly receiver, and the high 
 bloom of the exalted giver. Nevertheless, he loved her too 
 well not to share much of her nature, and wedding it sud- 
 denly, he said: 
 
 " Rose ; tell me, now. If you were to see the place where 
 I was born, could you love me still? " 
 
 "Yes, Evan." 
 
 " If you were to hear me spoken of with contempt " 
 
 " Who dares? " cried Rose. " Never to me ! " 
 
 "Contempt of what I spring from, Rose. Names used 
 . . . Names are used ..." 
 
 "Tush! — names!" said Rose, reddening. "How cow- 
 ardly that is! Have you finished? Oh, faint heart! I 
 suppose I'm not a fair lady, or you wouldn't have won me. 
 Now, come. Remember, Evan, I conceal nothing; and if 
 anything makes you wretched here, do think how I love 
 you." 
 
 In his own firm belief he had said everything to arrest 
 her in her course, and been silenced by transcendent logic. 
 She thought the same. 
 
 Rose made up to the conclave under the maple. 
 
 The voices hushed as they approached. 
 
 "Capital weather," said Rose. "Does Harry come back 
 from London to-morrow — does anybody know?" 
 
 "Not aware," Laxley was heard to reply. 
 
 "I want to speak a word to you, Rose," said Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure, my dear aunt : " and Rose 
 walked after her. 
 
 "My dear Rose," Mrs. Shorne commenced, "your conduct 
 requires that I should really talk to you most seriously. 
 You are probably not aware of what you are doing. Nobody 
 likes ease and natural familiarity more than I do. I am 
 persuaded it is nothing but your innocence. You are young 
 to the world's ways, and perhaps a little too headstrong, 
 and vain."
 
 eose's generalship 285 
 
 11 Conceited and wilful, " added Kose. 
 
 " If you like the words better. But I must say — I do 
 not wish to trouble your father — you know he cannot bear 
 worry — but I must say, that if you do not listen to me, he 
 must be spoken to." 
 
 " Why not Mama? " 
 
 "I should naturally select my brother first. No doubt 
 you understand me." 
 
 "Any distant allusion to Mr. Harrington?" 
 
 "Pertness will not avail you, Kose." 
 
 " So you want me to do secretly what I am doing openly? " 
 
 " You must and shall remember you are a Jocelyn, Kose." 
 
 " Only half, my dear aunt! " 
 
 "And by birth a lady, Rose." 
 
 "And I ought to look under my eyes, and blush, and 
 shrink, whenever I come near a gentleman, aunt ! " 
 
 "Ah! my dear. No doubt you will do what is most 
 telling. Since you have spoken of this Mr. Harrington, I 
 must inform you that I have it on certain authority from two 
 or three sources, that he is the son of a small shopkeeper at 
 Lymport." 
 
 Mrs. Shorne watched the effect she had produced. 
 
 "Indeed, aunt?" cried Rose. "And do you know this 
 to be true?" 
 
 " So when you talk of gentlemen, Rose, please be careful 
 whom you include." 
 
 " I mustn't include poor Mr. Harrington? Then my grand- 
 papa Bonner is out of the list, and such numbers of good 
 worthy men?" 
 
 Mrs. Shorne understood the hit at the defunct manufact- 
 urer. She said : " You must most distinctly give me your 
 promise, while this young adventurer remains here — I think 
 it will not be long — not to be compromising yourself further, 
 as you now do. Or — indeed I must — I shall let your 
 parents perceive that such conduct is ruin to a young girl 
 in your position, and certainly you will be sent to Elburne 
 House for the winter." 
 
 Rose lifted her hands, crying : " Ye Gods ! — as Harry 
 says. But I'm very much obliged to you, my dear aunt. 
 Concerning Mr. Harrington, wonderfully obliged. Son of 
 a small ! Is it a t-t-tailor, aunt ? "
 
 286 EVAN HAEEINGTOK 
 
 "It is — I have heard." 
 
 " And that is much worse. Cloth is viler than cotton ! 
 And don't they call these creatures sn-snips ? Some word 
 of that sort ? " 
 
 " It makes little difference what they are called." 
 
 "Well, aunt, I sincerely thank you. As this subject 
 seems to interest you, go and see Mama, now. She can tell 
 you a great deal more : and, if you want her authority, come 
 back to me." 
 
 Rose then left her aunt in a state of extreme indignation. 
 It was a clever move to send Mrs. Shorne to Lady Jocelyn. 
 They were antagonistic, and, rational as Lady Jocelyn was, 
 and with her passions under control, she was unlikely to 
 side with Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 Now Rose had fought against herself, and had, as she 
 thought, conquered. In Portugal Evan's half insinuations 
 had given her small suspicions, which the scene on board 
 the Jocasta had half confirmed : and since she came to com- 
 municate with her own mind, she bore the attack of all that 
 rose against him, bit by bit. She had not been too blind 
 to see the unpleasantness of the fresh facts revealed to her. 
 They did not change her ; on the contrary, drew her to him 
 faster — and she thought she had completely conquered 
 whatever could rise against him. But when Juliana Bonner 
 told her that day that Evan was not only the son of the 
 thing, but the thing himself, and that his name could be 
 seen any day in Lymport, and that he had come from the 
 shop to Beckley, poor Rosey had a sick feeling that almost 
 sank her. For a moment she looked back wildly to the 
 doors of retreat. Her eyes had to feed on Evan, she had 
 to taste some of the luxury of love, before she could gain 
 composure, and then her arrogance towards those she called 
 her enemies did not quite return. 
 
 " In that letter you told me all — all — all, Evan ? " 
 
 "Yes, all — religiously." 
 
 " Oh, why did I miss it ! " 
 
 " Would it give you pleasure ? " 
 
 She feared to speak, being tender as a mother to his sen- 
 sitiveness. The expressive action of her eyebrows sufficed. 
 She could not bear concealment, or doubt, or a shadow of 
 dishonesty ; and he, gaining force of soul to join with hers,
 
 rose's generalship 287 
 
 took her hands and related the contents of the letter fully. 
 She was pale when he had finished. It was some time be- 
 fore she was able to get free from the trammels of prejudice, 
 but when she did, she did without reserve, saying: "Evan, 
 there is no man who would have done so much." These 
 little exaltations and generosities bind lovers tightly. He 
 accepted the credit she gave him, and at that we need not 
 wonder. It helped him further to accept herself, otherwise 
 could he — his name known to be on a shop-front — have 
 aspired to her still ? But, as an unexampled man, princely 
 in soul, as he felt, why, he might kneel to Rose Jocelyn. 
 So they listened to one another, and blinded the world by 
 putting bandages on their eyes, after the fashion of little 
 boys and girls. 
 
 Meantime the fair being who had brought these two from 
 the ends of the social scale into this happy tangle, the benefi- 
 cent Countess, was wretched. When you are in the enemy's 
 country you are dependent on the activity and zeal of your 
 spies and scouts, and the best of these — Polly Wheedle, to 
 wit — had proved defective, recalcitrant even. And because 
 a letter had been lost in her room ! as the Countess ex- 
 claimed to herself, though Polly gave her no reasons. The 
 Countess had, therefore, to rely chiefly upon personal obser- 
 vation, upon her intuitions, upon her sensations in the 
 proximity of the people to whom she was opposed; and 
 from these she gathered that she was, to use the word which 
 seemed fitting to her, betrayed. Still to be sweet, still to 
 smile and to amuse, — still to give her zealous attention to 
 the business of the diplomatist's Election, still to go through 
 her church-services devoutly, required heroism; she was 
 equal to it, for she had remarkable courage ; but it was hard 
 to feel no longer at one with Providence. Had not Provi- 
 dence suggested Sir Abraham to her ? killed him off at the 
 right moment in aid of her? And now Providence had 
 turned, and the assistance she had formerly received from 
 that Power, and given thanks for so profusely, was the cause 
 of her terror. It was absolutely as if she had been borrow- 
 ing from a Jew, and were called upon to pay fifty-fold 
 interest. 
 
 "Evan!" she writes in a gasp to Harriet. "We must 
 pack up and depart. Abandon everything. He has dis-
 
 288 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 graced us all, and ruined himself. Impossible that we can 
 stay for the pic-nic. We are known, de'ar. Think of my 
 position one day in this house! Particulars when I em- 
 brace you. I dare not trust a letter here. If Evan had 
 confided in me ! He is impenetrable. He will be low all 
 his life, and I refuse any more to sully myself in attempting 
 to lift him. For Silva's sake I must positively break the 
 connection. Heaven knows what I have done for this boy, 
 and will support me in the feeling that I have done enough. 
 My conscience at least is safe." 
 
 Like many illustrious Generals, the Countess had, for 
 the hour, lost heart. We find her, however, the next day, 
 writing : 
 
 " Oh ! Harriet ! what trials for sisterly affection ! Can I 
 possibly — weather the gale, as the old L — sailors used to 
 say ? It is dreadful. I fear I am by duty bound to stop 
 on. — Little Bonner thinks Evan quite a duke's son, — has 
 been speaking to her Grandmama, and to-day, this morning, 
 the venerable old lady quite as much as gave me to under- 
 stand that an union between our brother and her son's child 
 would sweetly gratify her, and help her to go to her rest in 
 peace. Can I chase that spark of comfort from one so truly 
 pious ? Dearest Juliana ! I have anticipated Evan's feel- 
 ing for her, and so she thinks his conduct cold. Indeed, 
 I told her, point blank, he loved her. That, you know, is 
 different from saying, dying of love, which would have been 
 an untruth. But, Evan, of course! No getting him! 
 Should Juliana ever reproach me, I can assure the child 
 that any man is in love with any woman — which is really 
 the case. It is, you dear humdrum! what the dictionary 
 calls ' nascent.' I never liked the word, but it stands for 
 a fact." 
 
 The Countess here exhibits the weakness of a self-edu- 
 cated intelligence. She does not comprehend the joys of 
 scholarship in her employment of Latinisms. It will be 
 pardoned to her by those who perceive the profound piece 
 of feminine discernment which precedes it. 
 
 " I do think I shall now have courage to stay out the pic- 
 nic," she continues. " I really do not think all is known. 
 Very little can be known, or I am sure I could not feel as I 
 do. It would burn me up. George Up does not dare;
 
 rose's generalship 289 
 
 and his most beautiful lady-love had far better not. Mr. 
 Forth may repent his whispers. But, oh ! what Evan may 
 do. Rose is almost detestable. Manners, my dear? To- 
 tally deficient ! 
 
 "An ally has just come. Evan's good fortune is most 
 miraculous. His low friend turns out to be a young Fortu- 
 natus ; very original, sparkling, and in my hands to be made 
 much of. I do think he will — for he is most zealous — he 
 will counteract that hateful Mr. Forth, who may soon have 
 work enough. Mr. Raikes (Evan's friend) met a mad cap- 
 tain in Fallowfield ! Dear Mr. Raikes is ready to say any- 
 thing ; not from love of falsehood, but because he is ready 
 to think it. He has confessed to me that Evan told him ! 
 Louisa de Saldar has changed his opinion, and much im- 
 pressed this eccentric young gentleman. Do you know any 
 young girl who wants a fortune, and would be grateful ? 
 
 " Dearest ! I have decided on the pic-nic. Let your con- 
 science be clear, and Providence cannot be against you. So 
 I feel. Mr. Parsley spoke very beautifully to that purpose 
 last Sunday in the morning service. A little too much 
 through his nose, perhaps ; but the poor young man's nose 
 is a great organ, and we will not cast it in his teeth more 
 than nature has done. I said so to my diplomatist, who 
 was amused. If you are sparklingly vulgar with the Eng- 
 lish, you are aristocratic. Oh ! what principle we women 
 require in the thorny walk of life. I can show you a letter 
 when we meet that will astonish humdrum. Not so diplo- 
 matic as the writer thought ! Mrs. Melville (sweet woman !) 
 must continue to practise civility; for a woman who is a 
 wife, my dear, in verity, she lives in a glass house, and 
 let her fling no stones. ' Let him who is without sin.' How 
 beautiful that Christian sentiment ! I hope I shall be par- 
 doned, but it ahoays seems to me that what ive have to 
 endure is infinitely worse than any other suffering, for you 
 
 find no comfort for the children of T s in Scripture, nor 
 
 any defence of their dreadful position. Robbers, thieves, 
 Magdalens ! but, no ! the unfortunate offspring of that class 
 are not even mentioned: at least, in my most diligent 
 perusal of the Scriptures, I never lighted upon any remote 
 allusion ; and we know the Jews did wear clothing. Out- 
 casts, verily ! And Evan could go, and write — but I have 
 
 19
 
 290 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 no patience with him. He is the blind tool of his mother, 
 and anybody's puppet." 
 
 The letter concludes, with horrid emphasis : 
 " The Madre in Beckley ! Has sent for Evan from a low 
 public-house ! I have intercepted the messenger. Evan 
 closeted with Sir Franks. Andrew's horrible old brother 
 with Lady Jocelyn. The whole house, from garret to kitchen, 
 full of whispers ! " 
 A prayer to Providence closes the communication. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION 
 
 The appearance of a curricle and a donkey-cart within 
 the gates of Beckley Court, produced a sensation among the 
 men of the lower halls, and a couple of them rushed out, 
 with the left calf considerably in advance, to defend the 
 house from violation. Toward the curricle they directed 
 what should have been a bow, but was a nod. Their joint 
 attention was then given to the donkey-cart, in which old 
 Tom Cogglesby sat alone, bunchy in figure, bunched in face, 
 his shrewd grey eyes twinkling under the bush of his eye- 
 brows. 
 
 " Oy, sir — you ! my man ! " exclaimed the tallest of the 
 pair, resolutely. " This won't do. Don't you know driving 
 this sort of conveyance slap along the gravel 'ere, up to the 
 pillars, 's unparliamentary ? Can't be allowed. Now, right 
 about ! " 
 
 This address, accompanied by a commanding elevation of 
 the dexter hand, seemed to excite Mr. Raikes far more than 
 Old Tom. He alighted from his perch in haste, and was 
 running up to the stalwart figure, crying, " Fellow ! " when, 
 as you tell a dog to lie down, Old Tom called out, "Be 
 quiet, sir ! " and Raikes halted with prompt military obedi- 
 ence. 
 
 The sight of the curricle acting satellite to the donkey- 
 cart staggered the two footmen.
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION 291 
 
 " Are you lords ? " sang out Old Tom. 
 
 A burst of laughter from the friends of Mr. Raikes, in 
 the curricle, helped to make the powdered gentlemen aware 
 of a sarcasm, and one with no little dignity replied that they 
 were not lords. 
 
 " Oh ! Then come and hold my donkey." 
 
 Great irresolution was displayed at the injunction, but 
 having consulted the face of Mr. Raikes, one fellow, evidently 
 half overcome by what was put upon him, with the steps of 
 Adam into exile, descended to the gravel, and laid his hand 
 on the donkey's head. 
 
 " Hold hard ! " cried Old Tom. " Whisper in his ear. 
 He'll know your language." 
 
 " May I have the felicity of assisting you to terra firma ? " 
 interposed Mr. Raikes, with the bow of deferential famil- 
 iarity. 
 
 " Done that once too often," returned Old Tom, jumping 
 out. " There. What's the fee ? There's a crown for you 
 that ain't afraid of a live donkey; and there's a sixpenny 
 bit for you that are — to keep up your courage ; and when 
 he's dead you shall have his skin — to shave by." 
 
 " Excellent ! " shouted Raikes. 
 
 " Thomas ! " he addressed a footman, " hand in my card. 
 Mr. John Feversham Raikes." 
 
 "And tell my lady, Tom Cogglesby's come," added the 
 owner of that name. 
 
 We will follow Tom Cogglesby, as he chooses to be called. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn rose on his entering the library, and walking 
 up to him, encountered him with a kindly full face. 
 
 " So I see you at last, Tom ? " she said, without releasing 
 his hand; and Old Tom mounted patches of red in his 
 wrinkled cheeks, and blinked, and betrayed a singular anti- 
 quated bashf ulness, which ended, after a mumble of " Yes, 
 there he was, and he hoped her ladyship was well," by his 
 seeking refuge in a chair, where he sat hard, and fixed his 
 attention on the leg of a table. 
 
 " Well, Tom, do you find much change in me ? " she was 
 woman enough to continue. 
 
 He was obliged to look up. 
 
 " Can't say I do, my lady." 
 
 " Don't you see the grey hairs, Tom ? "
 
 292 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Better than a wig," rejoined he. 
 
 Was it true that her ladyship had behaved rather ill to Old 
 Tom in her youth ? Excellent women have been naughty 
 girls, and young Beauties will have their train. It is also 
 very possible that Old Tom had presumed upon trifles, and 
 found it difficult to forgive her his own folly. 
 
 " Preferable to a wig ? Well, I would rather see you 
 with your natural thatch. You're bent, too. You look as if 
 you had kept away from Beckley a little too long." 
 
 " Told you, my lady, I should come when your daughter 
 was marriageable." 
 
 " Oho ! that's it ? I thought it was the Election." 
 
 "Election be — hem ! — beg pardon, my lady." 
 
 " Swear, Tom, if it relieves you. I think it bad to check 
 an oath or a sneeze." 
 
 " I'm come to see you on business, my lady, or I shouldn't 
 have troubled you." 
 
 "Malice?" 
 
 " You'll see I don't bear any, my lady." 
 
 "Ah! if you had only sworn roundly twenty-five years 
 ago, what a much younger man you would have been ! and 
 a brave capital old friend whom I should not have missed 
 all that time." 
 
 " Come ! " cried Old Tom, varying his eyes rapidly between 
 her ladyship's face and the floor, " you acknowledge I had 
 reason to." 
 
 " Mais, cela va sans dire." 
 
 "Cobblers' sons ain't scholars, my lady." 
 
 " And are not all in the habit of throwing their fathers in 
 our teeth, I hope ! " 
 
 Old Tom wriggled in his chair. "Well, my lady, I'm not 
 going to make a fool of myself at my time o' life. Needn't 
 be alarmed now. You've got the bell-rope handy and a 
 husband on the premises." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn smiled, stood up, and went to him. "I 
 like an honest fist," she said, taking his. " We're not going 
 to be doubtful friends, and we won't snap and snarl. That's 
 for people who're independent of wigs, Tom. I find, for 
 my part, that a little grey on the top of my head cools the 
 temper amazingly. I used to be rather hot once." 
 
 " You could be peppery, my lady."
 
 TOM cogglesby's PROPOSITION 293 
 
 "Now I'm cool, Tom, and so must you be; or, if you 
 fight, it must be in my cause, as you did when you thrashed 
 that saucy young carter. Do you remember ? " 
 
 " If you'll sit ye down, my lady, I'll just tell you what 
 I'm come for," said Old Tom, who plainly showed that he 
 did remember, and was alarmingly softened by her lady- 
 ship's retention of the incident. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn returned to her place. 
 
 "You've got a marriageable daughter, my lady ? " 
 
 " I suppose we may call her so," said Lady Jocelyn, with 
 a composed glance at the ceiling. 
 
 " 'Gaged to be married to any young chap ? " 
 
 " You must put the question to her, Tom." 
 
 "Ha! /don't want to see her." 
 
 At this Lady Jocelyn looked slightly relieved. Old Tom 
 continued. 
 
 "Happen to have got a little money — not so much as 
 many a lord's got, I dare say ; such as 'tis, there 'tis. Young 
 fellow I know wants a wife, and he shall have best part of 
 it. Will that suit ye, my lady ? " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn folded her hands. "Certainly; I've no 
 objection. What it has to do with me I can't perceive." 
 
 "Ahem ! " went Old Tom. "It won't hurt your daughter 
 to be married now, will it ? " 
 
 " Oh ! my daughter is the destined bride of your ' young 
 fellow,' " said Lady Jocelyn. " Is that how it's to be ? " 
 
 " She " — Old Tom cleared his throat — " she won't marry 
 a lord, my lady; but she — 'hem — if she don't mind that 
 — '11 have a deuced sight more hard cash than many lord's 
 son 'd give her, and a young fellow for a husband, sound 
 in wind and limb, good bone and muscle, speaks grammar 
 and two or three languages, and — " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Lady Jocelyn. " I hope this is not a prize 
 young man ? If he belongs, at his age, to the unco guid, I 
 refuse to take him for a son-in-law, and I think Eose will, 
 too." 
 
 Old Tom burst out vehemently : " He's a damned good 
 young fellow, though he isn't a lord." 
 
 " Well," said Lady Jocelyn, " I've no doubt you're in 
 earnest, Tom. It's curious, for this morning Rose has come 
 to me and given me the first chapter of a botheration, which
 
 294 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 she declares is to end in the common rash experiment. What 
 is your 'young fellow's' name? Who is he? What is 
 he?" 
 
 " Won't take my guarantee, my lady ? " 
 
 "Rose — if she marries — must have a name, you know?" 
 
 Old Tom hit his knee. " Then there's a pill for ye to 
 swallow, for he ain't the son of a lord." 
 
 " That's swallowed, Tom. What is he ? " 
 
 "He's the son of a tradesman, then, my lady." And Old 
 Tom watched her to note the effect he had produced. 
 
 "More's the pity," was all she remarked. 
 
 " And he'll have his thousand a year to start with ; and 
 he's a tailor, my lady." 
 
 Her ladyship opened her eyes. 
 
 "Harrington's his name, my lady. Don't know whether 
 you ever heard of it." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn flung herself back in her chair. "The 
 queerest thing I ever met ! " said she. 
 
 " Thousand a year to start with," Old Tom went on, " and 
 if she marries — I mean if he marries her, I'll settle a thou- 
 sand per ann. on the first baby — boy or gal." 
 
 " Hum ! Is this gross collusion, Mr. Tom ? " Lady Joce- 
 lyn inquired. 
 
 " What does that mean ? " 
 
 " Have you spoken of this before to any one ? " 
 
 "I haven't, my lady. Decided on it this morning. Hem! 
 you got a son, too. He's fond of a young gal, or he ought 
 to be. I'll settle him when I've settled the daughter." 
 
 "Harry is strongly attached to a dozen, I believe," said 
 his mother. " Well, Tom, we'll think of it. I may as well 
 tell you: Rose has just been here to inform me that this 
 Mr. Harrington has turned her head, and that she has 
 given her troth, and all that sort of thing. I believe such 
 was not to be laid to my charge in my day." 
 
 " Tou were open enough, my lady," said Old Tom. " She's 
 fond of the young fellow ? She'll have a pill to swallow ! 
 poor young woman ! " 
 
 Old Tom visibly chuckled. Lady Jocelyn had a momen- 
 tary temptation to lead him out, but she did not like the 
 subject well enough to play with it. 
 
 " Apparently Rose has swallowed it," she said.
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION 295 
 
 "Goose, shears, cabbage, and all!" muttered Old Tom. 
 "Got a stomach! — she knows he's a tailor, then? The 
 young fellow told her ? He hasn't been playing the lord 
 to her ? " 
 
 " As far as he's concerned, I think he has been tolerably 
 honest, Tom, for a man and a lover." 
 
 " And told her he was born and bound a tailor ? " 
 
 " Rose certainly heard it from him." 
 
 Slapping his knee, Old Tom cried : " Bravo ! " For though 
 one part of his nature was disappointed, and the best part 
 of his plot disarranged, he liked Evan's proceeding and felt 
 warm at what seemed to him Rose's scorn of rank. 
 
 " She must be a good gal, my lady. She couldn't have 
 got it from t'other side. Got it from you. Not that 
 you " 
 
 "No," said Lady Jocelyn, apprehending him. "I'm 
 afraid I have no Republican virtues. I'm afraid I should 
 have rejected the pill. Don't be angry with me," for Old 
 Tom looked sour again; "I like birth and position, and 
 worldly advantages, and, notwithstanding Rose's pledge of 
 the instrument she calls her heart, and in spite of your offer, 
 I shall, I tell you honestly, counsel her to have nothing to 
 do with " 
 
 " Anything less than lords," Old Tom struck in. " Very 
 well. Are you going to lock her up, my lady ? " 
 
 "No. Nor shall I whip her with rods." 
 
 " Leave her free to her choice ? " 
 
 " She will have my advice. That I shall give her. And 
 I shall take care that before she makes a step she shall know 
 exactly what it leads to. Her father, of course, will exer- 
 cise his judgement." (Lady Jocelyn said this to uphold the 
 honour of Sir Franks, knowing at the same time perfectly 
 well that he would be wheedled by Rose.) "I confess I 
 like this Mr. Harrington. But it's a great misfortune for 
 him to have had a notorious father. A tailor should cer- 
 tainly avoid fame, and this young man will have to carry 
 his father on his back. He'll never throw the great Mel 
 off." 
 
 Tom Cogglesby listened, and was really astonished at her 
 ladyship's calm reception of his proposal. 
 
 " Shameful of him ! shameful ! " he muttered perversely :
 
 296 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 for it would have made him desolate to have had to change 
 his opinion of her ladyship after cherishing it, and consol- 
 ing himself with it, five-and-twenty years. Fearing the 
 approach of softness, he prepared to take his leave. 
 
 "Now — your servant, my lady. I stick to my word, 
 mind: and if your people here are willing, I — I've got a 
 candidate up for Fairfield — I'll knock him down, and you 
 shall sneak in your Tory. Servant, my lady." 
 
 Old Tom rose to go. Lady Jocelyn took his hand cordially, 
 though she could not help smiling at the humility of the cob- 
 bler's son in his manner of speaking of the Tory candidate. 
 " Won't you stop with us a few days ? " 
 "I'd rather not, I thank ye." 
 " Won't you see Kose ? " 
 " I won't. Not till she's married." 
 " Well, Tom, we're friends now ? " 
 " Not aware I've ever done you any harm, my lady." 
 " Look me in the face." 
 
 The trial was hard for him. Though she had been five- 
 and-twenty years a wife, she was still very handsome : but 
 he was not going to be melted, and when the perverse old 
 fellow obeyed her, it was with an aspect of resolute disgust 
 that would have made any other woman indignant. Lady 
 Jocelyn laughed. 
 
 " Why, Tom, your brother Andrew's here, and makes him- 
 self comfortable with us. We rode by Brook's farm the other 
 day. Do you remember Copping's pond— how we dragged it 
 that night ? What days we had ! " 
 
 Old Tom tugged once or twice at his imprisoned fist, while 
 these youthful frolics of his too stupid self and the wild and 
 beautiful Miss Bonner were being recalled. 
 
 " I remember ! " he said savagely, and reaching the door 
 hurled out : " And I remember the Bull-dogs, too ! — servant, 
 my lady." With which he effected a retreat, to avoid a 
 ringing laugh he heard in his ears. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn had not laughed. She had done no more 
 than look and smile kindly on the old boy. It was at the 
 Bull-dogs, a fall of water on the borders of the park, that 
 Tom Cogglesby, then a hearty young man, had been guilty of 
 his folly : had mistaken her frank friendliness for a return 
 of his passion, and his stubborn vanity still attributed her
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 297 
 
 rejection of his suit to the fact of his descent from a cobbler, 
 or, as he put it, to her infernal worship of rank. 
 
 "Poor old Tom ! " said her ladyship, when alone. " He's 
 rough at the rind, but sound at the core." She had no idea 
 of the long revenge Old Tom cherished, and had just shaped 
 into a plot to be equal with her for the Bull-dogs ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 
 
 Monet was a strong point with the Elburne brood. The 
 Jocelyns very properly respected blood ; but being, as Harry, 
 their youngest representative, termed them, poor as rats, 
 they were justified in considering it a marketable stuff; and 
 when they married they married for money. The Hon. Miss 
 Jocelyn had espoused a manufacturer, who failed in his con- 
 tract, and deserved his death. The diplomatist, Melville, had 
 not stepped aside from the family traditions in his alliance 
 with Miss Black, the daughter of a bold bankrupt, educated 
 in affluence ; and if he touched nothing but 5000Z. and some 
 very pretty ringlets, that was not his fault. Sir Franks, too, 
 mixed his pure stream with gold. As yet, however, the gold 
 had done little more than shine on him; and, belonging 
 to expectancy, it might be thought unsubstantial. Beckley 
 Court was in the hands of Mrs. Bonner, who, with the highest 
 sense of duty toward her only living child, was the last to 
 appreciate Lady Jocelyn's entire absence of demonstrative 
 affection, and severely reprobated her daughter's philosophic 
 handling of certain serious subjects. Sir Pranks, no doubt, 
 came better off than the others ; her ladyship brought him 
 twenty thousand pounds, and Harry had ten in the past tense, 
 and Rose ten in the future ; but living, as he had done, a 
 score of years anticipating the demise of an incurable invalid, 
 he, though an excellent husband and father, could scarcely be 
 taught to imagine that the Jocelyn object of his bargain was 
 attained. He had the semblance of wealth, without the per- 
 sonal glow which absolute possession brings. It was his habit
 
 298 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 to call himself a poor man, and it was his dream that Rose 
 should marry a rich one. Harry was hopeless. He had been 
 his Grandmother's pet up to the years of adolescence : he was 
 getting too old for any prospect of a military career : he had 
 no turn for diplomacy, no taste for any of the walks open to 
 blood and birth, and was in headlong disgrace with the foun- 
 tain of goodness at Beckley Court, where he was still kept in 
 the tacit understanding that, should Juliana inherit the place, 
 he must be at hand to marry her instantly, after the fashion 
 of the Jocelyns. They were an injured family ; for what they 
 gave was good, and the commercial world had not behaved 
 honourably to them. 
 
 Now, Ferdinand Laxley was just the match for Rose. 
 Born to a title and fine estate, he was evidently fond of her, 
 and there had been a gentle hope in the bosom of Sir Franks 
 that the family fatality would cease, and that Rose would 
 marry both money and blood. 
 
 From this happy delusion poor Sir Franks was awakened 
 to hear that his daughter had plighted herself to the son of 
 a tradesman : that, as the climax to their evil fate, she who 
 had some blood and some money of her own — the only 
 Jocelyn who had ever united the two — was desirous of 
 wasting herself on one who had neither. The idea was so 
 utterly opposed to the principles Sir Franks had been trained 
 in, that his intellect could not grasp it. He listened to 
 his sister, Mrs. Shorne: he listened to his wife; he agreed 
 with all they said, though what they said was widely di- 
 verse: he consented to see and speak to Evan, and he did 
 so, and was much the most distressed. For Sir Franks 
 liked many things in life, and hated one thing alone — 
 which was "bother." A smooth world was his delight. 
 Rose knew this, and her instruction to Evan was: "You 
 cannot give me up — you will go, but you cannot give m© 
 up while I am faithful to you: tell him that." She knew 
 that to impress this fact at once on the mind of Sir Franks 
 would be a great gain; for in his detestation of bother he 
 would soon grow reconciled to things monstrous : and hear- 
 ing the same on both sides, the matter would assume an 
 inevitable shape to him. Mr. Second Fiddle had no diffi- 
 culty in declaring the eternity of his sentiments; but he 
 toned them with a despair Rose did not contemplate, and
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 299 
 
 added also his readiness to repair, in any way possible, the 
 evil done. He spoke of his birth and position. Sir Franks, 
 with a gentlemanly delicacy natural to all lovers of a smooth 
 world, begged him to see the main and the insurmountable 
 objection. Birth was to be desired, of course, and position, 
 and so forth : but without money how can two young people 
 marry? Evan's heart melted at this generous way of put- 
 ting it. He said he saw it, he had no hope : he would go 
 and be forgotten : and begged that for any annoyance his 
 visit might have caused Sir Franks and Lady Jocelyn, they 
 would pardon him. Sir Franks shook him by the hand, and 
 the interview ended in a dialogue on the condition of the 
 knees of Black Lymport, and on horseflesh in Portugal and 
 Spain. 
 
 Following Evan, Kose went to her father and gave him a 
 good hour's excitement, after which the worthy gentleman 
 hurried for consolation to Lady Jocelyn, whom he found 
 reading a book of French memoirs, in her usual attitude, 
 with her feet stretched out and her head thrown back, as in 
 a distant survey of the lively people screening her from a 
 troubled world. Her ladyship read him a piquant story, 
 and Sir Franks capped it with another from memory; 
 whereupon her ladyship held him wrong in one turn of 
 the story, and Sir Franks rose to get the volume to verify, 
 and while he was turning over the leaves, Lady Jocelyn 
 told him incidentally of old Tom Cogglesby's visit and pro- 
 posal. Sir Franks found the passage, and that her ladyship 
 was right, which it did not move her countenance to hear. 
 
 " Ah! " said he, finding it no use to pretend there was no 
 bother in the world, " here's a pretty pickle ! Kose says 
 she will have that fellow." 
 
 "Hum!" replied her ladyship. "And if she keeps her 
 mind a couple of years, it will be a wonder." 
 
 "Very bad for her this sort of thing — talked about," 
 muttered Sir Franks. "Ferdinand was just the man." 
 
 "Well, yes; I suppose it's her mistake to think brains 
 an absolute requisite," said Lady Jocelyn, opening her 
 book again, and scanning down a column. 
 
 Sir Franks, being imitative, adopted a similar refuge, 
 and the talk between them was varied by quotations and 
 choice bits from the authors they had recourse to. Both
 
 300 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 leaned back in their chairs, and spoke with their eyes on 
 their books. 
 
 "Julia's going to write to her mother," said he. 
 
 "Very filial and proper," said she. 
 
 "There'll be a horrible hubbub, you know, Emily." 
 
 "Most probably. I shall get the blame; cela se conqoit." 
 
 "Young Harrington goes the day after to-morrow. 
 Thought it better not to pack him off in a hurry." 
 
 "And just before the pic-nic; no, certainly. I suppose 
 it would look odd." 
 
 " How are we to get rid of the Countess ? " 
 
 " Eh? This Bautru is amusing, Eranks ; but he's nothing 
 to Vandy. Homme incomparable ! On the whole I find 
 Menage rather dull. The Countess? what an accomplished 
 liar that woman is! She seems to have stepped out of 
 Tallemant's Gallery. Concerning the Countess, I suppose 
 you had better apply to Melville." 
 
 "Where the deuce did this young Harrington get his 
 breeding from?" 
 
 "He comes of a notable sire." 
 
 "Yes, but there's no sign of the snob in him." 
 
 " And I exonerate him from the charge of ' adventuring ' 
 after Rose. George Uploft tells me — I had him in just 
 now — that the mother is a woman of mark and strong 
 principle. She has probably corrected the too luxuriant 
 nature of Mel in her offspring. That is to say in this one. 
 Pour les autres, je ne dis pas. Well, the young man will 
 go; and if Rose chooses to become a monument of con- 
 stancy, we can do nothing. I shall give my advice ; but as 
 she has not deceived me, and she is a reasonable being, I 
 shan't interfere. Putting the case at the worst, they will 
 not want money. I have no doubt Tom Cogglesby means 
 what he says, and will do it. So there we will leave the 
 matter till we hear from Elburne House." 
 
 Sir Eranks groaned at the thought. 
 
 "How much does he offer to settle on them?" he asked. 
 
 "A thousand a year on the marriage, and the same 
 amount to the first child. I dare say the end would be 
 that they would get all." 
 
 Sir Franks nodded, and remained with one eye-brow piti- 
 ably elevated above the level of the other.
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 301 
 
 "Anything but a tailor!" he exclaimed presently, half 
 to himself. 
 
 "There is a prejudice against that craft," her ladyship 
 acquiesced. " Beranger — let me see — your favourite 
 Frenchman, Franks, wasn't it his father ? — no, his grand- 
 father. 'Mon pauvre et humble grandpere,' I think, was 
 a tailor. Hum! the degrees of the thing, I confess, don't 
 affect me. One trade I imagine to be no worse than 
 another." 
 
 "Ferdinand's allowance is about a thousand," said Sir 
 Franks, meditatively. 
 
 " And won't be a farthing more till he comes to the title, " 
 added her ladyship. 
 
 <( Well," resumed Sir Franks, "it's a horrible bother! " 
 
 His wife philosophically agreed with him, and the sub- 
 ject was dropped. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn felt with her husband, more than she chose 
 to let him know, and Sir Franks could have burst into 
 anathemas against fate and circumstances, more than his 
 love of a smooth world permitted. He, however, was sub- 
 dued by her calmness ; and she, with ten times the weight 
 of brain, was manoeuvred by the wonderful dash of General 
 Eose Jocelyn. For her ladyship, thinking, "I shall get 
 the blame of all this," rather sided insensibly with the 
 offenders against those who condemned them jointly; and 
 seeing that Rose had been scrupulously honest and straight- 
 forward in a very delicate matter, this lady was so consti- 
 tuted that she could not but applaud her daughter in her 
 heart. A worldly woman would have acted, if she had not 
 thought, differently; but her ladyship was not a worldly 
 woman. Evan's bearing and character had, during his 
 residence at Beckley Court, become so thoroughly accepted 
 as those of a gentleman, and one of their own rank, that, 
 after an allusion to the origin of his breeding, not a word 
 more was said by either of them on that topic. Besides, 
 Eose had dignified him by her decided conduct. 
 
 By the time poor Sir Franks had read himself into tran- 
 quillity, Mrs. Shorne, who knew him well, and was deter- 
 mined that he should not enter upon his usual negociations 
 with an unpleasantness : that is to say, to forget it, joined 
 them in the library, bringing with her Sir John Loring
 
 302 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 and Hamilton Jocelyn. Her first measure was to compel 
 Sir Franks to put down his book. Lady Jocelyn subse- 
 quently had to do the same. 
 
 "Well, what have you done, Franks?" said Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 " Done ? " answered the poor gentleman. " What is there 
 to be done ? I've spoken to young Harrington." 
 
 " Spoken to him ! He deserves horsewhipping ! Have 
 you not told him to quit the house instantly ? " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn came to her husband's aid : " It wouldn't 
 do, I think, to kick him out. In the first place, he hasn't 
 deserved it." 
 
 " Not deserved it, Emily ! — the commonest, low, vile, 
 adventuring tradesman ! " 
 
 "In the second place," pursued her ladyship, "it's not 
 advisable to do anything that will make Rose enter into the 
 young woman's sublimities. It's better not to let a lunatic 
 see that you think him stark mad, and the same holds with 
 young women afflicted with the love-mania. The sound of 
 sense, even if they can't understand it, flatters them so as to 
 keep them within bounds. Otherwise you drive them into 
 excesses best avoided." 
 
 "Really, Emily," said Mrs. Shorne, "you speak almost, 
 one would say, as an advocate of such unions." 
 
 " You must know perfectly well that I entirely condemn 
 them," replied her ladyship, who had once, and once only, 
 delivered her opinion of the nuptials of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 In self-defence, and to show the total difference between 
 the cases, Mrs. Shorne interjected: "An utterly penniless 
 young adventurer ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ; there's money," remarked Sir Franks. 
 
 " Money is there ? " quoth Hamilton, respectfully. 
 
 " And there's wit," added Sir John, " if he has half his 
 sister's talent." 
 
 "Astonishing woman!" Hamilton chimed in; adding, 
 with a shrug, " But, egad ! " 
 
 " Well, we don't want him to resemble his sister," said 
 Lady Jocelyn. " I acknowledge she's amusing." 
 
 " Amusing, Emily ! " Mrs. Shorne never encountered her 
 sister-in-law's calmness without indignation. "I could not
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 303 
 
 rest in the house with such a person, knowing her what she 
 is. A vile adventuress, as I firmly believe. What does she 
 do all day with your mother ? Depend upon it, you will 
 repent her visit in more ways than one." 
 
 " A prophecy ? " asked Lady Jocelyn, smiling. 
 
 On the grounds of common-sense, on the grounds of pro- 
 priety, and consideration of what was due to themselves, all 
 agreed to condemn the notion of Rose casting herself away 
 on Evan. Lady Jocelyn agreed with Mrs. Shorne; Sir 
 Franks with his brother, and Sir John. But as to what 
 they were to do, they were divided. Lady Jocelyn said she 
 should not prevent Rose from writing to Evan, if she had 
 the wish to do so. 
 
 "Folly must come out," said her ladyship. "It's a com- 
 bustible material. I won't have her health injured. She 
 shall go into the world more. She will be presented at 
 Court, and if it's necessary to give her a dose or two to 
 counteract her vanity, I don't object. This will wear off, 
 or, si c'est veritablement une grande passion, eh bien! we 
 must take what Providence sends us." 
 
 "And which we might have prevented if we had con- 
 descended to listen to the plainest worldly wisdom," added 
 Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 " Yes," said Lady Jocelyn, equably, " you know, you and 
 I, Julia, argue from two distinct points. Girls may be shut 
 up, as you propose. I don't think nature intended to have 
 them the obverse of men. I'm sure their mothers never 
 designed that they should run away with footmen, riding- 
 masters, chance curates, as they occasionally do, and wouldn't 
 if they had points of comparison. My opinion is that Pros- 
 pero was just saved by the Prince of Naples being wrecked on 
 his island, from a shocking mis-alliance between his daughter 
 and the son of Sycorax. I see it clearly. Poetry conceals 
 the extreme probability, but from what I know of my sex, I 
 should have no hesitation in turning prophet also, as to that." 
 
 What could Mrs. Shorne do with a mother who talked in 
 this manner ? Mrs. Melville, when she arrived to take part 
 in the conference, which gradually swelled to a family one, 
 was equally unable to make Lady Jocelyn perceive that her 
 plan of bringing up Rose was, in the present result of it, 
 other than unlucky.
 
 304 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Now the two Generals — Eose Jocelyn and the Countess de 
 Saldar — had brought matters to this pass ; and from the two 
 tactical extremes : the former by openness and dash ; the 
 latter by subtlety, and her own interpretations of the means 
 extended to her by Providence. I will not be so bold as to 
 state which of the two I think right. Good and evil work 
 together in this world. If the Countess had not woven the 
 tangle, and gained Evan time, Eose would never have seen his 
 blood, — never have had her spirit hurried out of all shows 
 and forms and habits of thought, up to the gates of existence, 
 as it were, where she took him simply as God created him and 
 her, and clave to him. Again, had Eose been secret, when 
 this turn in her nature came, she would have forfeited the 
 strange power she received from it, and which endowed her 
 with decision to say what was in her heart, and stamp it 
 lastingly there. The two Generals were quite antagonistic, 
 but no two, in perfect ignorance of one another's proceedings, 
 ever worked so harmoniously toward the main result. The 
 Countess was the skilful engineer: Eose the General of 
 cavalry. And it did really seem that, with Tom Cogglesby 
 and his thousands in reserve, the victory was about to be 
 gained. The male Jocelyns, an easy race, decided that, if 
 the worst came to the worst, and Eose proved a wonder, 
 there was money, which was something. 
 
 But social prejudice was about to claim its champion. 
 Hitherto there had been no General on the opposite side. 
 Love, aided by the Countess, had engaged an inert mass. The 
 champion was discovered in the person of the provincial Don 
 Juan, Mr. Harry Jocelyn. Harry had gone on a mysterious 
 business of his own to London. He returned with a green 
 box under his arm, which, five minutes after his arrival, was 
 entrusted to Conning, in company with a genial present for 
 herself, of a kind not perhaps so fit for exhibition ; at least 
 they both thought so, for it was given in the shades. Harry 
 then went to pay his respects to his mother, who received him 
 with her customary ironical tolerance. His father, to whom 
 he was an incarnation of bother, likewise nodded to him and 
 gave him a finger. Duty done, Harry looked round him for 
 pleasure, and observed nothing but glum faces. Even the 
 face of John Eaikes was heavy. He had been hovering 
 about the Duke and Miss Current for an hour, hoping the
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 305 
 
 Countess would come and give him a promised introduction. 
 The Countess stirred not from above, and Jack drifted from 
 group to group on the lawn, and grew conscious that wher- 
 ever he went he brought silence with him. His isolation 
 made him humble, and when Harry shook his hand, and 
 said he remembered Fallowfield and the fun there, Mr. 
 Raikes thanked him. 
 
 Harry made his way to join his friend Ferdinand, and 
 furnished him with the latest London news not likely to 
 appear in the papers. Laxley was distant and unamused. 
 From the fact, too, that Harry was known to be the Countess's 
 slave, his presence produced the same effect in the different 
 circles about the grounds, as did that of John Raikes. 
 Harry began to yawn and wish very ardently for his sweet 
 lady. She, however, had too fine an instinct to descend. 
 
 An hour before dinner, Juliana sent him a message that 
 she desired to see him. 
 
 "Jove! I hope that girl's not going to be blowing hot 
 again," sighed the conqueror. 
 
 He had nothing to fear from Juliana. The moment they 
 were alone she asked him, " Have you heard of it ? " 
 
 Harry shook his head and shrugged. 
 
 "They haven't told you? Rose has engaged herself to 
 Mr. Harrington, a tradesman, a tailor ! " 
 
 " Pooh ! have you got hold of that story ? " said Harry. 
 "But I'm sorry for old Ferdy. He was fond of Rosey. 
 Here's another bother ! " 
 
 " You don't believe me, Harry ? " 
 
 Harry was mentally debating whether, in this new posture 
 of affairs, his friend Ferdinand would press Ms claim for 
 certain moneys lent. 
 
 " Oh, I believe you," he said. " Harrington has the knack 
 with you women. Why, you made eyes at him. It was a 
 toss-up between you and Rosey once." 
 
 Juliana let this accusation pass. 
 
 " He is a tradesman. He has a shop in Lymport, I tell 
 you, Harry, and his name on it. And he came here on pur- 
 pose to catch Rose. And now he has caught her, he tells 
 her. And his mother is now at one of the village inns, 
 waiting to see him. Go to Mr. George Uploft; he knows 
 the family. Yes, the Countess has turned your head, of 
 
 20
 
 306 EVAN HAKRINGTOtf 
 
 course; but she has schemed and schemed, and told such 
 stories — God forgive her ! " — 
 
 The girl had to veil her eyes in a spasm of angry weeping. 
 
 " Oh, come ! Juley ! " murmured her killing cousin. Harry 
 boasted an extraordinary weakness at the sight of feminine 
 tears. " I say ! Juley ! you know if you begin crying I'm 
 done for, and it isn't fair." 
 
 He dropped his arm on her waist to console her, and gen- 
 erously declared to her that he always had been very fond 
 of her. These scenes were not foreign to the youth. Her 
 fits of crying, from which she would burst in a frenzy of 
 contempt at him, had made Harry say stronger things ; and 
 the assurances of profound affection uttered in a most lan- 
 guid voice will sting the hearts of women. 
 
 Harry still went on with his declarations, heating them 
 rapidly, so as to bring on himself the usual outburst and 
 check. She was longer in coming to it this time, and he 
 had a horrid fear, that instead of dismissing him fiercely, 
 and so annulling his words, the strange little person was 
 going to be soft and hold him to them. There were her tears, 
 however, which she could not stop. 
 
 " Well, then, Juley, look. I do, upon my honour, yes — 
 there, don't cry any more — I do love you." 
 
 Harry held his breath in awful suspense. Juliana quietly 
 disengaged her waist, and looking at him, said, "Poor 
 Harry ! You need not lie any more to please me." 
 
 Such was Harry's astonishment, that he exclaimed, "It 
 isn't a lie ! I say, I do love you." And for an instant he 
 thought and hoped that he did love her. 
 
 "Well, then, Harry, I don't love you," said Juliana; 
 which revealed to our friend that he had been mistaken in 
 his own emotions. Nevertheless, his vanity was hurt when 
 he saw she was sincere, and he listened to her, a moody 
 being. This may account for his excessive wrath at Evan 
 Harrington after Juliana had given him proofs of the truth 
 of what she said. 
 
 But the Countess was Harrington's sister! The image of 
 the Countess swam before him. Was it possible? Harry 
 went about asking everybody he met. The initiated were 
 discreet; those who had the whispers were open. A bare 
 truth is not so convincing as one that discretion confirms. 
 Harry found the detestable news perfectly true.
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 307 
 
 " Stop it by all means if you can," said his father. 
 
 " Yes, try a fall with Rose/' said his mother. 
 
 " And I must sit down to dinner to-day with a confounded 
 
 fellow, the son of a tailor, who's had the impudence to 
 
 make love to my sister!" cried Harry. "I'm determined 
 to kick him out of the house ! — half." 
 
 " To what is the modification of your determination due ? " 
 Lady Jocelyn inquired, probably suspecting the sweet and 
 gracious person who divided Harry's mind. 
 
 Her ladyship treated her children as she did mankind 
 generally, from her intellectual eminence. Harry was com- 
 pelled to fly from her cruel shafts. He found comfort with 
 his Aunt Shorne, and she as much as told Harry that he 
 was the head of the house, and must take up the matter 
 summarily. It was expected of him. Now was the time 
 for him to show his manhood. 
 
 Harry could think of but one way to do that. 
 
 " Yes, and if I do — all up with the old lady," he said, 
 and had to explain that his Grandmama Bonner would never 
 leave a penny to a fellow who had fought a duel. 
 
 "A duel ! " said Mrs. Shorne. "No, there are other ways. 
 Insist upon his renouncing her. And Rose — treat her with 
 a high hand, as becomes you. Your mother is incorrigible, 
 and as for your father, one knows him of old. This devolves 
 upon you. Our family honour is in your hands, Harry." 
 
 Considering Harry's reputation, the family honour must 
 have got low. Harry, of course, was not disposed to think 
 so. He discovered a great deal of unused pride within him, 
 for which he had hitherto not found an agreeable vent. He 
 vowed to his aunt that he would not suffer the disgrace, and 
 while still that blandishing olive-hued visage swam before 
 his eyes, he pledged his word to Mrs. Shorne that he would 
 come to an understanding with Harrington that night. 
 
 " Quietly," said she. " No scandal, pray." 
 
 " Oh, never mind how I do it," returned Harry, manfully. 
 "How am I to do it, then?" he added, suddenly remember- 
 ing his debt to Evan. 
 
 Mrs. Shorne instructed him how to do it quietly, and 
 without fear of scandal. The miserable champion replied 
 that it was very well for her to tell him to say this and 
 that, but — and she thought him demented — he must,
 
 308 EVAN HARRINGTON" 
 
 previous to addressing Harrington in those terms, have 
 money. 
 
 " Money ! " echoed the lady. " Money ! " 
 
 " Yes, money ! " he iterated doggedly, and she learnt that 
 he had borrowed a sum of Harrington, and the amount of 
 the sum. 
 
 It was a disastrous plight, for Mrs. Shorne was penniless. 
 
 She cited Ferdinand Laxley as a likely lender. 
 
 " Oh, I'm deep with him already," said Harry, in apparent 
 dejection. 
 
 " How dreadful are these everlasting borrowings of yours ! " 
 exclaimed his aunt, unaware of a trifling incongruity in her 
 sentiments. " You must speak to him without — pay him 
 by-and-by. We must scrape the money together. I will 
 write to your grandfather." 
 
 " Yes ; speak to him ! How can I when I owe him ? I 
 can't tell a fellow he's a blackguard when I owe him, and I 
 can't speak any other way. I ain't a diplomatist. Dashed 
 if I know what to do ! " 
 
 " Juliana," murmured his aunt. 
 
 " Can't ask her, you know." 
 
 Mrs. Shorne combated the one prominent reason for the 
 objection: but there were two. Harry believed that he had 
 exhausted Juliana's treasury. Reproaching him further for 
 his wastefulness, Mrs. Shorne promised him the money 
 should be got, by hook or by crook, next day. 
 
 "And you will speak to this Mr. Harrington to-night, 
 Harry ? No allusion to the loan till you return it. Appeal 
 to his sense of honour." 
 
 The dinner-bell assembled the inmates of the house. Evan 
 was not among them. He had gone, as the Countess said 
 aloud, on a diplomatic mission to Fallowfield, with Andrew 
 Cogglesby. The truth being that he had finally taken 
 Andrew into his confidence concerning the letter, the an- 
 nuity, and the bond. Upon which occasion Andrew had 
 burst into a laugh, and said he could lay his hand on the 
 writer of the letter. 
 
 " Trust Old Tom for plots, Van ! He'll blow you up in a 
 twinkling, the cunning old dog ! He pretends to be hard — 
 he's as soft as I am, if it wasn't for his crotchets. We'll 
 hand him back the cash, and that's ended. And — eh?
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 309 
 
 what a clear girl she is! Not that I'm astonished. My 
 Harry might have married a lord — sit at top of any table 
 in the land ! And you're as good as any man. That's my 
 opinion. But I say she's a wonderful girl to see it." 
 
 Chattering thus, Andrew drove with the dear boy into 
 Fallowfield. Evan was still in his dream. To him the 
 generous love and valiant openness of Kose, though they 
 were matched in his own bosom, seemed scarcely human. 
 Almost as noble to him were the gentlemanly plain-speaking 
 of Sir Franks and Lady Jocelyn's kind common-sense. But 
 the more he esteemed them, the more unbounded and mirac- 
 ulous appeared the prospect of his calling their daughter by 
 the sacred name, and kneeling with her at their feet. Did 
 the dear heavens have that in store for him ? The horizon 
 edges were dimly lighted. 
 
 Harry looked about under his eye-lids for Evan, trying at 
 the same time to compose himself for the martyrdom he had 
 to endure in sitting at table with the presumptuous fellow. 
 The Countess signalled him to come within the presence. As 
 he was crossing the room, Rose entered, and moved to meet 
 him, with : " Ah, Harry ! back again ! Glad to see you." 
 
 Harry gave her a blunt nod, to which she was inattentive. 
 
 "What!" whispered the Countess, after he pressed the 
 tips of her fingers. " Have you brought back the grocer ? " 
 
 Now this was hard to stand. Harry could forgive her 
 her birth, and pass it utterly by if she chose to fall in love 
 with him ; but to hear the grocer mentioned, when he knew 
 of the tailor, was a little too much, and what Harry felt his 
 ingenuous countenance was accustomed to exhibit. The 
 Countess saw it. She turned her head from him to the 
 diplomatist, and he had to remain like a sentinel at her 
 feet. He did not want to be thanked for the green box: 
 still he thought she might have favoured him with one of 
 her much-embracing smiles. 
 
 In the evening, after wine, when he was warm, and had 
 almost forgotten the insult to his family and himself, the 
 Countess snubbed him. It was unwise on her part, but she 
 had the ghastly thought that facts were oozing out, and 
 were already half known. She was therefore sensitive ten- 
 fold to appearances ; savage if one failed to keep up her lie 
 to her, and was guilty of a shadow of difference of behaviour.
 
 310 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 The pic-nic over, our General would evacuate Beckley Court, 
 and shake the dust off her shoes, and leave the harvest of 
 what she had sown to Providence. Till then, respect, and 
 the honours of war ! So the Countess snubbed him, and he 
 being full of wine, fell into the hands of Juliana who had 
 witnessed the little scene. 
 
 " She has made a fool of others as well as of you," said 
 Juliana. 
 
 " How has she ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Never mind. Do you want to make her humble and 
 crouch to you ? " 
 
 " I want to see Harrington," said Harry. 
 
 " He will not return to-night from Fallowfield. He has 
 gone there to get Mr. Andrew Cogglesby's brother to do 
 something for him. You won't have such another chance 
 of humbling them both — both! I told you his mother is 
 at an inn here. The Countess has sent Mr. Harrington to 
 Fallowfield to be out of the way, and she has told her 
 mother all sorts of falsehoods." 
 
 " How do you know all that ? " quoth Harry. " By 
 Jove, Juley ! talk about plotters ! No keeping anything 
 from you, ever ! " 
 
 "Never mind. The mother is here. She must be a 
 vulgar woman. Oh! if you could manage, Harry, to get 
 this woman to come — you could do it so easily ! — while they 
 are at the pic-nic to-morrow. It would have the best effect 
 on Rose. She would then understand ! And the Countess ! " 
 
 " I could send the old woman a message ! " cried Harry, 
 rushing into the scheme, inspired by Juliana's fiery eyes. 
 " Send her a sort of message to say where we all were." 
 
 " Let her know that her son is here, in some way," Juley 
 resumed. 
 
 "And, egad ! what an explosion! " pursued Harry. " But, 
 suppose — " 
 
 " No one shall know, if you leave it to me — if you do 
 just as I tell you, Harry. You won't be treated as you were 
 this evening after that, if you bring down her pride. And, 
 Harry, I hear you want money — I can give you some." 
 
 " You're a perfect trump, Juley ! " exclaimed her enthusi- 
 astic cousin. "But, no j I can't take it. I must kiss you, 
 though." 

 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 311 
 
 He put a kiss upon her cheek. Once his kisses had left a 
 red waxen stamp; she was callous to these compliments now. 
 
 "Will you do what I advise you to-morrow? " she asked. 
 
 After a slight hesitation, during which the olive-hued 
 visage flittered faintly in the distances of his brain, Harry 
 said: 
 
 "It'll do Kose good, and make Harrington cut. Yes! I 
 declare I will." 
 
 Then they parted. Juliana went to her bed-room, and 
 flung herself upon the bed hysterically. As the tears came 
 thick and fast, she jumped up to lock the door, for this 
 outrageous habit of crying had made her contemptible in 
 the eyes of Lady Jocelyn, and an object of pity to Rose. 
 Some excellent and noble natures cannot tolerate disease, 
 and are mystified by its ebullitions. It was very sad to see 
 the slight thin frame grasped by those wan hands to contain 
 the violence of the frenzy that possessed her ! the pale, hap- 
 less face rigid above the torment in her bosom ! She had 
 prayed to be loved like other girls, and her readiness to 
 give her heart in return had made her a by-word in the 
 house. She went to the window and leaned out on the 
 casement, looking towards Fallowfield over the downs, weep- 
 ing bitterly, with a hard shut mouth. One brilliant star 
 hung above the ridge, and danced on her tears. 
 
 "Will he forgive me?" she murmured. "Oh, my God! 
 I wish we were dead together ! " 
 
 Her weeping ceased, and she closed the window, and 
 undressed as far away from the mirror as she could get; 
 but its force was too much for her, and drew her to it. 
 Some undefined hope had sprung in her suddenly. With 
 nervous slow steps she approached the glass, and first 
 brushing back the masses of black hair from her brow, 
 looked as for some new revelation. Long and anxiously 
 she perused her features : the wide bony forehead ; the eyes 
 deep-set and rounded with the scarlet of recent tears, the 
 thin nose — sharp as the dead; the weak irritable mouth 
 and sunken cheeks. She gazed like a spirit disconnected 
 from what she saw. Presently a sort of forlorn negative 
 was indicated by the motion of her head. 
 
 "I can pardon him," she said, and sighed. "How could 
 he love such a face ! "
 
 312 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. — PART I 
 
 At the southwestern extremity of the park, with a view 
 extending over wide meadows and troubled mill-waters, 
 yellow barn-roofs and weather-grey old farm-walls, two 
 grassy mounds threw their slopes to the margin of the 
 stream. Here the bull-dogs held revel. The hollow between 
 the slopes was crowned by a bending birch, which rose three- 
 stemmed from the root, and hung a noiseless green shower 
 over the basin of green it shadowed. Beneath it the inter- 
 minable growl sounded pleasantly ; softly shot the sparkle 
 of the twisting water, and you might dream things half- 
 fulfilled. Knots of fern were about, but the tops of the 
 mounds were firm grass, evidently well rolled, and with an 
 eye to airy feet. Olympus one eminence was called, Par- 
 nassus the other. Olympus a little overlooked Parnassus, 
 but Parnassus was broader and altogether better adapted 
 for the games of the Muses. Round the edges of both 
 there was a well-trimmed bush of laurel, obscuring only 
 the feet of the dancers from the observing gods. For on 
 Olympus the elders reclined. Great efforts had occasionally 
 been made to dispossess and unseat them, and their security 
 depended mainly on a hump in the middle of the mound 
 which defied the dance. 
 
 Watteau-like groups were already couched in the shade. 
 There were ladies of all sorts: town-bred and country -bred: 
 farmers' daughters and daughters of peers : for this pic-nic, 
 as Lady Jocelyn, disgusting the Countess, would call it, 
 was in reality a fete champetre, given annually, to which 
 the fair offspring of the superior tenants were invited — the 
 brothers and fathers coming to fetch them in the evening. 
 It struck the eye of the Countess de Saldar that Olympus 
 would be a fitting throne for her, and a point whence her 
 shafts might fly without fear of a return. Like another 
 illustrious General at Salamanca, she directed a detachment 
 to take possession of the height. Courtly Sir John Loring 
 ran up at once, and gave the diplomatist an opportunity to
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 313 
 
 thank her flatteringly for gaining them two minutes to 
 themselves. Sir John waved his handkerchief in triumph, 
 welcoming them under an awning where carpets and cush- 
 ions were spread, and whence the Countess could eye the 
 field. She was dressed ravishingly; slightly in a foreign 
 style, the bodice being peaked at the waist, as was then the 
 Portuguese persuasion. The neck, too, was deliriously veiled 
 with fine lace — and thoroughly veiled, for it was a feature 
 the Countess did not care to expose to the vulgar daylight. 
 Off her gentle shoulders, as it were some fringe of cloud 
 blown by the breeze this sweet lady opened her bosom to, 
 curled a lovely black lace scarf: not Caroline's. If she 
 laughed, the tinge of mourning lent her laughter new 
 charms. If she sighed, the exuberant array of her apparel 
 bade the spectator be of good cheer. Was she witty, men 
 surrendered reason and adored her. Only when she entered 
 the majestic mood, and assumed the languors of greatness, 
 and recited musky anecdotes of her intimacy with it, only 
 then did mankind, as represented at Beckley Court, open 
 an internal eye and reflect that it was wonderful in a tailor's 
 daughter. And she felt that mankind did so reflect. Her 
 instincts did not deceive her. She knew not how much was 
 known; in the depths of her heart she kept low the fear 
 that possibly all might be known ; and succeeding in this, 
 she said to herself that probably nothing was known after 
 all. George Uploft, Miss Carrington, and Eose were the 
 three she abhorred. Partly to be out of their way, and to 
 be out of the way of chance shots (for she had heard names 
 of people coming that reminded her of Dubbins 's, where, in 
 past days, there had been on one awful occasion a terrific 
 discovery made), the Countess selected Olympus for her 
 station. It was her last day, and she determined to be 
 happy. Doubtless, she was making a retreat, but have not 
 illustrious Generals snatched victory from their pursuers? 
 Fair, then, sweet, and full of grace, the Countess moved. 
 As the restless shifting of colours to her motions was the 
 constant interchange of her semi-sorrowful manner and 
 ready archness. Sir John almost capered to please her, 
 and the diplomatist in talking to her forgot his diplomacy 
 and the craft of his tongue. 
 
 It was the last day also of Caroline and the Duke. The
 
 314 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Countess clung to Caroline and the Duke more than to Evan 
 and Rose. She could see the iirst couple walking under an 
 avenue of limes, and near them that young man or monkey, 
 Raikes, as if in ambush. Twice they passed him, and 
 twice he doffed his hat and did homage. 
 
 "A most singular creature!" exclaimed the Countess. 
 "It is my constant marvel where my brother discovered 
 such a curiosity. Do notice him." 
 
 "That man? Raikes?" said the diplomatist. "Do you 
 know he is our rival? Harry wanted an excuse for another 
 bottle last night, and proposed the ' Member ' for Fallow- 
 field. Up got this Mr. Raikes and returned thanks." 
 
 "Yes?" the Countess negligently interjected in a way 
 she had caught from Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 "Cogglesby's nominee, apparently." 
 
 "I know it all," said the Countess. "We need have no 
 apprehension. He is docile. My brother-in-law's brother, 
 you see, is most eccentric. We can manage him best through 
 this Mr. Raikes, for a personal application would be ruin. 
 He quite detests our family, and indeed all the aris- 
 tocracy." 
 
 Melville's mouth pursed, and he looked very grave. 
 
 Sir John remarked : " He seems like a monkey just turned 
 into a man." 
 
 "And doubtful about the tail," added the Countess. 
 
 The image was tolerably correct, but other causes were at 
 the bottom of the air worn by John Raikes. The Countess 
 had obtained an invitation for him, with instructions that 
 he should come early, and he had followed them so implic- 
 itly that the curricle was flinging dust on the hedges between 
 Fallowfield and Beckley but an hour or two after the chariot 
 of Apollo had mounted the heavens, and Mr. Raikes pre- 
 sented himself at the breakfast table. Fortunately for him 
 the Countess was there. After the repast she introduced 
 him to the Duke : and he bowed to the Duke, and the Duke 
 bowed to him: and now, to instance the peculiar justness 
 in the mind of Mr. Raikes, he, though he worshipped a coro- 
 net and would gladly have recalled the feudal times to a 
 corrupt land, could not help thinking that his bow had 
 beaten the Duke's and was better. He would rather not 
 have thought so, for it upset his preconceptions and threat-
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 315 
 
 enecl a revolution in his ideas. For this reason he followed 
 the Duke, and tried, if possible, to correct, or at least 
 chasten the impressions he had of possessing a glaring 
 advantage over the nobleman. The Duke's second notice 
 of him was hardly a nod. " Well ! " Mr. Raikes reflected, 
 "if this is your Duke, why, egad! for figure and style my 
 friend Harrington beats him hollow." And Raikes thought 
 he knew who could conduct a conversation with superior 
 dignity and neatness. The torchlight of a delusion was 
 extinguished in him, but he did not wander long in that 
 gloomy cavernous darkness of the disenchanted, as many 
 of us do, and as Evan had done, when after a week at 
 Beckley Court he began to examine of what stuff his brill- 
 iant father, the great Mel, was composed. On the con- 
 trary, as the light of the Duke dwindled, Raikes gained in 
 lustre. "In fact," he said, "there's nothing but the title 
 wanting." He was by this time on a level with the Duke 
 in his elastic mind. 
 
 Olympus had been held in possession by the Countess 
 about half-an-hour, when Lady Jocelyn mounted it, quite 
 unconscious that she was scaling a fortified point. The 
 Countess herself fired off the first gun at her. 
 
 " It has been so extremely delightful up alone here, Lady 
 Jocelyn : to look at everybody below ! I hope many will 
 not intrude on us ! " 
 
 "None but the dowagers who have breath to get up," 
 replied her ladyship, panting. "By the way, Countess, 
 you hardly belong to us yet. You dance? " 
 
 "Indeed, I do not." 
 
 "Oh, then you are in your right place. A dowager is 
 a woman who doesn't dance : and her male attendant is — 
 what is he? We will call him a fogy." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn directed a smile at Melville and Sir John, 
 who both protested that it was an honour to be the Count- 
 ess's fogy. 
 
 Rose now joined them, with Laxley morally dragged in 
 her wake. 
 
 "Another dowager and fogy! " cried the Countess, musi- 
 cally. "Do you not dance, my child?" 
 
 "Not till the music strikes up," rejoined Rose. "I sup- 
 pose we shall have to eat first."
 
 316 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "That is the Hamlet of the pic-nic play, I believe," said 
 her mother. 
 
 "Of course you dance, don't you, Countess?" Kose 
 inquired, for the sake of amiable conversation. 
 
 The Countess's head signified: "Oh, no! quite out of 
 the question:" she held up a little bit of her mournful 
 draperies, adding: "Besides, you, dear child, know your 
 company, and can select; I do not, and cannot do so. I 
 understand we have a most varied assembly ! " 
 
 Rose shut her eyes, and then looked at her mother. Lady 
 Jocelyn's face was undisturbed; but while her eyes were 
 still upon the Countess, she drew her head gently back, 
 imperceptibly. If anything, she was admiring the lady; 
 but Rose could be no placid philosophic spectator of what 
 was to her a horrible assumption and hypocrisy. For the 
 sake of him she loved, she had swallowed a nauseous cup 
 bravely. The Countess was too much for her. She felt 
 sick to think of being allied to this person. She had a 
 shuddering desire to run into the ranks of the world, and 
 hide her head from multitudinous hootings. With a pang 
 of envy she saw her friend Jenny walking by the side of 
 William Harvey, happy, untried, unoffending: full of hope, 
 and without any bitter draughts to swallow! 
 
 Aunt Bel now came tripping up gaily. 
 
 " Take the alternative, douairiere or demoiselle ? " cried 
 Lady Jocelyn. "We must have a sharp distinction, or 
 Olympus will be mobbed." 
 
 "Entre les deux, s'il vous plait," responded Aunt Bel. 
 " Rose, hurry down, and leaven the mass. I see ten girls in 
 a bunch. It's shocking. Ferdinand, pray disperse yourself. 
 Why is it, Emily, that we are always in excess at pic-nics ? 
 Is man dying out ? " 
 
 " From what I can see," remarked Lady Jocelyn, " Harry 
 will be lost to his species unless some one quickly relieves 
 him. He's already half eaten up by the Conley girls. Count- 
 ess, isn't it your duty to rescue him ? " 
 
 The Countess bowed, and murmured to Sir John: 
 
 " A dismissal!" 
 
 " I fear my fascinations, Lady Jocelyn, may not compete 
 with those fresh young persons." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ' fresh young persons,' " laughed Sir John: for
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 317 
 
 the ladies in question were romping boisterously with Mr. 
 Harry. 
 
 The Countess inquired for the names and condition of the 
 ladies, and was told that they sprang from Farmer Conley, a 
 well-to-do son of the soil, who farmed about a couple of 
 thousand acres between Fallowfield and Beckley, and bore a 
 good reputation at the county bank. 
 
 " But I do think," observed the Countess, " it must indeed 
 be pernicious for any youth to associate with that class of 
 woman. A deterioration of manners ! " 
 
 Rose looked at her mother again. She thought : " Those 
 girls would scorn to marry a tradesman's son ! " 
 
 The feeling grew in Rose that the Countess lowered and 
 degraded her. Her mother's calm contemplation of the lady 
 was more distressing than if she had expressed the contempt 
 Rose was certain, according to her young ideas, Lady Jocelyn 
 must hold. 
 
 Now the Countess had been considering that she would 
 like to have a word or two with Mr. Harry, and kissing her 
 fingers to the occupants of Olympus, and fixing her fancy on 
 the diverse thoughts of the ladies and gentlemen, deduced 
 from a rapturous or critical contemplation of her figure from 
 behind, she descended the slope. 
 
 Was it going to be a happy day ? The well-imagined opin- 
 ions of the gentleman on her attire and style, made her lean 
 to the affirmative ; but Rose's demure behaviour, and some- 
 thing — something would come across her hopes. She had, 
 as she now said to herself, stopped for the pic-nic, mainly to 
 give Caroline a last opportunity of binding the Duke to visit 
 the Cogglesby saloons in London. Let Caroline cleverly con- 
 trive this, as she might, without any compromise, and the 
 stay at Beckley Court would be a great gain. Yes, Caroline 
 was still with the Duke ; they were talking earnestly. The 
 Countess breathed a short appeal to Providence that Caroline 
 might not prove a fool. Overnight she had said to Caroline : 
 "Do not be so English. Can one not enjoy friendship with 
 a nobleman without wounding one's conscience or breaking 
 with the world ? My dear, the Duke visiting you, you coio 
 that infamous Strike of yours. He will be utterly obse- 
 quious ! I am not telling you to pass the line. The contrary. 
 But we continentals have our grievous reputation because we
 
 318 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 dare to meet as intellectual beings, and defy the imputation 
 that ladies and gentlemen are no better than animals." 
 
 It sounded very lofty to Caroline, who, accepting its sin- 
 cerity, replied : 
 
 " I cannot do things by halves. I cannot live a life of 
 deceit. A life of misery — not deceit." 
 
 Whereupon, pitying her poor English nature, the Countess 
 gave her advice, and this advice she now implored her 
 familiars to instruct or compel Caroline to follow. 
 
 The Countess's garment was plucked at. She beheld little 
 Dorothy Loring glancing up at her with the roguish timidity 
 of her years. 
 
 " May I come with you ? " asked the little maid, and went 
 off into a prattle : " I spent that five shillings — I bought a 
 shilling's worth of sweet stuff, and nine penn'orth of twine, 
 and a shilling for small wax candles to light in my room 
 when I'm going to bed, because I like plenty of light by the 
 looking-glass always, and they do make the room so hot ! 
 My Jane declared she almost fainted, but I burnt them out ! 
 Then I only had very little left for a horse to mount my doll 
 on ; and I wasn't going to get a screw, so I went to Papa, 
 and he gave me five shillings. And, oh, do you know, Rose 
 can't bear me to be with you. Jealousy, I suppose, for 
 you're very agreeable. And, do you know, your Mama is 
 coming to-day ? I've got a Papa and no Mama, and you've 
 got a Mama and no Papa. Isn't it funny? But I don't 
 think so much of it, as you're grown up. Oh, I'm quite sure 
 she is coming, because I heard Harry telling Juley she was, 
 and Juley said it would be so gratifying to you." 
 
 A bribe and a message relieved the Countess of Dorothy's 
 attendance on her. 
 
 What did this mean? Were people so base as to be 
 guilty of hideous plots in this house ? Her mother coming ! 
 The Countess's blood turned deadly chill. Had it been her 
 father she would not have feared, but her mother was so 
 vilely plain of speech; she never opened her mouth save 
 to deliver facts: which was to the Countess the sign of 
 atrocious vulgarity. 
 
 But her mother had written to say she would wait for 
 Evan in Fallowfield ! The Countess grasped at straws. 
 Did Dorothy hear that? And if Harry and Juliana spoke
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 319 
 
 of her mother, what did that mean ? That she was hunted, 
 and must stand at bay ! 
 
 " Oh, Papa ! Papa ! why did you marry a Dawley ? " she 
 exclaimed, plunging to what was, in her idea, the root of 
 the evil. 
 
 She had no time for outcries and lamentations. It dawned 
 on her that this was to be a day of battle. Where was 
 Harry ? Still in the midst of the Conley throng, appar- 
 ently pooh-poohing something, to judge by the twist of his 
 mouth. 
 
 The Countess delicately signed for him to approach her. 
 The extreme delicacy of the signal was at least an excuse 
 for Harry to perceive nothing. It was renewed, and Harry 
 burst into a fit of laughter at some fun of one of the Conley 
 girls. The Countess passed on, and met Juliana pacing by 
 herself near the lower gates of the park. She wished only 
 to see how Juliana behaved. The girl looked perfectly 
 trustful, as much so as when the Countess was pouring in 
 her ears the tales of Evan's growing but bashf ul affection 
 for her. 
 
 " He will soon be here," whispered the Countess. " Has 
 he told you he will come by this entrance ? " 
 
 " No," replied Juliana. 
 
 "You do not look well, sweet child." 
 
 " I was thinking that you did not, Countess ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, yes ! With reason, alas ! All our visitors 
 have by this time arrived, I presume ? " 
 
 "They come all day." 
 
 The Countess hastened away from one who, when roused, 
 could be almost as clever as herself, and again stood in 
 meditation near the joyful Harry. This time she did not 
 signal so discreetly. Harry could not but see it, and the 
 Conley girls accused him of cruelty to the beautiful dame, 
 which novel idea stung Harry with delight, and he held out 
 to indulge in it a little longer. His back was half turned, 
 and as he talked noisily, he could not observe the serene 
 and resolute march of the Countess toward him. The youth 
 gaped when he found his arm taken prisoner by the in- 
 sertion of a small deliciously-gloved and perfumed hand 
 through it. 
 
 " I must claim you for a few moments," said the Countess,
 
 320 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 and took the startled Conley girls one and all in her beauti- 
 ful smile of excuse. 
 
 "Why do you compromise me thus, sir ? " 
 
 These astounding words were spoken out of the hearing 
 of the Conley girls. 
 
 " Compromise you ! " muttered Harry. 
 
 Masterly was the skill with which the Countess contrived 
 to speak angrily and as an injured woman, while she wore 
 an indifferent social countenance. 
 
 " I repeat, compromise me. No, Mr. Harry Jocelyn, you 
 are not the jackanapes you try to make people think you: 
 you understand me." 
 
 The Countess might accuse him, but Harry never had the 
 ambition to make people think him that : his natural ten- 
 dency was the reverse : and he objected to the application 
 of the word jackanapes to himself, and was ready to contest 
 the fact of people having that opinion at all. However, all 
 he did was to repeat : " Compromise ! " 
 
 " Is not open unkindness to me compromising me ? " 
 
 " How ? " asked Harry. 
 
 " Would you dare to do it to a strange lady ? Would you 
 have the impudence to attempt it with any woman here 
 but me ? No, I am innocent ; it is my consolation ; I have 
 resisted you, but you by this cowardly behaviour place me 
 — and my reputation, which is more — at your mercy. Noble 
 behaviour, Mr. Harry Jocelyn ! I shall remember my young 
 English gentleman." 
 
 The view was totally new to Harry. 
 
 "I really had no idea of compromising you," he said. 
 " Upon my honour, I can't see how I did it now ! " 
 
 " Oblige me by walking less in the neighbourhood of those 
 fat-faced glaring farm-girls," the Countess spoke under her 
 breath ; " and don't look as if you were being whipped. The 
 art of it is evident — you are but carrying on the game. — 
 Listen. If you permit yourself to exhibit an unkindness to 
 me, you show to any man who is a judge, and to every 
 woman, that there has been something between us. You 
 know my innocence — yes ! but you must punish me for hav- 
 ing resisted you thus long." 
 
 Harry swore he never had such an idea, and was much 
 too much of a man and a gentleman to behave in that way.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 321 
 
 — And yet it seemed wonderfully clever ! And here was 
 the Countess saying : 
 
 " Take your reward, Mr. Harry Jocelyn. You have suc- 
 ceeded ; I am your humble slave. I come to you and sue 
 for peace. To save my reputation I endanger myself. This 
 is generous of you." 
 
 " Am I such a clever fellow ? " thought the young gentle- 
 man. " Deuced lucky with women : " he knew that : still a 
 fellow must be wonderfully, miraculously, clever to be able 
 to twist and spin about such a woman as this in that way. 
 He did not object to conceive that he was the fellow to do it. 
 Besides, here was the Countess de Saldar — worth five hun- 
 dred of the Conley girls — almost at his feet ! 
 
 Mollified, he said: "Now, didn't you begin it?" 
 
 " Evasion ! " was the answer. " It would be such pleasure 
 to you to see a proud woman weep ! And if yesterday, per- 
 secuted as I am, with dreadful falsehoods abroad respecting 
 me and mine, if yesterday I did seem cold to your great 
 merits, is it generous of you to take this revenge ? " 
 
 Harry began to scent the double meaning in her words. 
 She gave him no time to grow cool over it. She leaned, 
 half abandoned, on his arm. Arts feminine and irresistible 
 encompassed him. It was a fatal mistake of Juliana's to 
 enlist Harry Jocelyn against the Countess de Saldar. He 
 engaged, still without any direct allusion to the real busi- 
 ness, to move heaven and earth to undo all that he had 
 done; and the Countess implied an engagement to do — 
 what ? more than she intended to fulfil. 
 
 Ten minutes later she was alone with Caroline. 
 
 " Tie yourself to the Duke at the dinner," she said, in the 
 forcible phrase she could use when necessary. " Don't let 
 them scheme to separate you. Never mind looks — do it ! " 
 
 Caroline, however, had her reasons for desiring to main- 
 tain appearances. The Countess dashed at her hesitation. 
 
 " There is a plot to humiliate us in the most abominable 
 way. The whole family have sworn to make us blush pub- 
 licly. Publicly blush! They have written to Mama to 
 come and speak out. Now will you attend to me, Caro- 
 line ? You do not credit such atrocity ? I know it to be 
 true." 
 
 " I never can believe that Rose would do such a thing," 
 
 21
 
 322 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 said Caroline. " We can hardly have to endure more than 
 has befallen us already." 
 
 Her speech was pensive, as of one who had matter of her 
 own to ponder over. A swift illumination burst in the 
 Countess's mind. 
 
 " No ? Have you, dear, darling Carry ? not that I intend 
 that you should! but to-day the Duke would be such in- 
 effable support to us. May I deem you have not been too 
 cruel to-day ? You dear silly English creature, ' Duck,' I 
 used to call you when I was your little Louy. All is not 
 yet lost, but I will save you from the ignominy if I can. I 
 will ! " 
 
 Caroline denied nothing — confirmed nothing, just as the 
 Countess had stated nothing. Yet they understood one an- 
 other perfectly. Women have a subtler language than ours : 
 the veil pertains to them morally as bodily, and they see 
 clearer through it. 
 
 The Countess had no time to lose. Wrath was in her 
 heart. She did not lend all her thoughts to self-defence. 
 
 Without phrasing a word, or absolutely shaping a thought 
 in her head, she slanted across the sun to Mr. Raikes, who 
 had taken refreshment, and in obedience to his instinct, not- 
 withstanding his enormous pretensions, had commenced a 
 few preliminary antics. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Raikes ! " she said, drawing him aside, " not 
 before dinner ! " 
 
 " I really can't contain the exuberant flow ! " returned that 
 gentleman. "My animal spirits always get the better of 
 me," he added confidentially. 
 
 " Suppose you devote your animal spirits to my service for 
 half-an-hour." 
 
 " Yours, Countess, from the os f rontis to the chine ! " was 
 the exuberant rejoinder. 
 
 The Countess made a wry mouth. 
 
 " Your curricle is in Beckley ? " 
 
 " Behold ! " said Jack. " Two juveniles, not half so blest 
 as I, do from the seat regard the festive scene o'er yon park- 
 palings. They are there, even Franko and Fred. I'm afraid 
 I promised to get them in at a later period of the day. 
 Which sadly sore my conscience doth disturb ! But what 
 is to be done about the curricle, my Countess ? "
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 323 
 
 " Mr. Bailees," said the Countess, smiling on him fixedly, 
 '•'you are amusing; but in addressing me, you must be 
 precise, and above all things accurate. I am not your 
 Countess ! " 
 
 He bowed profoundly. "Oh, that I might say 'my 
 Queen ! ' " 
 
 The Countess replied : " A conviction of your lunacy would 
 prevent my taking offence, though I might wish you enclosed 
 and guarded." 
 
 Without any further exclamations, Raikes acknowledged 
 a superior. 
 
 " And, now, attend to me," said the Countess. " Listen : 
 You go yourself, or send your friends instantly to Fallow- 
 field. Bring with you that girl and her child. Stop : there 
 is such a person. Tell her she is to be spoken to about 
 the prospects of the poor infant. I leave that to your in- 
 ventive genius. Evan wishes her here. Bring her, and 
 should you see the mad captain who behaves so oddly, 
 favour him with a ride. He says he dreams his wife is 
 here, and he will not reveal his name ! Suppose it should 
 be my own beloved husband ! I am quite anxious." 
 
 The Countess saw him go up to the palings and hold a 
 communication with his friends Franko and Fred. One took 
 the whip, and after mutual flourishes, drove away. 
 
 "Now!" mused the Countess, "if Captain Evremonde 
 should come ! " It would break up the pic-nic. Alas ! the 
 Countess had surrendered her humble hopes of a day's pleas- 
 ure. But if her mother came as well, what a diversion that 
 would be ! If her mother came before the Captain, his ar- 
 rival would cover the retreat ; if the Captain preceded her, 
 she would not be noticed. Suppose her mother refrained 
 from coming ? In that case it was a pity, but the Jocelyns 
 had brought it on themselves. 
 
 This mapping out of consequences followed the Countess's 
 deeds, and did not inspire them. Her passions sharpened 
 her instincts, which produced her actions. The reflections 
 ensued : as in nature, the consequences were all seen subse- 
 quently! Observe the difference between your male and 
 female Generals. 
 
 On reflection, too, the Countess praised herself for having 
 done all that could be done. She might have written to her
 
 324 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 mother: but her absence would have been remarked: her 
 messenger might have been overhauled: and, lastly, Mrs. 
 Mel — " Gorgon of a mother ! " the Countess cried out : for 
 Mrs. Mel was like a Fate to her. She could remember 
 only two occasions in her whole life when she had been able 
 to manage her mother, and then by lying in such a way as 
 to distress her conscience severely. 
 
 " If Mama has conceived this idea of coming, nothing will 
 impede her. My prayers will infuriate her ! " said the 
 Countess, and she was sure that she had acted both rightly 
 and with wisdom. 
 
 She put on her armour of smiles : she plunged into the 
 thick of the enemy. Since they would not allow her to 
 taste human happiness — she had asked but for the pic-nic ! 
 a small truce ! — since they denied her that, rather than let 
 them triumph by seeing her wretched, she took into her 
 bosom the joy of demons. She lured Mr. George Uploft 
 away from Miss Carrington, and spoke to him strange hints 
 of matrimonial disappointments, looking from time to time 
 at that apprehensive lady, doating on her terrors. And Mr. 
 George seconded her by his clouded face, for he was 
 ashamed not to show that he did not know Louisa Harring- 
 ton in the Countess de Saldar, and had not the courage to 
 declare that he did. The Countess spoke familiarly, but 
 without any hint of an ancient acquaintance between them. 
 
 " What a post her husband's got ! " thought Mr. George, 
 not envying the Count. He was wrong : she was an admi- 
 rable ally. All over the field the Countess went, watching 
 for her mother, praying that if she did come, Providence 
 might prevent her from coming while they were at dinner. 
 How clearly Mrs. Shorne and Mrs. Melville saw her vul- 
 garity now ! By the new light of knowledge, how certain 
 they were that they had seen her ungentle training in a 
 dozen little instances. 
 
 " She is not well-bred, cela se voit," said Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 " Bred ! it's the stage ! How could such a person be 
 bred ? " said Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 Accept in the Countess the heroine who is combating 
 class-prejudices, and surely she is pre-eminently noteworthy. 
 True, she fights only for her family, and is virtually the 
 champion of the opposing institution misplaced. That does
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 325 
 
 not matter : the Fates may have done it purposely : by con- 
 quering she establishes a principle. A Duke adores her 
 sister, the daughter of the house her brother, and for her- 
 self she has many protestations in honour of her charms : 
 nor are they empty ones. She can confound Mrs. Melville, 
 if she pleases to, by exposing an adorer to lose a friend. 
 Issuing out of Tailordom, she, a Countess, has done all 
 this ; and it were enough to make her glow, did not little 
 evils, and angers, and spites, and alarms so frightfully 
 beset her. 
 
 The sun of the pic-nic system is dinner. Hence philoso- 
 phers may deduce that the pic-nic is a British invention. 
 There is no doubt that we do not shine at the pic-nic until 
 we reflect the face of dinner. To this, then, all who were 
 not lovers began seriously to look forward, and the advance 
 of an excellent county band, specially hired to play during 
 the entertainment, gave many of the guests quite a new 
 taste for sweet music; and indeed we all enjoy a thing 
 infinitely more when we see its meaning. 
 
 About this time Evan entered the lower park-gates with 
 Andrew. The first object he encountered was John Raikes 
 in a state of great depression. He explained his case : 
 
 "Just look at my frill! Now, upon my honour, you 
 know, I'm good-tempered ; I pass their bucolic habits, but 
 this is beyond bearing. I was near the palings there, and a 
 fellow calls out, < Hi ! will you help the lady over ? ' Hol- 
 loa ! thinks I, an adventure ! However, I advised him to 
 take her round to the gates. The beast burst out laughing. 
 ' Now, then,' says he, and I heard a scrambling at the pales, 
 and up came the head of a dog. ' Oh ! the dog first,' says 
 I. ' Catch by the ears,' says he. I did so. ' Pull,' says 
 he. ' 'Gad, pull indeed ! The beast gave a spring and came 
 slap on my chest, with his dirty wet muzzle in my neck ! I 
 felt instantly it was the death of my frill, but gallant as 
 you know me, I still asked for the lady. 'If you will 
 please, or as it meet your favour, to extend your hand to 
 me ! ' Iconfess I did think it rather odd, the idea of a lady 
 coming in that way over the palings ! but my curst love of 
 adventure always blinds me. It always misleads my better 
 sense, Harrington. Well, instead of a lady, I see a fellow 
 — he may have been a lineal descendant of Cedric the
 
 326 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Saxon. 'Where's the lady?' says I. 'Lady?' says he, 
 and stares, and then laughs : ' Lady ! why,' he jumps over, 
 and points at his beast of a dog, ' don't you know a bitch 
 when you see one ? ' I was in the most ferocious rage ! If 
 he hadn't been a big burly bully, down he'd have gone. 
 ' Why didn't you say what it was ? ' I roared. ' Why,' says 
 he, ' the word isn't considered polite ! ' I gave him a cut 
 there. I said, 'I rejoice to be positively assured that you 
 uphold the laics and forms of civilization, sir.' My belief 
 is he didn't feel it." 
 
 "The thrust sinned in its shrewdness," remarked Evan, 
 ending a laugh. 
 
 "Hem!" went Mr. Raikes, more contentedly: "after 
 all, what are appearances to the man of wit and intellect ? 
 Dress, and women will approve you : but I assure you they 
 much prefer the man of wit in his slouched hat and stock- 
 ings down. I was introduced to the Duke this morning. 
 It is a curious thing that the seduction of a Duchess has 
 always been one of my dreams." 
 
 At this Andrew Cogglesby fell into a fit of laughter. 
 
 "Your servant," said Mr. Raikes, turning to him. And 
 then he muttered "Extraordinary likeness! Good heavens! 
 Powers ! " 
 
 From a state of depression, Mr. Raikes changed into one 
 of bewilderment. Evan paid no attention to him, and an- 
 swered none of his hasty undertoned questions. Just then, 
 as they were on the skirts of the company, the band struck 
 up a lively tune, and quite unconsciously, the legs of Raikes, 
 affected, it may be, by supernatural reminiscences, loosely 
 hornpiped. It was but a moment: he remembered himself 
 the next : but in that fatal moment eyes were on him. He 
 never recovered his dignity in Beckley Court: he was 
 fatally mercurial. 
 
 " What is the joke against this poor fellow ? " asked 
 Evan of Andrew. 
 
 " Never mind, Van. You'll roar. Old Tom again. We'll 
 see by-and-by, after the champagne. He — this young 
 Raikes — ha! ha! — but I can't tell you." And Andrew 
 went away to Drummond, to whom he was more communi- 
 cative. Then he went to Melville, and one or two others, 
 and the eyes of many became concentrated on Raikes, and
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 327 
 
 it was observed as a singular sign that he was constantly- 
 facing about, and flushing the fiercest red. Once he made 
 an effort to get hold of Evan's arm and drag him away, as 
 one who had an urgent confession to be delivered of, but 
 Evan was talking to Lady Jocelyn, and other ladies, and 
 quietly disengaged his arm without even turning to notice 
 the face of his friend. Then the dinner was announced, 
 and men saw the dinner. The Countess went to shake her 
 brother's hand, and with a very gratulatory visage, said 
 through her half -shut teeth: "If Mama appears, rise up 
 and go away with her, before she has time to speak a word." 
 An instant after Evan found himself seated between Mrs. 
 Evremonde and one of the Conley girls. The dinner had 
 commenced. The first half of the Battle of the Bull-dogs 
 was as peaceful as any ordinary pic-nic, and promised to 
 the general company as calm a conclusion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS — PART II 
 
 If it be a distinct point of wisdom to hug the hour that 
 is, then does dinner amount to a highly intellectual invita- 
 tion to man, for it furnishes the occasion ; and Britons are 
 the wisest of their race, for more than all others they take 
 advantage of it. In this Nature is undoubtedly our guide, 
 seeing that he who, while feasting his body allows to his 
 soul a thought for the morrow, is in his digestion curst, 
 and becomes a house of evil humours. Now, though the 
 epicure may complain of the cold meats, a dazzling table, 
 a buzzing company, blue sky, and a band of music are in- 
 centives to the forgetfulness of troubles past and imminent, 
 and produce a concentration of the faculties. They may 
 not exactly prove that peace is established between yourself 
 and those who object to your carving of the world, but they 
 testify to an armistice. 
 
 Aided by these observations, you will understand how it 
 was that the Countess de Saldar, afflicted and menaced, was
 
 328 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 inspired, on taking her seat, to give so graceful and stately a 
 sweep to her dress that she was enabled to conceive woman 
 and man alike to be secretly overcome by it. You will not 
 refuse to credit the fact that Mr. Raikes threw care to the 
 dogs, heavy as was that mysterious lump suddenly precipi- 
 tated on his bosom ; and you will think it not impossible 
 that even the springers of the mine about to explode should 
 lose their subterranean countenances. A generous abandon- 
 ment to one idea prevailed. As for Evan, the first glass of 
 champagne rushed into reckless nuptials with the music in 
 his head, bringing Rose, warm almost as life, on his heart. 
 Sublime are the visions of lovers ! He knew he must leave 
 her on the morrow; he feared he might never behold her 
 again; and yet he tasted bliss, for it seemed within the 
 contemplation of the Gods that he should dance with his 
 darling before dark — haply waltz with her ! Oh, heaven ! 
 he shuts his eyes, blinded. The band wheels off meltingly 
 in a tune all cadences, and twirls, and risings and sinkings, 
 and passionate outbursts trippingly consoled. Ah! how 
 sweet to waltz through life with the right partner. And 
 what a singular thing it is to look back on the day when we 
 thought something like it! Never mind: there may be 
 spheres where it is so managed — doubtless the planets 
 have their Hanwell and Bedlam. 
 
 I confess that the hand here writing is not insensible to 
 the effects of that first glass of champagne. The poetry of 
 our Countess's achievements waxes rich in manifold colours : 
 I see her by the light of her own pleas to Providence. I 
 doubt almost if the hand be mine which dared to make a 
 hero play second fiddle, and to his beloved. I have placed 
 a bushel over his light, certainly. Poor boy ! it was enough 
 that he should have tailordom on his shoulders: I ought to 
 have allowed him to conquer Nature, and so come out of 
 his eclipse. This shall be said of him : that he can play 
 second fiddle without looking foolish, which, for my part, 
 I call a greater triumph than if he were performing the 
 heroics we are more accustomed to. He has steady eyes, 
 can gaze at the right level into the eyes of others, and com- 
 mands a tongue which is neither struck dumb nor set in a 
 flutter by any startling question. The best instances to be 
 given that he does not lack merit are that the Jocelyns,
 
 THE BATTLE OP THE BULL-DOGS 329 
 
 ■whom he has offended by his birth, cannot change their 
 treatment of him, and that the hostile women, whatever 
 they may say, do not think Kose utterly insane. At any 
 rate, Rose is satisfied, and her self-love makes her a keen 
 critic. The moment Evan appeared, the sickness produced 
 in her by the Countess passed, and she was ready to brave 
 her situation. With no mock humility she permitted Mrs. 
 Shorne to place her in a seat where glances could not be in- 
 terchanged. She was quite composed, calmly prepared for 
 conversation with any one. Indeed, her behaviour since the 
 hour of general explanation had been so perfectly well-con- 
 tained, that Mrs. Melville said to Lady Jocelyn : 
 
 " I am only thinking of the damage to her. It will pass 
 over — this fancy. You can see she is not serious. It is 
 mere spirit of opposition. She eats and drinks just like 
 other girls. You can see that the fancy has not taken such 
 very strong hold of her." 
 
 " I can't agree with you," replied her ladyship. " I would 
 rather have her sit and sigh by the hour, and loathe roast 
 beef. That would look nearer a cure." 
 
 " She has the notions of a silly country girl," said Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 "Exactly," Lady Jocelyn replied. "A season in London 
 will give her balance." 
 
 So the guests were tolerably happy, or at least, with scarce 
 an exception, open to the influences of champagne and music. 
 Perhaps Juliana was the wretchedest creature present. She 
 was about to smite on both cheeks him she loved, as well as 
 the woman she despised and had been foiled by. Still she 
 had the consolation that Rose, seeing the vulgar mother, 
 might turn from Evan: a poor distant hope, meagre and 
 shapeless like herself. Her most anxious thoughts con- 
 cerned the means of getting money to lock up Harry's 
 tongue. She could bear to meet the Countess's wrath, but 
 not Evan's offended look. Hark to that Countess ! 
 
 " Why do you denominate this a pic-nic, Lady Jocelyn ? 
 It is in verity a fgte ! " 
 
 " I suppose we ought to lie down a la Grecque to come 
 within the term," was the reply. " On the whole, I prefer 
 plain English for such matters." 
 
 " But this is assuredly too sumptuous for a pic-nic, Lady
 
 330 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Jocelyn. From what I can remember, pic-nic implies con- 
 tribution from all the guests. It is true I left England a 
 child ! " 
 
 Mr. George Uploft could not withhold a sharp grimace. 
 The Countess had throttled the inward monitor that tells us 
 when we are lying, so grievously had she practised the habit 
 in the service of her family. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Melville, " I have heard of that fashion, 
 and very stupid it is." 
 
 " Extremely vulgar," murmured Miss Carrington. 
 
 "Possibly," Lady Jocelyn observed; "but good fun. I 
 have been to pic-nics, in my day. I invariably took cold 
 pie and claret. I clashed with half-a-dozen, but all the 
 harm we did was to upset the dictum that there can be too 
 much of a good thing. I know for certain that the bottles 
 were left empty." 
 
 " And this woman," thought the Countess, " this woman, 
 with a soul so essentially vulgar, claims rank above me ! " 
 The reflection generated contempt of English society, in the 
 first place, and then a passionate desire for self-assertion. 
 
 She was startled by a direct attack which aroused her 
 momentarily lulled energies. 
 
 A lady, quite a stranger, a dry simpering lady, caught the 
 Countess's benevolent passing gaze, and leaning forward, 
 said : " I hope her ladyship bears her affliction as well as 
 can be expected ? " 
 
 In military parlance, the Countess was taken in flank. 
 Another would have asked — What ladyship ? To whom do 
 you allude, may I beg to inquire ? The Countess knew 
 better. Rapid as light it shot through her that the relict 
 of Sir Abraham was meant, and this she divined because 
 she was aware that devilish malignity was watching to 
 trip her. 
 
 A little conversation happening to buzz at the instant, the 
 Countess merely turned her chin to an angle, agitated her 
 brows very gently, and crowned the performance with a 
 mournful smile. All that a woman must feel at the demise 
 of so precious a thing as a husband, was therein eloquently 
 expressed: and at the same time, if explanations ensued, 
 there were numerous ladyships in the world, whom the Count- 
 ess did not mind afflicting, should she be hard pressed.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 331 
 
 "I knew him so well!" resumed the horrid woman, 
 addressing anybody. "It was so sad! so unexpected! but 
 he was so subject to affection of the throat. And I was so 
 sorry I could not get down to him in time. I had not seen 
 him since his marriage, when I was a girl ! — and to meet one 
 of his children ! — But, my dear, in quinsey, I have heard 
 that there is nothing on earth like a good hearty laugh." 
 
 Mr. Raikes hearing this, sucked down the flavour of a 
 glass of champagne, and with a look of fierce jollity, inter- 
 posed, as if specially charged by Providence to make plain 
 to the persecuted Countess his mission and business there : 
 "Then our vocation is at last revealed to us! Quinsey - 
 doctor ! I remember when a boy, wandering over the pater- 
 nal mansion, and envying the life of a tinker, which my 
 mother did not think a good omen in me. But the traps of 
 a Quinsey-doctor are even lighter. Say twenty good jokes, 
 and two or three of a practical kind. A man most enviable ! " 
 
 "It appears," he remarked aloud to one of the Conley 
 girls, "that quinsey is needed before a joke is properly 
 appreciated." 
 
 "I like fun," said she, but had not apparently discovered 
 it. 
 
 What did that odious woman mean by perpetually talk- 
 ing about Sir Abraham ? The Countess intercepted a glance 
 between her and the hated Juliana. She felt it was a 
 malignant conspiracy: still the vacuous vulgar air of the 
 woman told her that most probably she was but an instru- 
 ment, not a confederate, and was only trying to push her- 
 self into acquaintance with the great : a proceeding scorned 
 and abominated by the Countess, who longed to punish her 
 for her insolent presumption. The bitterness of her situa- 
 tion stung her tenfold when she considered that she dared 
 not. 
 
 Meantime the champagne became as regular in its flow 
 as the Bull-dogs, and the monotonous bass of these latter 
 sounded through the music, like life behind the murmur of 
 pleasure, if you will. The Countess had a not unfeminine 
 weakness for champagne, and old Mr. Bonner's cellar was 
 well and choicely stocked. But was this enjoyment to the 
 Countess ? — this dreary station in the background ! " May 
 I emerge ? " she as much as implored Providence. The
 
 332 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 petition was infinitely tender. She thought she might, or 
 it may be that nature was strong, and she could not restrain 
 herself. 
 
 Taking wine with Sir John, she said : 
 
 " This bowing ! Do you know how amusing it is deemed 
 by us Portuguese ? Why not embrace ? as the dear Queen 
 used to say to me." 
 
 "I am decidedly of Her Majesty's opinion," observed Sir 
 John, with emphasis, and the Countess drew back into a 
 mingled laugh and blush. 
 
 Her fiendish persecutor gave two or three nods. " And 
 you know the Queen ! " she said. 
 
 She had to repeat the remark : whereupon the Countess 
 murmured, " Intimately." 
 
 " Ah, we have lost a staunch old Tory in Sir Abraham," 
 said the lady, performing lamentation. 
 
 What did it mean ? Could design lodge in that empty- 
 looking head with its crisp curls, button nose, and diminish- 
 ing simper ? Was this pic-nic to be made as terrible to the 
 Countess by her putative father as the dinner had been by 
 the great Mel ? The deep, hard, level look of Juliana met 
 the Countess's smile from time to time, and like flimsy light 
 horse before a solid array of infantry, the Countess fell 
 back, only to be worried afresh by her perfectly unwitting 
 tormentor. 
 
 " His last days ? — without pain ? Oh, I hope so ! " came 
 after a lapse of general talk. 
 
 " Aren't we getting a little funereal, Mrs. Perkins?" Lady 
 Jocelyn asked, and then rallied her neighbours. 
 
 Miss Carrington looked at her vexedly, for the fiendish 
 Perkins was checked, and the Countess in alarm, about to 
 commit herself, was a pleasant sight to Miss Carrington. 
 
 " The worst of these indiscriminate meetings is that there 
 is no conversation," whispered the Countess, thanking Provi- 
 dence for the relief. 
 
 Just then she saw Juliana bend her brows at another per- 
 son. This was George Uploft, who shook his head, and indi- 
 cated a shrewd-eyed, thin, middle-aged man, of a lawyer-like 
 cast ; and then Juliana nodded, and George Uploft touched 
 his arm, and glanced hurriedly behind for champagne. The 
 Countess's eyes dwelt on the timid young squire most affec-
 
 THE BATTLE OP THE BULL-DOGS 333 
 
 tionately. You never saw a fortress more unprepared for 
 dread assault. 
 
 " Hem ! " was heard, terrific. But the proper pause had 
 evidently not yet come, and now to prevent it the Countess 
 strained her energies and tasked her genius intensely. Have 
 you an idea of the difficulty of keeping up the ball among a 
 host of ill-assorted, stupid country people, who have no open 
 topics, and can talk of nothing continuously but scandal of 
 their neighbours, and who, moreover, feel they are not up to 
 the people they are mixing with ? Darting upon Seymour 
 Jocelyn, the Countess asked touchingly for news of the 
 partridges. It was like the unlocking of a machine. Sey- 
 mour was not blythe in his reply, but he was loud and 
 forcible; and when he came to the statistics — oh, then you 
 would have admired the Countess ! — for comparisons ensued, 
 braces were enumerated, numbers given were contested, and 
 the shooting of this one jeered at, and another's sure mark 
 respectfully admitted. And how lay the coveys? And 
 what about the damage done by last winter's floods ? And 
 was there good hope of the pheasants ? Outside this clatter 
 the Countess hovered. Twice the awful " Hem ! " Avas heard. 
 She fought on. She kept them at it. If it flagged she 
 wished to know this or that, and finally thought that, really, 
 she should like herself to try one shot. The women had 
 previously been left behind. This brought in the women. 
 Lady Jocelyn proposed a female expedition for the morrow. 
 
 "I believe I used to be something of a shot, formerly," 
 she said. 
 
 " You peppered old Tom once, my lady," remarked Andrew, 
 and her ladyship laughed, and that foolish Andrew told the 
 story, and the Countess, to revive her subject had to say : 
 "May I be enrolled to shoot?" though she detested and 
 shrank from fire-arms. 
 
 " Here are two ! " said the hearty presiding dame. " La- 
 dies, apply immediately to have your names put down." 
 
 The possibility of an expedition of ladies now struck 
 Seymour vividly, and said he : " I'll be secretary ; " and 
 began applying to the ladies for permission to put down 
 their names. Many declined, with brevity, muttering, either 
 aloud or to themselves, " unwomanly ; " varied by " unlady- 
 like : " some confessed cowardice ; some a horror of the
 
 334 EVAX HARRINGTON 
 
 noise close to their ears ; and there was the plea of nerves. 
 But the names of half-a-dozen ladies were collected, and then 
 followed much laughter, and musical hubbub, and delicate 
 banter. So the ladies and gentlemen fell one and all into 
 the partridge pit dug for them by the Countess : and that 
 horrible " Hem ! " equal in force and terror to the roar of 
 artillery preceding the charge of ten thousand dragoons, 
 was silenced — the pit appeared impassable. Did the 
 Countess crow over her advantage? Mark her: the lady's 
 face is entirely given up to partridges. "English sports 
 are so much envied abroad," she says : but what she dreads 
 is a reflection, for that leads off from the point. A portion 
 of her mind she keeps to combat them in Lady Jocelyn and 
 others who have the tendency : the rest she divides between 
 internal prayers for succour, and casting about for another 
 popular subject to follow partridges. Now, mere talent, as 
 critics say when they are lighting candles round a genius, 
 mere talent would have hit upon pheasants as the natural 
 sequitur, and then diverged to sports — a great theme, for it 
 ensures a chorus of sneers at foreigners, and so on probably 
 to a discussion of birds and beasts best adapted to enrapture 
 the palate of man. Stories may succeed, but they are doubt- 
 ful, and not to be trusted, coming after cookery. After an 
 exciting subject which has made the general tongue to wag, 
 and just enough heated the brain to cause it to cry out for 
 spiced food — then start your story : taking care that it be 
 mild ; for one too marvellous stops the tide, the sense of 
 climax being strongly implanted in all bosoms. So the 
 Countess told an anecdote — one of Mel's. Mr. George 
 Uploft was quite familiar with it, and knew of one pas- 
 sage that would have abashed him to relate "before ladies." 
 The sylph-like ease with which the Countess floated over 
 this foul abysm was miraculous. Mr. George screwed his 
 eye-lids queerly, and closed his jaws with a report, com- 
 pletely beaten. The anecdote was of the character of an 
 apologue, and pertained to game. This was, as it happened, 
 a misfortune ; for Mr. Kaikes had felt himself left behind by 
 the subject; and the stuff that was in this young man being 
 naturally ebullient, he lay by to trip it, and take a lead. 
 His remarks brought on him a shrewd cut from the Count- 
 ess, which made matters worse ; for a pun may also breed
 
 THE BATTLE OP THE BULL-DOGS 335 
 
 puns, as doth an anecdote. The Countess's stroke was so 
 neat and perfect that it was something for the gentlemen to 
 think over ; and to punish her for giving way to her clever- 
 ness and to petty vexation, "Hem!" sounded once more, 
 and then: "May I ask you if the present Baronet is in 
 
 England ? " 
 
 Now Lady Jocelyn perceived that some attack was 
 directed against her guest. She allowed the Countess to 
 answer : 
 
 " The eldest was drowned in the Lisbon waters : " 
 
 And then said : " But who is it that persists in serving 
 up the funeral baked meats to us?" 
 
 Mrs. Shorne spoke for her neighbour: "Mr. Farnley's 
 cousin was the steward of Sir Abraham Harrington's 
 estates." 
 
 The Countess held up her head boldly. There is a cour- 
 ageous exaltation of the nerves known to heroes and great 
 Generals in action when they feel sure that resources within 
 themselves will spring up to the emergency, and that over 
 simple mortals success is positive. 
 
 "I had a great respect for Sir Abraham," Mr. Farnley 
 explained, " very great. I heard that this lady " (bowing 
 to the Countess) " was his daughter." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn' s face wore an angry look, and Mrs. Shorne 
 gave her the shade of a shrug and an expression implying, 
 "/didn't!" 
 
 Evan was talking to Miss Jenny Graine at the moment 
 rather earnestly. With a rapid glance at him, to see that 
 his ears were closed, the Countess breathed : 
 
 "Not the elder branch! —Cadet! " 
 
 The sort of noisy silence produced by half-a-dozen people 
 respirating deeply and moving in their seats was heard. 
 The Countess watched Mr. Farnley's mystified look, and 
 whispered to Sir John: "Est-ce qu'il comprenne le Eran- 
 qais, lui?" 
 
 It was the final feather-like touch to her triumph. She 
 saw safety and a clear escape, and much joyful gain, and 
 the pleasure of relating her sufferings in days to come. 
 This vista was before her when, harsh as an execution bell, 
 telling her that she had vanquished man, but that Provi- 
 dence opposed her, "Mrs. Melchisedec Harrington !" was 
 announced to Lady Jocelyn.
 
 336 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Perfect stillness reigned immediately, as if the pic-nic 
 had heard its doom. 
 
 "Oh! I will go to her," said her ladyship, whose first 
 thought was to spare the family. "Andrew, come and 
 give me your arm." 
 
 But when she rose Mrs. Mel was no more than the length 
 of an arm from her elbow. 
 
 In the midst of the horrible anguish she was enduring, 
 the Countess could not help criticizing her mother's curtsey 
 to Lady Jocelyn. Fine, but a shade too humble. Still it 
 was fine; all might not yet be lost. 
 
 " Mama ! " she softly exclaimed, and thanked heaven that 
 she had not denied her parent. 
 
 Mrs. Mel did not notice her or any of her children. 
 There was in her bosom a terrible determination to cast a 
 devil out of the one she best loved. For this purpose, heed- 
 less of all pain to be given, or of impropriety, she had come 
 to speak publicly, and disgrace and humiliate, that she might 
 save him from the devils that had ruined his father. 
 
 "My lady," said the terrible woman, thanking her in 
 reply to an invitation that she should be seated, "I have 
 come for my son. I hear he has been playing the lord in 
 your house, my lady. I humbly thank your ladyship for 
 your kindness to him, but he is nothing more than a tailor's 
 son, and is bound a tailor himself that his father may be 
 called an honest man. I am come to take him away." 
 
 Mrs. Mel seemed to speak without much effort, though 
 the pale flush of her cheeks showed that she felt what she 
 was doing. Juliana was pale as death, watching Eose. 
 Intensely bright with the gem-like light of her gallant 
 spirit, Rose's eyes fixed on Evan. He met them. The 
 words of Ruth passed through his heart. But the Countess, 
 who had given Rose to Evan, and the Duke to Caroline, 
 where was her supporter? The Duke was entertaining 
 Caroline with no less dexterity, and Rose's eyes said to 
 Evan: "Feel no shame that I do not feel!" but the 
 Countess stood alone. It is ever thus with genius! to 
 quote the numerous illustrious authors who have written 
 of it. 
 
 What mattered it now that in the dead hush Lady Jocelyn 
 should assure her mother that she had been misinformed,
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 337 
 
 and that Mrs. Mel was presently quieted, and made to sit 
 with others before the fruits and wines? All eyes were 
 hateful — the very thought of Providence confused her 
 brain. Almost reduced to imbecility, the Countess imag- 
 ined, as a reality, that Sir Abraham had borne with her 
 till her public announcement of relationship, and that then 
 the outraged ghost would no longer be restrained, and had 
 struck this blow. 
 
 The crushed pic-nic tried to get a little air, and made 
 attempts at conversation. Mrs. Mel sat upon the company 
 with the weight of all tailordom. 
 
 And now a messenger came for Harry. Everybody was 
 so zealously employed in the struggle to appear comfortable 
 under Mrs. Mel, that his departure was hardly observed. 
 The general feeling for Evan and his sisters, by their supe- 
 riors in rank, was one of kindly pity. Laxley, however, 
 did not behave well. He put up his glass and scrutinized 
 Mrs. Mel, and then examined Evan, and Eose thought that 
 in his interchange of glances with any one there was a lurk- 
 ing revival of the scene gone by. She signalled with her 
 eyebrows for Drummond to correct him, but Drummond 
 had another occupation. Andrew made the diversion. He 
 whispered to his neighbour, and the whisper went round, 
 and the laugh ; and Mr. Kaikes grew extremely uneasy in 
 his seat, and betrayed an extraordinary alarm. But he 
 also was soon relieved. A messenger had come from 
 Harry to Mrs. Evremonde, bearing a slip of paper. This 
 the lady glanced at, and handed it to Drummond. A 
 straggling pencil had traced these words: 
 
 "Just running by S.W. gates — saw the Captain coming 
 in — couldn't stop to stop him — tremendous hurry — im- 
 portant. Harry J." 
 
 Drummond sent the paper to Lady Jocelyn. After her 
 perusal of it a scout was despatched to the summit of Olym- 
 pus, and his report proclaimed the advance in the direction of 
 the Bull-dogs of a smart little figure of a man in white hat 
 and white trousers, who kept flicking his legs with a cane. 
 
 Mrs. Evremonde rose and conferred with her ladyship an 
 instant, and then Drummond took her arm quietly, and 
 passed round Olympus to the East, and Lady Jocelyn broke 
 up the sitting. 
 
 22
 
 338 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Juliana saw Rose go up to Evan, and make him introduce 
 her to his mother. She turned lividly white, and went to 
 a corner of the park by herself, and cried bitterly. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn, Sir Franks, and Sir John remained by the 
 tables, but before the guests were out of ear-shot, the indi- 
 vidual signalled from Olympus presented himself. 
 
 "There are times when one can't see what else to do but 
 to lie," said her ladyship to Sir Franks, "and when we do 
 lie the only way is to lie intrepidly." 
 
 Turning from her perplexed husband, she exclaimed : 
 
 "Ah! Lawson?" 
 
 Captain Evremonde lifted his hat, declining an intimacy. 
 
 "Where is my wife, madam?" 
 
 "Have you just come from the Arctic Regions?" 
 
 " I have come for my wife, madam ! " 
 
 His unsettled grey eyes wandered restlessly on Lady 
 Jocelyn's face. The Countess standing near the Duke, 
 felt some pity for the wife of that cropped-headed, tight- 
 skinned lunatic at large, but deeper was the Countess's 
 pity for Lady Jocelyn, in thinking of the account she would 
 have to render on the Day of Judgement, when she heard 
 her ladyship reply: 
 
 "Evelyn is not here." 
 
 Captain Evremonde bowed profoundly, trailing his broad 
 white hat along the sward. 
 
 "Do me the favour to read this, madam," he said, and 
 handed a letter to her. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn raised her brows as she gathered the con- 
 tents of the letter. 
 
 "Ferdinand's handwriting!" she exclaimed. 
 
 " I accuse no one, madam, — I make no accusation. I 
 have every respect for you, madam, — you have my esteem. 
 I am sorry to intrude, madam, an intrusion is regretted. 
 My wife runs away from her bed, madam, — and I have the 
 law, madam, — the law is with the husband. No force!" 
 He lashed his cane sharply against his white legs. " The 
 law, madam. No brute force ! " His cane made a furious 
 whirl, cracking again on his legs, as he reiterated, "The 
 law ! " 
 
 "Does the law advise you to strike at a tangent all over 
 the country in search for her ? " inquired Lady Jocelyn.
 
 THE BATTLE OP THE BULL-DOGS 339 
 
 Captain Evremonde became ten times more voluble and 
 excited. 
 
 Mrs. Mel was heard by the Countess to say : " Her lady- 
 ship does not know how to treat madmen." 
 
 Nor did Sir Franks and Sir John. They began expostu- 
 lating with him. 
 
 "A madman gets madder when you talk reason to him," 
 said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 And now the Countess stepped forward to Lady Jocelyn, 
 and hoped she would not be thought impertinent in offering 
 her opinion as to how this frantic person should be treated. 
 The case indeed looked urgent. Many gentlemen considered 
 themselves bound to approach and be ready in case of need. 
 Presently the Countess passed between Sir Franks and Sir 
 John, and with her hand put up, as if she feared the furious 
 cane, said : 
 
 " You will not strike me ? " 
 
 " Strike a lady, madam ? " The cane and hat were simul- 
 taneously lowered. 
 
 " Lady Jocelyn permits me to fetch for you a gentleman 
 of the law. Or will you accompany me to him ? " 
 
 In a moment, Captain Evremonde's manners were subdued 
 and civilized, and in perfectly sane speech he thanked the 
 Countess and offered her his arm. The Countess smilingly 
 waved back Sir John, who motioned to attend on her, and 
 away she went with the Captain, with all the glow of a 
 woman who feels that she is heaping coals of fire on the 
 heads of her enemies. 
 
 Was she not admired now ? 
 
 " Upon my honour," said Lady Jocelyn, " they are a re- 
 markable family," meaning the Harringtons. 
 
 What farther she thought she did not say, but she was a 
 woman who looked to natural gifts more than the gifts of 
 accidents ; and Evan's chance stood high with her then. So 
 the battle of the Bull-dogs was fought, and cruelly as the 
 Countess had been assailed and wounded, she gained a vic- 
 tory ; yea, though Demogorgon, aided by the vindictive ghost 
 of Sir Abraham, took tangible shape in the ranks opposed 
 to her. True, Lady Jocelyn, forgetting her own recent 
 intrepidity, condemned her as a liar ; but the fruits of the 
 Countess's victory were plentiful. Drummond Forth, fearful
 
 340 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 perhaps of exciting unjust suspicions in the mind of Cap- 
 tain Evremonde, disappeared altogether. Harry was in a 
 mess which threw him almost upon Evan's mercy, as will 
 be related. And, lastly, Ferdinand Laxley, that insufferable 
 young aristocrat, was thus spoken to by Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 "This letter addressed to Lawson, telling him that his 
 wife is here, is in your handwriting, Ferdinand. I don't say 
 you wrote it — I don't think you could have written it. But, 
 to tell you the truth, I have an unpleasant impression about 
 it, and I think we had better shake hands and not see each 
 other for some time." 
 
 Laxley, after one denial of his guilt, disdained to repeat 
 it. He met her ladyship's hand haughtily, and, bowing to 
 Sir Franks, turned on his heel. 
 
 So, then, in glorious complete victory, the battle of the 
 Bull-dogs ended! 
 
 Of the close of the pic-nic more remains to be told. 
 
 For the present I pause, in observance of those rules which 
 demand that after an exhibition of consummate deeds, time 
 be given to the spectator to digest what has passed before 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 in which evan's light begins to twinkle again 
 
 The dowagers were now firmly planted on Olympus. 
 Along the grass lay the warm strong colours of the evening 
 sun, reddening the pine-stems and yellowing the idle aspen- 
 leaves. For a moment it had hung in doubt whether the 
 pic-nic could survive the two rude shocks it had received. 
 Happily the youthful element was large, and when the 
 band, refreshed by chicken and sherry, threw off half-a- 
 dozen bars of one of those irresistible waltzes that first 
 catch the ear, and then curl round the heart, till on a sud- 
 den they invade and will have the legs, a rush up Parnassus 
 was seen, and there were shouts and laughter and commo- 
 tion, as over other great fields of battle the corn will wave 
 gaily and mark the re-establishment of nature's reign.
 
 evan's light begins to twinkle again 341 
 
 How fair the sight! Approach the twirling couples. 
 They talk as they whirl. 
 
 " Fancy the run-away tailor ! " is the male's remark, and 
 he expects to be admired for it, and is. 
 
 " That make-up Countess — his sister, you know — didn't 
 you see her? she turned green," says Creation's second 
 effort, almost occupying the place of a rib. 
 
 " Isn't there a run-away wife, too ? " 
 
 " Now, you mustn't be naughty ! " 
 
 They laugh and flatter one another. The power to give 
 and take flattery to any amount is the rare treasure of youth. 
 
 Undoubtedly they are a poetical picture ; but some poetical 
 pictures talk dreary prose ; so we will retire. 
 
 Now, while the dancers carried on their business, and 
 distance lent them enchantment, Rose stood by Juliana, 
 near an alder which hid them from the rest. 
 
 "I don't accuse you," she was saying; "but who could 
 have done this but you ? Ah, Juley ! you will never get 
 what you want if you plot for it. I thought once you cared 
 for Evan. If he had loved you, would I not have done all 
 that I could for you both? I pardon you with all my 
 heart." 
 
 " Keep your pardon ! " was the angry answer. " I have 
 done more for you, Eose. He is an adventurer, and I have 
 tried to open your eyes and make you respect your family. 
 You may accuse me of what you like, I have my conscience." 
 
 " And the friendship of the Countess," added Eose. 
 
 Juliana's figure shook as if she had been stung. 
 
 "Go and be happy — don't stay here and taunt me," she 
 said, with a ghastly look. "I suppose he can lie like his 
 sister, and has told you all sorts of tales." 
 
 " Not a word — not a word ! " cried Eose. " Do you think 
 my lover could tell a lie ? " 
 
 The superb assumption of the girl, and the true portrait 
 of Evan's character which it flashed upon Juliana, were to 
 the latter such intense pain, that she turned like one on the 
 rack, exclaiming: 
 
 " You think so much of him ? You are so proud of him ? 
 Then, yes ! I love him too, ugly, beastly as I am to look at ! 
 Oh, I know what you think ! I loved him from the first, 
 and I knew all about him, and spared him pain. I did not
 
 342 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 wait for him to fall from a horse. I watched every chance 
 of his being exposed. I let them imagine he cared for me. 
 Drummond would have told what he knew long before — 
 only he knew there would not be much harm in a trades- 
 man's son marrying me. And I have played into your 
 hands, and now you taunt me ! " 
 
 Rose remembered her fretful unkindness to Evan on the 
 subject of his birth, when her feelings toward him were less 
 warm. Dwelling on that alone, she put her arms round 
 Juliana's stiffening figure, and said : " I dare say I am much 
 more selfish than you. Forgive me, dear." 
 
 Staring at her, Juliana replied, "Now you are acting." 
 
 " No," said Rose, with a little effort to fondle her ; " I 
 only feel that I love you better for loving him." 
 
 Generous as her words sounded, and were, Juliana in- 
 tuitively struck to the root of them, which was comfortless. 
 For how calm in its fortune, how strong in its love, must 
 Rose's heart be, when she could speak in this unwonted 
 way ! 
 
 " Go, and leave me, pray," she said. 
 
 Rose kissed her burning cheek. " I will do as you wish, 
 dear. Try and know me better, and be sister Juley as you 
 used to be. I know I am thoughtless, and horribly vain 
 and disagreeable sometimes. Do forgive me. I will love 
 you truly." 
 
 Half melting, Juliana pressed her hand. 
 
 " We are friends ? " said Rose. " Good-bye ; " and her 
 countenance lighted, and she moved away, so changed by 
 her happiness ! Juliana was jealous of a love strong as she 
 deemed her own to overcome obstacles. She called to her : 
 " Rose ! Rose, you will not take advantage of what I have 
 told you, and repeat it to any one ? " 
 
 Instantly Rose turned with a glance of full contempt over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " To whom ? " she asked. 
 
 " To any one." 
 
 " To him ? He would not love me long if I did ! " 
 
 Juliana burst into fresh tears, but Rose walked into the 
 sunbeams and the circle of the music. 
 
 Mounting Olympus, she inquired whether Ferdinand was 
 within hail, as they were pledged to dance the first dance
 
 EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN 343 
 
 together. A few hints were given, and then Rose learnt that 
 Ferdinand had been dismissed. 
 
 " And where is he ? " she cried with her accustomed in- 
 petuosity. "Mama! — of course you did not accuse him — 
 but, Mama ! could you possibly let him go with the suspicion 
 that you thought him guilty of writing an anonymous 
 letter ? " 
 
 " Not at all," Lady Jocelyn replied. " Only the handwrit- 
 ing was so extremely like, and he was the only person who 
 knew the address and the circumstances, and who could have 
 a motive — though I don't quite see what it is — I thought it 
 as well to part for a time." 
 
 " But that's sophistry ! " said Rose. " You accuse or you 
 exonerate. Nobody can be half guilty. If you do not hold 
 him innocent you are unjust ! " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn rejoined: "Yes? It's singular what a 
 stock of axioms young people have handy for their occa- 
 sions." 
 
 Rose loudly announced that she would right this matter. 
 
 " I can't think where Rose gets her passion for hot water," 
 said her mother, as Rose ran down the ledge. 
 
 Two or three young gentlemen tried to engage her for a 
 dance. She gave them plenty of promises, and hurried on 
 till she met Evan, and, almost out of breath, told him the 
 shameful injustice that had been done to her friend. 
 
 "Mama is such an Epicurean! I really think she ia 
 worse than Papa. This disgraceful letter looks like Fer- 
 dinand's writing, and she tells him so ; and, Evan ! will you 
 believe that instead of being certain it's impossible any gen- 
 tleman could do such a thing, she tells Ferdinand she shall 
 feel more comfortable if she doesn't see him for some time ? 
 Poor Ferdinand ! He has had so much to bear ! " 
 
 Too sure of his darling to be envious now of any man she 
 pitied, Evan said, " I would forfeit my hand on his inno- 
 cence ! " 
 
 " And so would I," echoed Rose. " Come to him with 
 me, dear. Or no," she added, with a little womanly discre- 
 tion, " perhaps it would not be so well — you're not very 
 much cast down by what happened at dinner ? " 
 
 " My darling ! I think of you." 
 
 " Of me, dear ? Concealment is never of any service. What
 
 344 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 there is to be known people may as well know at once. 
 They'll gossip for a month, and then forget it. Your mother 
 is dreadfully outspoken, certainly ; but she has better man- 
 ners than many ladies — I mean people in a position : you 
 understand me ? But suppose, dear, this had happened, and 
 I had said nothing to Mama, and then we had to confess ? 
 Ah, you'll find I'm wiser than you imagine, Mr. Evan." 
 
 " Haven't I submitted to somebody's lead ? " 
 
 " Yes, but with a sort of ' under protest.' I saw it by the 
 mouth. Not quite natural. You have been moody ever 
 since — just a little. I suppose it's our manly pride. But I'm 
 losing time. Will you promise me not to brood over that 
 occurrence ? Think of me. Think everything of me. I am 
 yours ; and, dearest, if I love you, need you care what any- 
 body else thinks ? We will soon change their opinion." 
 
 "I care so little," said Evan, somewhat untruthfully, 
 " that till you return I shall go and sit with my mother." 
 
 " Oh, she has gone. She made her dear old antiquated 
 curtsey to Mama and the company. ' If my son has not been 
 guilty of deception, I will leave him to your good pleasure, 
 my lady/ That's what she said. Mama likes her, I know. 
 But I wish she didn't mouth her words so precisely: it 
 reminds me of — " the Countess, Rose checked herself from 
 saying. " Good-bye. Thank heaven ! the worst has happened. 
 Do you know what I should do if I were you, and felt at all 
 distressed ? I should keep repeating," Rose looked archly 
 and deeply up under his eyelids, "'lam the son of a trades- 
 man, and Rose loves me,' over and over, and then, if you 
 feel ashamed, what is it of ? " 
 
 She nodded adieu, laughing at her own idea of her great 
 worth ; an idea very firmly fixed in her fair bosom, notwith- 
 standing. Mrs. Melville said of her, " I used to think she 
 had pride." Lady Jocelyn answered, " So she has. The 
 misfortune is that it has taken the wrong turning." 
 
 Evan watched the figure that was to him as that of an 
 angel — no less! She spoke so frankly to them as she 
 passed : or here and there went on with a light laugh. It 
 seemed an act of graciousness that she should open her 
 mouth to one ! And, indeed, by virtue of a pride which 
 raised her to the level of what she thought it well to do, Rose 
 was veritably on higher ground than any present. She no
 
 EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN 345 
 
 longer envied her friend Jenny, who, emerging from the 
 shades, allured by the waltz, dislinked herself from Wil- 
 liam's arm, and whispered exclamations of sorrow at the 
 scene created by Mr. Harrington's mother. Kose patted her 
 hand, and said : " Thank you, Jenny dear : but don't be sorry. 
 I'm glad. It prevents a number of private explanations." 
 
 " Still, dear ! " Jenny suggested. 
 
 " Oh ! of course, I should like to lay my whip across the 
 shoulders of the person who arranged the conspiracy," said 
 Rose. " And afterwards I don't mind returning thanks to 
 him, or her, or them." 
 
 William cried out, " I'm always on your side, Rose." 
 
 "And I'll be Jenny's bridesmaid," rejoined Rose, stepping 
 blithely away from them. 
 
 Evan debated whither to turn when Rose was lost to his 
 eyes. He had no heart for dancing. Presently a servant 
 approached, and said that Mr. Harry particularly desired to 
 see him. From Harry's looks at table, Evan judged that 
 the interview was not likely to be amicable. He asked the 
 direction he was to take, and setting out with long strides, 
 came in sight of Raikes, who walked in gloom, and was 
 evidently labouring under one of his mountains of melan- 
 choly. He affected to be quite out of the world ; but finding 
 that Evan took the hint in his usual prosy manner, was 
 reduced to call after him, and finally to run and catch him. 
 
 " Haven't you one single spark of curiosity ? " he began. 
 
 " What about ? " said Evan. 
 
 " Why, about my amazing luck ! You haven't asked a 
 question. A matter of course." 
 
 Evan complimented him by asking a question : saying that 
 Jack's luck certainly was wonderful. 
 
 "Wonderful, you call it," said Jack, witheringly. "And 
 what's more wonderful is, that I'd give up all for quiet 
 quarters in the Green Dragon. I knew I was prophetic. I 
 knew I should regret that peaceful hostelry. Diocletian, if 
 you like. I beg you to listen. I can't walk so fast without 
 danger." 
 
 " Well, speak out, man. What's the matter with you ? " 
 cried Evan, impatiently. 
 
 Jack shook his head : " I see a total absence of sympathy," 
 he remarked. " I can't."
 
 346 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Then stand out of the way." 
 
 Jack let him pass, exclaiming, with cold irony, "I will 
 pay homage to a loftier Nine I " 
 
 Mr. Raikes could not in his soul imagine that Evan was 
 really so little inquisitive concerning a business of such im- 
 portance as the trouble that possessed him. He watched his 
 friend striding off, incredulously, and then commenced run- 
 ning in pursuit. 
 
 " Harrington, I give in ; I surrender ; you reduce me to 
 prose. Thy nine have conquered my nine! — pardon me, 
 old fellow. I'm immensely upset. This is the first day in 
 my life that I ever felt what indigestion is. Egad, I've got 
 something to derange the best digestion going. 
 
 " Look here, Harrington. What happened to you to-day, 
 I declare I think nothing of. You owe me your assistance, 
 you do, indeed; for if it hadn't been for the fearful fascina- 
 tions of your sister — that divine Countess — I should have 
 been engaged to somebody by this time, and profited by the 
 opportunity held out to me, and which is now gone. I'm 
 disgraced. I'm known. And the worst of it is, I must 
 face people. I daren't turn tail. Did you ever hear of 
 such a dilemma?" 
 
 "Ay," quoth Evan, "what is it?" 
 
 Raikes turned pale. "Then you haven't heard of 
 it?" 
 
 "Not a word." 
 
 " Then it's all for me to tell. I called on Messrs. Grist. I 
 dined at the Aurora afterwards. Depend upon it, Harring- 
 ton, we're led by a star. I mean, fellows with anything in 
 them are. I recognized our Fallowfield host, and thinking 
 to draw him out, I told our mutual histories. Next day 
 I went to these Messrs. Grist. They proposed the member- 
 ship for Fallowfield, five hundred a year, and the loan of a 
 curricle, on condition. It's singular, Harrington; before 
 anybody knew of the condition I didn't care about it a bit. 
 It seemed to me childish. Who would think of minding 
 wearing a tin plate? But now! — the sufferings of Orestes 
 — what are they to mine? He wasn't tied to his Furies. 
 They did hover a little above him; but as for me, I'm 
 scorched; and I mustn't say where: my mouth is locked; 
 the social laws which forbid the employment of obsolete
 
 evan's light begins to twinkle again 347 
 
 words arrest my exclamations of despair. What do you 
 advise?" 
 
 Evan stared a moment at the wretched object, whose 
 dream of meeting a beneficent old gentleman had brought 
 him to be the sport of a cynical farceur. He had shivers 
 on his own account, seeing something of himself magnified, 
 and he loathed the fellow, only to feel more acutely what 
 a stigma may be. 
 
 "It's a case I can't advise in," he said, as gently as he 
 could. " I should be off the grounds in a hurry." 
 
 "And then I'm where I was before I met the horrid old 
 brute!" Kaikes moaned. 
 
 " I told him over a pint of port — and noble stuff is that 
 Aurora port! — I told him — I amused him till he was on 
 the point of bursting — I told him I was such a gentleman 
 as the world hadn't seen — minus money. So he deter- 
 mined to launch me. He said I should lead the life of such 
 a gentleman as the world had not yet seen — on that simple 
 condition, which appeared to me childish, a senile whine ; 
 rather an indulgence of his." 
 
 Evan listened to the tribulations of his friend as he would 
 to those of a doll — the sport of some experimental child. 
 By this time he knew something of old Tom Cogglesby, and 
 was not astonished that he should have chosen John Kaikes 
 to play one of his farces on. Jack turned off abruptly the 
 moment he saw they were nearing human figures, but soon 
 returned to Evan's side, as if for protection. 
 
 "Hoy! Harrington!" shouted Harry, beckoning to him. 
 "Come, make haste! I'm in a deuce of a mess." 
 
 The two Wheedles — Susan and Polly — were standing in 
 front of him, and after his call to Evan, he turned to con- 
 tinue some exhortation or appeal to the common-sense of 
 women, largely indulged in by young men when the mischief 
 is done. 
 
 " Harrington, do speak to her. She looks upon you as a 
 sort of parson. I can't make her believe I didn't send for 
 her. Of course, she knows I'm fond of her. My dear fel- 
 low," he whispered, "I shall be ruined if my grandmother 
 hears of it. Get her away, please. Promise anything." 
 
 Evan took her hand and asked for the child. 
 
 "Quite well, sir," faltered Susan.
 
 348 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "You should not have come here." 
 
 Susan stared, and commenced whimpering: "Didn't you 
 wish it, sir?" 
 
 "Oh, she's always thinking of being made a lady of," 
 cried Polly. " As if Mr. Harry was going to do that. It 
 wants a gentleman to do that." 
 
 "The carriage came for me, sir, in the afternoon," said 
 Susan, plaintively, "with your compliments, and would I 
 come. I thought " 
 
 "What carriage?" asked Evan. 
 
 Kaikes, who was ogling Polly, interposed grandly, 
 "Mine!" 
 
 "And you sent in my name for this girl to come here?" 
 Evan turned wrathfully on him. 
 
 "My dear Harrington, when you hit you knock down. 
 The wise require but one dose of experience. The Countess 
 wished it, and I did despatch." 
 
 " The Countess ! " Harry exclaimed ; " Jove ! do you mean 
 to say that the Countess " 
 
 " De Saldar," added Jack. " In Britain none were worthy 
 found." 
 
 Harry gave a long whistle. 
 
 "Leave at once," said Evan to Susan. "Whatever you 
 may want send to me for. And when you think you can 
 meet your parents, I will take you to them. Remember 
 that is what you must do." 
 
 " Make her give up that stupidness of hers, about being 
 made a lady of, Mr. Harrington," said the inveterate Polly. 
 
 Susan here fell a-weeping. 
 
 "I would go, sir," she said. "I'm sure I would obey 
 you: but I can't. I can't go back to the inn. They're 
 beginning to talk about me, because — because I can't — 
 can't pay them, and I'm ashamed." 
 
 Evan looked at Harry. 
 
 "I forgot," the latter mumbled, but his face was crimson. 
 He put his hands in his pockets. " Do you happen to have 
 a note or so?" he asked. 
 
 Evan took him aside and gave him what he had; and 
 this amount, without inspection or reserve, Harry offered 
 to Susan. She dashed his hand impetuously from her 
 sight.
 
 evan's light begins to twinkle again 349 
 
 "There, give it to me," said Polly. "Oh, Mr. Harry! 
 what a young man you are ! " 
 
 Whether from the rebuff, or the reproach, or old feelings 
 reviving, Harry was moved to go forward, and lay his hand 
 on Susan's shoulder and mutter something in her ear that 
 softened her. 
 
 Polly thrust the notes into her bosom, and with a toss 
 of her nose, as who should say, " Here's nonsense they're 
 at again," tapped Susan on the other shoulder, and said 
 imperiously : " Come, Miss ! " 
 
 Hurrying out a dozen sentences in one, Harry ended by 
 suddenly kissing Susan's cheek, and then Polly bore her 
 away ; and Harry, with great solemnity, said to Evan : 
 
 " 'Pon my honour, I think I ought to! I declare I think 
 I love that girl. What's one's family? Why shouldn't you 
 button to the one that just suits you? That girl, when she's 
 dressed, and in good trim, by Jove ! nobody 'd know her from 
 a born lady. And as for grammar, I'd soon teach her that." 
 
 Harry began to whistle : a sign in him that he was think- 
 ing his hardest. 
 
 " I confess to being considerably impressed by the maid 
 Wheedle," said Raikes. 
 
 "Would you throw yourself away on her?" Evan in- 
 quired. 
 
 Apparently forgetting how he stood, Mr. Raikes replied : 
 
 " You ask, perhaps, a little too much of me. One owes 
 consideration to one's position. In the world's eyes a 
 matrimonial slip outweighs a peccadillo. No. To much 
 the maid might wheedle me, but to Hymen! She's decid- 
 edly fresh and pert — the most delicious little fat lips and 
 cocky nose ; but cease we to dwell on her, or of us two, lo ! 
 one will be undone." 
 
 Harry burst into a laugh: "Is this the T.P. for Fallow- 
 field? " 
 
 "M.P. I think you mean," quoth Raikes, serenely; but 
 a curious glance being directed on him, and pursuing him 
 pertinaciously, it was as if the pediment of the lofty monu- 
 ment he topped were smitten with violence. He stammered 
 an excuse, and retreated somewhat as it is the fashion to 
 do from the presence of royalty, followed by Harry's roar 
 of laughter, in which Evan cruelly joined.
 
 350 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Gracious powers ! " exclaimed the victim of ambition, 
 " I'm laughed at by the son of a tailor! " and he edged once 
 more into the shade of trees. 
 
 It was a strange sight for Harry's relatives to see him 
 arm-in-arm with the man he should have been kicking, 
 challenging, denouncing, or whatever the code prescribes : 
 to see him talking to this young man earnestly, clinging to 
 him affectionately, and when he separated from him, heart- 
 ily wringing his hand. Well might they think that there 
 was something extraordinary in these Harringtons. Con- 
 victed of Tailordom, these Harringtons appeared to shine 
 with double lustre. How was it? They were at a loss to 
 say. They certainly could say that the Countess was 
 egregiously affected and vulgar; but who could be alto- 
 gether complacent and sincere that had to fight so hard a 
 tight? In this struggle with society I see one of the 
 instances where success is entirely to be honoured and 
 remains a proof of merit. For however boldly antagonism 
 may storm the ranks of society, it will certainly be repelled, 
 whereas affinity cannot be resisted; and they who, against 
 obstacles of birth, claim and keep their position among the 
 educated and refined, have that affinity. It is, on the whole, 
 rare, so that society is not often invaded. I think it will 
 have to front Jack Cade again before another Old Mel and 
 his progeny shall appear. You refuse to believe in Old 
 Mel? You know not nature's cunning. 
 
 Mrs. Shorne, Mrs. Melville, Miss Carrington, and many 
 of the guests who observed Evan moving from place to 
 place, after the exposure, as they called it, were amazed at 
 his audacity. There seemed such a quietly superb air 
 about him. He would not look out of his element; and 
 this, knowing what they knew, was his offence. He deserved 
 some commendation for still holding up his head, but it was 
 love and Rose who kept the fires of his heart alive. 
 
 The sun had sunk. The figures on the summit of Par- 
 nassus were seen bobbing in happy placidity against the 
 twilight sky. The sun had sunk, and many of Mr. Raikes's 
 best things were unspoken. Wandering about in his gloom, 
 he heard a feminine voice : 
 
 "Yes, I will trust you." 
 
 " You will not repent it, " was answered.
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 351 
 
 Eecognizing the Duke, Mr. Raikes cleared his throat. 
 
 " A-hem, your Grace ! This is how the days should pass. 
 I think we should diurnally station a good London band on 
 high, and play his Majesty to bed — the sun. My opinion 
 is, it would improve the crops. I'm not, as yet, a landed 
 proprietor " 
 
 The Duke stepped aside with him, and Raikes addressed 
 no one for the next twenty minutes. When he next came 
 forth Parnassus was half deserted. It was known that old 
 Mrs. Bonner had been taken with a dangerous attack, and 
 under this third blow the pic-nic succumbed. Simultane- 
 ously with the messenger that brought the news to Lady 
 Jocelyn, one approached Evan, and informed him that the 
 Coantess de Saldar urgently entreated him to come to the 
 house without delay. He also wished to speak a few words 
 to her, and stepped forward briskly. He had no prophetic 
 intimations of the change this interview would bring upon 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 
 
 The Countess was not in her dressing-room when Evan 
 presented himself. She was in attendance on Mrs. Bonner, 
 Conning said; and the primness of Conning was a thing to 
 have been noticed by any one save a dreamy youth in love. 
 Conning remained in the room, keeping distinctly aloof. 
 Her duties absorbed her, but a presiding thought mechani- 
 cally jerked back her head from time to time : being the 
 mute form of, " Well, I never ! " in Conning's rank of life 
 and intellectual capacity. Evan remained quite still in a 
 chair, and Conning was certainly a number of paces beyond 
 suspicion, when the Countess appeared, and hurling at the 
 maid one of those feminine looks which contain huge quartos 
 of meaning, vented the cold query : 
 
 " Pray, why did you not come to me, as you were com- 
 manded ? " 
 
 " I was not aware, my lady," Conning drew up to reply,
 
 352 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 and performed with her eyes a lofty rejection of the volume 
 cast at her, and a threat of several for offensive operations, 
 if need were. 
 
 The Countess spoke nearer to what she was implying: 
 "You know I object to this : it is not the first time." 
 
 " Would your ladyship please to say what your ladyship 
 means ? " 
 
 In return for this insolent challenge to throw off the mask, 
 the Countess felt justified in punishing her by being explicit 
 " Your irregularities are not of yesterday," she said, kindly 
 making use of a word of double signification still. 
 
 "Thank you, my lady." Conning accepted the word in 
 its blackest meaning. " I am obliged to you. If your lady- 
 ship is to be believed, my character is not worth much. But 
 I can make distinctions, my lady." 
 
 Something very like an altercation was continued in a 
 sharp, brief undertone; and then Evan, waking up to the 
 affairs of the hour, heard Conning say : 
 
 " I shall not ask your ladyship to give me a character." 
 
 The Countess answering with pathos : " It would, indeed, 
 be to give you one." 
 
 He was astonished that the Countess should burst into 
 tears when Conning had departed, and yet more so that his 
 effort to console her should bring a bolt of wrath upon himself. 
 
 "Now, Evan, now see what you have done for us — do, 
 and rejoice at it. The very menials insult us. You heard 
 what that creature said ? She can make distinctions. Oh ! I 
 could beat her. They know it : all the servants know it : I 
 can see it in their faces. I feel it when I pass them. The 
 insolent wretches treat us as impostors ; and this Conning — 
 to defy me ! Oh ! it comes of my devotion to you. I am 
 properly chastised. I passed Kose's maid on the stairs, and 
 her reverence was barely perceptible." 
 
 Evan murmured that he was very sorry, adding, foolishly : 
 " Do you really care, Louisa, for what servants think and r 
 say ? " 
 
 The Countess sighed deeply: "Oh! you are too thick- 
 skinned ! Your mother from top to toe ! It is too dreadful ! 
 What have I done to deserve it ? Oh, Evan, Evan ! " 
 
 Her head dropped in her lap. There was something 
 ludicrous to Evan in this excess of grief on account of such
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 353 
 
 a business ; but he was tender-hearted and wrought upon to 
 declare that, whether or not he was to blame for his mother's 
 intrusion that afternoon, he was ready to do what he could 
 to make up to the Countess for her sufferings : whereat the 
 Countess sighed again : asked him what he possibly could 
 do, and doubted his willingness to accede to the most trifling 
 request. 
 
 "No; I do in verity believe that were I to desire you to 
 do aught for your own good alone, you would demur, Van." 
 
 He assured her that she was mistaken. 
 
 " We shall see," she said. 
 
 "And if once or twice, I have run counter to you, 
 Louisa — " 
 
 "Abominable language!" cried the Countess, stopping 
 her ears like a child. "Do not excruciate me so. You 
 laugh ! My goodness ! what will you come to ! " 
 
 Evan checked his smile, and, taking her hand, said : " I 
 must tell you, that, on the whole, I see nothing to regret in 
 what has happened to-day. You may notice a change in the 
 manners of the servants and some of the country squiresses, 
 but I find none in the bearing of the real ladies, the true 
 gentlemen, to me." 
 
 " Because the change is too fine for you to perceive it," 
 interposed the Countess. 
 
 " Rose, then, and her mother, and her father ! " Evan cried 
 impetuously. 
 
 " As for Lady Jocelyn ! " the Countess shrugged : " And 
 Sir Franks ! " her head shook : " and Rose, Rose is simply 
 self-willed ; a ' she will ' or ' she won't ' sort of little person. 
 No criterion ! Henceforth the world is against us. We 
 have to struggle with it : it does not rank us of it ! " 
 
 " Your feeling on the point is so exaggerated, my dear 
 Louisa," said Evan, "one can't bring reason to your ears. 
 The tattle we shall hear we shall outlive. I care extremely 
 for the good opinion of men, but I prefer my own ; and I 
 do not lose it because my father was in trade." 
 
 "And your own name, Evan Harrington, is on a shop," 
 the Countess struck in, and watched him severely from 
 under her brow, glad to mark that he could still blush. 
 
 " Oh, heaven ! " she wailed to increase the effect, " on a 
 shop ! a brother of mine ! " 
 
 23
 
 354 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Yes, Louisa. It may not last ... I did it — is it not 
 better that a son should blush, than cast dishonour on his 
 father's memory ? " 
 
 " Ridiculous boy-notion ! " 
 
 "Rose has pardoned it, Louisa — cannot you? I find 
 that the naturally vulgar and narrow-headed people, and 
 cowards who never forego mean advantages, are those only 
 who would condemn me and my conduct in that." 
 
 "And you have joy in your fraction of the world left to 
 you ! " exclaimed his female-elder. 
 
 Changing her manner to a winning softness, she said: 
 " Let me also belong to the very small party ! You have 
 been really romantic, and most generous and noble ; only the 
 shop smells! But, never mind, promise me you will not 
 enter it." 
 
 " I hope not," said Evan. 
 
 " You do hope that you will not officiate ? Oh, Evan ! 
 the eternal contemplation of gentlemen's legs ! think of 
 that ! Think of yourself sculptured in that attitude ! " In- 
 numerable little prickles and stings shot over Evan's skin. 
 
 " There — there, Louisa ! " he said impatiently ; " spare 
 your ridicule. We go to London to-morrow, and when there 
 I expect to hear that I have an appointment, and that this 
 engagement is over." He rose and walked up and down the 
 room. 
 
 " I shall not be prepared to go to-morrow," remarked the 
 Countess, drawing her figure up stiffly. 
 
 " Oh ! well, if you can stay, Andrew will take charge of 
 you, I dare say." 
 
 " No, my dear, Andrew will not — a nonentity cannot — 
 you must." 
 
 "Impossible, Louisa," said Evan, as one who imagines 
 he is uttering a thing of little consequence. " I promised 
 Rose." 
 
 " You promised Rose that you would abdicate and retire ? 
 Sweet, loving girl ! " 
 
 Evan made no answer. 
 
 " You will stay with me, Evan." 
 
 " I really can't," he said in his previous careless tone. 
 
 "Come and sit down," cried the Countess, imperiously. 
 "The first trifle is refused. It does not astonish me. I
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 355 
 
 will honour you now by talking seriously to you. I have 
 treated you hitherto as a child. Or, no — " she stopped her 
 mouth ; " it is enough if I tell you, dear, that poor Mrs. 
 Bonner is dying, and that she desires my attendance on her 
 to refresh her spirit with readings on the Prophecies, and 
 Scriptural converse. No other soul in the house can so 
 soothe her." 
 
 " Then, stay," said Evan. 
 
 " Unprotected in the midst of enemies ! Truly ! " 
 
 "I think, Louisa, if you can call Lady Jocelyn an enemy, 
 you must read the Scriptures by a false light." 
 
 " The woman is an utter heathen ! " interjected the Count- 
 ess. " An infidel can be no friend. She is therefore the 
 reverse. Her opinions embitter her mother's last days. 
 But now you will consent to remain with me, dear Van ! " 
 
 An implacable negative responded to the urgent appeal of 
 her eyes. 
 
 " By the way," he said, for a diversion, " did you know of 
 a girl stopping at an inn in Fallowfield ? " 
 
 "Know a barmaid?" the Countess's eyes and mouth 
 were wide at the question. 
 
 " Did you send Baikes for her to-day ? " 
 
 " Did Mr. Baikes — ah, Evan ! that creature reminds me, 
 you have no sense of contrast. For a Brazilian ape — he 
 resembles, if he is not truly one — what contrast is he to 
 an English gentleman ! His proximity and acquaintance — 
 rich as he may be — disfigure you. Study contrast ! " 
 
 Evan had to remind her that she had not answered him : 
 whereat she exclaimed : " One would really think you had 
 never been abroad. Have you not evaded me, rather ? " 
 
 The Countess commenced fanning her languid brows, and 
 then pursued : " Now, my dear brother, I may conclude that 
 you will acquiesce in my moderate wishes. You remain. 
 My venerable friend cannot last three days. She is on the 
 brink of a better world ! I will confide to you that it is of 
 the utmost importance we should be here, on the spot, until 
 the sad termination ! That is what I summoned you for. 
 You are now at liberty. Ta-ta, as soon as you please." 
 
 She had baffled his little cross-examination with regard 
 to Baikes, but on the other point he was firm. She would 
 listen to nothing : she affected that her mandate had gone
 
 356 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 forth, and must be obeyed; tapped with, her foot, fanned 
 deliberately, and was a consummate queen, till he turned 
 the handle of the door, when her complexion deadened, she 
 started up, trembling, and tripping towards him, caught him 
 by the arm, and said : " Stop ! After all that I have sacri- 
 ficed for you ! As well try to raise the dead as a Dawley 
 from the dust he grovels in ! Why did I consent to visit 
 this place ? It was for you. I came, I heard that you had 
 disgraced yourself in drunkenness at Fallowfield, and I toiled 
 to eclipse that, and I did. Young Jocelyn thought you were 
 what you are : I could spit the word at you ! and 1 dazzled 
 him to give you time to win this minx, who will spin you 
 like a top if you get her. That Mr. Forth knew it as well, 
 and that vile young Laxley. They are gone! Why are 
 they gone ? Because they thwarted me — they crossed your 
 interests — I said they should go. George Uplof t is going 
 to-day. The house is left to us ; and I believe firmly that 
 Mrs. Bonner's will contains a memento of the effect of our 
 frequent religious conversations. So you would leave now ? 
 I suspect nobody, but we are all human, and Wills would 
 not have been tampered with for the first time. Besides," 
 and the Countess's imagination warmed till she addressed 
 her brother as a confederate, " we shall then see to whom 
 Beckley Court is bequeathed. Either way it may be yours. 
 Yours ! and you suffer their plots to drive you forth. Do 
 you not perceive that Mama was brought here to-day on 
 purpose to shame us and cast us out ? We are surrounded 
 by conspiracies, but if our faith is pure, who can hurt us ? 
 If I had not that consolation — would that you had it, too ! 
 — would it be endurable for me to see those menials whis- 
 pering and showing their forced respect ? As it is, I am 
 fortified to forgive them. I breathe another atmosphere. 
 Oh, Evan! you did not attend to Mr. Parsley's beautiful 
 last sermon. The Church should have been your vocation." 
 From vehemence the Countess had subsided to a mournful 
 gentleness. She had been too excited to notice any changes 
 in her brother's face during her speech, and when he turned 
 from the door, and still eyeing her fixedly, led her to a chair, 
 she fancied from his silence that she had subdued and con- 
 vinced him. A delicious sense of her power, succeeded by 
 a weary reflection that she had constantly to employ it,
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 357 
 
 occupied her mind, and when presently she looked up from 
 the shade of her hand, it was to agitate her head pitifully 
 at her brother. 
 
 " All this you have done for me, Louisa," he said. 
 
 " Yes, Evan, — all ! " she fell into his tone. 
 
 "And you are the cause of Laxley's going? Did you 
 know anything of that anonymous letter ? " 
 
 He was squeezing her hand — with grateful affection, as 
 she was deluded to imagine. 
 
 " Perhaps, dear, — a little," her conceit prompted her to 
 admit. 
 
 " Did you write it ? " 
 
 He gazed intently into her eyes, and as the question shot 
 like a javelin, she tried ineffectually to disengage her fingers ; 
 her delusion waned ; she took fright, but it was too late ; he 
 had struck the truth out of her before she could speak. Her 
 spirit writhed like a snake in his hold. Innumerable things 
 she was ready to say, and strove to ; the words would not 
 form on her lips. 
 
 " I will be answered, Louisa." 
 
 The stern manner he had assumed gave her no hope of 
 eluding him. With an inward gasp, and a sensation of 
 nakedness altogether new to her, dismal, and alarming, she 
 felt that she could not lie. Like a creature forsaken of her 
 staunchest friend, she could have flung herself to the floor. 
 The next instant her natural courage restored her. She 
 jumped up and stood at bay. 
 
 " Yes. I did." 
 
 And now he was weak, and she was strong, and used her 
 strength. 
 
 " I wrote it to save you. Yes. Call on your Creator, and 
 be my judge, if you dare. Never, never will you meet a 
 soul more utterly devoted to you, Evan. This Mr. Forth, 
 this Laxley, I said, should go, because they were resolved to 
 ruin you, and make you base. They are gone. The respon- 
 sibility I take on myself. Nightly — during the remainder 
 of my days — I will pray for pardon." 
 
 He raised his head to ask sombrely : " Is your handwrit- 
 ing like Laxley's ? " 
 
 " It seems so," she answered, with a pitiful sneer for one 
 who could arrest her exaltation to inquire about minutise.
 
 358 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Right or wrong, it is done, and if you choose to be my 
 judge, think whether your own conscience is clear. Why 
 did you come here ? Why did you stay ? You have your 
 free will, — do you deny that ? Oh, I will take the entire 
 blame, but you must not be a hypocrite, Van. You know 
 you were aware. We had no confidences. I was obliged to 
 treat you like a child ; but for you to pretend to suppose 
 that roses grow in your path — oh, that is paltry ! You are 
 a hypocrite or an imbecile, if that is your course." 
 
 Was he not something of the former? The luxurious 
 mist in which he had been living, dispersed before his 
 sister's bitter words, and, as she designed he should, he felt 
 himself her accomplice. But, again, reason struggled to 
 enlighten him ; for surely he would never have done a thing 
 so disproportionate to the end to be gained! It was the 
 unconnected action of his brain that thus advised him. No 
 thoroughly-fashioned, clear-spirited man conceives wicked- 
 ness impossible to him: but wickedness so largely mixed 
 with folly, the best of us may reject as not among our 
 temptations. Evan, since his love had dawned, had begun 
 to talk with his own nature, and though he knew not yet 
 how much it would stretch or contract, he knew that he was 
 weak and could not perform moral wonders without severe 
 struggles. The cynic may add, if he likes — or without 
 potent liquors. 
 
 Could he be his sister's judge ? It is dangerous for young 
 men to be too good. They are so sweeping in their condem- 
 nations, so sublime in their conceptions of excellence, and 
 the most finished Puritan cannot out-do their demands 
 upon frail humanity. Evan's momentary self-examination 
 saved him from this, and he told the Countess, with a 
 sort of cold compassion, that he himself dared not blame 
 her. 
 
 His tone was distinctly wanting in admiration of her, but 
 she was somewhat over-wrought, and leaned her shoulder 
 against him, and became immediately his affectionate, only 
 too-zealous, sister ; dearly to be loved, to be forgiven, to be 
 prized : and on condition of inserting a special petition for 
 pardon in her orisons, to live with a calm conscience, and to 
 be allowed to have her own way with him during the rest of 
 her days.
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 359 
 
 It was a happy union — a picture that the Countess was 
 lured to admire in the glass. 
 
 Sad that so small a murmur should destroy it for ever ! 
 
 ;i What ? " cried the Countess, bursting from his arm. 
 
 " Go ? " she emphasized with the hardness of determined 
 unbelief, as if plucking the words, one by one, out of her 
 reluctant ears. « Go to Lady Jocelyn, and tell her I wrote 
 the letter V 
 
 " You can do no less, I fear," said Evan, eyeing the floor 
 and breathing a deep breath. 
 
 " Then I did hear you correctly ? Oh, you must be mad 
 — idiotic ! There, pray go away, Evan. Come in the morn- 
 ing. You are too much for my nerves." 
 
 Evan rose, putting out his hand as if to take hers and 
 plead with her. She rejected the first motion, and repeated 
 her desire for him to leave her ; saying, cheerfully : 
 
 " Good night, dear ; I dare say we shan't meet till the 
 morning." 
 
 "You can't let this injustice continue a single night, 
 Louisa ? " said he. 
 
 She was deep in the business of arranging a portion of 
 her attire. 
 
 " Go — go ; please," she responded. 
 
 Lingering, he said : " If I go, it will be straight to Lady 
 Jocelyn." 
 
 She stamped angrily. 
 
 " Only go ! " and then she found him gone, and she stooped 
 lower to the glass, to mark if the recent agitation were ob- 
 servable under her eyes. There, looking at herself, her 
 heart dropped heavily in her bosom. She ran to the door 
 and hurried swiftly after Evan, pulling him back speech- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Where are you going, Evan ? " 
 
 " To Lady Jocelyn." 
 
 The unhappy victim of her devotion stood panting. 
 
 " If you go, I — I take poison ! " 
 
 It was for him now to be struck ; but he was suffering 
 too strong an anguish to be susceptible to mock tragedy. 
 The Countess paused to study him. She began to fear her 
 brother. " I will ! " she reiterated wildly, without moving 
 him at all. And the quiet inflexibility of his face forbade
 
 360 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 the ultimate hope which lies in giving men a dose of 
 hysterics when they are obstinate. She tried by taunts 
 and angry vituperations to make him look fierce, if but an 
 instant, to precipitate her into an exhibition she was so well 
 prepared for. 
 
 " Evan ! what ! after all my love, my confidence in you 
 — I need not have told you — to expose us ! Brother ? 
 would you ? Oh ! " 
 
 " I will not let this last another hour," said Evan, firmly, 
 at the same time seeking to caress her. She spurned his 
 fruitless affection, feeling, nevertheless, how cruel was her 
 fate ; for, with any other save a brother, she had arts at 
 her disposal to melt the manliest resolutions. The glass 
 showed her that her face was pathetically pale ; the tones 
 of her voice were rich and harrowing. What did they avail 
 with a brother ? 
 
 "Promise me," she cried eagerly, "promise me to stop 
 here — on this spot — till I return." 
 
 The promise was extracted. The Countess went to fetch 
 Caroline. 
 
 Evan did not count the minutes. One thought was 
 mounting in his brain — the scorn of Rose. He felt that 
 he had lost her. Lost her when he had just won her ! He 
 felt it, without realizing it. The first blows of an immense 
 grief are dull, and strike the heart through wool, as it were. 
 The belief of the young in their sorrow has to be flogged 
 into them, on the good old educational principle. Could he 
 do less than this he was about to do ? Rose had wedded 
 her noble nature to him, and it was as much her spirit as 
 his own that urged him thus to forfeit her, to be worthy of 
 her by assuming unworthiness. There he sat neither con- 
 ning over his determination nor the cause for it, revolving 
 Rose's words about Laxley, and nothing else. The words 
 were so sweet and so bitter ; every now and then the heavy 
 smiting on his heart set it quivering and leaping, as the 
 whip starts a jaded horse. 
 
 Meantime the Countess was participating in a witty con- 
 versation in the drawing-room with Sir John and the Duke, 
 Miss Current, and others ; and it was not till after she had 
 displayed many graces, and, as one or two ladies presumed 
 to consider, marked effrontery, that she rose and drew Caro-
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 361 
 
 line away with her. Returning to her dressing-room, she 
 found that Evan had faithfully kept his engagement; he 
 was on the exact spot where she had left him. 
 
 Caroline came to him swiftly, and put her hand to his 
 forehead that she might the better peruse his features, say- 
 ing, in her mellow caressing voice: "What is this, dear 
 Van, that you will do ? Why do you look so wretched ? " 
 
 " Has not Louisa told you ? " 
 
 " She has told me something, dear, but I don't know what 
 it is. That you are going to expose us? What further 
 exposure do we need ? I'm sure, Van, my pride — what I 
 had — is gone. I have none left ! " 
 
 Evan kissed her brows warmly. An explanation, full of 
 the Countess's passionate outcries of justification, necessity, 
 and innocence in higher than fleshly eyes, was given, and 
 then the three were silent. 
 
 "But, Van," Caroline commenced, deprecatingly, "my 
 darling ! of what use — now ! Whether right or wrong, why 
 should you, why should you, when the thing is done, dear ? 
 — think!" 
 
 "And you, too, would let another suffer under an unjust 
 accusation ? " said Evan. 
 
 "But, dearest, it is surely your duty to think of your 
 family first. Have we not been afflicted enough ? Why 
 should you lay us under this fresh burden ? " 
 
 " Because it's better to bear all now than a life of remorse," 
 answered Evan. 
 
 "But this Mr. Laxley — I cannot pity him; he has 
 behaved so insolently to you throughout! Let him 
 suffer." 
 
 "Lady Jocelyn," said Evan, "has been unintentionally 
 unjust to him, and after her kindness — apart from 
 the right or wrong — I will not — I can't allow her to 
 continue so." 
 
 " After her kindness ! " echoed the Countess, who had been 
 fuming at Caroline's weak expostulations. " Kindness ! Have 
 I not done ten times for these Jocelyns what they have done 
 for us ? mio Deus ! why, I have bestowed on them the 
 membership for Eallowfield : I have saved her from being a 
 convicted liar this very day. Worse ! for what would have 
 been talked of the morals of the house, supposing the scandal.
 
 362 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Oh ! indeed I was tempted to bring that horrid mad Captain 
 into the house face to face with his flighty doll of a wife, as 
 I, perhaps, should have done, acting by the dictates of my 
 conscience. I lied to Lady Jocelyn, and handed the man to 
 a lawyer, who withdrew him. And this they owe to me ! 
 Kindness ? They have given us bed and board, as the peo- 
 ple say. I have repaid them for that." 
 
 " Pray be silent, Louisa," said Evan, getting up hastily, 
 for the sick sensation Rose had experienced came over him. 
 His sister's plots, her untruth, her coarseness, clung to him 
 and seemed part of his blood. He now had a personal desire 
 to cut himself loose from the wretched entanglement revealed 
 to him, whatever it cost. 
 
 " Are you really, truly going ? " Caroline exclaimed, for 
 he was near the door. 
 
 " At a quarter to twelve at night ! " sneered the Countess, 
 still imagining that he, like herself, must be partly acting. 
 
 " But, Van, is it — dearest, think ! is it manly for a brother 
 to go and tell of his sister ? And how would it look ? " 
 
 Evan smiled. "Is it that that makes you unhappy? 
 Louisa's name will not be mentioned — be sure of that." 
 
 Caroline was stooping forward to him. Her figure straight- 
 ened : " Good heaven, Evan ! you are not going to take it 
 on yourself ? Rose ! — she will hate you." 
 
 " God help me ! " he cried internally. 
 
 " Oh, Evan, darling ! consider, reflect ! " She fell on her 
 knees, catching his hand. "It is worse for us that you 
 should surfer, dearest ! Think of the dreadful meanness and 
 baseness of what you will have to acknowledge." 
 
 " Yes ! " sighed the youth, and his eyes, in his extreme 
 pain, turned to the Countess reproachfully. 
 
 "Think, dear," Caroline hurried on, "he gains nothing 
 for whom you do this — you lose all. It is not your deed. 
 You will have to speak an untruth. Your ideas are wrong 
 — wrong, I know they are. You will have to lie. But if 
 you are silent, the little, little blame that may attach to us 
 will pass away, and we shall be happy in seeing our brother 
 happy." 
 
 " You are talking to Evan as if he had religion," said the 
 Countess, with steady sedateness. And at that moment, 
 from the sublimity of his pagan virtue, the young man
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA 363 
 
 groaned for some pure certain light to guide kirn : the ques- 
 tion whether he was about to do right made him weak. He 
 took Caroline's head between his two hands, and kissed her 
 mouth. The act brought Kose to his senses insufferably, 
 and she — his Goddess of truth and his sole guiding light 
 — spurred him afresh. 
 
 " My family's dishonour is mine, Caroline. Say nothing 
 more — don't think of me. I go to Lady Jocelyn to-night. 
 To-morrow we leave, and there's the end. Louisa, if you 
 have any new schemes for my welfare, I beg you to renounce 
 them." 
 
 " Gratitude I never expected from a Dawley ! " the Count- 
 ess retorted. 
 
 " Oh, Louisa ! he is going ! " cried Caroline ; " kneel to 
 him with me : stop him : Rose loves him, and he is going to 
 make her hate him." 
 
 "You can't talk reason to one who's mad," said the Count- 
 ess, more like the DaAvley she sprang from than it would 
 have pleased her to know. 
 
 " My darling ! My own Evan ! it will kill me," Caroline 
 exclaimed, and passionately imploring him, she looked so 
 hopelessly beautiful, that Evan was agitated, and caressed 
 her, while he said, softly: "Where our honour is not in- 
 volved I would submit to your smallest wish." 
 
 " It involves my life — my destiny ! " murmured Caroline. 
 
 Could he have known the double meaning in her words, 
 and what a saving this sacrifice of his was to accomplish, he 
 would not have turned to do it feeling abandoned of heaven 
 and earth. 
 
 The Countess stood rigidly as he went forth. Caroline 
 was on her knees, sobbing.
 
 364 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE 
 
 Three steps from the Countess's chamber door, the knot 
 of Evan's resolution began to slacken. The clear light of 
 his simple duty grew cloudy and complex. His pride would 
 not let him think that he was shrinking, but cried out in 
 him, " Will you be believed ? " and whispered that few would 
 believe him guilty of such an act. Yet, while something 
 said that full surely Lady Jocelyn would not, a vague dread 
 that Rose might, threw him back on the luxury of her love 
 and faith in him. He found himself hoping that his state- 
 ment would be laughed at. Then why make it ? 
 
 No : that was too blind a hope. Many would take him at 
 his word; all — all save Lady Jocelyn! Rose the first! 
 Because he stood so high with her now he feared the fall. 
 Ah, dazzling pinnacle ! our darlings shoot us up on a won- 
 drous juggler's pole, and we talk familiarly to the stars, and 
 are so much above everybody, and try to walk like creatures 
 with two legs, forgetting that we have but a pin's point to 
 stand on up there. Probably the absence of natural motion 
 inspires the prophecy that we must ultimately come down: 
 our unused legs wax morbidly restless. Evan thought it 
 good that Rose should lift her head to look at him ; never- 
 theless, he knew that Rose would turn from him the moment 
 he descended from his superior station. Nature is wise in 
 her young children, though they wot not of it, and are 
 always trying to rush away from her. They escape their 
 wits sooner than their instincts. 
 
 But was not Rose involved in him, and part of him ? Had 
 he not sworn never to renounce her ? What was this but a 
 betrayal ? 
 
 Go on, young man : fight your fight. The little imps 
 pluck at you: the big giant assails you: the seductions of 
 the soft-mouthed siren are not wanting. Slacken the knot 
 an instant, and they will all have play. And the worst is, 
 that you may be wrong, and they may be right ! For is it, 
 can it be proper for you to stain the silvery whiteness of
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE 365 
 
 your skin by plunging headlong into yonder pitch-bath? 
 Consider the defilement ! Contemplate your hideous aspect 
 on issuing from that black baptism ! 
 
 As to the honour of your family, Mr. Evan Harrington, 
 pray, of what sort of metal consists the honour of a tailor's 
 family ? 
 
 One little impertinent imp ventured upon that question 
 on his own account. The clever beast was torn back and 
 strangled instantaneously by his experienced elders, but not 
 before Evan's pride had answered him. Exalted by Love, 
 he coiild dread to abase himself and strip off his glittering 
 garments ; lowered by the world, he fell back upon his innate 
 worth. 
 
 Yes, he was called on to prove it ; he was on his way to 
 prove it. Surrendering his dearest and his best, casting 
 aside his dreams, his desires, his aspirations, for this stern 
 duty, he at least would know that he made himself doubly 
 worthy of her who abandoned him, and the world would 
 scorn him by reason of his absolute merit. Coming to this 
 point, the knot of his resolve tightened again ; he hugged 
 it with the furious zeal of a martyr. 
 
 Eeligion, the lack of which in him the Countess deplored, 
 would have guided him and silenced the internal strife. 
 But do not despise a virtue purely Pagan. The young who 
 can act readily up to the Christian light are happier, doubt- 
 less : but they are led, they are passive : I think they do 
 not make such capital Christians subsequently. They are 
 never in such danger, we know ; but some in the flock are 
 more than sheep. The heathen ideal it is not so very easy 
 to attain, and those who mount from it to the Christian 
 have, in my humble thought, a firmer footing. 
 
 So Evan fought his hard fight from the top of the stairs 
 to the bottom. A Pagan, which means our poor unsup- 
 ported flesh, is never certain of his victory. Now you will 
 see him kneeling to his Gods, and anon drubbing them ; or 
 he makes them fight for him, and is complacent at the issue. 
 Evan had ceased to pick his knot with one hand and pull 
 it with the other : but not finding Lady Jocelyn below, and 
 hearing that she had retired for the night, he mounted the 
 stairs, and the strife recommenced from the bottom to the 
 top. Strange to say, he was almost unaware of any struggle
 
 366 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 going on within him. The suggestion of the foolish little 
 imp alone was loud in the heart of his consciousness ; the 
 rest hung more in his nerves than in his brain. He thought : 
 " Well, I will speak it out to her in the morning ; " and 
 thought so sincerely, while an ominous sigh of relief at the 
 reprieve rose from his over-burdened bosom. 
 
 Hardly had the weary deep breath taken flight, when the 
 figure of Lady Jocelyn was seen advancing along the cor- 
 ridor, with a lamp in her hand. She trod heavily, in a kind 
 of march, as her habit was ; her large fully-open grey eyes 
 looking straight ahead. She would have passed him, and 
 he would have let her pass, but seeing the unusual pallor on 
 her face, his love for this lady moved him to step forward 
 and express a hope that she had no present cause for sorrow. 
 
 Hearing her mother's name, Lady Jocelyn was about to 
 return a conventional answer. Eecognizing Evan, she said : 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Harrington ! Yes, I fear it's as bad as it can 
 be. She can scarcely outlive the night." 
 
 Again he stood alone : his chance was gone. How could 
 he speak to her in her affliction ? Her calm sedate visage 
 had the beauty of its youth, when lighted by the animation 
 that attends meetings or farewells. In her bow to Evan, he 
 beheld a lovely kindness more unique, if less precious, than 
 anything he had ever seen on the face of Rose. Half ex- 
 ultingly, he reflected that no opportunity would be allowed 
 him now to teach that noble head and truest of human hearts 
 to turn from him : the clear-eyed morrow would come : the 
 days of the future would be as bright as other days ! 
 
 Wrapped in the comfort of his cowardice, he started to 
 see Lady Jocelyn advancing to him again. 
 
 " Mr. Harrington," she said, " Rose tells me you leave us 
 early in the morning. I may as well shake your hand now. 
 We part very good friends. I shall always be glad to hear 
 of you." 
 
 Evan pressed her hand, and bowed. "I thank you, 
 madam," was all he could answer. 
 
 " It will be better if you don't write to Rose." 
 
 Her tone was rather that of a request than an injunction. 
 
 " I have no right to do so, my lady." 
 
 " She considers that you have : I wish her to have a fair 
 trial."
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE 367 
 
 His voice quavered. The philosophic lady thought it 
 time to leave him. 
 
 "So good-bye. I cau trust you without extracting a 
 promise. If you ever have need of a friend, you know 
 you are at liberty to write to me." 
 
 "You are tired, my lady ?" He put this question more 
 to dally with what he ought to be saying. 
 
 "Tolerably. Your sister, the Countess, relieves me in 
 the night. I fancy my mother finds her the better nurse 
 of the two." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn's face lighted in its gracious pleasant way, 
 as she just inclined her head: but the mention of the 
 Countess and her attendance on Mrs. Bonner had nerved 
 Evan: the contrast of her hypocrisy and vile scheming 
 with this most open, noble nature, acted like a new force 
 within him. He begged Lady Jocelyn's permission to 
 speak with her in private. Marking his fervid appearance, 
 she looked at him seriously. 
 
 "Is it really important?" 
 
 "I cannot rest, madam, till it is spoken." 
 
 "I mean, it doesn't pertain to the delirium? We may 
 sleep upon that." 
 
 He divined her sufficiently to answer: "It concerns a 
 piece of injustice done by you, madam, and which I can 
 help you to set right." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn stared somewhat. "Follow me into my 
 dressing-room," she said, and led the way. 
 
 Escape was no longer possible. He was on the march to 
 execution, and into the darkness of his brain danced John 
 Eaikes, with his grotesque tribulations. It was the harsh 
 savour of reality that conjured up this flighty being, who 
 probably never felt a sorrow or a duty. The farce Jack 
 lived was all that Evan's tragic bitterness could revolve, 
 and seemed to be the only light in his mind. You might 
 have seen a smile on his mouth when he was ready to ask 
 for a bolt from heaven to crush him. 
 
 "Now," said her ladyship, and he found that the four 
 walls enclosed them, " what have I been doing? " 
 
 She did not bid him be seated. Her brevity influenced 
 him to speak to the point. 
 
 " You have dismissed Mr.Laxley,my lady : he is innocent."
 
 368 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " How do you know that? " 
 
 "Because," — a whirl of sensations beset the wretched 
 youth, — "because I am guilty." 
 
 His words had run ahead of his wits ; and in answer to 
 Lady Jocelyn's singular exclamation he could but simply 
 repeat them. 
 
 Her head drew back; her face was slightly raised; she 
 looked, as he had seen her sometimes look at the Countess, 
 with a sort of speculative amazement. 
 
 " And why do you come to tell me?" 
 
 "For the reason that I cannot allow you to be unjust, 
 madam." 
 
 "What on earth was your motive?" 
 
 Evan stood silent, flinching from her frank eyes. 
 
 " Well, well, well! " Her ladyship dropped into a chair, 
 and thumped her knees. 
 
 There was lawyer's blood in Lady Jocelyn's veins: she 
 had the judicial mind. A confession was to her a confes- 
 sion. She tracked actions up to a motive; but one who 
 came voluntarily to confess needed no sifting. She had the 
 habit of treating things spoken as facts. 
 
 " You absolutely wrote that letter to Mrs. Evremonde's 
 husband ! " 
 
 Evan bowed, to avoid hearing his own lie. 
 
 " You discovered his address and wrote to him, and imi- 
 tated Mr. Laxley's handwriting, to effect the purpose you 
 may have had?" 
 
 Her credulity did require his confirmation of it, and he 
 repeated: "It is my deed." 
 
 "Hum! And you sent that premonitory slip of paper to 
 her?" 
 
 "To Mrs. Evremonde?" 
 
 "Somebody else was the author of that, perhaps?" 
 
 "It is all on me." 
 
 "In that case, Mr. Harrington, I can only say that 
 it's quite right you should quit this house to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 Her ladyship commenced rocking in her chair, and then 
 added: "May I ask, have you madness in your family? 
 No? Because when one can't discern a motive, it's natu- 
 ral to ascribe certain acts to madness. Had Mrs. Evre-
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE 369 
 
 monde offended you? or Ferdinand — but one only hears of 
 such practices towards fortunate rivals, and now you have 
 come to undo what you did ! I must admit, that taking the 
 monstrousness of the act and the inconsequence of your 
 proceedings together, the whole affair becomes more incom- 
 prehensible to me than it was before. Would it be un- 
 pleasant to you to favour me with explanations?" 
 
 She saw the pain her question gave him, and, passing it, 
 said: 
 
 " Of course you need not be told that Rose must hear of 
 this?" 
 
 "Yes," said Evan, "she must hear it." 
 
 "You know what that's equivalent to? But, if you like, 
 I will not speak to her till you have left us." 
 
 "Instantly," cried Evan. "Now — to-night! I would 
 not have her live a minute in a false estimate of me." 
 
 Had Lady Jocelyn's intellect been as penetrating as it 
 was masculine, she would have taken him and turned him 
 inside out in a very short time ; for one who would bear to 
 see his love look coldly on him rather than endure a min- 
 ute's false estimate of his character, and who could yet 
 stoop to concoct a vile plot, must either be mad or simulat- 
 ing the baseness for some reason or other. She perceived 
 no motive for the latter, and she held him to be sound in 
 the head, and what was spoken from the mouth she accepted. 
 Perhaps, also, she saw in the complication thus offered an 
 escape for Rose, and was the less inclined to elucidate it her- 
 self. But if her intellect was baffled, her heart was unerr- 
 ing. A man proved guilty of writing an anonymous letter 
 would not have been allowed to stand long in her room. 
 She would have shown him to the door of the house speed- 
 ily ; and Evan was aware in his soul that he had not fallen 
 materially in her esteem. He had puzzled and confused 
 her, and partly because she had the feeling that this young 
 man was entirely trustworthy, and because she never relied 
 on her feelings, she let his own words condemn him, and 
 did not personally discard him. In fact, she was a veri- 
 table philosopher. She permitted her fellows to move the 
 world on as they would, and had no other passions in the 
 contemplation of the show than a cultured audience will 
 usually exhibit. 
 
 24
 
 370 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Strange, — most strange ! I thought I was getting old ! " 
 she said, and eyed the culprit as judges generally are not 
 wont to do. " It will be a shock to Eose. I must tell you 
 that I can't regret it. I would not have employed force 
 with her, but I should have given her as strong a taste of 
 the world as it was in my power to give. Girls get their 
 reason from society. But, come! if you think you can 
 make your case out better to her, you shall speak to her 
 first yourself." 
 
 "No, my lady," said Evan, softly. 
 
 " You would rather not? " 
 
 "I could not." 
 
 "But, I suppose, she'll want to speak to you when she 
 knows it." 
 
 "I can take death from her hands, but I cannot slay 
 myself." 
 
 The language was natural to his condition, though the 
 note was pitched high. Lady Jocelyn hummed till the 
 sound of it was over, and an idea striking her, she said : 
 
 "Ah, by the way, have you any tremendous moral 
 notions?" 
 
 "I don't think I have, madam." 
 
 " People act on that mania sometimes, I believe. Do you 
 think it an outrage on decency for a wife to run away from 
 a mad husband whom they won't shut up, and take shelter 
 with a friend? Is that the cause? Mr. Forth is an old 
 friend of mine. I would trust my daughter with him in a 
 desert, and stake my hand on his honour." 
 
 "Oh, Lady Jocelyn! " cried Evan. "Would to God you 
 might ever have said that of me! Madam, I love you. I 
 shall never see you again. I shall never meet one to treat 
 me so generously. I leave you, blackened in character — 
 you cannot think of me without contempt. I can never 
 hope that this will change. But, for your kindness let me 
 thank you." 
 
 And as speech is poor where emotion is extreme — and 
 he knew his own to be especially so — he took her hand 
 with petitioning eyes, and dropping on one knee, reveren- 
 tially kissed it. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn was human enough to like to be appreci- 
 ated. She was a veteran Pagan, and may have had the
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE 371 
 
 instinct that a peculiar virtue in this young one was the 
 spring of his conduct. She stood up and said: "Don't 
 forget that you have a friend here." 
 
 The poor youth had to turn his head from her. 
 
 " You wish that I should tell Rose what you have told 
 me at once, Mr. Harrington? " 
 
 " Yes, my lady ; I beg that you will do so." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 And the queer look Lady Jocelyn had been wearing 
 dimpled into absolute wonder. A stranger to Love's cun. 
 ning, she marvelled why he should desire to witness the 
 scorn Rose would feel for him. 
 
 "If she's not asleep, then, she shall hear it now," said her 
 ladyship. " You \inderstand that it will be mentioned to no 
 other person." 
 
 " Except to Mr. Laxley, madam, to whom I shall offer the 
 satisfaction he may require. But I will undertake that." 
 
 " Just as you think proper on that matter," remarked her 
 philosophical ladyship, who held that man was a fighting 
 animal, and must not have his nature repressed. 
 
 She lighted him part of the way, and then turned off to 
 Rose's chamber. 
 
 Would Rose believe it of him ? Love combated his dis- 
 mal foreboding. Strangely, too, now that he had plunged 
 into his pitch-bath, the guilt seemed to cling to him, and 
 instead of hoping serenely, or fearing steadily, his spirit 
 fell in a kind of abject supplication to Rose, and blindly 
 trusted that she would still love even if she believed him 
 base. In his weakness he fell so low as to pray that she 
 might love that crawling reptile who could creep into a 
 house and shrink from no vileness to win her.
 
 372 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 ROSE WOUXDED 
 
 The light of morning was yet cold along the passages of 
 the house when Polly Wheedle, hurrying to her young mis- 
 tress, met her loosely dressed and with a troubled face. 
 
 " What's the matter, Polly ? I was coming to you." 
 
 " 0, Miss Rose ! and I was coming to you. Miss Bonner's 
 gone back to her convulsions again. She's had them all 
 night. Her hair won't last till thirty, if she keeps on 
 giving way to temper, as I tell her : and I know that from 
 a barber." 
 
 " Tush, you stupid Polly ! Does she want to see me ? " 
 
 "You needn't suspect that, Miss. But you quiet her 
 best, and I thought I'd come to you. But, gracious ! " 
 
 Rose pushed past her without vouchsafing any answer to 
 the look in her face, and turned off to Juliana's chamber, 
 where she was neither welcomed nor repelled. Juliana said 
 she was perfectly well, and that Polly was foolishly officious : 
 whereupon Rose ordered Polly out of the room, and said to 
 Juliana, kindly : " You have not slept, dear, and I have not 
 either. I am so unhappy." 
 
 Whether Rose intended by this communication to make 
 Juliana eagerly attentive, and to distract her from her own 
 affair, cannot be said, but something of the effect was 
 produced. 
 
 " You care for him, too," cried Rose, impetuously. " Tell 
 me, Juley : do you think him capable of any base action ? 
 Do you think he would do what any gentleman would be 
 ashamed to own ? Tell me." 
 
 Juliana looked at Rose intently, but did not reply. 
 
 Rose jumped up from the bed. " You hesitate, Juley ? 
 What ? Cotdd you think so ? " 
 
 Young women after a common game are shrewd. Juliana 
 may have seen that Rose was not steady on the plank she 
 walked, and required support. 
 
 "I don't know," she said, turning her cheek to her 
 pillow.
 
 ROSE WOUNDED 373 
 
 "What an answer!" Rose exclaimed. "Have you no 
 opinion ? What did you say yesterday ? It's silent as the 
 grave with me : but if you do care for him, you must think 
 one thing or the other." 
 
 " I suppose not, then — no," said Juliana. 
 
 Repeating the languid words bitterly, Rose continued : 
 " What is it to love without having faith in him you love ? 
 You make my mind easier." 
 
 Juliana caught the implied taunt, and said, fretfully: 
 "I'm ill. You're so passionate. You don't tell me what 
 it is. How can I answer you ? " 
 
 " Never mind," said Rose, moving to the door, wondering 
 why she had spoken at all : but when Juliana sprang for- 
 ward, and caught her by the dress to stop her, and with a 
 most unwonted outburst of affection, begged of her to tell 
 her all, the wound in Rose's breast began to bleed, and she 
 was glad to speak. 
 
 " Juley , do you — can you believe that he wrote that letter 
 which poor Ferdinand was accused of writing ? " 
 
 Juliana appeared to muse, and then responded: "Why 
 should he do such a thing ? " 
 
 "0 my goodness, what a girl ! " Rose interjected. 
 
 " Well, then, to please you, Rose, of course I think he is 
 too honourable." 
 
 " You do think so, Juley ? But if he himself confessed it 
 — what then ? You would not believe him, would you ? " 
 
 " Oh, then I can't say. Why should he condemn himself ? " 
 
 "But you would know — you would know that he was a 
 man to suffer death rather than be guilty of the smallest 
 baseness. His birth — what is that!" Rose filliped her 
 fingers : " But his acts — what he is himself you would be 
 sure of, would you not ? Dear Juley ! Oh, for heaven's 
 sake, speak out plainly to me." 
 
 A wily look had crept over Juliana's features. 
 
 " Certainly," she said, in a tone that belied it, and draw- 
 ing Rose to her bosom, the groan she heard there was pass- 
 ing sweet to her. 
 
 "He has confessed it to Mama," sobbed Rose. "Why did 
 he not come to me first ? He has confessed it — the abomi- 
 nable thing has come out of his own mouth. He went to 
 her last night . . . ."
 
 374 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Juliana patted her shoulders regularly as they heaved. 
 When words were intelligible between them, Juliana said : 
 " At least, dear, you must admit that he has redeemed it." 
 
 " Kedeemed it ? Could he do less ? " Kose dried her 
 eyes vehemently, as if the tears shamed her. " A man who 
 could have let another suffer for his crime — I could never 
 have lifted my head again. I think I would have cut off 
 this hand that plighted itself to him ! As it is, I hardly 
 dare look at myself. But you don't think it, dear ? You 
 know it to be false ! false ! false ! " 
 
 " Why should Mr. Harrington confess it ? " said Juliana. 
 
 " Oh, don't speak his name ! " cried Kose. 
 
 Her cousin smiled. " So many strange things happen," 
 she said, and sighed. 
 
 " Don't sigh : I shall think you believe it ! " cried Kose. 
 
 An appearance of constrained repose was assumed. Rose 
 glanced up, studied for an instant, and breathlessly uttered : 
 " You do, you do believe it, Juley ? " 
 
 For answer, Juliana hugged her with much warmth, and 
 recommenced the patting. 
 
 " I dare say it's a mistake," she remarked. " He may 
 have been jealous of Ferdinand. You know I have not seen 
 the letter. I have only heard of it. In love, they say, you 
 ought to excuse . . . And the want of religious educa- 
 tion ! His sister . . . ." 
 
 Rose interrupted her with a sharp shudder. Might it not 
 be possible that one who had the same blood as the Countess 
 would stoop to a momentary vileness ? 
 
 How changed was Rose from the haughty damsel of 
 yesterday ! 
 
 " Do you think my lover could tell a lie ? " " He — 
 would not love me long if I did ! " 
 
 These phrases arose and rang in Juliana's ears while she 
 pursued the task of comforting the broken spirit that now 
 lay prone on the bed, and now impetuously paced the room. 
 Rose had come thinking the moment Juliana's name was 
 mentioned, that here was the one to fortify her faith in 
 Evan: one who, because she loved, could not doubt him. 
 She moaned in a terror of distrust, loathing her cousin : not 
 asking herself why she needed support. And indeed she 
 was too young for much clear self-questioning, and her blood
 
 ROSE WOUNDED 375 
 
 was flowing too quickly for her brain to perceive more than 
 one thing at a time. 
 
 " Does your mother believe it ? " said Juliana, evading 
 a direct assault. 
 
 " Mama ? She never doubts what you speak," answered 
 Rose, disconsolately. 
 
 " She does ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Whereat Juliana looked most grave, and Rose felt that it 
 was hard to breathe. 
 
 She had grown very cold and calm, and Juliana had to be 
 expansive unprovoked. 
 
 " Believe nothing, dear, till you hear it from his own lips. 
 If he can look in your face and say that he did it ... . 
 well, then! But of course he cannot. It must be some 
 wonderful piece of generosity to his rival." 
 
 " So I thought, Juley ! so I thought," cried Rose, at the 
 new light, and Juliana smiled contemptuously, and the light 
 flickered and died, and all was darker than before in the 
 bosom of Rose. She had borne so much that this new drop 
 was poison. 
 
 " Of course it must be that, if it is anything," Juliana pur- 
 sued. " You were made to be happy, Rose. And consider, 
 if it is true, people of very low birth, till they have lived 
 long with other people, and if they have no religion, are so 
 very likely to do things. You do not judge them as you do 
 real gentlemen, and one must not be too harsh — I only wish 
 to prepare you for the worst." 
 
 A dim form of that very idea had passed through Rose, 
 giving her small comfort. 
 
 " Let him tell you with his own lips that what he has told 
 your mother is true, and then, and not till then, believe him," 
 Juliana concluded, and they kissed kindly, and separated. 
 Rose had suddenly lost her firm step, but no sooner was 
 Juliana alone than she left the bed, and addressed her visage 
 to the glass with brightening eyes, as one who saw the 
 glimmer of young hope therein. 
 
 " She love him ! Not if he told me so ten thousand times 
 would I believe it ! and before he has said a syllable she 
 doubts him. Asking me in that frantic way ! as if I couldn't 
 see that she wanted me to help her to her faith in him, as she
 
 376 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 calls it. Not name his name? Mr. Harrington! I may 
 call him Evan : some day ! " 
 
 Half-uttered, half-mused, the unconscious exclamations 
 issued from her, and for many a wear}'- day since she had 
 dreamed of love, and studied that which is said to attract the 
 creature, she had not been so glowingly elated or looked so 
 much farther in the glass than its pale reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST 
 
 Cold through the night the dark-fringed stream had whis- 
 pered under Evan's eyes, and the night breeze voiced " Fool, 
 fool ! " to him, not without a distant echo in his heart. By sym- 
 bols and sensations he knew that Rose was lost to him. There 
 was no moon : the water seemed aimless, passing on carelessly 
 to oblivion. Now and then, the trees stirred and talked, or a 
 noise was heard from the pastures. He had slain the life that 
 lived in them, and the great glory they were to bring forth, and 
 the end to which all things moved. Had less than the loss of 
 Rose been involved, the young man might have found him- 
 self looking out on a world beneath notice, and have been 
 sighing for one more worthy of his clouded excellence : but 
 the immense misery present to him in the contemplation of 
 Rose's sad restrained contempt, saved him from the silly 
 elation which is the last, and generally successful, struggle 
 of human nature in those who can so far master it to commit 
 a sacrifice. The loss of that brave high young soul — Rose, 
 who had lifted him out of the mire with her own white 
 hands : Rose, the image of all that he worshipped : Rose, so 
 closely wedded to him that to be cut away from her was to 
 fall like pallid clay from the soaring spirit : surely he was 
 stunned and senseless when he went to utter the words to her 
 mother ! Now that he was awake, and could feel his self- 
 inflicted pain, he marvelled at his rashness and foolishness, 
 as perhaps numerous mangled warriors have done for a time, 
 when the battle-field was cool, and they were weak, and the
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST 377 
 
 uproar of their jarred nerves has beset them, lying uncher- 
 ished. 
 
 By degrees he grew aware of a little consolatory touch, 
 like the point of a needle, in his consciousness. Laxley 
 would certainly insult him ! In that case he would not 
 refuse to fight him. The darkness broke and revealed this 
 happy prospect, and Evan held to it an hour, and could 
 hardly reject it when better thoughts conquered. For would 
 it not be sweet to make the strength of his arm respected ? 
 He took a stick, and ran his eye musingly along the length, 
 trifling with it grimly. The great Mel had been his son's 
 instructor in the chivalrous science of fence, and a maltre 
 cVarmes in Portugal had given him polish. In Mel's time 
 duels with swords had been occasionally fought, and Evan 
 looked on the sword as the weapon of combat. Face to face 
 with his adversary — what then were birth or position? 
 Action ! — action ! — he sighed for it, as I have done since I 
 came to know that his history must be morally developed. A 
 glow of bitter pleasure exalted him when, after hot passages, 
 and parryings and thrusts, he had disarmed Ferdinand 
 Laxley, and bestowing on him his life, said : " Accept this 
 worthy gift of the son of a tailor ! " and he wiped his sword, 
 haply bound up his wrist, and stalked off the ground, the 
 vindicator of man's natural dignity. And then he turned 
 upon himself with laughter, discovering a most wholesome 
 power, barely to be suspected in him yet; but of all the 
 children of glittering Mel and his solid mate, Evan was the 
 best mixed compound of his parents. 
 
 He put the stick back in its corner and eyed his wrist, as 
 if he had really just gone through the pretty scene he had 
 just laughed at. It was nigh upon reality, for it suggested 
 the employment of a handkerchief, and he went to a place 
 and drew forth one that had the stain of his blood on it, and 
 the name of Rose at one end. The beloved name was half- 
 blotted by the dull-red mark, and at that sight a strange 
 tenderness took hold of Evan. His passions became dead 
 and of old date. This, then, would be his for ever ! Love, 
 for whom earth had been too small, crept exultingly into a 
 nut-shell. He clasped the treasure on his breast, and saw 
 a life beyond his parting with her. 
 
 Strengthened thus, he wrote by the morning light to Lax-
 
 378 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 ley. The letter was brief, and said simply that the act of 
 which Laxley had been accused, Evan Harrington was respon- 
 sible for. The latter expressed regret that Laxley should 
 have fallen under a false charge, and, at the same time, indi- 
 cated that if Laxley considered himself personally aggrieved, 
 the writer was at his disposal. 
 
 A messenger had now to be found to convey it to the 
 village-inn. Footmen were stirring about the house, and one 
 meeting Evan close by his door, observed with demure grin, 
 that he could not hnd the gentleman's nether-garments. The 
 gentleman, it appeared, was Mr. John Raikes, who according 
 to report, had been furnished with a bed at the house, be- 
 cause of a discovery, made at a late period over-night, that 
 farther the gentleman could not go. Evan found him sleep- 
 ing soundly. How much the poor youth wanted a friend ! 
 Fortune had given him instead a born buffoon ; and it is per- 
 haps the greatest evil of a position like Evan's, that, with 
 cultured feelings, you are likely to meet with none to know 
 you. Society does not mix well in money -pecking spheres. 
 Here, however, was John Raikes, and Evan had to make the 
 best of him. 
 
 " Eh ? " yawned Jack, awakened ; " I was dreaming I was 
 Napoleon Bonaparte's right-hand man." 
 
 " I want you to be mine for half-an-hour," said Evan. 
 
 Without replying, the distinguished officer jumped out of 
 bed at a bound, mounted a chair, and peered on tip-toe over 
 the top, from which, with a glance of self-congratulation, he 
 pulled the missing piece of apparel, sighed dejectedly, as he 
 descended, while he exclaimed : 
 
 " Safe ! but no distinction can compensate a man for this 
 state of intolerable suspicion of everybody. I assure you, 
 Harrington, I wouldn't be Napoleon himself — and I have 
 always been his peculiar admirer — to live and be afraid of 
 my valet ! I believe it will develop cancer sooner or later in 
 me. I feel singular pains already. Last night, after crown- 
 ing champagne with ale, which produced a sort of French 
 Revolution in my interior — by the way, that must have made 
 me dream of Napoleon ! — last night, with my lower members 
 in revolt against my head, I had to sit and cogitate for hours 
 on a hiding-place for these — call them what you will. De- 
 pend upon it, Harrington, this world is no such funny affair 
 as we fancy."
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST 379 
 
 " Then it is true, that you could let a man play pranks on 
 you," said Evan. "I took it for one of your jokes." 
 
 "Just as I can't believe that you're a tailor," returned 
 Jack. " It's not a bit more extraordinary." 
 
 " But, Jack, if you cause yourself to be contemptible " 
 
 " Contemptible ! " cried Jack. " This is not the tone I 
 like. " Contemptible ! why it's my eccentricity among my 
 equals. If I dread the profane vulgar, that only proves that 
 I'm above them. Odi, &c. Besides, Achilles had his weak 
 point, and egad, it was when he faced about ! By Jingo ! I 
 wish I'd had that idea yesterday. I should have behaved 
 better." 
 
 Evan could see that the creature was beginning to rely 
 desperately on his humour. 
 
 "Come," he said, "be a man to-day. Throw off your 
 motley. When I met you that night so oddly, you had been 
 acting like a worthy fellow, trying to earn your bread in the 
 best way you could " 
 
 " And precisely because I met you, of all men, I've been 
 going round and round ever since," said Jack. " A clown 
 or pantaloon would have given me balance. Say no more. 
 You couldn't help it. We met because we were the two 
 extremes." 
 
 Sighing, "What a jolly old inn!" Kaikes rolled him- 
 self over in the sheets, and gave two or three snug jolts 
 indicative of his determination to be comfortable while he 
 could. 
 
 " Do you intend to carry on this folly, Jack ? " 
 
 " Say, sacrifice," was the answer. " I feel it as much as 
 you possibly could, Mr. Harrington. Hear the facts," Jack 
 turned round again. " Why did I consent to this absurdity ? 
 Because of my ambition. That old fellow, whom I took to 
 be a clerk of Messrs. Grist, said : ' You want to cut a figure 
 in the world — you're armed now.' A sort of Fortunatus's 
 joke. It was his way of launching me. But did he think I 
 intended this for more than a lift ? I his puppet ? He, sir, 
 was my tool ! Well, I came. All my efforts were strained 
 to shorten the period of penance. I had the best linen, and 
 put on captivating manners. I should undoubtedly have won 
 some girl of station, and cast off my engagement like an old 
 suit, but just mark ! — now mark how Fortune tricks us !
 
 3S0 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 After the pic-nic yesterday, the domestics of the house came 
 to clear away, and the band being there, I stopped them and 
 bade them tune up, and at the same time seizing the maid 
 Wheedle, away we flew. We danced, we whirled, we 
 twirled. Ale upon this ! My head was lost. ' Why don't 
 it last for ever ? ' says I. ' I wish it did,' says she. The 
 naivete enraptured me. ' Oooo ! ' I cried, hugging her, and 
 then, you know, there was no course open to a man of honour 
 but to offer marriage and make a lady of her. I proposed : 
 she accepted me, and here I am, eternally tied to this accurst 
 insignia, if I'm to keep my promise ! Isn't that a sacrifice, 
 friend H. ? There's no course open to me. The poor girl is 
 madly in love. She called me a ' rattle ! ' As a gentleman, 
 I cannot recede." 
 
 Evan got up and burst into damnable laughter at this bur- 
 lesque of himself. Telling the fellow the service he required, 
 and receiving a groaning assurance that the letter should, 
 without loss of time, be delivered in proper style, the egoist, 
 as Jack heartily thought him, fell behind his knitted brows, 
 and, after musing abstractedly, went forth to light upon his 
 fate. 
 
 But a dread of meeting had seized both Eose and Evan. 
 She had exhausted her first sincerity of unbelief in her inter- 
 view with Juliana : and he had begun to consider what he 
 could say to her. More than the three words " I did it," 
 would not be possible ; and if she made him repeat them, 
 facing her truthful eyes, would he be man enough to strike 
 her bared heart twice ? And, ah ! the sullen brute he must 
 seem, standing before her dumb, hearing her sigh, seeing her 
 wretched effort not to show how unwillingly her kind spirit 
 despised him. The reason for the act — she would ask for 
 that ! Rose would not be so philosophic as her mother. She 
 would grasp at every chance to excuse the deed. He cried 
 out against his scheming sister in an agony, and while he did 
 so, encountered Miss Carrington and Miss Bonner in deep 
 converse. Juliana pinched her arm, whereupon Miss Carring- 
 ton said : " You look merry this morning, Mr. Harrington : " 
 for he was unawares smiling at the image of himself in the 
 mirror of John Raikes. That smile, transformed to a chuck- 
 ling grimace, travelled to Rose before they met. 
 
 Why did she not come to him ?
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST 381 
 
 A soft voice at his elbow made his blood stop. It was 
 Caroline. She kissed him, answering his greeting : " Is it 
 good morning?" 
 
 "Certainly," said he. "By the way, don't forget that 
 the coach leaves early." 
 
 " My darling Evan ! you make me so happy. For it was 
 really a mistaken sense of honour. For what can at all 
 excuse a falsehood, you know, Evan ! " 
 
 Caroline took his arm, and led him into the sun, watching 
 his face at times. Presently she said: "I want just to be 
 assured that you thought more wisely than when you left 
 us last night." 
 
 " More wisely ? " Evan turned to her with a playful 
 smile. 
 
 " My dear brother ! you did not do what you said you 
 would do?" 
 
 " Have you ever known me not to do what I said I would 
 do?" 
 
 " Evan ! Good heaven ! you did it ? Then how can you 
 remain here an instant ? Oh, no, no ! — say no, darling ! " 
 
 " Where is Louisa ? " he inquired. 
 
 " She is in her room. She will never appear at breakfast, 
 if she knows this." 
 
 " Perhaps more solitude would do her good," said Evan. 
 
 "Remember, if this should prove true, think how you 
 punish her ! " 
 
 On that point Evan had his own opinion. 
 
 " Well, I shall never have to punish you in this way, my 
 love," he said fondly, and Caroline dropped her eyelids. 
 
 " Don't think that I am blaming her," he added, trying to 
 feel as honestly as he spoke. " I was mad to come here. I 
 see it all now. Let us keep to our place. We are all the 
 same before God till we disgrace ourselves." 
 
 Possibly with that sense of shame which some young 
 people have who are not professors of sounding sentences, 
 or affected by missionary zeal, when they venture to breathe 
 the holy name, Evan blushed, and walked on humbly silent. 
 Caroline murmured : " Yes, yes ! oh, brother ! " and her 
 figure drew to him as if for protection. Pale, she looked up. 
 
 " Shall you always love me, Evan ? " 
 
 " Whom else have I to love ? "
 
 382 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " But always — always ? Under any circumstances ? " 
 
 " More and more, dear. I always have, and shall. I look 
 to you now. I have no home but in your heart now." 
 
 She was agitated, and he spoke warmly to calm her. 
 
 The throb of deep emotion rang in her rich voice. " I 
 will live any life to be worthy of your love, Evan," and she 
 wept. 
 
 To him they were words and tears without a history. 
 
 Nothing further passed between them. Caroline went to 
 the Countess : Evan waited for Rose. The sun was getting 
 high. The face of the stream glowed like metal. Why did 
 she not come ? She believed him guilty from the mouth of 
 another ? If so, there was something less for him to lose. 
 And now the sacrifice he had made did whisper a tale of 
 mortal magnificence in his ears : feelings that were not his 
 noblest stood up exalted. He waited till the warm meadow- 
 breath floating past told that the day had settled into heat, 
 and then he waited no more, but quietly walked into the 
 house with the strength of one who has conquered more 
 than human scorn. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY 
 
 Never would the Countess believe that brother of hers, 
 idiot as by nature he might be, and heir to unnumbered 
 epithets, would so far forget what she had done for him, as 
 to drag her through the mud for nothing : and so she told 
 Caroline again and again, vehemently. 
 
 It was about ten minutes before the time for descending to 
 the breakfast-table. She was dressed, and sat before the 
 glass, smoothing her hair, and applying the contents of a pot 
 of cold cream to her forehead betweenwhiles. With perfect 
 sincerity she repeated that she could not believe it. She had 
 only trusted Evan once since their visit to Beckley ; and that 
 this once he should, when treated as a man, turn traitor to 
 their common interests, and prove himself an utter baby, was
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY 383 
 
 a piece of nonsense her great intelligence indignantly re- 
 jected. 
 
 " Then, if true," she answered Caroline's assurances finally, 
 " if true, he is not his father's son ! " 
 
 By which it may be seen that she had indeed taken refuge 
 in the Castle of Negation against the whole army of facts. 
 
 "He is acting, Carry. He is acting the ideas of his 
 ridiculous empty noddle ! " 
 
 "No," said Caroline, mournfully, "he is not. I have 
 never known Evan to lie." 
 
 " Then you must forget the whipping he once had from 
 his mother — little dolt ! little selfish pig ! He obtains his 
 reputation entirely from his abominable selfishness, and then 
 stands tall, and asks us to admire him. He bursts with 
 vanity. But if you lend your credence to it, Carry, how, in 
 the name of goodness, are you to appear at the breakfast ? " 
 
 " I was going to ask you whether you would come," said 
 Caroline, coldly. 
 
 " If I can get my hair to lie flat by any means at all, of 
 course ! " returned the Countess. " This dreadful horrid 
 country pomade ! Why did we not bring a larger stock of 
 the Andaluqian Regenerator ? Upon my honour, my dear, 
 you use a most enormous quantity ; I must really tell you 
 that." 
 
 Conning here entered to say that Mr. Evan had given 
 orders for the boxes to be packed and everything got ready 
 to depart by half-past eleven o'clock, when the fly would call 
 for them and convey them to Faliowfield in time to meet the 
 coach for London. 
 
 The Countess turned her head round to Caroline like an 
 astonished automaton. 
 
 " Given orders ! " she interjected. 
 
 " I have very little to get ready," remarked Caroline. 
 
 " Be so good as to wait outside the door one instant," said 
 the Countess to Conning, with particular urbanity. 
 
 Conning heard a great deal of vigorous whispering within, 
 and when summoned to re-appear, a note was handed to her 
 to convey to Mr. Harrington immediately. He was on the 
 lawn ; read it, and wrote back three hasty lines in pencil. 
 
 " Louisa. You have my commands to quit this house, at 
 the, hour named, this day. You will go with me. E. H."
 
 384 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Conning was again requested to wait outside the Count- 
 ess's door. She was the bearer of another note. Evan 
 read it likewise; tore it up, and said that there was no 
 answer. 
 
 The Castle of Negation held out no longer. Euthless 
 battalions poured over the walls, blew up the Countess's 
 propriety, made frightful ravages in her complexion. Down 
 fell her hair. 
 
 " You cannot possibly go to breakfast," said Caroline. 
 
 " I must ! I must ! " cried the Countess. " Why, my dear, 
 if he has done it — wretched creature! don't you perceive 
 that, by withholding our presences, we become implicated 
 with him ? " And the Countess, from a burst of frenzy, put 
 this practical question so shrewdly, that Caroline's wits suc- 
 cumbed to her. 
 
 " But he has not done it ; he is acting ! " she pursued, 
 restraining her precious tears for higher purposes, as only 
 true heroines can. "Thinks to frighten me into submis- 
 sion ! " 
 
 " Do you not think Evan is right in wishing us to leave, 
 after — after — " Caroline humbly suggested. 
 
 " Say, before my venerable friend has departed this life, " 
 the Countess took her up. "No, I do not. If he is a fool, 
 I am not. No, Carry: J do not jump into ditches for 
 nothing. I will have something tangible for all that I have 
 endured. We are now tailors in this place, remember. If 
 that stigma is affixed to us. let us at least be remunerated 
 for it. Come." 
 
 Caroline's own hard struggle demanded all her strength : 
 yet she appeared to hesitate. " You will surely not disobey 
 Evan, Louisa?" 
 
 "Disobey?" The Countess amazedly dislocated the syl- 
 lables. " Why, the boy will be telling you next that he 
 will not permit the Duke to visit you! Just your English 
 order of mind, that cannot — brutes ! — conceive of friend- 
 ship between high-born men and beautiful women. Beau- 
 tiful as you truly are, Carry, five years more will tell on 
 you. But perhaps my dearest is in a hurry to return to her 
 Maxwell? At least he thwacks well! " 
 
 Caroline's arm was taken. The Countess loved an occa- 
 sional rhyme when a point was to be made, and went off
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY 385 
 
 nodding and tripping till the time for stateliness arrived, 
 near the breakfast-room door. She indeed was acting. At 
 the bottom of her heart there was a dismal rage of passions : 
 hatred of those who would or might look tailor in her face : 
 terrors concerning the possible re-visitation of the vengeful 
 Sir Abraham : dread of Evan and the efforts to despise him : 
 the shocks of many conflicting elements. Above it all her 
 countenance was calmly, sadly sweet: even as you may be- 
 hold some majestic lighthouse glimmering over the tumult 
 of a midnight sea. 
 
 An unusual assemblage honoured the breakfast that morn- 
 ing. The news of Mrs. Bonner's health was more favour- 
 able. How delighted was the Countess to hear that! Mrs. 
 Bouner was the only firm ground she stood on there, and 
 after receiving and giving gentle salutes, she talked of Mrs. 
 Bonner, and her night-watch by the sick bed, in a spirit of 
 doleful hope. This passed off the moments till she could 
 settle herself to study faces. Decidedly, every lady present 
 looked glum, with the single exception of Miss Current. 
 Evan was by Lady Jocelyn's side. Her ladyship spoke to 
 him; but the Countess observed that no one else did. To 
 herself, however, the gentlemen were as attentive as ever. 
 Evan sat three chairs distant from her. 
 
 If the traitor expected his sister to share in his disgrace, 
 by noticing him, he was in error. On the contrary, the 
 Countess joined the conspiracy to exclude him, and would 
 stop a mild laugh if perchance he looked up. Presently 
 Rose entered. She said " Good morning " to one or two, 
 and glided into a seat. 
 
 That Evan was under Lady Jocelyn's protection soon 
 became generally apparent, and also that her ladyship was 
 angry : an exhibition so rare with her that it was the more 
 remarked. Rose could see that she was a culprit in her 
 mother's eyes. She glanced from Evan to her. Lady 
 Jocelyn's mouth shut hard. The girl's senses then per- 
 ceived the something that was afloat at the table; she 
 thought with a pang of horror: "Has Juliana told?" 
 Juliana smiled on her; but the aspect of Mrs. Shorne, and 
 of Miss Carrington, spoke for their knowledge of that which 
 must henceforth be the perpetual reproof to her headstrong 
 youth. 
 
 25
 
 386 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "At what hour do you leave us?" said Lady Jocelyn to 
 Evan. 
 
 "When I leave the table, my lady. The fly will call for 
 my sisters at half-past eleven." 
 
 " There is no necessity for you to start in advance? " 
 
 "I am going over to see my mother." 
 
 Rose burned to speak to him now. Oh! why had she 
 delayed ! Why had she swerved from her good rule of open, 
 instant explanations? But Evan's heart was stern to his 
 love. Not only had she, by not coming, shown her doubt 
 of him, — she had betrayed him! 
 
 Between the Countess, Melville, Sir John, and the Duke, 
 an animated dialogue was going on, over which Miss Cur- 
 rent played like a lively iris. They could not part with 
 the Countess. Melville said he should be left stranded, and 
 numerous pretty things were uttered by other gentlemen ; 
 by the women not a word. Glancing from certain of them 
 lingeringly to her admirers, the Countess smiled her thanks, 
 and then Andrew, pressed to remain, said he was willing 
 and happy, and so forth; and it seemed that her admirers 
 had prevailed over her reluctance, for the Countess ended 
 her little protests with a vanquished bow. Then there was 
 a gradual rising from table. Evan pressed Lady Jocelyn' s 
 hand, and turning from her bent his head to Sir Franks, 
 who, without offering an exchange of cordialities, said, at 
 arm's length: "Good-bye, sir." Melville also gave him 
 that greeting stiffly. Harry was perceived to rush to the 
 other end of the room, in quest of a fly apparently. Poor 
 Caroline's heart ached for her brother, to see him standing 
 there in the shadow of many faces. But he was not left to 
 stand alone. Andrew quitted the circle of Sir John, Sey- 
 mour Jocelyn, Mr. George Uploft, and others, and linked 
 his arm to Evan's. Rose had gone. While Evan looked 
 for her despairingly to say his last word and hear her voice 
 once more, Sir Franks said to his wife : 
 
 "See that Rose keeps up-stairs." 
 
 "I want to speak to her," was her ladyship's answer, aofi 
 she moved to the door. 
 
 Evan made way for her, bowing. 
 
 "You will be ready at half-past eleven, Louisa," he said, 
 with calm distinctness, and passed from that purgatory;
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY 387 
 
 Now honest Andrew attributed the treatment Evan met 
 with to the exposure of yesterday. He was frantic with 
 democratic disgust. 
 
 "Why the devil don't they serve me like that, eh? 
 'Cause I got a few coppers! There, Van! I'm a man of 
 peace; hut if you'll call any man of 'em out I'll stand your 
 second — 'pon my soul, I will. They must be cowards, so 
 there isn't much to fear. Confound the fellows, I tell 'em 
 every day I'm the son of a cobbler, and egad, they grow 
 civiller. What do they mean? Are cobblers ranked over 
 tailors?" 
 
 "Perhaps that's it," said Evan. 
 
 " Hang your gentlemen ! " Andrew cried. 
 
 " Let us have breakfast first, " uttered a melancholy voice 
 near them in the passage. 
 
 "Jack! " said Evan. "Where have you been? " 
 
 " I didn't know the breakfast-room," Jack returned, " and 
 the fact is, my spirits are so down, I couldn't muster up 
 courage to ask one of the footmen. I delivered your letter. 
 Nothing hostile took place. I bowed fiercely to let him 
 know what he might expect. That generally stops it. 
 You see, I talk prose. I shall never talk anything else ! " 
 
 Andrew recommenced his jests of yesterday with Jack. 
 The latter bore them patiently, as one who had endured 
 worse. 
 
 "She has rejected me!" he whispered to Evan. "Talk 
 of the ingratitude of women ! Ten minutes ago I met her. 
 She perked her eyebrows at me! — tried to run away. 
 'Miss Wheedle:' I said. 'If you please, I'd rather not,' 
 says she. To cut it short, the sacrifice I made to her was 
 the cause. It's all over the house. She gave the most 
 excruciating hint. Those low-born females are so horribly 
 indelicate. I stood confounded." 
 
 Commending his new humour, Evan persuaded him to 
 breakfast immediately, and hunger being one of Jack's 
 solitary incitements to a sensible course of conduct, the 
 disconsolate gentleman followed its dictates. "Go with 
 him, Andrew," said Evan. "He is here as my friend, and 
 may be made uncomfortable." 
 
 "Yes, yes, — ha! ha! I'll follow the poor chap," said 
 Andrew. " But what is it all about? Louisa won't go, you
 
 388 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 know. Has the girl given you up because she saw your 
 mother, Van? I thought it was all right. Why the deuce 
 are you running away?" 
 
 " Because I've just seen that I ought never to have come, 
 I suppose," Evan replied, controlling the wretched heaving 
 of his chest. 
 
 "But Louisa won't go, Van." 
 
 " Understand, my dear Andrew, that I know it to be quite 
 imperative. Be ready yourself with Caroline. Louisa will 
 then make her choice. Pray help me in this. We must 
 not stay a minute more than is necessary in this house." 
 
 "It's an awful duty," breathed Andrew, after a pause. 
 "I see nothing but hot water at home. Why — but it's 
 no use asking questions. My love to your mother. I say, 
 Van, — now isn't Lady Jocelyn a trump?" 
 
 "God bless her!" said Evan. And the moisture in 
 Andrew's eyes affected his own. 
 
 " She's the staunchest piece of woman-goods I ever 
 
 I know a hundred cases of her ! " 
 
 "I know one, and that's enough," said Evan. 
 
 Not a sign of Rose ! Can Love die without its dear fare- 
 well on which it feeds, away from the light, dying by bits? 
 In Evan's heart Love seemed to die, and all the pangs of a 
 death were there as he trod along the gravel and stepped 
 beneath the gates of Beckley Court. 
 
 Meantime the gallant Countess was not in any way dis- 
 posed to retreat on account of Evan's defection. The 
 behaviour toward him at the breakfast-table proved to her 
 that he had absolutely committed his egregious folly, and 
 as no General can have concert with a fool, she cut him off 
 from her affections resolutely. Her manifest disdain at 
 his last speech, said as much to everybody present. Be- 
 sides, the lady was in her element here, and compulsion is 
 required to make us relinquish our element. Lady Jocel} r n 
 certainly bad not expressly begged of her to remain : the 
 Countess told Melville so, who said that if she required 
 such an invitation she should have it, but that a guest to 
 whom they were so much indebted, was bound to spare them 
 these formalities. 
 
 "What am I to do?" 
 
 The Countess turned piteously to the diplomatist's wife.
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY 389 
 
 She answered, retiringly: "Indeed I cannot say." 
 
 Upon this, the Countess accepted Melville's arm, and had 
 some thoughts of punishing the woman. 
 
 They were seen parading the lawn. Mr. George Uploft 
 chuckled singularly. 
 
 " Just the old style, " he remarked, but corrected the inad- 
 vertence with a "hem! " committing himself more shame- 
 fully the instant after. "I'll wager she has the old Dip. 
 down on his knees before she cuts." 
 
 "Bet can't be taken," observed Sir John Loring. "It 
 requires a spy." 
 
 Harry, however, had heard the remark, and because he 
 wished to speak to her, let us hope, and reproach her for 
 certain things when she chose to be disengaged, he likewise 
 sallied out, being forlorn as a youth whose sweet vanity is 
 much hurt. 
 
 The Duke had paired off with Mrs. Strike. The lawn 
 was fair in sunlight where they walked. The air was rich 
 with harvest smells, and the scent of autumnal roses. Caro- 
 line was by nature luxurious and soft. The thought of that 
 drilled figure to which she was returning in bondage, may 
 have thrown into bright relief the polished and gracious 
 nobleman who walked by her side, shadowing forth the 
 chances of a splendid freedom. Two lovely tears fell from 
 her eyes. The Duke watched them quietly. 
 
 "Do you know, they make me jealous?" he said. 
 
 Caroline answered him with a faint smile. 
 
 "Eeassure me, my dear lady; you are not going with 
 your brother this morning?" 
 
 " Your Grace, I have no choice ! " 
 
 "May I speak to you as your warmest friend? From 
 what I hear, it appears to be right that your brother should 
 not stay. To the best of my ability I will provide for 
 him: but I sincerely desire to disconnect you from those 
 who are unworthy of you. Have you not promised to trust 
 in me? Pray, let me be your guide." 
 
 Caroline replied to the heart of his words: "I dare not." 
 
 "What has changed you?" 
 
 "I am not changed, but awakened," said Caroline. 
 
 The Duke paced on in silence. 
 
 "Pardon me if I comprehend nothing of such a change,"
 
 390 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 he resumed. "I asked you to sacrifice much; all that I 
 could give in return I offered. Is it the world you fear?" 
 
 "What is the world to such as I am? " 
 
 "Can you consider it a duty to deliver yourself bound 
 to that man again?" 
 
 " Heaven pardon me, my lord, I think of that too little ! " 
 
 The Duke's next question : " Then what can it be? " stood 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Oh! " Caroline's touch quivered on his arm. "Do not 
 suppose me frivolous, ungrateful, or — or cowardly. For 
 myself you have offered more happiness than I could have 
 hoped for. To be allied to one so generous, I could bear 
 anything. Yesterday you had my word : give it me back 
 to-day ! " 
 
 Very curiously the Duke gazed on her, for there was evi- 
 dence of internal torture across her forehead. 
 
 " I may at least beg to know the cause for this request ? ' : 
 
 She quelled some throbbing in her bosom. " Yes." 
 
 He waited, and she said: "There is one — if I offended 
 him, I could not live. If now I followed my wishes, he 
 would lose his faith in the last creature that loves him. He 
 is unhappy. I could bear what is called disgrace, my lord 
 — I shudder to say it — I could sin against heaven ; but I 
 dare not do what would make him despise me." 
 
 She was trembling violently; yet the nobleman, in his 
 surprise, could not forbear from asking who this person 
 might be, whose influence on her righteous actions was so 
 strong. 
 
 " It is my brother, my lord," she said. 
 
 Still more astonished, "Your brother!" the Duke ex- 
 claimed. " My dearest lady, I would not wound you ; but is 
 not this a delusion ? We are so placed that we must speak 
 plainly. Your brother I have reason to feel sure is quite 
 unworthy of you." 
 
 " Unworthy ? My brother Evan ? Oh ! he is noble, — he 
 is the best of men ! " 
 
 " And how, between yesterday and to-day, has he changed 
 you ? " 
 
 "It is that yesterday I did not know him, and to-day 
 I do." 
 
 Her brother, a common tradesman, a man guilty of forgery
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY 391 
 
 and the utmost baseness — all but kicked out of the house ! 
 The Duke was too delicate to press her further. Moreover, 
 Caroline had emphasized the ' yesterday ' and < to-day, ' 
 showing that the interval which had darkened Evan to 
 everybody else, had illumined him to her. He employed 
 some courtly eloquence, better unrecorded ; but if her firm 
 resolution perplexed him, it threw a strange halo round 
 the youth from whom it sprang. 
 
 The hour was now eleven, and the Countess thought it full 
 time to retire to her entrenchment in Mrs. Bonner's chamber. 
 She had great things still to do : vast designs were in her 
 hand awaiting the sanction of Providence. Alas ! that little 
 idle promenade was soon to be repented. She had joined her 
 sister, thinking it safer to have her up-stairs till they were 
 quit of Evan. The Duke and the diplomatist loitering in the 
 rear, these two fair women sailed across the lawn, conscious, 
 doubtless, over all their sorrows and schemes, of the freight 
 of beauty they carried. 
 
 What meant that gathering on the steps ? It was fortui- 
 tous, like everything destined to confound us. There stood 
 Lady Jocelyn with Andrew, fretting his pate. Harry leant 
 against a pillar, Miss Carrington, Mrs. Shorne, and Mrs. 
 Melville, supported by Mr. George Uploft, held watchfully 
 by. Juliana, with Master Alec and Miss Dorothy, were in 
 the background. 
 
 Why did our General see herself cut off from her strong- 
 hold, as by a hostile band ? She saw it by that sombre light 
 in Juliana's eyes, which had shown its ominous gleam when- 
 ever disasters were on the point of unfolding. 
 
 Turning to Caroline, she said : " Is there a back way ? " 
 
 Too late ! Andrew called. 
 
 "Come along, Louisa. Just time, and no more. Carry, 
 are you packed ? " 
 
 This in reality was the first note of the retreat from 
 Beckley ; and having blown it, the hideous little trumpeter 
 burst into scarlet perspirations, mumbling to Lady Jocelyn : 
 " Now, my lady, mind you stand by me." 
 
 The Countess walked straight up to him. 
 
 " Dear Andrew ! this sun is too powerful for you. I beg 
 you, withdraw into the shade of the house." 
 
 She was about to help him with all her gentleness.
 
 392 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Yes, yes. All right, Louisa," rejoined Andrew. "Come, 
 go and pack. The fly'll be here, you know — too late for 
 the coach, if you don't mind, my lass. Ain't you packed 
 yet ? " 
 
 The horrible fascination of vulgarity impelled the wretched 
 lady to answer : " Are we herrings ? " And then she laughed, 
 but without any accompaniment. 
 
 " I am now going to dear Mrs. Bonner," she said, with a 
 tender glance at Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 " My mother is sleeping," her ladyship remarked. 
 
 " Come, Carry, my darling ! " cried Andrew. 
 
 Caroline looked at her sister. The Countess divined An- 
 drew's shameful trap. 
 
 " I was under an engagement to go and canvass this after- 
 noon," she said. 
 
 "Why, my dear Louisa, we've settled that in here this 
 morning," said Andrew. "'Old Tom only stuck up a puppet 
 to play with. We've knocked him over, and march in vic- 
 torious — eh, my lady ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the Countess, " if Mr. Eaikes shall 
 indeed have listened to my inducements ! " 
 
 " Deuce a bit of inducements ! " returned Andrew. " The 
 fellow's ashamed of himself — ha ! ha! Now then, Louisa." 
 
 While they talked, Juliana had loosed Dorothy and Alec, 
 and these imps were seen rehearsing a remarkable play, 
 in which the damsel held forth a hand and the cavalier 
 advanced and kissed it with a loud smack, being at the 
 same time reproached for his lack of grace. 
 
 " You are so English ! " cried Dorothy, with perfect lan- 
 guor, and a malicious twitter passed between two or three. 
 Mr. George spluttered indiscreetly. 
 
 The Countess observed the performance. Not to convert 
 the retreat into a total rout, she, with that dark flush which 
 was her manner of blushing, took formal leave of Lady 
 Jocelyn, who, in return, simply said : " Good-bye, Countess." 
 Mrs. Strike's hand she kindly shook. 
 
 The few digs and slaps and thrusts at gloomy Harry and 
 prim Miss Carrington and boorish Mr. George, wherewith the 
 Countess, torn with wrath, thought it necessary to cover her 
 retreat, need not be told. She struck the weak alone : Juliana 
 she respected. Masterly tactics, for they showed her power,
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY 39S 
 
 gratified her vengeance, and left her unassailed. On the road 
 she had Andrew to tear to pieces. O delicious operation ! 
 And shameful brother to reduce her to such joys ! And, 
 Providence ! may a poor desperate soul, betrayed through her 
 devotion, unremunerated for her humiliation and absolute 
 hard work, accuse thee ? The Countess would have liked to. 
 She felt it to be the instigation of the devil, and decided to 
 remain on the safe side still. 
 
 Happily for Evan, she was not ready with her packing by 
 half-past eleven. It was near twelve when he, pacing in 
 front of the inn, observed Polly Wheedle, followed some 
 yards in the rear by John Raikes, advancing towards him. 
 Now Polly had been somewhat delayed by Jack's persecu- 
 tions, and Evan declining to attend to the masked speech of 
 her mission, which directed him to go at once down a cer- 
 tain lane in the neighbourhood of the park, some minutes 
 were lost. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Harrington," said Polly, "it's Miss Rose: 
 she's had leave from her Ma. Can you stop away, when it's 
 quite proper ? " 
 
 Evan hesitated. Before he could conquer the dark spirit, 
 lo, Rose appeared, walking up the village street. Polly and 
 her adorer fell back. 
 
 Timidly, unlike herself, Rose neared him. 
 
 " I have offended you, Evan. You would not come to me : 
 I have come to you." 
 
 " I am glad to be able to say good-bye to you, Rose," was 
 his pretty response. 
 
 Could she have touched his hand then, the blood of these 
 lovers rushing to one channel must have made all clear. At 
 least he could hardly have struck her true heart with his 
 miserable lie. But that chance was lost: they were in the 
 street, where passions have no play. 
 
 " Tell me, Evan, — it is not true." 
 
 He, refining on his misery, thought, She would not ask 
 it if she trusted me : and answered her : " You have heard 
 it from your mother, Rose." 
 
 " But I will not believe it from any lips but yours, Evan. 
 Oh, speak, speak ! " 
 
 It pleased him to think : How could one who loved me 
 believe it even then ?
 
 394 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 He said : " It can scarcely do good to make me repeat it, 
 Rose." 
 
 And then, seeing her dear bosom heave quickly, he was 
 tempted to fall on his knees to her with a wild, outcry 
 of love. The chance was lost. The inexorable street for- 
 bade it. 
 
 There they stood in silence, gasping at the barrier that 
 divided them. 
 
 Suddenly a noise was heard. " Stop ! stop ! " cried the 
 voice of John Raikes. " When a lady and gentleman are 
 talking together, sir, do you lean your long ears over them 
 — ha?" 
 
 Looking round, Evan beheld Laxley a step behind, and 
 Jack rushing up to him, seizing his collar, and instantly 
 undergoing ignominious prostration for his heroic defence 
 of the privacy of lovers. 
 
 " Stand aside," said Laxley, imperiously. " Rosey ! so 
 you've come for me. Take my arm. You are under my 
 protection." 
 
 Another forlorn "Is it true?" Rose cast toward Evan 
 with her eyes. He wavered under them. 
 
 " Did you receive my letter ? " he demanded of Laxley. 
 
 " I decline to hold converse with you," said Laxley, draw- 
 ing Rose's hand on his arm. 
 
 " You will meet me to-day or to-morrow ? " 
 
 "I am in the habit of selecting my own company." 
 
 Rose disengaged her hand. Evan grasped it. No word 
 of farewell was uttered. Her mouth moved, but her eyes 
 were hard shut, and nothing save her hand's strenuous 
 pressure, equalling his own, told that their parting had been 
 spoken, the link violently snapped. 
 
 Mr. John Raikes had been picked up and pulled away 
 by Polly. She now rushed to Evan: "Good-bye, and 
 God bless you, dear Mr. Harrington. I'll find means of 
 letting you know how she is. And he shan't have her, 
 mind!" 
 
 Rose was walking by Laxley's side, but not leaning on 
 his arm. Evan blessed her for this. Ere she was out of 
 sight the fly rolled down the street. She did not heed it, 
 did not once turn her head. Ah, bitter unkindness ! 
 
 When Love is hurt, it is self-love that requires the opiate.
 
 IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DARK 395 
 
 Conning gave it him in the form of a note in a handwriting 
 not known to him. It said : — 
 
 "/do not believe it, and nothing will ever make me. 
 
 "Juliana." 
 
 Evan could not forget these words. They coloured his 
 farewell to Beckley : the dear old downs, the hop-gardens, 
 the long grey farms walled with clipped yew, the home of 
 Ms lost love ! He thought of them through weary nights 
 when the ghostly image with the hard shut eyelids and the 
 quivering lips would rise and sway irresolutely in air till a 
 shape out of the darkness extinguished it. Pride is the God 
 of Pagans. Juliana had honoured his God. The spirit of 
 Juliana seemed to pass into the body of Rose, and suffer for 
 him as that ghostly image visibly suffered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DARK 
 
 So ends the fourth act of our comedy. 
 
 After all her heroism and extraordinary efforts, after, as 
 she feared, offending Providence — after facing Tailordom 
 — the Countess was rolled away in a dingy fly : unrewarded 
 even by a penny, for what she had gone through. For she 
 possessed eminently the practical nature of her sex; and 
 though she would have scorned, and would have declined to 
 handle coin so base, its absence was upbraidingly mentioned 
 in her spiritual outcries. Not a penny ! 
 
 Nor was there, as in the miseries of retreat she affected 
 indifferently to imagine, a Duke fished out of the ruins of 
 her enterprise, to wash the mud off her garments and edge 
 them with radiance. Caroline, it became clear to her, had 
 been infected by Evan's folly. Caroline, she subsequently 
 learnt, had likewise been a fool. Instead of marvelling at 
 the genius that had done so much in spite of the pair of fools 
 that were the right and left wing of her battle array, the
 
 396 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 simple-minded lady wept. She wanted success, not genius. 
 Admiration she was ever ready to forfeit for success. 
 
 Nor did she say to the tailors of earth: "Weep, for I 
 sought to emancipate you from opprobrium by making one 
 of you a gentleman ; I fought for a great principle and have 
 failed." Heroic to the end, she herself shed all the tears ; 
 took all the sorrow ! 
 
 Where was consolation ? Would any Protestant clergy- 
 man administer comfort to her ? Could he ? — might he do 
 so? He might listen, and quote texts; but he would de- 
 mand the harsh rude English for everything ; and the Count- 
 ess's confessional thoughts were all innuendoish, aerial ; too 
 delicate to live in our shameless tongue. Confession by im- 
 plication, and absolution ; she could know this to be what 
 she wished for, and yet not think it. She could see a haven 
 of peace in that picture of the little brown box with the 
 sleekly reverend figure bending his ear to the kneeling 
 Beauty outside, thrice ravishing as she half-lifts the veil of 
 her sins and her visage! — yet she started alarmed to hear 
 it whispered that the fair penitent was the Countess de 
 Saldar; urgently she prayed that no disgraceful brother 
 might ever drive her to that ! 
 
 Never let it be a Catholic priest ! — she almost fashioned 
 her petition into words. Who was to save her ? Alas ! alas ! 
 in her dire distress — in her sense of miserable penniless- 
 ness, she clung to Mr. John Raikes, of the curricle, the mys- 
 teriously rich young gentleman ; and on that picture, with 
 Andrew roguishly contemplating it, and Evan, with feelings 
 regarding his sister that he liked not to own, the curtain 
 commiseratingly drops. 
 
 As in the course of a stream you come upon certain dips, 
 where, but here and there, a sparkle or a gloom of the full 
 flowing water is caught through deepening foliage, so the 
 history that concerns us wanders out of day for a time, and 
 we must violate the post and open written leaves to mark 
 the turn it takes. 
 
 First we have a letter from Mr. Goren to Mrs. Mel, to 
 inform her that her son has arrived and paid his respects to 
 his future instructor in the branch of science practised by 
 Mr. Goren.
 
 IX WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DARK 397 
 
 ''He has arrived at last," says the worthy tradesman. 
 "His appearance in the shop will be highly gentlemanly, 
 and when he looks a little more pleasing, and grows fond of 
 it, nothing will be left to be desired. The ladies, his sisters, 
 have not thought proper to call. I had hopes of the custom 
 of Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. Of course you wish him to learn 
 tailoring thoroughly ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel writes back, thanking Mr. Goren, and saying 
 that she had shown the letter to inquiring creditors, and that 
 she does wish her son to learn his business from the root. 
 This produces a second letter from Mr. Goren, which imparts 
 to her that at the root of the tree of tailoring the novitiate 
 must sit no less than six hours a day with his legs crossed 
 and doubled under him, cheerf idly plying needle and thread ; 
 and that, without this probation, to undergo which the son 
 resolutely objects, all hope of his climbing to the top of the 
 lofty tree, and viewing mankind from an eminence, must be 
 surrendered. 
 
 " If you do not insist, my dear Mrs. Harrington, I tell 
 you candidly, your son may have a shop, but he will be no 
 tailor." 
 
 Mrs. Mel understands her son and his state of mind well 
 enough not to insist, and is resigned to the melancholy con- 
 sequence. 
 
 Then Mr. Goren discovers an extraordinary resemblance 
 between Evan and his father; remarking merely that the 
 youth is not the gentleman his father was in a shop, while 
 he admits, that had it been conjoined to business habits, he 
 should have envied his departed friend. 
 
 He has soon something fresh to tell ; and it is that young 
 Mr. Harrington is treating him cavalierly. That he should 
 penetrate the idea or appreciate the merits of Mr. Goren's 
 Balance was hardly to be expected at present : the world did 
 not, and Mr. Goren blamed no young man for his ignorance. 
 Still a proper attendance was requisite. Mr. Goren thought 
 it very singular that young Mr. Harrington should demand 
 all the hours of the day for his own purposes, — up to half- 
 past four. He found it difficult to speak to him as a master, 
 and begged that Mrs. Harrington would, as a mother. 
 
 The reply of Mrs. Mel is dashed with a trifle of cajolery. 
 She has heard from her son, and seeing that her son takes
 
 398 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 all that time from his right studies, to earn money wherewith 
 to pay debts of which Mr. Goren is cognizant, she trusts 
 that their oldest friend will overlook it. 
 
 Mr. Goren rejoins that he considers that he need not have 
 been excluded from young Mr. Harrington's confidence. 
 Moreover, it is a grief to him that the young gentleman 
 should refrain from accepting any of his suggestions as to the 
 propriety of requesting some, at least, of his rich and titled 
 acquaintance to confer on him the favour of their patronage. 
 
 -Which they would not repent,'' adds Mr. Goren, "and 
 might learn to be very much obliged to him for, in return 
 for kindnesses extended to him." 
 
 Notwithstanding all my efforts, you see, the poor boy is 
 thrust into the shop. There he is, without a doubt. He 
 sleeps under Mr. Goren-' s roof : he (since one cannot be too 
 positive in citing the punishment of such a Pagan) stands 
 behind a counter : he (and, oh ! choke, young loves, that 
 have hovered around him! shrink from him in natural 
 horror, gentle ladies !) handles the shears. It is not my 
 fault. He would be a Pagan. 
 
 If you can think him human enough still to care to know 
 how he feels it, I must tell you that he feels it hardly at 
 all. After a big blow, a very little one scarcely counts. 
 What are outward forms and social ignominies to him whose 
 heart has been struck to the dust ? His Gods have fought 
 for him, and there he is ! He deserves no pity. 
 
 But he does not ask it of you, the callous Pagan ! Despise 
 him, if you please, and rank with the Countess, who despises 
 him most heartily. 
 
 Dipping further into the secrets of the post, we discover 
 a brisk correspondence between Juliana Bonner and Mrs. 
 Strike. 
 
 " A thousand thanks to you, my dear Miss Bonner," writes 
 the latter lady. " The unaffected interest you take in my 
 brother touches me deeply. I know him to be worthy of 
 your good opinion. Yes, I will open my heart to you, dearest 
 Juliana; and it shall, as you wish, be quite secret between 
 us. Not to a soul ! 
 
 4< He is quite alone. My sisters Harriet and Louisa will 
 not see him, and I can only do so by stealth. His odd little
 
 IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IX THE DARK 399 
 
 friend sometimes drives me out on Sundays, to a place where 
 I meet him ; and the Duke of Belfield kindly lends me his 
 carriage. Oh, that we might never part ! I am only happy 
 with him ! 
 
 " Ah, do not doubt him, Juliana, for anything he does ! 
 You say, that now the Duke has obtained for him the Secre- 
 taryship to my husband's Company, he should not stoop to 
 that other thing, and you do not understand why. I will 
 tell you. Our poor father died in debt, and Evan receives 
 money which enables him by degrees to liquidate these debts, 
 on condition that he consents to be what / dislike as much 
 as you can. He bears it ; you can have no idea of his pride ! 
 He is too proud to own to himself that it debases him — too 
 proud to complain. It is a tangle — a net that drags him 
 down to it : but whatever he is outwardly, he is the noblest 
 human being in the world to me, and but for him, oh, tvhat 
 shoidd I be? Let me beg you to forgive it, if you can. My 
 darling has no friends. Is his temper as sweet as ever ? I 
 can answer that. Yes, only he is silent, and looks — when 
 you look into his eyes — colder, as men look when they will 
 not bear much from other men. 
 
 "He has not mentioned her name. I am sure she has not 
 written. 
 
 " Pity him, and pray for him." 
 
 Juliana then makes a communication, which draws forth 
 the following : — 
 
 "Mistress of all the Beckley property — dearest, dearest 
 Juliana! Oh! how sincerely I congratulate you! The 
 black on the letter alarmed me so, I could hardly open it, 
 my fingers trembled so ; for I esteem you all at Beckley ; 
 but when I had opened and read it, I was recompensed. 
 You say you are sorry for Rose. But surely what your 
 Grandmama has done is quite right. It is just, in every 
 sense. But why am I not to tell Evan ? I am certain it 
 would make him very happy, and happiness of any kind he 
 needs so much ! I will obey you, of course, but I cannot 
 see why. Do you know, my dear child, you are extremely 
 mysterious, and puzzle me. Evan takes a pleasure in speak- 
 ing of you. You and Lady Jocelyn are his great themes. 
 Why is he to be kept ignorant of your good fortune ? The 
 spitting of blood is bad. You must winter in a warm
 
 400 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 climate. I do think that London is far better for you in 
 the late Autumn than Hampshire. May I ask my sister 
 Harriet to invite you to reside with her for some weeks ? 
 Nothing, I know, would give her greater pleasure." 
 
 Juliana answers this — 
 
 " If you love me — I sometimes hope that you do — but 
 the feeling of being loved is so strange to me that I can only 
 believe it at times — but, Caroline — there, I have mustered 
 up courage to call you by your Christian name at last — oh, 
 dear Caroline ! if you do love me, do not tell Mr. Harring- 
 ton. I go on my knees to you to beg you not to tell him a 
 word. I have no reasons indeed — not any ; but I implore 
 you again never even to hint that I am anything but the 
 person he knew at Beckley. 
 
 " Eose has gone to Elburne House, where Ferdinand, her 
 friend, is to meet her. She rides and sings the same, and 
 keeps all her colour. 
 
 " She may not, as you imagine, have much sensibility. 
 Perhaps not enough. I am afraid that Eose is turning into 
 a very worldly woman ! 
 
 " As to what you kindly say about inviting me to London, 
 I should like it, and I am my own mistress. Do you know, 
 I think I am older than your brother ! I am twenty-£/*ree. 
 Pray, when you write, tell me if he is older than that. But 
 should I not be a dreadful burden to you ? Sometimes I 
 have to keep to my chamber whole days and days. When 
 that happens now, I think of you entirely. See how I open 
 my heart to you. You say that you do to me. I wish I 
 could really think it." 
 
 A postscript begs Caroline " not to forget about the ages." 
 
 In this fashion the two ladies open their hearts, and con- 
 trive to read one another perfectly in their mutual hypoc- 
 risies. 
 
 Some letters bearing the signatures of Mr. John Eaikes, 
 and Miss Polly Wheedle, likewise pass. Polly inquires for 
 detailed accounts of the health and doings of Mr. Harring- 
 ton. Jack replies with full particulars of her own proceed- 
 ings, and mild corrections of her grammar. It is to be noted 
 that Polly grows much humbler to him on paper, which being 
 instantly perceived by the mercurial one, his caressing con- 
 descension to her is very beautiful. She is taunted with Mr.
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM 401 
 
 Nicholas Frim, and answers, after the lapse of a week, that 
 the aforesaid can be nothing to her, as he " went in a passion 
 to church last Sunday and got married." It appears that 
 they had quarrelled, "because I danced with you that 
 night." To this Mr. Raikes rejoins in a style that would 
 be signified by " ahem ! " in language, and an arrangement 
 of the shirt collar before the looking-glass, in action. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM 
 
 There was peace in Mr. Goren's shop. Badgered Ministers, 
 bankrupt merchants, diplomatists with a headache — any of 
 our modern grandees under difficulties, might have envied 
 that peace over which Mr. Goren presided : and he was an 
 enviable man. He loved his craft, he believed that he had 
 not succeeded the millions of antecedent tailors in vain ; and, 
 excepting that trifling coquetry with shirt-fronts, viz., the 
 red crosses which a shrewd rival had very soon eclipsed by 
 representing nymphs triangularly posed, he devoted himself 
 to his business from morning to night ; as rigid in demanding 
 respect from those beneath him, as he was profuse in lavishing 
 it on his patrons. His public boast was, that he owed no 
 man a farthing ; his secret comfort, that he possessed two 
 thousand pounds in the Funds. But Mr. Goren did not stop 
 here. Behind these external characteristics he nursed a 
 passion. Evan was astonished and pleased to find in him 
 an enthusiastic fern-collector. Not that Mr. Harrington 
 shared the passion, but the sight of these brown roots spread 
 out, ticketed, on the stained paper, after supper, when the 
 shutters were up and the house defended from the hostile 
 outer world; the old man poring over them, and naming 
 this and that spot where, during his solitary Saturday after- 
 noon and Sunday excursions, he had lighted on the rare 
 samples exhibited : this contrast of the quiet evening with 
 the sordid day humanized Mr. Goren to him. He began to 
 see a spirit in the rigid tradesman not so utterly dissimilar 
 
 26
 
 402 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 to his own, and he fancied that he, too, had a taste for ferns. 
 Bound Beckley how they abounded ! 
 
 He told Mr. Goren so, and Mr. Goren said : 
 
 " Some day we'll jog down there together, as the saying 
 goes." 
 
 Mr. Goren spoke of it as an ordinary event, likely to hap- 
 pen in the days to come : not as an incident the mere mention 
 of which, as being probable, stopped the breath and made 
 the pulses leap. 
 
 For now Evan's education taught him to feel that he was 
 at his lowest degree. Never now could Rose stoop to him. 
 He carried the shop on his back. She saw the brand of it 
 on his forehead. Well ! and what was Bose to him, beyond 
 a blissful memory, a star that he had once touched ? Self- 
 love kept him strong by day, but in the darkness of night 
 came his misery; wakening from tender dreams, he would 
 find his heart sinking under a horrible pressure, and then 
 the fair fresh face of Bose swam over him; the hours of 
 Beckley were revived ; with intolerable anguish he saw that 
 she was blameless — that he alone was to blame. Yet worse 
 was it when his closed eyelids refused to conjure up the 
 sorrowful lovely nightmare, and he lay like one in a trance, 
 entombed — wretched Pagan! feeling all that had been 
 blindly ; when the Past lay beside him like a corpse that 
 he had slain. 
 
 These nightly torments helped him to brave what the 
 morning brought. Insensibly also, as Time hardened his 
 sufferings, Evan asked himself what the shame of his posi- 
 tion consisted in. He grew stiff-necked. His Pagan virtues 
 stood up one by one to support him. Andrew, courageously 
 evading the interdict that forbade him to visit Evan, would 
 meet him by appointment at City taverns, and flatly offered 
 him a place in the Brewery. Evan declined it, on the pre- 
 text that, having received Old Tom's money for the year, he 
 must at least work out that term according to the conditions. 
 Andrew fumed and sneered at Tailordom. Evan said that 
 there was peace in Mr. Goren's shop. His sharp senses 
 discerned in Andrew's sneer a certain sincerity, and he re- 
 volted against it. Mr. John Baikes, too, burlesqued Society 
 so well, that he had the satisfaction of laughing at his enemy 
 occasionally. The latter gentleman was still a pensioner,
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM 403 
 
 flying about town with the Countess de Saldar, in deadly- 
 fear lest that fascinating lady should discover the seat of his 
 fortune ; happy, notwithstanding. In the mirror of Evan's 
 little world, he beheld the great one from which he was 
 banished. 
 
 Now the dusk of a winter's afternoon was closing over 
 London, when a carriage drew up in front of Mr. Goren's 
 shop, out of which, to Mr. Goren's chagrin, a lady stepped, 
 with her veil down. The lady entered, and said that she 
 wished to speak to Mr. Harrington. Mr. Goren made way 
 for her to his pupil ; and was amazed to see her fall into his 
 arms, and hardly gratified to hear her say: " Pardon me, 
 darling, for coming to you in this place." 
 
 Evan asked permission to occupy the parlour. 
 
 " My place," said Mr. Goren, with humble severity, over 
 his spectacles, "is very poor. Such as it is, it is at the 
 lady's service." 
 
 Alone with her, Evan was about to ease his own feelings 
 by remarking to the effect that Mr. Goren was human like 
 the rest of us, but Caroline cried, with unwonted vivacity : 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know ; but I thought only of you. I have 
 such news for you ! You will and must pardon my coming 
 — that's my first thought, sensitive darling that you are ! " 
 She kissed him fondly. " Juliana Bonner is in town stay- 
 ing with us ! " 
 
 " Is that your news ? " asked Evan, pressing her against 
 his breast. 
 
 "No, dear love — but still ! You have no idea what her 
 fortune — Mrs. Bonner has died and left her — but I mustn't 
 tell you. Oh, my darling ! how she admires you ! She — 
 she could recompense you; if you would! We will put 
 that by, for the present. Dear ! the Duke has begged you, 
 through me, to accept — I think it's to be a sort of bailiff to 
 his estates — I don't know rightly. It's a very honourable 
 post, that gentlemen take : and the income you are to have, 
 Evan, will be near a thousand a year. Now, what do I 
 deserve for my news ? " 
 
 She put up her mouth for another kiss, out of breath. 
 
 " True ? " looked Evan's eyes. 
 
 " True ! " she said, smiling, and feasting on his bewilder- 
 ment.
 
 404 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 After the bubbling in his brain had a little subsided, 
 Evan breathed as a man on whom fresh air is blown. Were 
 not these tidings of release ? His ridiculous pride must 
 nevertheless inquire whether Caroline had been begging 
 this for him. 
 
 " No, dear — indeed ! " Caroline asserted with more than 
 natural vehemence. " It's something that you yourself have 
 done that has pleased him. I don't know what. Only he 
 says, he believes you are a man to be trusted with the keys 
 of any tiling — and so you are. You are to call on him 
 to-morrow. Will you ? " 
 
 While Evan was replying, her face became white. She 
 had heard the Major's voice in the shop. His military 
 step advanced, and Caroline, exclaiming, "Don't let me see 
 him!" bustled to a door. Evan nodded, and she slipped 
 through. The next moment he was facing the stiff marine. 
 
 "Well, young man," the Major commenced, and, seating 
 himself, added, " be seated. I want to talk to you seriously, 
 sir. You didn't think fit to wait till I had done with the 
 Directors to-day. You're devilishly out in your discipline, 
 whatever you are at two and two. I suppose there's no fear 
 of being intruded on here? None of your acquaintances 
 likely to be introducing themselves to me ? " 
 
 " There is not one that I would introduce to you," said 
 Evan. 
 
 The Major nodded a brief recognition of the compliment, 
 and then, throwing his back against the chair, fired out: 
 " Come, sir, is this your doing ? " 
 
 In military phrase, Evan now changed front. His first 
 thought had been that the Major had come for his wife. 
 He perceived that he himself was the special object of his 
 visitation. 
 
 " I must ask you what you allude to," he answered. 
 
 " You are not at your office, but you will speak to me as 
 if there was some distinction between us," said the Major. 
 " My having married your sister does not reduce me to the 
 ranks, I hope." 
 
 The Major drummed his knuckles on the table, after this 
 impressive delivery. 
 
 " Hem ! " he resumed. " Now, sir, understand, before 
 you speak a word, that I can see through any number of
 
 EST THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM 405 
 
 infernal lies. I see that you're prepared for prevarication. 
 By George ! it shall come out of you, if I get it by main 
 force. The Duke compelled me to give you that appoint- 
 ment in my Company. Now, sir, did you, or did you not, 
 go to him and deliberately state to him that you believed 
 the affairs of the Company to be in a bad condition — 
 infamously handled, likely to involve his honour as a gentle- 
 man ? I ask you, sir, did you do this, or did you not do 
 it?" 
 
 Evan waited till the sharp rattle of the Major's close had 
 quieted. 
 
 " If I am to answer the wording of your statement, I may 
 say that I did not." 
 
 " Very good ; very good ; that will do. Are you aware 
 that the Duke has sent in his resignation as a Director of 
 our Company ? " 
 
 " I hear of it first from you." 
 
 " Confound your familiarity ! " cried the irritable officer, 
 rising. " Am I always to be told that I married your sister ? 
 Address me, sir, as becomes your duty." 
 
 Evan heard the words " beggarly tailor " mumbled : " out 
 of the gutters," and " cursed connection." He stood in the 
 attitude of attention, while the Major continued : 
 
 "Now, young man, listen to these facts. You came to 
 me this day last week, and complained that you did not 
 comprehend some of our transactions and affairs. I ex- 
 plained them to your damned stupidity. You went away. 
 Three days after that, you had an interview with the Duke. 
 Stop, sir ! What the devil do you mean by daring to speak 
 while I am speaking ? You saw the Duke, I say. Now, 
 what took place at that interview ? " 
 
 The Major tried to tower over Evan powerfully, as he put 
 this query. They were of a common height, and to do so, 
 he had to rise on his toes, so that the effect was but momen- 
 tary. 
 
 " I think I am not bound to reply," said Evan. 
 
 "Very well, sir; that will do." The Major's fingers were 
 evidently itching for an absent rattan. " Confess it or not, 
 you are dismissed from your post. Do you hear ? You are 
 kicked in the street. A beggarly tailor you were born, and 
 a beggarly tailor you will die."
 
 406 EVAN HABBINGTON 
 
 " I must beg you to stop, now," said Evan. " I told you 
 that I was not bound to reply : but I will. If you will sit 
 down, Major Strike, you shall hear what you wish to 
 know." 
 
 This being presently complied with, though not before a 
 glare of the Major's eyes had shown his doubt whether it 
 might not be construed into insolence, Evan pursued : 
 
 " I came to you and informed you that I could not recon- 
 cile the cash-accounts of the Company, and that certain of 
 the later proceedings appeared to me to jeopardize its pros- 
 perity. Your explanations did not satisfy me. I admit 
 that you enjoined me to be silent. But the Duke, as a 
 Director, had as strong a right to claim me as his servant, 
 and when he questioned me as to the position of the 
 Company, I told him what I thought, just as I had told 
 you." 
 
 " You told him we were jobbers and swindlers, sir ! " 
 
 " The Duke inquired of me whether I would, under the 
 circumstances, while proceedings were going on which I did 
 not approve of, take the responsibility of allowing my name 
 to remain " 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! " the Major burst out. This was too good 
 a joke. The name of a miserable young tailor ! — " Go on, 
 sir, go on ! " He swallowed his laughter like oil on his 
 rage. 
 
 "I have said sufficient." 
 
 Jumping up, the Major swore by the Lord, that he had 
 said sufficient. 
 
 "Now, look you here, young man." He squared his 
 finger before Evan, eyeing him under a hard frown. " You 
 have been playing your game again, as you did down at 
 that place in Hampshire. I heard of it — deserved to be 
 shot, by heaven ! You think you have got hold of the 
 Duke, and you throw me over. You imagine, I dare say, 
 that I will allow my wife to be talked about to further 
 your interests — you self-seeking young dog! As long as 
 he lent the Company his name, I permitted a great many 
 things. Do you think me a blind idiot, sir ? But now she 
 must learn to be satisfied with people who've got no titles, 
 or carriages, and who can't give hundred guinea compli- 
 ments. You're all of a piece — a set of . . . ."
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM 407 
 
 The Major paused, for half a word was on his mouth, which 
 had drawn lightning to Evan's eyes. 
 
 Not to be baffled, he added : " But look you, sir. I may 
 be ruined. I dare say the Company will go to the dogs — 
 every ass will follow a Duke. But, mark, this goes on no 
 more. I will be no woman's cully. Mind, sir, I take excel- 
 lent care that you don't traffic in your sister ! " 
 
 The Major delivered this culminating remark with a well- 
 timed deflection of his forefinger, and slightly turned aside 
 when he had done. 
 
 You might have seen Evan's figure rocking, as he stood 
 with his eyes steadily levelled on his sister's husband. 
 
 The Major, who, whatever he was, was physically no 
 coward, did not fail to interpret the look, and challenge it. 
 
 Evan walked to the door, opened it, and said, between his 
 teeth, " You must go at once." 
 
 " Eh, sir, eh ? what's this ? " exclaimed the warrior : but 
 the door was open, Mr. Goren was in the shop ; the scandal 
 of an assault in such a house, and the consequent possibility 
 of his matrimonial alliance becoming bruited in the news- 
 papers, held his arm after it had given an involuntary jerk. 
 He marched through with becoming dignity, and marched 
 out into the street ; and if necks unelastic and heads erect 
 may be taken as the sign of a proud soul and of nobility of 
 mind, my artist has the Major for his model. 
 
 Evan displayed no such a presence. He returned to the 
 little parlour, shut and locked the door to the shop, and for- 
 getting that one was near, sat down, covered his eyes, and 
 gave way to a fit of tearless sobbing. With one foot in the 
 room Caroline hung watching him. A pain that she had 
 never known wrung her nerves. His whole manhood 
 seemed to be shaken, as if by regular pulsations of intensest 
 misery. She stood in awe of the sight till her limbs failed 
 her, and then staggering to him she fell on her knees, 
 clasping his, passionately kissing them.
 
 408 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 IN WHICH THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME 
 
 Mr. Raik.es and his friend Frank Remand, surnamed 
 Franko, to suit the requirements of metre, in which they 
 habitually conversed, were walking arm-in-arm along the 
 drive in Society's Park on a fine frosty Sunday afternoon of 
 midwinter. The quips and jokes of Franko were lively, and 
 he looked into the carriages passing, as if he knew that a 
 cheerful countenance is not without charms for their in- 
 mates. Raikes's face, on the contrary, was barren and bleak. 
 Being of that nature that when a pun was made he must 
 perforce outstrip it, he fell into Franko's humour from time 
 to time, but albeit aware that what he uttered was good, and 
 by comparison transcendent, he refused to enjoy it. Nor 
 when Franko started from his arm to declaim a passage, 
 did he do other than make limp efforts to unite himself to 
 Franko again. A further sign of immense depression in 
 him was that instead of the creative, it was the critical 
 faculty he exercised, and rather than reply to Franko in his 
 form of speech, he scanned occasional lines and objected to 
 particular phrases. He had clearly exchanged the sanguine 
 for the bilious temperament, and was fast stranding on the 
 rocky shores of prose. Franko bore this very well, for he, 
 like Raikes in happier days, claimed all the glances of 
 lovely woman as his own, and on his right there flowed a 
 stream of Beauties. At last he was compelled to observe : 
 " This change is sudden : wherefore so downcast ? With 
 tigrine claw thou mangiest my speech, thy cheeks are like 
 December's pippin, and thy tongue most sour ! " 
 
 " Then of it make a farce ! " said Raikes, for the making 
 of farces was Franko's profession. " Wherefore so down- 
 cast ! what a line ! There ! let's walk on. Let us the left 
 foot forward stout advance. I care not for the herd." 
 
 " 'Tis love ! " cried Franko. 
 
 " Ay, an' it be ! " Jack gloomily returned. 
 
 " For ever cruel is the sweet Saldar ? " 
 
 Raikes winced at this name.
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME 409 
 
 " A truce to banter, Franko ! " he said sternly : but the 
 subject was opened, and the wound. 
 
 " Love ! " he pursued, mildly groaning. " Suppose you 
 adored a fascinating woman, and she knew — positively 
 knew — your manly weakness, and you saw her smiling 
 upon everybody, and she told you to be happy, and egad, 
 when you came to reflect, you found that after three 
 months' suit you were nothing better than her errand-boy ? 
 A thing to boast of, is it not, quotha ? " 
 
 " Love's yellow-fever, jealousy, methinks," Franko 
 commenced in reply ; but Raikes spat at the emphasized 
 word. 
 
 "Jealousy ! — who's jealous of clergymen and that crew ? 
 Not I, by Pluto ! I carried five messages to one fellow with 
 a coat-tail straight to his heels, last week. She thought I 
 should drive my curricle — I couldn't afford an omnibus ! 
 I had to run. When I returned to her I was dirty. She 
 made remarks ! " 
 
 " Thy sufferings are severe — but such is woman ! " said 
 Franko. " 'Gad, it's a good idea, though." He took out a 
 note-book and pencilled down a point or two. Raikes 
 watched the process sardonically. 
 
 " My tragedy is, then, thy farce ! " he exclaimed. " Well, 
 be it so ! I believe I shall come to song-writing again my- 
 self shortly — beneath the shield of Catnach I'll a nation's 
 ballads frame. I've spent my income in four months, and 
 now I'm living on my curricle. I underlet it. It's like 
 trade — it's as bad as poor old Harrington, by Jove ! 
 But that isn't the worst, Franko ! " Jack dropped his 
 voice : " I believe I'm furiously loved by a poor country 
 wench." 
 
 " Morals ! " was Franko's most encouraging reproof. 
 
 " Oh, I don't think I've even kissed her," rejoined Raikes, 
 who doubted because his imagination was vivid. " It's my 
 intellect that dazzles her. I've got letters — she calls me 
 clever. By Jove ! since I gave up driving I've had thoughts 
 of rushing down to her and making her mine in spite of 
 home, family, fortune, friends, name, position — everything ! 
 I have, indeed." 
 
 Franko looked naturally astonished at this amount of 
 self-sacrifice. " The Countess ? " he shrewdly suggested.
 
 410 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 1 I'd rather be my Polly's prince, 
 Than yon great lady's errand-boy ! 
 
 u 
 
 Raikes burst into song. 
 
 He stretched out his hand, as if to discard all the great 
 ladies who were passing. By the strangest misfortune ever 
 known, the direction taken by his fingers was toward a 
 carriage wherein, beautifully smiling opposite an elaborately 
 reverend gentleman of middle age, the Countess de Saldar 
 was sitting. This great lady is not to be blamed for deem- 
 ing that her errand-boy was pointing her out vulgarly on a 
 public promenade. Ineffable disdain curled off her sweet 
 olive visage. She turned her head. 
 
 " I'll go down to that girl to-night," said Raikes, with 
 compressed passion. And then he hurried Franko along to 
 the bridge, where, behold, the Countess alighted with the 
 gentleman, and walked beside him into the gardens. 
 
 " Follow her," said Raikes, in agitation. " Do you see 
 her ? by yon long-tailed raven's side ? Follow her, Franko ! 
 See if he kisses her hand — anything ! and meet me here in 
 half-an-hour. I'll have evidence ! " 
 
 Franko did not altogether like the office, but Raikes's 
 dinners, singular luck, and superiority in the encounter of 
 puns, gave him the upper hand with his friend, and so 
 Franko went. 
 
 Turning away from the last glimpse of his Countess, 
 Raikes crossed the bridge, and had not strolled far beneath 
 the bare branches of one of the long green walks, when he 
 perceived a gentleman with two ladies leaning on him. 
 
 " Now, there," moralized this youth ; u now, what do you 
 say to that ? Do you call that fair ? He can't be happy, 
 and it's not in nature for them to be satisfied. And yet, if I 
 went up and attempted to please them all by taking one 
 away, the probabilities are that he would knock me down. 
 Such is life ! We won't be made comfortable ! " 
 
 Nevertheless, he passed them with indifference, for it was 
 merely the principle he objected to ; and, indeed, he was so 
 wrapped in his own conceptions, that his name had to be 
 called behind him twice before he recognized Evan Har- 
 rington, Mrs. Strike, and Miss Bonner. The arrangement 
 he had previously thought good was then spontaneously
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME 411 
 
 adopted. Mrs. Strike reposed her fair hand upon his arm, 
 and Juliana, with a timid glance of pleasure, walked ahead 
 in Evan's charge. Close neighbourhood between the couples 
 was not kept. The genius of Mr. Kaikes was wasted in 
 manoeuvres to lead his beautiful companion into places 
 where he could be seen with her, and envied. It was, per- 
 haps, more flattering that she should betray a marked dis- 
 position to prefer solitude in his society. But this idea 
 illumined him only near the moment of parting. Then he 
 saw it ; then he groaned in soul, and besought Evan to have 
 one more promenade, saying, with characteristic cleverness 
 in the masking of his real thoughts : " It gives us an appe- 
 tite, you know." 
 
 In Evan's face and Juliana's there was not much sign 
 that any protraction of their walk together would aid this 
 beneficent process of nature. He took her hand gently, and 
 when he quitted it, it dropped. 
 
 " The Rose, the Rose of Beckley Court ! " Raikes sang 
 aloud. " Why, this is a day of meetings. Behold John 
 Thomas in the rear — a tower of plush and powder ! Shall 
 I rush — shall I pluck her from the aged stem ? " 
 
 On the gravel-walk above them Rose passed with her 
 aristocratic grandmother, muffled in furs. She marched 
 deliberately, looking coldly before her. Evan's face was 
 white, and Juliana, whose eyes were fixed on him, shud- 
 dered. 
 
 "I'm chilled," she murmured to Caroline. "Let us go." 
 
 Caroline eyed Evan with a meaning sadness. 
 
 "We will hurry to our carriage," she said. 
 
 They were seen to make a little circuit so as not to 
 approach Rose; after whom, thoughtless of his cruelty, 
 Evan bent his steps slowly, halting when she reached her 
 carriage. He believed — rather, he knew that she had seen 
 him. There was a consciousness in the composed outlines 
 of her face as she passed : the indifference was too perfect. 
 Let her hate him if she pleased. It recompensed him that 
 the air she wore should make her appearance more womanly ; 
 and that black dress and crape-bonnet, in some way, touched 
 him to mournful thoughts of her that helped a partial for- 
 getfulness of wounded self. 
 
 Rose had driven off. He was looking at the same spot,
 
 412 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 where Caroline's hand waved from her carriage. Juliana 
 was not seen. Caroline requested her to nod to him once, 
 but she would not. She leaned back hiding her eyes, and 
 moving a petulant shoulder at Caroline's hand. 
 
 "Has he offended you, my child?" 
 
 Juliana answered harshly : 
 
 "No — no." 
 
 The wheels rolled on, and Caroline tried other subjects, 
 knowing possibly that they would lead Juliana back to this 
 of her own accord. 
 
 "You saw how she treated him?" the latter presently 
 said, without moving her hand from before her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, dear. He forgives her, and will forget it." 
 
 "Oh!" she clenched her long thin hand, "I pray that I 
 may not die before I have made her repent it. She shall! " 
 
 Juliana looked glitteringly in Caroline's face, and then 
 fell a-weeping, and suffered herself to be folded and ca- 
 ressed. The storm was long subsiding. 
 
 "Dearest! you are better now?" said Caroline. 
 
 She whispered: "Yes." 
 
 " My brother has only to know you, dear " 
 
 "Hush! That's past." Juliana stopped her; and, on a 
 deep breath that threatened to break to sobs, she added in 
 a sweeter voice than was common to her, " Ah, why — why 
 did you tell him about the Beckley property?" 
 
 Caroline vainly strove to deny that she had told him. 
 Juliana's head shook mournfully at her; and now Caroline 
 knew what Juliana meant when she begged so earnestly 
 that Evan should be kept ignorant of her change of fortune. 
 
 Some days after this the cold struck Juliana's chest, and 
 she sickened. The three sisters held a sitting to consider 
 what it was best to do with her. Caroline proposed to take 
 her to Beckley without delay. Harriet was of opinion that 
 the least they could do was to write to her relatives and 
 make them instantly aware of her condition. 
 
 But the Countess said "No," to both. Her argument 
 was, that Juliana being independent, they were by no 
 means bound to " bundle " her, in her state, back to a place 
 where she had been so shamefully maltreated: that here 
 she would live, while there she would certainly die: that
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME 413 
 
 absence of excitement was her medicine, and that here she 
 had it. Mrs. Andrew, feeling herself responsible as the 
 young lady's hostess, did not acquiesce in the Countess's 
 views till she had consulted Juliana; and then apologies 
 for giving trouble were breathed on the one hand; sym- 
 pathy, condolences, and professions of esteem, on the other. 
 Juliana said, she was but slightly ill, would soon recover. 
 Entreated not to leave them before she was thoroughly re- 
 established, and to consent to be looked on as one of the 
 family, she sighed, and said it was the utmost she could 
 hope. Of course the ladies took this compliment to them- 
 selves, but Evan began to wax in importance. The Countess 
 thought it nearly time to acknowledge him, and supported 
 the idea by a citation of the doctrine, that to forgive is 
 Christian. It happened, however, that Harriet, who had 
 less art and more will than her sisters, was inflexible. She, 
 living in a society but a few steps above Tailordom, how- 
 ever magnificent in expenditure and resources, abhorred it 
 solemnly. For motives of prudence, as well as personal 
 disgust, she continued firm in declining to receive her 
 brother. She would not relent when the Countess pointed 
 out a dim, a dazzling prospect, growing out of Evan's prox- 
 imity to the heiress of Beckley Court; she was not to be 
 moved when Caroline suggested that the specific for the 
 frail invalid was Evan's presence. As to this, Juliana was 
 sufficiently open, though, as she conceived, her art was 
 extreme. 
 
 "Do you know why I stay to vex and trouble you?" she 
 asked Caroline. "Well, then, it is that I may see your 
 brother united to you all: and then I shall go, happy." 
 
 The pretext served also to make him the subject of many 
 conversations. Twice a week a bunch of the best flowers 
 that could be got were sorted and arranged by her, and sent 
 namelessly to brighten Evan's chamber. 
 
 " I may do such a thing as this, you know, without incur- 
 ring blame," she said. 
 
 The sight of a love so humble in its strength and affluence 
 sent Caroline to Evan on a fruitless errand. What availed 
 it, that accused of giving lead to his pride in refusing the 
 heiress, Evan should declare that he did not love her? He 
 did not, Caroline admitted as possible, but he might. He
 
 414 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 might learn to love her, and therefore he was wrong in 
 wounding her heart. She related flattering anecdotes. She 
 drew tearful pictures of Juliana's love for him; and notic- 
 ing how he seemed to prize his bouquet of flowers, said : 
 
 " Do you love them for themselves, or the hand that sent 
 them?" 
 
 Evan blushed, for it had been a struggle for him to receive 
 them, as he thought, from Rose in secret. The flowers lost 
 their value ; the song that had arisen out of them, " Thou 
 livest in my memory, " ceased. But they came still. How 
 many degrees from love gratitude may be, I have not reck- 
 oned. I rather fear it lies on the opposite shore. From a 
 youth to a girl, it may yet be very tender; the more so, 
 because their ages commonly exclude such a sentiment, and 
 nature seems willing to make a transition stage of it. Evan 
 wrote to Juliana. Incidentally he expressed a wish to see 
 her. Juliana was under doctor's interdict: but she was 
 not to be prevented from going when Evan wished her to 
 go. They met in the park, as before, and he talked to her 
 five minutes through the carriage window. 
 
 "Was it worth the risk, my poor child?" said Caroline, 
 pityingly. 
 
 Juliana cried : " Oh ! I would give anything to live ! " 
 
 A man might have thought that she made no direct 
 answer. 
 
 "Don't you think I am patient? Don't you think I am 
 very patient?" she asked Caroline, winningly, on their way 
 home. 
 
 Caroline could scarcely forbear from smiling at the fever- 
 ish anxiety she showed for a reply that should confirm her 
 words and hopes. 
 
 " So we must all be ! " she said, and that common-place 
 remark caused Juliana to exclaim : " Prisoners have lived 
 in a dungeon, on bread and water, for years ! " 
 
 Whereat Caroline kissed her so tenderly that Juliana 
 tried to look surprised, and failing, her thin lips quivered; 
 she breathed a soft "hush," and fell on Caroline's bosom. 
 
 She was transparent enough in one thing; but the flame 
 which burned within her did not light her through. Others, 
 on other matters, were quite as transparent to her. Caro- 
 line never knew that she had as much as told her the moral
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME 415 
 
 suicide Evan had committed at Beckley ; so cunningly had 
 she been probed at intervals with little casual questions ; 
 random interjections, that one who loved him could not fail 
 to meet; petty doubts requiring elucidations. And the 
 Countess, kind as her sentiments had grown toward the 
 afflicted creature, was compelled to proclaim her densely 
 stupid in material affairs. For the Countess had an itch 
 of the simplest feminine curiosity to know whether the 
 dear child had any notion of accomplishing a certain holy 
 duty of the perishable on this earth, who might possess 
 worldly goods; and no hints — not even plain speaking, 
 would do. Juliana did not understand her at all. 
 
 The Countess exhibited a mourning-ring on her finger, 
 Mrs. Bonner's bequest to her. 
 
 "How fervent is my gratitude to my excellent departed 
 friend for this ! A legacy, however trifling, embalms our 
 dear lost ones in the memory ! " 
 
 It was of no avail. Juliana continued densely stupid. 
 Was she not worse ? The Countess could not, " in decency," 
 as she observed, reveal to her who had prompted Mrs. Bon- 
 ner so to bequeath the Beckley estates as to " ensure sweet 
 Juliana's future ; " but ought not Juliana to divine it ? — 
 Juliana at least had hints sufficient. 
 
 Cold Spring winds were now blowing. Juliana had re- 
 sided no less than two months with the Cogglesbys. She 
 was entreated still to remain, and she did. From Lady 
 Jocelyn she heard not a word of remonstrance; but from 
 Miss Carrington and Mrs. Shorne she received admonishing 
 letters. Finally, Mr. Harry Jocelyn presented himself. 
 In London, and without any of that needful subsistance 
 which a young gentleman feels the want of in London more 
 than elsewhere, Harry began to have thoughts of his own, 
 without any instigation from his aunts, about devoting him- 
 self to business. So he sent his card up to his cousin, and 
 was graciously met in the drawing-room by the Countess, 
 who ruffled him and smoothed him, and would possibly have 
 distracted his soul from business had his circumstances been 
 less straitened. Juliana was declared to be too unwell to 
 see him that day. He called a second time, and enjoyed a 
 similar greeting. His third visit procured him an audience
 
 416 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 alone with Juliana, when, at once, despite the warnings of 
 his aunts, the frank fellow plunged, medias res. Mrs. Bon- 
 ner had left him totally dependent on his parents and his 
 chances. 
 
 " A desperate state of things, isn't it, Juley ? I think I 
 shall go for a soldier — common, you know." 
 
 Instead of shrieking out against such a debasement of his 
 worth and gentility, as was to be expected, Juliana said : 
 
 " That's what Mr. Harrington thought of doing." 
 
 " He ! If he'd had the pluck he would." 
 
 " His duty forbade it, and he did not." 
 
 " Duty ! a confounded tailor ! What fools we were to 
 have him at Beckley ! " 
 
 " Has the Countess been unkind to you, Harry ? " 
 
 " I haven't seen her to-day, and don't want to. It's my 
 little dear old Juley I came for." 
 
 " Dear Harry ! " she thanked him with eyes and hands. 
 " Come often, won't you ? " 
 
 " Why, ain't you coming back to us, Juley ? " 
 
 "Not yet. They are very kind to me here. How is 
 Kose?" 
 
 "Oh, quite jolly. She and Ferdinand are thick again. 
 Balls every night. She dances like the deuce. They want 
 me to go ; but I ain't the sort of figure for those places, and 
 besides, I shan't dance till I can lead you out." 
 
 A spur of laughter at Harry's generous nod brought on 
 Juliana's cough. Harry watched her little body shaken and 
 her reddened eyes. Some real emotion — perhaps the fear 
 which healthy young people experience at the sight of 
 deadly disease — made Harry touch her arm with the soft- 
 ness of a child's touch. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed, Harry," she said. "It's nothing — 
 only Winter. I'm determined to get well." 
 
 "That's right," quoth he, recovering. "I know you've 
 got pluck, or you wouldn't have stood that operation." 
 
 " Let me see : when was that ? " she asked slyly. 
 
 Harry coloured, for it related to a time when he had not 
 behaved prettily to her. 
 
 "There, Juley, that's all forgotten. I was a fool — a 
 scoundrel, if you like. I'm sorry for it now." 
 " Do you want money, Harry ? "
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME 417 
 
 " Oli, money ! " 
 
 " Have you repaid Mr. Harrington yet ? " 
 
 " There — no, I haven't. Bother it ! that fellow's name's 
 always on your tongue. I'll tell you what, Juley — but it's 
 no use. He's a low, vulgar adventurer." 
 
 "Dear Harry," said Juliana, softly; "don't bring your 
 aunts with you when you come to see me." 
 
 " Well, then I'll tell you, Juley. It's enough that he's a 
 beastly tailor." 
 
 " Quite enough," she responded ; " and he is neither a fool 
 nor a scoundrel." 
 
 Harry's memory for his own speech was not quick. 
 When Juliana's calm glance at him called it up, he jumped 
 from his chair, crying: "Upon my honour, I'll tell you 
 what, Juley! H I had money to pay him to-morrow, I'd 
 insult him on the spot." 
 
 Juliana meditated, and said : " Then all your friends must 
 wish you to continue poor." 
 
 This girl had once been on her knees to him. She had 
 looked up to him with admiring love, and he had given her a 
 crumb or so occasionally, thinking her something of a fool, 
 and more of a pest ; but now he could not say a word to her 
 without being baffled in an elderly-sisterly tone exasperating 
 him so far that he positively wished to marry her, and com- 
 ing to the point, offered himself with downright sincerity, 
 and was rejected. Harry left in a passion. Juliana con- 
 fided the secret to Caroline, who suggested interested mo- 
 tives, which Juliana would not hear of. 
 
 "Ah," said the Countess, when Caroline mentioned the 
 case to her, "of course the poor thing cherishes her first 
 offer. She would believe a curate to be disinterested ! But 
 mind that Evan has due warning when she is to meet him. 
 Mind that he is dressed becomingly." 
 
 Caroline asked why. 
 
 " Because, my dear, she is enamoured of his person. 
 These little unhealthy creatures are always attracted by 
 the person. She thinks it to be Evan's qualities. I know 
 better : it is his person. Beckley Court may be lost by a 
 shabby coat ! " 
 
 The Countess had recovered from certain spiritual lan- 
 guors into which she had fallen after her retreat. Ultimate 
 
 27
 
 418 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 victory hung still in the balance. Oh ! if Evan would only 
 marry this little sufferer, who was so sure to die within a 
 year ! or, if she lived (for marriage has often been as a res- 
 urrection to some poor female invalids), there was Beckley 
 Court, a splendid basis for future achievements. Reflecting 
 in this fashion, the Countess pardoned her brother. Glow- 
 ing hopes hung fresh lamps in her charitable breast. She 
 stepped across the threshold of Tailordom, won Mr. Goren's 
 heart by her condescension, and worked Evan into a sorrow- 
 ful mood concerning the invalid. Was not Juliana his only 
 active friend? In return, he said things which only re- 
 quired a little colouring to be very acceptable to her. The 
 game waxed exciting again. The enemy (the Jocelyn party) 
 was alert, but powerless. The three sisters were almost 
 wrought to perform a sacrifice far exceeding Evan's. They 
 nearly decided to summon him to the house : but the matter 
 being broached at table one evening, Major Strike objected 
 to it so angrily that they abandoned it, with the satisfactory 
 conclusion that if they did wrong it was the Major's fault. 
 
 Meantime Juliana had much on her conscience. She 
 knew Evan to be innocent, and she allowed Rose to think 
 him guilty. Could she bring her heart to join them ? That 
 was not in her power : but desiring to be lulled by a com- 
 promise, she devoted herself to make his relatives receive 
 him; and on days of bitter winds she would drive out to 
 meet him, answering all expostulations with — "I should 
 not go if he were here." 
 
 The game waxed hot. It became a question whether 
 Evan should be admitted to the house in spite of the Major. 
 Juliana now made an extraordinary move. Having the 
 Count with her in the carriage one day, she stopped in front 
 of Mr. Goren's shop, and Evan had to come out. The Count 
 returned home extremely mystified. Once more the un- 
 happy Countess was obliged to draw bills on the fabulous ; 
 and as she had recommenced the system, which was not 
 without its fascinations to her, Juliana, who had touched 
 the spring, had the full benefit of it. The Countess had 
 deceived her before — what of that? She spoke things 
 sweet to hear. Who could be false that gave her heart 
 food on which it lived ? 
 
 One night Juliana returned from her drive alarmingly ill.
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY 419 
 
 She was watched through the night by Caroline and the 
 Countess alternately. In the morning the sisters met. 
 
 "She has consented to let us send for a doctor," said 
 Caroline. 
 
 "Her chief desire seems to be a lawyer," said the Countess. 
 
 " Yes, but the doctor must be sent for first." 
 
 "Yes, indeed! But it behoves us to previse that the 
 doctor does not kill her before the lawyer comes." 
 
 Caroline looked at Louisa, and said : " Are you ignorant ? " 
 
 « No — what ? " cried the Countess eagerly. 
 
 " Evan has written to tell Lady Jocelyn the state of her 
 health, and — " 
 
 " And that naturally has aggravated her malady ! " The 
 Countess cramped her long fingers. "The child heard it 
 from him yesterday ! Oh, I could swear at that brother ! " 
 
 She dropped into a chair and sat rigid and square-jawed, a 
 sculpture of unutterable rage. 
 
 In the afternoon Lady Jocelyn arrived. The doctor was 
 there — the lawyer had gone. Without a word of protest 
 Juliana accompanied her ladyship to Beckley Court. Here 
 was a blow ! 
 
 But Andrew was preparing one more mighty still. What 
 if the Cogglesby Brewery proved a basis most unsound? 
 Where must they fall then ? Alas ! on that point whence 
 they sprang. If not to Perdition — Tailordom ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 REVEALS AN AEOMINABLE PLOT OF THE BROTHERS 
 
 COGGLESBY 
 
 A lively April day, with strong gusts from the South-west, 
 and long sweeping clouds, saluted the morning coach from 
 London to Lymport. Thither Tailordom triumphant was 
 bearing its victim at a rattling pace, to settle him, and seal 
 him for ever out of the ranks of gentlemen : Society, mean- 
 time, howling exclusion to him in the background : " Out of 
 our halls, degraded youth : The smiles of turbaned matrons :
 
 420 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 the sighs of delicate maids ; genial wit, educated talk, refined 
 scandal, vice in harness, dinners sentineled by stately plush : 
 these, the flavour of life, are not for you, though you stole a 
 taste of them, wretched impostor ! Pay for it with years of 
 remorse ! " 
 
 The coach went rushing against the glorious high wind. 
 It stirred his blood, freshened his cheeks, gave a bright tone 
 of zest to his eyes, as he cast them on the young green 
 country. Not banished from the breath of heaven, or from 
 self-respect, or from the appetite for the rewards that are to 
 follow duties done ! Not banished from the help that is always 
 reached to us when we have fairly taken the right road: 
 and that for him is the road to Lymport. Let the kingdom 
 of Gilt Gingerbread howl as it will! We are no longer 
 children, but men : men who have bitten hard at experience, 
 and know the value of a tooth : who have had our hearts 
 bruised, and cover them with armour : who live not to feed, 
 but look to food that we may live ! What matters it that 
 yonder high-spiced kingdom should excommunicate such as 
 we are ? We have rubbed off the gilt, and have assumed the 
 command of our stomachs. We are men from this day ! 
 
 Now, you would have thought Evan's companions, right 
 and left of him, were the wretches under sentence, to judge 
 from appearances. In contrast with his look of insolent 
 pleasure, Andrew, the moment an eye was on him, exhibited 
 the cleverest impersonation of the dumps ever seen : while 
 Mr. Raikes was from head to foot nothing better than a 
 moan made visible. Nevertheless, they both agreed to rally 
 Evan, and bid him be of good cheer. 
 
 " Don't be down, Van ; don't be down, my boy," said 
 Andrew, rubbing his hands gloomily. 
 
 " I ? do I look it ? " Evan answered, laughing. 
 
 " Capital acting ! " exclaimed Raikes. " Try and keep it up." 
 
 " Well, I hope you're acting too," said Evan. 
 
 Raikes let his chest fall like a collapsing bellows. 
 
 At the end of five minutes, he remarked : " I've been 
 sitting on it the whole morning! There's violent inflamma- 
 tion, I'm persuaded. Another hour, and I jumb slap from 
 the summit of the coach ! " 
 
 Evan turned to Andrew. 
 
 " Do you think he'll be let off ? "
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY 421 
 
 " Mr. Raikes ? Can't say. You see, Van, it depends upon 
 how Old Tom has taken his bad luck. Ahem ! Perhaps 
 he'll be all the stricter ; and as a man of honour, Mr. Raikes, 
 you see, can't very well " 
 
 " By Jove ! I wish I wasn't a man of honour ! " Raikes 
 interposed, heavily. 
 
 "You see, Van, Old Tom's circumstances" — Andrew 
 ducked, to smother a sort of laughter — "are now such that 
 he'd be glad of the money to let him off, no doubt; but Mr. 
 Raikes has spent it, I can't lend it, and you haven't got it, 
 and there we all are. At the end of the year he's free, and 
 he — ha! ha! I'm not a bit the merrier for laughing, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 Catching another glimpse of Evan's serious face, Andrew 
 fell into louder laughter ; checking it with doleful solemnity. 
 
 Up hill and down hill, and past little homesteads shining 
 with yellow crocuses ; across wide brown heaths, whose out- 
 lines raised in Evan's mind the night of his funeral walk, 
 and tossed up old feelings dead as the whirling dust. At 
 last Raikes called out : 
 
 "The towers of Fallowfield, — heigho! " 
 
 And Andrew said : 
 
 "Now then, Van: if Old Tom's anywhere, he's here. 
 You get down at the Dragon, and don't you talk to me, but 
 let me go in. It'll be just the hour he dines in the country. 
 Isn't it a shame of him to make me face every man of the 
 creditors — eh?" 
 
 Evan gave Andrew's hand an affectionate squeeze, at 
 which Andrew had to gulp down something — reciprocal 
 emotion, doubtless. 
 
 "Hark," said Raikes, as the horn of the guard was heard. 
 " Once that sound used to set me caracoling before an abject 
 multitude. I did wonders. All London looked on me ! It 
 had more effect on me than champagne. Now I hear it — 
 the whole charm has vanished! I can't see a single old 
 castle. Would you have thought it possible that a small 
 circular bit of tin on a man's person could produce such 
 changes in him?" 
 
 "You are a donkey to wear it," said Evan. 
 
 " I pledged my word as a gentleman, and thought it small, 
 for the money ! " said Raikes. " This is the first coach I
 
 422 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 ever travelled on, without making the old whip burst with 
 laughing. I'm not myself. I'm haunted. I'm somebody- 
 else. " 
 
 The three passengers having descended, a controversy 
 commenced between Evan and Andrew as to which should 
 pay. Evan had his money out ; Andrew dashed it behind 
 him; Evan remonstrated. 
 
 "Well, you mustn't pay for us two, Andrew. I would 
 have let you do it once, but — " 
 
 "Stuff!" cried Andrew. U I ain't paying — it's the 
 creditors of the estate, my boy ! " 
 
 Evan looked so ingenuously surprised and hurt at his 
 lack of principle, that Andrew chucked a sixpence at a small 
 boy, saying,— 
 
 "If you don't let me have my own way, Van, I'll shy my 
 purse after it. What do you mean, sir, by treating me like 
 a beggar?" 
 
 "Our friend Harrington can't humour us," quoth Raikes. 
 " For myself, I candidly confess I prefer being paid for ; " 
 and he leaned contentedly against one of the posts of the 
 inn till the filthy dispute was arranged to the satisfaction 
 of the ignobler mind. There Andrew left them, and went 
 to Mrs. Sockley, who, recovered from her illness, smiled 
 her usual placid welcome to a guest. 
 
 "You know me, ma'am?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! The London Mr. Cogglesby ! " 
 
 "Now, ma'am, look here. I've come for my brother. 
 Don't be alarmed. No danger as yet. But, mind! if you 
 attempt to conceal him from his lawful brother, I'll summon 
 here the myrmidons of the law." 
 
 Mrs. Sockley showed a serious face. 
 
 " You know his habits, Mr. Cogglesby ; and one doesn't 
 go against any one of his whimsies, or there's consequences: 
 but the house is open to you, sir. /don't wish to hide him." 
 
 Andrew accepted this intelligent evasion of Tom Cog- 
 glesby's orders as sufficient, and immediately proceeded 
 up-stairs. A door shut on the first landing. Andrew went 
 to this door and knocked. No answer. He tried to open 
 it, but found that he had been forestalled. After threaten- 
 ing to talk business through the key-hole, the door was 
 unlocked, and Old Tom appeared.
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY 423 
 
 "So! now you're dogging me into the country. Be off; 
 make an appointment. Saturday's my holiday. You know 
 that." 
 
 Andrew pushed through the doorway, and, by way of an 
 emphatic reply and a silencing one, delivered a punch slap 
 into Old Tom's belt. 
 
 "Confound you, Kan!" said Old Tom, grimacing, but 
 friendly, as if his sympathies had been irresistibly assailed. 
 
 "It's done, Tom! I've done it. Won my bet, now," 
 Andrew exclaimed. " The women — poor creatures ! What 
 a state they're in. I pity 'em." 
 
 Old Tom pursed his lips, and eyed his brother incredu- 
 lously, but with curious eagerness. 
 
 "Oh, Lord! what a face I've had to wear! " Andrew con- 
 tinued, and while he sank into a chair and rubbed his 
 handkerchief over his crisp hair, Old Tom let loose a con- 
 vinced and exulting, "ha! ha! " 
 
 "Yes, you may laugh. I've had all the bother," said 
 Andrew. 
 
 " Serve ye right — marrying such cattle, " Old Tom snapped 
 at him. 
 
 " They believe we're bankrupt — owe fifty thousand clear, 
 Tom!" 
 
 "Ha! ha!" 
 
 "Brewery stock and household furniture to be sold by 
 general auction, Friday week." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" 
 
 " Not a place for any of us to poke our heads into. I 
 talked about 'pitiless storms ' to my poor Harry — no shelter 
 to be had unless we go down to Lymport, and stop with 
 their brother in shop ! " 
 
 Old Tom did enjoy this. He took a great gulp of air for 
 a tremendous burst of laughter, and when this was expended 
 and reflection came, his features screwed, as if the acidest 
 of flavours had ravished his palate. 
 
 " Bravo, Nan ! Didn't think you were man enough. Ha ! 
 ha! Nan — I say — eh? how did ye get on behind the cur- 
 tains?" 
 
 The tale, to guess by Andrew's face, appeared to be too 
 strongly infused with pathos for revelation. 
 
 "Will they go, Nan, eh? d'ye think they'll go?"
 
 424 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Where else can they go, Tom? They must go there, or 
 on the parish, you know." 
 
 " They'll all troop down to the young tailor — eh? " 
 
 "They can't sleep in the parks, Tom." 
 
 "No. They can't get into Buckingham Palace, neither 
 — 'cept as housemaids. 'Gad, they're howling like cats, 
 I'd swear — nuisance to the neighbourhood — ha! ha! " 
 
 Old Tom's cruel laughter made Andrew feel for the un- 
 happy ladies. He struck his forehead, and leaned forward, 
 saying : " I don't know — 'pon my honour, I don't know — 
 can't think we've quite done right to punish 'em so." 
 
 This acted like cold water on Old Tom's delight. He 
 pitched it back in the shape of a doubt of what Andrew 
 had told him. Whereupon Andrew defied him to face three 
 miserable women on the verge of hysterics ; and Old Tom, 
 beginning to chuckle again, rejoined that it would bring 
 them to their senses, and emancipate him. 
 
 "You may laugh, Mr. Tom," said Andrew; "but if poor 
 Harry should find me out, deuce a bit more home for me." 
 
 Old Tom looked at him keenly, and rapped the table. 
 "Swear you did it, Nan." 
 
 "You promise you'll keep the secret," said Andrew. 
 
 "Never make promises." 
 
 "Then there's a pretty life for me! I did it for that 
 poor dear boy. You were only up to one of your jokes — I 
 see that. Confound you, Old Tom, you've been making a 
 fool of me." 
 
 The flattering charge was not rejected by Old Tom, who 
 now had his brother to laugh at as well. Andrew affected 
 to be indignant and desperate. 
 
 "If you'd had a heart, Tom, you'd have saved the poor 
 fellow without any bother at all. What do you think? 
 When I told him of our smash — ha! ha! it isn't such a 
 bad joke — well, I went to him, hanging my head, and he 
 offered to arrange our affairs — that is — " 
 
 "Damned meddlesome young dog! " cried Old Tom, quite 
 in a rage. 
 
 "There — you're up in a twinkling," said Andrew. 
 "Don't you see he believed it, you stupid Old Tom? Lord! 
 to hear him say how sorry he was, and to see how glad he 
 looked at the chance of serving us ! "
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY 425 
 
 " Serving us ! " Tom sneered. 
 
 " Ha !" went Andrew. "Yes. There. You're a deuced 
 deal prouder than fifty peers. You're an upside-down old 
 despot ! " 
 
 No sharper retort rising to Old Tom's lips, he permitted 
 his brother's abuse of him to pass, declaring that bandying 
 words was not his business, he not being a Parliament man. 
 
 "How about the Major, Nan? He coming down, too?" 
 
 " Major ! " cried Andrew. " Lucky if he keeps his com- 
 mission. Coming down? No. He's off to the Continent." 
 
 "Find plenty of scamps there to keep him company," 
 added Tom. " So he's broke — eh? ha ! ha ! " 
 
 "Tom," said Andrew, seriously, "I'll tell you all about 
 it, if you'll swear not to split on me, because it would really 
 upset poor Harry so. She'd think me such a beastly hypo- 
 crite, I couldn't face her afterwards." 
 
 " Lose what pluck you have — eh? " Tom jerked out his 
 hand, and bade his brother continue. 
 
 Compelled to trust in him without a promise, Andrew 
 said: "Well, then, after we'd arranged it, I went back to 
 Harry, and begged her to have poor Van at the house : told 
 her what I hoped you'd do for him about getting him into 
 the Brewery. She's very kind, Tom, 'pon my honour she 
 is. She was willing, only — " 
 
 "Only — eh?" 
 
 " Well, she was so afraid it'd hurt her sisters to see him 
 there." 
 
 Old Tom saw he was in for excellent fun, and wouldn't 
 spoil it for the world. 
 
 "Yes, Nan?" 
 
 " So I went to Caroline. She was easy enough ; and she 
 went to the Countess." 
 
 "Well, and she — ?" 
 
 " She was willing, too, till Lady Jocelyn came and took 
 Miss Bonner home to Beckley, and because Evan had written 
 to my lady to fetch her, the Countess — she was angry. 
 That was all. Because of that, you know. But yet she 
 agreed. But when Miss Bonner had gone, it turned out 
 that the Major was the obstacle. They were all willing 
 enough to have Evan there, but the Major refused. I didn't 
 hear him. I wasn't going to ask him. I mayn't be a match
 
 426 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 for three women, but man to man, eh, Tom? You'd back 
 me there? So Harry said the Major'd make Caroline miser- 
 able, if his wishes were disrespected. By George, I wish 
 I'd known, then. Don't you think it odd, Tom, now? 
 There's a Duke of Belfield the fellow had hooked into his 
 Company ; and — through Evan I heard — the Duke had his 
 name struck off. After that, the Major swore at the Duke 
 once or twice, and said Caroline wasn't to go out with him. 
 Suddenly, he insists that she shall go. Days the poor thing 
 kept crying! One day, he makes her go. She hasn't the 
 spirit of my Harry or the Countess. By good luck, Van, 
 who was hunting ferns for some friends of his, met them on 
 Sunday in Richmond Park, and Van took her away from the 
 Duke. But, Tom, think of Van seeing a fellow watching 
 her wherever she went, and hearing the Duke's coachman 
 tell that fellow he had orders to drive his master and a lady 
 hard on to the sea that night. I don't believe it — it wasn't 
 Caroline ! But what do you think of our finding out that 
 beast of a spy to be in the Major's pay ? We did. Van put 
 a constable on his track ; we found him out, and he con- 
 fessed it. A fact, Tom ! That decided me. If it was only 
 to get rid of a brute, I determined I'd do it, and I did. 
 Strike came to me to get my name for a bill that night. 
 'Gad, he looked blanker than his bill when he heard of us 
 two bankrupt. I showed him one or two documents I'd got 
 ready. Says he : ' Never mind ; it'll only be a couple of hun- 
 dred more in the schedule.' Stop, Tom ! he's got some of our 
 blood. I don't think he meant it. He is hard pushed. Well, 
 I gave him a twentier, and he was off the next night. You'll 
 soon see all about the Company in the papers." 
 
 At the conclusion of Andrew's recital, Old Tom thrummed 
 and looked on the floor under a heavy frown. His mouth 
 worked dubiously, and, from moment to moment, he plucked 
 at his waistcoat and pulled it down, throwing back his head 
 and glaring. 
 
 " I've knocked that fellow over once," he said. " Wish he 
 hadn't got up again." 
 
 Andrew nodded. 
 
 " One good thing, Nan. He never boasted of our connec- 
 tion. Much obliged to him." 
 
 " Yes," said Andrew, who was gladly watching Old Tom's 
 change of mood with a quiescent aspect.
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY 427 
 
 " Urn! — must keep it quiet from his poor old mother." 
 
 Andrew again affirrnatived his senior's remarks. That his 
 treatment of Old Tom was sound, he presently had proof of. 
 The latter stood up, and after sniffing in an injured way for 
 about a minute, launched out his right leg, and vociferated 
 that he would like to have it in his power to kick all the 
 villains out of the world : a modest demand Andrew at once 
 chimed in with ; adding that, were such a faculty extended 
 to him, he would not object to lose the leg that could bene- 
 fit mankind so infinitely, and consented to its following them. 
 Then, Old Tom, who was of a practical turn, meditated, 
 swung his foot, and gave one grim kick at the imaginary 
 bundle of villains, discharged them headlong straight into 
 space. Andrew, naturally imitative, and seeing that he had 
 now to kick them flying, attempted to excel Old Tom in the 
 vigour of his delivery. No wonder that the efforts of both 
 were heating : they were engaged in the task of ridding the 
 globe of the larger half of its inhabitants. Tom perceived 
 Andrew's useless emulation, and with a sound translated by 
 " yack," sent his leg out a long way. Not to be outdone, 
 Andrew immediately, with a still louder "yack," committed 
 himself to an effort so violent that the alternative between 
 his leg coming off, or his being taken off his leg, was pro- 
 pounded by nature, and decided by the laws of gravity in a 
 trice. Joyful grunts were emitted by Old Tom at the sight 
 of Andrew prostrate, rubbing his pate. But Mrs. Sockley, 
 to whom the noise of Andrew's fall had suggested awful 
 fears of a fratricidal conflict up-stairs, hurried forthwith to 
 announce to them that the sovereign remedy for human ills, 
 the promoter of concord, the healer of feuds, the central 
 point of man's destiny in the flesh — Dinner, was awaiting 
 them. 
 
 To the dinner they marched. 
 
 Of this great festival be it simply told that the supply was 
 copious and of good quality — much too good and copious 
 for a bankrupt host : that Evan and Mr. John Eaikes were 
 formally introduced to Old Tom before the repast com- 
 menced, and welcomed some three minutes after he had de- 
 cided the flavour of his first glass ; that Mr. Raikes in due 
 time preferred his petition for release from a dreadful en- 
 gagement, and furnished vast amusement to the company
 
 428 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 under Old Tom's hand, until, by chance, he quoted a scrap 
 of Latin, at which the brothers Cogglesby, who would have 
 faced peers and princes without being disconcerted or per- 
 forming mental genuflexions, shut their mouths and looked 
 injured, unhappy, and in the presence of a superior : Mr. 
 Eaikes not being the man to spare them. Moreover, a sur- 
 prise was afforded to Evan. Andrew stated to Old Tom that 
 the hospitality of Main Street, Lymport, was open to him. 
 Strange to say, Old Tom accepted it on the spot, observing, 
 "You're master of the house — can do what you like, if 
 you're man enough," and adding that he thanked him, and 
 would come in a day or two. The case of Mr. Kaikes was 
 still left uncertain, for as the bottle circulated, he exhibited 
 such a faculty for apt, but to the brothers totally incompre- 
 hensible quotation, that they fled from him without leaving 
 him time to remember what special calamity was on his 
 mind, or whether this earth was other than an abode con- 
 ceived in great jollity for his life-long entertainment. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 JULIANA 
 
 The sick night-light burned steadily in Juliana's chamber. 
 On a couch, beside her bed, Caroline lay sleeping, tired with 
 a long watch. Two sentences had been passed on Juliana : 
 one on her heart : one on her body : " Thou art not loved " ; 
 and, "Thou must die." The frail passion of her struggle 
 against her destiny was over with her. Quiet as that quiet 
 which Nature was taking her to, her body reposed. Calm 
 as the solitary night-light before her open eyes, her spirit 
 was wasting away. " If I am not loved, then let me die ! " 
 In such a sense she bowed to her fate. 
 
 At an hour like this, watching the round of light on the 
 ceiling, with its narrowing inner rings, a sufferer from whom 
 pain has fled looks back to the shores she is leaving, and 
 would be well with them who walk there. It is false to 
 imagine that schemers and workers in the dark are desti-
 
 JULIANA 429 
 
 tute of the saving gift of conscience. They have it, and it 
 is perhaps made livelier in them than with easy people ; and 
 therefore, they are imperatively spurred to hoodwink it. 
 Hence, their self-delusion is deep and endures. They march 
 to their object, and gaining or losing it, the voice that calls 
 to them is the voice of a blind creature, whom any answer, 
 provided that the answer is ready, will silence. And at an 
 hour like this, when finally they snatch their minute of sight 
 on the threshold of black night, their souls may compare 
 with yonder shining circle on the ceiling, which, as the light 
 below gasps for air, contracts, and extends but to mingle 
 with the darkness. They would be nobler, better, bound- 
 lessly good to all; — to those who have injured them ; — to 
 those whom they have injured. Alas ! for any definite deed 
 the limit of their circle is immovable, and they must act 
 within it. The trick they have played themselves impris- 
 ons them. Beyond it, they cease to be. 
 
 Lying in this utter stillness, Juliana thought of Rose ; of 
 her beloved by Evan. The fever that had left her blood, had 
 left it stagnant, and her thoughts were quite emotionless. 
 She looked faintly on a far picture. She saw Eose bloom- 
 ing with pleasures in Elburne House, sliding as a boat borne 
 by the river's tide to sea, away from her living joy. The 
 breast of Eose was lucid to her, and in that hour of insight 
 she had clear knowledge of her cousin's heart ; how it 
 scoffed at its base love, and unwittingly betrayed the power 
 on her still, by clinging to the world and what it would give 
 her to fill the void ; how externally the lake was untroubled, 
 and a mirror to the passing day ; and how within there 
 pressed a flood against an iron dam. Evan, too, she saw. 
 The Countess was right in her judgement of Juliana's love. 
 Juliana looked very little to his qualities. She loved him 
 when she thought him guilty, which made her conceive that 
 her love was of a diviner cast than Eose was capable of. 
 Guilt did not spoil his beauty to her; his gentleness and 
 glowing manhood were unchanged ; and when she knew him 
 as he was, the revelation of his high nature simply confirmed 
 her impression of his physical perfections. She had done 
 him a wrong ; at her death news would come to him, and it 
 might be that he would bless her name. Because she sighed 
 no longer for those dear lips and strong arms to close about
 
 430 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 her tremulous frame, it seemed to her that she had quite 
 surrendered him. Generous to Evan, she would be just to 
 Eose. Beneath her pillow she found pencil and paper, and 
 with difficulty, scarce seeing her letters in the brown light, 
 she began to trace lines of farewell to Rose. Her conscience 
 dictated to her thus, " Tell Rose that she was too ready to 
 accept his guilt ; and that in this as in all things, she acted 
 with the precipitation of her character. Tell her that you 
 always trusted, and that now you know him innocent. Give 
 her the proofs you have. Show that he did it to shield his 
 intriguing sister. Tell her that you write this only to make 
 her just to him. End with a prayer that Rose may be happy." 
 
 Ere Juliana had finished one sentence, she resigned the 
 pencil. Was it not much, even at the gates of death, to be 
 the instrument to send Rose into his arms ? The picture 
 swayed before her, helping her weakness. She found her- 
 self dreaming that he had kissed her once. Dorothy, she 
 remembered, had danced up to her one day, to relate what 
 the maids of the house said of the gentlemen — (at whom, it 
 is known, they look with the license of cats toward kings) ; 
 and Dorothy's fresh careless mouth had told how one obser- 
 vant maid, amorously minded, proclaimed of Evan, to a 
 companion of her sex, that, "he was the only gentleman 
 who gave you an idea of how he would look when he 
 was kissing you." Juliana cherished that vision likewise. 
 Young ladies are not supposed to do so, if menial maids 
 are ; but Juliana did cherish it, and it possessed her fancy. 
 Bear in your recollection that she was not a healthy person. 
 Diseased little heroines may be made attractive, and are 
 now popular ; but strip off the cleverly woven robe which is 
 fashioned to cover them, and you will find them in certain 
 matters bearing a resemblance to menial maids. 
 
 While the thoughts of his kiss lasted, she could do 
 nothing ; but lay with her two hands out on the bed, and 
 her eyelids closed. Then waking, she took the pencil again. 
 It would not move : her bloodless fingers fell from it. 
 
 " If they do not meet, and he never marries, I may claim 
 him in the next world," she mused. 
 
 But conscience continued uneasy. She turned her wrist 
 and trailed a letter from beneath the pillow. It was from 
 Mrs. Shorne. Juliana knew the contents. She raised it
 
 rose 431 
 
 unopened as high as her faltering hands permitted, and 
 read like one whose shut eyes read syllables of fire on the 
 darkness. 
 
 " Rose has at last definitively engaged herself to Ferdinand, 
 you will be glad to hear, and we may now treat her as a 
 woman." 
 
 Having absorbed these words, Juliana's hand found 
 strength to write, with little difficulty, what she had to say 
 to Rose. She conceived it to be neither sublime nor gener- 
 ous : not even good ; merely her peculiar duty. When it 
 was done, she gave a long, low sigh of relief. 
 
 Caroline whispered, " Dearest child, are you awake ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered. 
 
 " Sorrowful, dear ? " 
 
 " Very quiet." 
 
 Caroline reached her hand over to her, and felt the paper. 
 
 "What is this?" 
 
 « My good-bye to Rose, I want it folded now." 
 
 Caroline slipped from the couch to fulfil her wish. She 
 enclosed the pencilled scrap of paper, sealed it, and asked, 
 
 Is that right ? " 
 
 " Now unlock my desk," Juliana uttered feebly. " Put it 
 beside a letter addressed to a law-gentleman. Post both the 
 morning I am gone." 
 
 Caroline promised to obey, and coming to Juliana to mark 
 her looks, observed a faint pleased smile dying away, and 
 had her hand gently squeezed. Juliana's conscience had 
 preceded her contentedly to its last sleep ; and she, beneath 
 that round of light on the ceiling, drew on her counted 
 breaths in peace till dawn. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 EOSE 
 
 Have you seen a young audacious spirit smitten to the 
 earth ? It is a singular study ; and, in the case of young 
 women, a trap for inexperienced men. Rose, who had com-
 
 432 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 manded and managed every one surrounding her since 
 infancy, how humble had she now become ! — how much 
 more womanly in appearance, and more child-like at heart ! 
 She was as wax in Lady Elburne's hands. A hint of that 
 veiled episode, the Beckley campaign, made Rose pliant, as 
 if she had woven for herself a rod of scorpions. The high 
 ground she had taken ; the perfect trust in one ; the scorn 
 of any judgement, save her own ; these had vanished from 
 her. Rose, the tameless heroine who had once put her 
 mother's philosophy in action, was the easiest filly that tur- 
 baned matron ever yet drove into the straight road of the 
 world. It even surprised Lady Jocelyn to see how wonder- 
 fully she had been broken in by her grandmother. Her 
 ladyship wrote to Drummond to tell him of it, and Drum- 
 mond congratulated her, saying, however: — "Changes of 
 this sort don't come of conviction. Wait till you see her at 
 home. I think they have been sticking pins into the sore 
 part." 
 
 Drummond knew Rose well. In reality there was no 
 change in her. She was only a suppliant to be spared from 
 ridicule : spared from the application of the scourge she had 
 woven for herself. 
 
 And, ah! to one who deigned to think warmly still of 
 such a disgraced silly creature, with what gratitude she 
 turned ! He might well suppose love alone could pour that 
 profusion of jewels at his feet. 
 
 Ferdinand, now Lord Laxley, understood the merits of his 
 finger-nails better than the nature of young women ; but he 
 is not to be blamed for presuming that Rose had learnt to 
 adore him. Else why did she like his company so much ? 
 He was not mistaken in thinking she looked up to him. 
 She seemed to beg to be taken into his noble serenity. In 
 truth she sighed to feel as he did, above everybody ! — she 
 that had fallen so low ! Above everybody ! — born above 
 them, and therefore superior by grace divine ! To this Rose 
 Jocelyn had come — she envied the mind of Ferdinand. 
 
 He, you may be sure, was quite prepared to accept her 
 homage. Rose lie had always known to be just the girl for 
 him ; spirited, fresh, and with fine teeth ; and once tied to 
 you safe to be staunch. They walked together, rode to- 
 gether, danced together. Her soft humility touched him
 
 fcosE 433 
 
 to eloquence. Say she was a little hypocrite, if you like, 
 when the blood came to her cheeks under his eyes. Say 
 she was a heartless minx for allowing it to be bruited that 
 she and Ferdinand were betrothed. I can but tell you that 
 her blushes were blushes of gratitude to one who could 
 devote his time to such a disgraced silly creature, and that 
 she, in her abject state, felt a secret pleasure in the protec- 
 tion Ferdinand's name appeared to extend over her, and was 
 hardly willing to lose it. 
 
 So far Lady Elburne's tact and discipline had been highly 
 successful. One morning, in May, Ferdinand, strolling with 
 Rose down the garden made a positive appeal to her com- 
 mon sense and friendly feeling ; by which she understood 
 that he wanted her consent to his marriage with her. 
 
 Rose answered : 
 
 " Who would have me ? " 
 
 Ferdinand spoke pretty well, and ultimately got possession 
 of her hand. She let him keep it, thinking him noble for 
 forgetting that another had pressed it before him. 
 
 Some minutes later the letters were delivered. One of 
 them contained Juliana's dark-winged missive. 
 
 " Poor, poor Juley ! " said Rose, dropping her head, after 
 reading all that was on the crumpled leaf with an inflexible 
 face. And then, talking on, long low sighs lifted her bosom 
 at intervals. She gazed from time to time with a wistful 
 conciliatory air on Ferdinand. Rushing to her chamber, the 
 first cry her soul framed was : " He did not kiss me ! " 
 
 The young have a superstitious sense of something incon- 
 testably true in the final protestations of the dead. Evan 
 guiltless ! she could not quite take the meaning this revela- 
 tion involved. That which had been dead was beginning to 
 move within her; but blindly: and now it stirred and 
 troubled; now sank. Guiltless? — all she had thought 
 him ! Oh ! she knew she could not have been deceived. 
 But why, why had he hidden his sacrifice from her ? 
 
 " It is better for us both, of course," said Rose, speaking 
 the world's wisdom, parrot-like, and bursting into tears the 
 next minute. Guiltless, and gloriously guiltless ! but noth- 
 ing — nothing to her! 
 
 She tried to blame him. It would not do. She tried 
 to think of that grovelling loathsome position painted 
 
 28
 
 434 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 to her by Lady Elburne's graphic hand. Evan dis- 
 persed the gloomy shades like sunshine. Then in a sort 
 of terror she rejoiced to think she was partially engaged to 
 Ferdinand, and found herself crying again with exultation, 
 that he had not kissed her : for a kiss on her mouth was to 
 Rose a pledge and a bond. 
 
 The struggle searched her through : bared her weakness, 
 probed her strength ; and she, seeing herself, suffered 
 grievously in her self-love. Am I such a coward, incon- 
 stant, cold ? she asked. Confirmatory answers coming, 
 flung her back under the shield of Ferdinand: if for a 
 moment her soul stood up armed and defiant, it was Evan's 
 hand she took. 
 
 To whom do I belong ? was another terrible question. In 
 her ideas, if Evan was not chargeable with that baseness 
 which had sundered them he might claim her yet, if he 
 would. If he did, what then ? Must she go to him ? 
 
 Impossible : she was in chains. Besides, what a din of 
 laughter there would be to see her led away by him. Twist- 
 ing her joined hands: weeping for her cousin, as she 
 thought, Rose passed hours of torment over Juliana's legacy 
 to her. 
 
 " Why did I doubt him ?" she cried, jealous that any soul 
 should have known and trusted him better. Jealous : and 
 I am afraid that the kindling of that one feature of love 
 relighted the fire of her passion thus fervidly. To be out- 
 stripped in generosity was hateful to her. Rose, naturally, 
 could not reflect that a young creature like herself, fighting 
 against the world, as we call it, has all her faculties at the 
 utmost stretch, and is often betrayed by failing nature when 
 the will is still valiant. 
 
 And here she sat — in chains! "Yes ! I am fit only to 
 be the wife of an idle brainless man, with money and a 
 title," she said, in extreme self-contempt. She caught a 
 glimpse of her whole life in the horrid tomb of his embrace, 
 and questions whether she could yield her hand to him — 
 whether it was right in the eyes of heaven, rushed impetu- 
 ously to console her, and defied anything in the shape of 
 satisfactory affirmations. Nevertheless, the end of the 
 struggle was, that she felt that she was bound to Fer- 
 dinand.
 
 rose 435 
 
 " But this I "will do," said Bose, standing with heat-bright 
 eyes and deep-coloured cheeks before the glass. "I will 
 clear his character at Beckley. I will help him. I will be 
 his friend. I will wipe out the injustice I did him." And 
 this bride-elect of a lord absolutely added — that she was 
 unworthy to be the wife of a tailor ! 
 
 " He ! how unequalled he is ! There is nothing he fears 
 except shame. Oh ! how sad it will be for him to find 
 no woman in his class to understand him and be his help- 
 mate ! " 
 
 Over this sad subject, of which we must presume her to 
 be accurately cognizant, Rose brooded heavily. By mid-day 
 she gave her Grandmother notice that she was going home 
 to Juliana's funeral. 
 
 " Well, B-ose, if you think it necessary to join the cere- 
 mony," said Lady Elburne. " Beckley is bad quarters for 
 you, as you have learnt. There was never much love 
 between you cousins." 
 
 " No, and I don't pretend to it," Bose answered. " I am 
 sorry poor Juley's gone." 
 
 "She's better gone for many reasons — she appears to 
 have been a little venomous toad," said Lady Elburne; and 
 Rose, thinking of a snakelike death-bite working through 
 her blood, rejoined: "Yes, she isn't to be pitied: she's 
 better off than most people." 
 
 So it was arranged that Bose should go. Ferdinand and 
 her aunt, Mrs. Shorne, accompanied her. Mrs. Shorne gave 
 them their opportunities, albeit they were all stowed together 
 in a carriage, and Ferdinand seemed willing to profit by 
 them ; but Rose's hand was dead, and she sat by her future 
 lord forming the vow on her lips that they should never 
 be touched by him. 
 
 Arrived at Beckley, she, to her great delight, found Caro- 
 line there, waiting for the funeral. In a few minutes she 
 got her alone, and after kisses, looked penetratingly into 
 her lovely eyes, shook her head, and said : " Why were you 
 false to me ? " 
 
 " False ? " echoed Caroline. 
 
 "You knew him. You knew why he did that. Why 
 did you not save me ? " 
 
 Caroline fell upon her neck, asking pardon. She spared
 
 436 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 her the recital of facts further than the broad avowal. Evan's 
 present condition she plainly stated : and Rose, when the 
 bitter pangs had ceased, made oath to her soul she would 
 rescue him from it. 
 
 In addition to the task of clearing Evan's character, and 
 rescuing him, Rose now conceived that her engagement to 
 Ferdinand must stand ice-bound till Evan had given her back 
 her troth. How could she obtain it from him ? How could 
 she take anything from one so noble and so poor ! Happily 
 there was no hurry ; though before any bond was ratified, she 
 decided conscientiously that it must be done. 
 
 You see that like a lithe snake she turns on herself, and 
 must be tracked in and out. Not being a girl to solve the 
 problem with tears, or outright perfidy, she had to ease her 
 heart to the great shock little by little : sincere as far as she 
 knew : as far as one who loves may be. 
 
 The day of the funeral came and went. The Jocelyns were 
 of their mother's opinion : that for many reasons Juliana was 
 better out of the way. Mrs. Bonner's bequest had been a 
 severe blow to Sir Franks. However, all was now well. 
 The estate naturally lapsed to Lady Jocelyn. No one in the 
 house dreamed of a will, signed with Juliana's name, attested, 
 under due legal forms, being in existence. None of the mem- 
 bers of the family imagined that at Beckley Court they were 
 then residing on somebody's else's ground. 
 
 "Want of hospitable sentiments was not the cause that led 
 to an intimation from Sir Franks to his wife, that Mrs. Strike 
 must not be pressed to remain, and that Rose must not be 
 permitted to have her own way in this. Knowing very well 
 that Mrs. Shorne spoke through her husband's mouth, Lady 
 Jocelyn still acquiesced, and Rose, who had pressed Caroline 
 publicly to stay, had to be silent when the latter renewed her 
 faint objections; so Caroline said she would leave on the 
 morrow morning. 
 
 Juliana, with her fretfulness, her hand bounties, her petty 
 egoisms, and sudden far-leaping generosities, and all the con- 
 tradictory impulses of her malady, had now departed utterly. 
 The joys of a landed proprietor mounted into the head of 
 Sir Franks. He was up early the next morning, and he and 
 Harry walked over a good bit of the ground before breakfast. 
 Sir Franks meditated making it entail, and favoured Harry
 
 rose 437 
 
 with a lecture on the duty of his shaping the course of his 
 conduct at once after the model of the landed gentry 
 generally. 
 
 "And you may think yourself lucky to come into that 
 catalogue — the son of a younger son ! " said Sir Franks, 
 tapping Mr. Harry's shoulder. Harry also began to enjoy 
 the look and smell of land. At the breakfast, which, though 
 early, was well attended, Harry spoke of the adviseability 
 of felling timber here, planting there, and so forth, after the 
 model his father held up. Sir Franks nodded approval of his 
 interest in the estate, but reserved his opinion on matters of 
 detail. 
 
 "All I beg of you is," said Lady Jocelyn, "that you 
 won't let us have turnips within the circuit of a mile ; " 
 which was obligingly promised. 
 
 The morning letters were delivered and opened with the 
 customary calmness. 
 
 "Letter from old George," Harry sings out, and buzzes 
 over a few lines. " Halloa ! — Hum ! " He was going to 
 make a communication, but catching sight of Caroline, tossed 
 the letter over to Ferdinand, who read it and tossed it back 
 with the comment of a careless face. 
 
 " Kead it, Rosey ? " says Harry, smiling bluntly. 
 
 Rather to his surprise, Rose took the letter. Study her 
 eyes if you wish to gauge the potency of one strong dose of 
 ridicule on an ingenuous young heart. She read that Mr. 
 George Uploft had met "our friend Mr. Snip" riding, by 
 moonlight, on the road to Beckley. That great orbed night 
 of their deep tender love flashed luminously through her 
 frame, storming at the base epithet by which her lover was 
 mentioned, flooding grandly over the ignominies cast on him 
 by the world. She met the world, as it were, in a death- 
 grapple ; she matched the living heroic youth she felt him to 
 be, with that dead wooden image of him which it thrust 
 before her. Her heart stood up singing like a craven who 
 sees the tide of victory setting toward him. But this passed 
 beneath her eyelids. When her eyes were lifted, Ferdinand 
 could have discovered nothing in them to complain of, had 
 his suspicions been light to raise : nor could Mrs. Shorne 
 perceive that there was the opening for a shrewd bodkin- 
 thrust. Rose had got a mask at last : her colour, voice, ex«
 
 438 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 pression, were perfectly at command. She knew it to be a 
 cowardice to wear any mask : but she had been burnt, hor- 
 ribly burnt : how much so you may guess from the supple 
 dissimulation of such a bold clear-visaged girl. She con- 
 quered the sneers of the world in her soul : but her sensitive 
 skin was yet alive to the pangs of the scorching it had been 
 subjected to when weak, helpless, and betrayed by Evan, 
 she stood with no philosophic parent to cry fair play for 
 her, among the skilful tortures of Elburne House. 
 
 Sir Franks had risen and walked to the window. 
 
 " News ? " said Lady Jocelyn, wheeling round in her chair. 
 
 The one eyebrow up of the easy-going baronet signified 
 trouble of mind. He finished his third perusal of a letter 
 that appeared to be written in a remarkably plain legal hand, 
 and looking as men do when their intelligences are just equal 
 to the comprehension or expression of an oath, handed the 
 letter to his wife, and observed that he should be found in 
 the library. Nevertheless he waited first to mark its effect 
 on Lady Jocelyn. At one part of the document her forehead 
 wrinkled slightly. 
 
 " Doesn't sound like a joke ! " he said. 
 
 She answered : 
 
 "No." 
 
 Sir Franks, apparently quite satisfied by her ready re- 
 sponse, turned on his heel and left the room quickly. 
 
 An hour afterward it was rumoured and confirmed that 
 Juliana Bonner had willed all the worldly property she held 
 in her own right, comprising Beckley Court, to Mr. Evan 
 Harrington, of Lymport, tailor. An abstract of the will was 
 forwarded. The lawyer went on to say, that he had con- 
 formed to the desire of the testatrix in communicating the 
 existence of the aforesaid will six days subsequent to her 
 death, being the day after her funeral. 
 
 There had been railing and jeering at the Countess de 
 Saldar, the clever outwitted exposed adventuress, at Elburne 
 House and Beckley Court. What did the crowing cleverer 
 aristocrats think of her now ? 
 
 On Rose the blow fell bitterly. Was Evan also a foul 
 schemer? Was he of a piece with his intriguing sister? 
 His close kinship with the Countess had led her to think 
 baseness possible to him when it was confessed by his own
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 439 
 
 mouth once. She heard black names cast at him and the 
 whole of the great Mel's brood, and incapable of quite dis- 
 believing them merited, unable to challenge and rebut them, 
 she dropped into her recent state of self -contempt : into her 
 lately-instilled doubt whether it really was in Nature's 
 power, unaided by family-portraits, coats-of-arms, ball-room 
 practice, and at least one small phial of Essence of Society, 
 to make a Gentleman. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 
 
 This, if you have done me the favour to read it aright, has 
 been a chronicle of desperate heroism on the part of almost 
 all the principal personages represented. But not the Coun- 
 tess de Saldar, scaling the embattled fortress of Society ; nor 
 Rose, tossing its keys to her lover from the shining turret- 
 tops ; nor Evan, keeping bright the lamp of self-respect in 
 his bosom against South wind and East; none excel friend 
 Andrew Cogglesby, who, having fallen into Old Tom's plot 
 to humiliate his wife and her sisters, simply for Evan's 
 sake, and without any distinct notion of the terror, confu- 
 sion, and universal upset he was bringing on his home, 
 could yet, after a scared contemplation of the scene when 
 he returned from his expedition to Fallowfield, continue to 
 wear his rueful mask ; and persevere in treacherously out- 
 raging his lofty wife. 
 
 He did it to vindicate the ties of blood against accidents 
 of position. Was he justified? I am sufficiently wise to 
 ask my own sex alone. 
 
 On the other side, be it said (since in our modern days 
 every hero must have his weak heel), that now he had gone 
 this distance it was difficult to recede. It would be no laugh- 
 ing matter to tell his solemn Harriet that he had been play- 
 ing her a little practical joke. His temptations to give it up 
 were incessant and most agitating ; but if to advance seemed 
 terrific, there was, in stopping short, an awfulness so over-
 
 440 EYAN HARRINGTON 
 
 whelming that Andrew abandoned himself to the current, his 
 real dismay adding to his acting powers. 
 
 The worst was, that the joke was no longer his: it was 
 Old Tom's. He discovered that he was in Old Tom's hands 
 completely. Andrew had thought that he would j ust frighten 
 the women a bit, get them down to Lymport for a week or 
 so, and then announce that matters were not so bad with 
 the Brewery as he had feared ; concluding the farce with a 
 few domestic fireworks. Conceive his dismay when he en- 
 tered the house, to find there a man in possession. 
 
 Andrew flew into such a rage that he committed an assault 
 on the man. So ungovernable was his passion, that for some 
 minutes Harriet's measured voice summoned him from over 
 the banisters above, quite in vain. The miserable English- 
 man refused to be taught that his house had ceased to be his 
 castle. It was something beyond a joke, this! The intruder, 
 perfectly docile, seeing that by accurate calculation every 
 shake he got involved a bottle of wine for him, and ultimate 
 compensation probably to the amount of a couple of sover- 
 eigns, allowed himself to be lugged up-stairs, in default of 
 summary ejection on the point of Andrew's toe into the street. 
 There he was faced to the lady of the house, who apologized 
 to him, and requested her husband to state what had made 
 him guilty of this indecent behaviour. The man showed 
 his papers. They were quite in order. "At the suit of 
 Messrs. Grist." 
 
 " My own lawyers ! " cried Andrew, smacking his fore- 
 head ; and Old Tom's devilry flashed on him at once. He 
 sank into a chair. 
 
 " Why did you bring this person up here ? " said Harriet, 
 like a speaking statue. 
 
 "My dear!" Andrew answered, and spread out his hand, 
 and waggled his head ; " My — please ! — I — I don't know. 
 We all want exercise." 
 
 The man laughed, which was kindly of him, but offensive 
 to Mrs. Cogglesby, who gave Andrew a glance which was full 
 payment for his imbecile pleasantry, and promised more. 
 
 With a hospitable inquiry as to the condition of his appe- 
 tite, and a request that he would be pleased to satisfy it to 
 the full, the man was dismissed ; whereat, as one delivered 
 of noxious presences, the Countess rustled into sight. Not
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 441 
 
 noticing Andrew, she lisped to Harriet: "Misfortunes are 
 sometimes no curses ! I bless the catarrh that has confined 
 Silva to his chamber, and saved him from a bestial exhi- 
 bition." 
 
 The two ladies then swept from the room, and left 
 Andrew to perspire at leisure. 
 
 Fresh tribulations awaited him when he sat down to 
 dinner. Andrew liked his dinner to be comfortable, good, 
 and in plenty. This may not seem strange. The fact is 
 stated that I may win for him the warm sympathies of the 
 body of his countrymen. He was greeted by a piece of cold 
 boiled neck of mutton and a solitary dish of steaming pota- 
 toes. The blank expanse of table-cloth returned his desolate 
 stare. 
 
 " Why, what's the meaning of this ? " Andrew brutally 
 exclaimed, as he thumped the table. 
 
 The Countess gave a start, and rolled a look as of piteous 
 supplication to spare a lady's nerves, addressed to a ferocious 
 brigand. Harriet answered : " It means that I will have no 
 butcher's bills." 
 
 " Butcher's bills ! butcher's bills ! " echoed Andrew ; 
 " why, you must have butcher's bills ; why, confound ! 
 why, you'll have a bill for this, won't you, Harry ? eh ? of 
 course ! " 
 
 "There will be no more bills dating from yesterday," 
 said his wife. 
 
 "What! this paid for, then?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Cogglesby ; and so will all household expenses 
 be, while my pocket-money lasts." 
 
 Resting his eyes full on Harriet a minute, Andrew dropped 
 them on the savourless white-rimmed chop, which looked as 
 lonely in his plate as its parent dish on the table. The 
 poor dear creature's pocket-money had paid for it ! The 
 thought, mingling with a rush of emotion, made his ideas 
 spin. His imagination surged deliriously. He fancied him- 
 self at the Zoological Gardens, exchanging pathetic glances 
 with a melancholy marmoset. Wonderfully like one the 
 chop looked ! There was no use in his trying to eat it. 
 He seemed to be fixing his teeth in solid tears. He choked. 
 Twice he took up knife and fork, put them down again, 
 and plucking forth his handkerchief, blew a tremendous
 
 442 EVAN HARRINGTON" 
 
 trumpet, that sent the Countess's eyes rolling to the ceil- 
 ing, as if heaven were her sole refuge from such vulgarity. 
 
 " Damn that Old Tom ! " he shouted at last, and pitched 
 back in his chair. 
 
 " Mr. Cogglesby ! " and " In the presence of ladies ! " were 
 the admonishing interjections of the sisters, at whom the 
 little man frowned in turns. 
 
 " Do you wish us to quit the room, sir ? " inquired his 
 wife. 
 
 " God bless your soul, you little darling ! " he apostro- 
 phized that stately person. " Here, come along with me, 
 Harry. A wife's a wife, / say — hang it ! Just outside the 
 room — just a second ! or up in a corner will do." 
 
 Mrs. Cogglesby was amazed to see him jump up and run 
 round to her. She was prepared to defend her neck from 
 his caress, and refused to go : but the words, " Something 
 particular to tell you," awakened her curiosity, which urged 
 her to compliance. She rose and went with him to the 
 door. 
 
 "Well, sir; what is it?" 
 
 No doubt he was acting under a momentary weakness : 
 he was about to betray the plot and take his chance of for- 
 giveness : but her towering port, her commanding aspect, 
 restored his courage. (There may be a contrary view of 
 the case.) He enclosed her briskly in a connubial hug, and 
 remarked with mad ecstasy : " What a duck you are, Harry ! 
 What a likeness between you and your mother." 
 
 Mrs. Cogglesby disengaged herself imperiously. Had he 
 called her aside for this gratuitous insult ? Contrite, he 
 saw his dreadful error. 
 
 " Harry ! I declare ! " was all he was allowed to say. 
 Mrs. Cogglesby marched back to her chair, and recommenced 
 the repast in majestic silence. 
 
 Andrew sighed ; he attempted to do the same. He stuck 
 his fork in the blanched whiskerage of his marmoset, and 
 exclaimed : " I can't ! " 
 
 He was unnoticed. 
 
 "You do not object to plain diet?" said Harriet to 
 Louisa. 
 
 " Oh, no, in verity ! " murmured the Countess. " However 
 plain it be ! Absence of appetite, dearest. You are aware
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 443 
 
 I partook of luncheon at mid-day with the Honourable and 
 Reverend Mr. Duffian. You must not look condemnation 
 at your Louy for that. Luncheon is not conversion ! " 
 
 Harriet observed that this might be true ; but still, to her 
 mind, it was a mistake to be too intimate with dangerous 
 people. " And besides," she added, " Mr. Duffian is no longer 
 ' the Reverend.' We deprive all renegades of their spiritual 
 titles. His worldly ones let him keep ! " 
 
 Her superb disdain nettled the Countess. 
 
 " Dear Harriet ! " she said, with less languor, " you are 
 utterly and totally and entirely mistaken. I tell you so 
 positively. Renegade ! The application of such a word to 
 such a man ! Oh ! and it is false, Harriet : quite ! Rene- 
 gade means one who has gone over to the Turks, my dear. 
 I am most certain I saw it in Johnson's Dictionary, or an 
 improvement upon Johnson, by a more learned author. But 
 there is the fact, if Harriet can only bring her — shall I say 
 stiff-necked prejudices to envisage it ? " 
 
 Harriet granted her sister permission to apply the phrases 
 she stood in need of, without impeaching her intimacy with 
 the most learned among lexicographers. 
 
 "And is there no such thing as being too severe?" the 
 Countess resumed. " What our enemies call unchristian ! " 
 
 " Mr. Duffian has no cause to complain of us," said Harriet. 
 
 " Nor does he do so, dearest. Calumny may assail him ; 
 you may utterly denude him " 
 
 " Adam ! " interposed Andrew, distractedly listening. He 
 did not disturb the Countess's flow. 
 
 "You may vilify and victimize Mr. Duffian, and strip 
 him of the honours of his birth, but, like the Martyrs, he 
 will still continue the perfect nobleman. Stoned, I assure 
 you that Mr. Duffian would preserve his breeding. In char- 
 acter he is exquisite; a polish to defy misfortune." 
 
 "I suppose his table is good?" said Harriet, almost 
 ruffled by the Countess's lecture. 
 
 "Plate," was remarked in the cold tone of supreme 
 indifference. 
 
 "Hem! good wines?" Andrew asked, waking up a little, 
 and not wishing to be excluded altogether. 
 
 " All is of the very best, " the Countess pursued her eulogy, 
 not looking at him.
 
 444 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 "Don't you think you could — eh, Harry? — manage a 
 pint for me, my dear? " Andrew humbly petitioned. " This 
 cold water — ha! ha! my stomach don't like cold bathing." 
 
 His wretched joke rebounded from the impenetrable 
 armour of the ladies. 
 
 "The wine-cellar is locked," said his wife. "I have 
 sealed up the key till an inventory can be taken by some 
 agent of the creditors." 
 
 "What creditors?" roared Andrew. 
 
 "You can have some of the servants' beer," Mrs. Cog- 
 glesby appended. 
 
 Andrew studied her face to see whether she really was 
 not hoisting him with his own petard. Perceiving that 
 she was sincerely acting according to her sense of prin- 
 ciple, he fumed, and departed to his privacy, unable to 
 stand it any longer. 
 
 Then like a kite the Countess pounced upon his character. 
 Would the Honourable and Reverend Mr. Duffian decline to 
 participate in the sparest provender? Would he be guilty 
 of the discourtesy of leaving table without a bow or an 
 apology, even if reduced to extremest poverty? No, in- 
 deed! which showed that, under all circumstances, a gen- 
 tleman was a gentleman. And, oh ! how she pitied her poor 
 Harriet — eternally tied to a most vulgar little man, with- 
 out the gilding of wealth. 
 
 "And a fool in his business to boot, dear! " 
 
 " These comparisons do no good, " said Harriet. " Andrew 
 at least is not a renegade, and never shall be while I live. 
 I will do my duty by him, however poor we are. And now, 
 Louisa, putting my husband out of the question, what are 
 your intentions? I don't understand bankruptcy, but I 
 imagine they can do nothing to wife and children. My 
 little ones must have a roof over their heads; and, besides, 
 there is little Maxwell. You decline to go down to Lym- 
 port, of course." 
 
 "Decline!" cried the Countess, melodiously; "and do 
 not you?" 
 
 " As far as I am concerned, — yes. But I am not to think 
 of myself." 
 
 The Countess meditated, and said: "Dear Mr. Duffian 
 has offered me his hospitality. Renegades are not abso- 

 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 445 
 
 lutely inhuman. They may be generous. I have no moral 
 doubt that Mr. Duffian would, upon my representation — 
 dare I venture?" 
 
 "Sleep in his house! break bread with him! " exclaimed 
 Harriet. "What do you think I am made of? I would 
 perish — go to the workhouse, rather ! " 
 
 "I see you trooping there," said the Countess, intent on 
 the vision. 
 
 "And have you accepted his invitation for yourself, 
 Louisa? " 
 
 The Countess was never to be daunted by threatening 
 aspects. She gave her affirmative with calmness and a 
 deliberate smile. 
 
 "You are going to live with him?" 
 
 "Live with him! What expressions! My husband 
 accompanies me." 
 
 Harriet drew up. 
 
 "I know nothing, Louisa, that could give me more pain." 
 
 The Countess patted Harriet's knee. "It succeeds to 
 bankruptcy, assuredly. But would you have me drag 
 Silva to the — the shop, Harriet, love? Alternatives!" 
 
 Mrs. Andrew got up and rang the bell to have the remains 
 of their dinner removed. When this was done, she said : 
 
 "Louisa, I don't know whether I am justified: you told 
 me to-day I might keep my jewels, trinkets, and lace, and 
 such like. To me, I know they do not belong now: but I 
 will dispose of them to procure you an asylum somewhere 
 — they will fetch, I should think, 400Z., — to prevent 
 your going to Mr. Duffian." 
 
 JSTo exhibition of great-mindedness which the Countess 
 could perceive, ever found her below it. 
 
 "Never, love, never!" she said. 
 
 "Then, will you go to Evan?" 
 
 "Evan? I hate him! " The olive-hued visage was dark. 
 It brightened as she added, "At least as much as my reli- 
 gious sentiments permit me to. A boy who has thwarted 
 me at every turn ! — disgraced us ! Indeed, I find it diffi- 
 cult to pardon you the supposition of such a possibility as 
 your own consent to look on him ever again, Harriet." 
 
 "You have no children," said Mrs. Andrew. 
 
 The Countess mournfully admitted it.
 
 446 EVAN HAKMNGTON 
 
 " There lies your danger with Mr. Duffian, Louisa ! " 
 
 "What! do you doubt my virtue?''' asked the Countess. 
 
 "Pish! I fear something different. You understand me. 
 Mr. Duffian's moral reputation is none of the best, perhaps." 
 
 "That was before he renegaded," said the Countess. 
 
 Harriet bluntly rejoined: "You will leave that house a 
 Koman Catholic." 
 
 "Now you have spoken," said the Countess, pluming. 
 "Now let me explain myself. My dear, I have fought 
 worldly battles too long and too earnestly. I am rightly 
 punished. I do but quote Herbert Duffian's own words: 
 he is no flatterer — though you say he has such soft fingers. 
 I am now engaged in a spiritual contest. He is very 
 wealthy! I have resolved to rescue back to our Church 
 what can benefit the flock of which we form a portion, so 
 exceedingly ! " 
 
 At this revelation of the Countess's spiritual contest, 
 Mrs. Andrew shook a worldly head. 
 
 "You have no chance with men there, Louisa." 
 
 " My Harriet complains of female weakness ! " 
 
 "Yes. We are strong in our own element, Louisa. 
 Don't be tempted out of it." 
 
 Sublime, the Countess rose: 
 
 "Element! am I to be confined to one? What but spirit- 
 ual solaces could assist me to live, after the degradations I 
 have had heaped on me? I renounce the world. I turn 
 my sight to realms where caste is unknown. I feel no 
 shame there of being a tailor's daughter. You see, I can 
 bring my tongue to name the thing in its actuality. Once, 
 that member would have blistered. Confess to me that, in 
 spite of your children, you are tempted to howl at the idea 
 of Lymport — " 
 
 The Countess paused, and like a lady about to fire off a 
 gun, appeared to tighten her nerves, crying out rapidly — 
 
 "Shop! Shears! Geese! Cabbage! Snip! Nine to a 
 man ! " 
 
 Even as the silence after explosions of cannon, that 
 which reigned in the room was deep and dreadful. 
 
 "See," the Countess continued, "you are horrified: you 
 shudder. I name all our titles, and if I wish to be red in 
 my cheeks, I must rouge. It is, in verity, as if my sense-
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 447 
 
 less clay were pelted, as we heard of Evan at his first 
 Lymport boys' school. You remember when he told us 
 the story? He lisped a trifle then. 'I'm the thon of a 
 thnip.' Oh! it was hell-fire to us then; but now, what 
 do I feel ? Why, I avowed it to Herbert Duffian openly, 
 and he said, that the misfortune of dear Papa's birth did 
 not the less enable him to proclaim himself in conduct a 
 nobleman's offspring — " 
 
 "Which he never was." Harriet broke the rhapsody in 
 a monotonous low tone : the Countess was not compelled to 
 hear: 
 
 " — and that a large outfitter — one of the very largest, 
 was in reality a merchant, whose daughters have often 
 wedded nobles of the land, and become ancestresses! Now, 
 Harriet, do you see what a truly religious mind can do for 
 us in the way of comfort? Oh ! I bow in gratitude to Her- 
 bert Duffian. I will not rest till I have led him back to 
 our fold, recovered from his error. He was our own preacher 
 and pastor. He quitted us from conviction. He shall 
 return to us from conviction." 
 
 The Countess quoted texts, which I respect, and will not 
 repeat. She descanted further on spiritualism, and on the 
 balm that it was to tailors and their offspring ; to all outcasts 
 from Society. 
 
 Overpowered by her, Harriet thus summed up her opinions : 
 " You were always self-willed, Louisa." 
 
 " Say, full of sacrifice, if you would be just," added the 
 Countess ; " and the victim of basest ingratitude." 
 
 " Well, you are in a dangerous path, Louisa." 
 
 Harriet had the last word, which usually the Countess 
 was not disposed to accord; but now she knew herself 
 strengthened to do so, and was content to smile pityingly 
 on her sister. 
 
 Full upon them in this frame of mind, arrived Caroline's 
 great news from Beckley. 
 
 It was then that the Countess's conduct proved a memo- 
 rable refutation of cynical philosophy; she rejoiced in the 
 good fortune of him who had offended her! Though he 
 was not crushed and annihilated (as he deserved to be) by 
 the wrong he had done, the great-hearted woman pardoned 
 him!
 
 448 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Her first remark was : " Let liim thank me for it or not, I 
 will lose no moment in hastening to load him with my con- 
 gratulations." 
 
 Pleasantly she joked Andrew, and defended him from 
 Harriet now. 
 
 " So we are not all bankrupts, you see, dear brother-in-law." 
 
 Andrew had become so demoralized by his own plot, that 
 in every turn of events he scented a similar piece of human 
 ingenuity. Harriet was angry with his disbelief, or say, the 
 grudging credit he gave to the glorious news. Notwithstand- 
 ing her calmness, the thoughts of Lymport had sickened her 
 soul, and it was only for the sake of her children, and from 
 a sense of the dishonesty of spending a farthing of the money 
 belonging, as she conceived, to the creditors, that she had 
 consented to go. 
 
 " I see your motive, Mr. Cogglesby," she observed. " Your 
 measures are disconcerted. I will remain here till my brother 
 gives me shelter." 
 
 " Oh, that'll do, my love ; that's all I want," said Andrew, 
 sincerely. 
 
 " Both of you, fools ! " the Countess interjected. " Know 
 you Evan so little ? He will receive us anywhere : his arms 
 are open to his kindred : but to his heart the road is through 
 humiliation, and it is to his heart we seek admittance." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Harriet inquired. 
 
 " Just this," the Countess answered in bold English : and 
 her eyes were lively, her figure elastic : " We must all of us 
 go down to the old shop and shake his hand there — every 
 man Jack of us! — I'm only quoting the sailors, Harriet — 
 and that's the way to win him." 
 
 She snapped her fingers, laughing. Harriet stared at her, 
 and so did Andrew, though for a different reason. She 
 seemed to be transformed. Seeing him inclined to gape, she 
 ran up to him, caught up his chin between her ten fingers, 
 and kissed him on both cheeks, saying : 
 
 " You needn't come, if you're too proud, you know, little 
 man ! " 
 
 And to Harriet's look of disgust, the cause for which she 
 divined with her native rapidity, she said : " What does it 
 matter ? They will talk, but they can't look down on us 
 now. Why, this is my doing ! "
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 449 
 
 She came tripping to her tall sister, to ask plaintively : 
 " Mayn't I be glad. ? " and bobbed a curtsey. 
 
 Harriet desired Andrew to leave them. Flushed and 
 indignant she then faced the Countess. 
 
 " So unnecessary ! " she began. " What can excuse your 
 indiscretion, Louisa ? " 
 
 The Countess smiled to hear her talking to her younger 
 sister once more. She shrugged. 
 
 " Oh, if you will keep up the fiction, do. Andrew knows 
 — he isn't an idiot — and to him we can make light of it 
 now. What does anybody's birth matter, who's well off ? " 
 
 It was impossible for Harriet to take that view. The shop, 
 if not the thing, might still have been concealed from her 
 husband, she thought. 
 
 " It mattered to me when / was well off," she said sternly. 
 
 " Yes ; and to me when / was ; but we've had a fall and a 
 lesson since that, my dear. Half the aristocracy of England 
 spring from shops ! — Shall I measure you ? " 
 
 Harriet never felt such a desire to inflict a slap upon mor- 
 tal cheek. She marched away from her in a tiff. On the 
 other hand, Andrew was half fascinated by the Countess's 
 sudden re-assumption of girlhood, and returned — silly fel- 
 low ! to have another look at her. She had ceased, on reflec- 
 tion, to be altogether so vivacious : her stronger second 
 nature had somewhat resumed its empire: still she was 
 fresh, and could at times be roguishly affectionate : and she 
 patted him, and petted him, and made much of him ; slightly 
 railed at him for his uxoriousness and domestic subjection, 
 and proffered him her fingers to try the taste of. The 
 truth must be told: Mr. Duffian not being handy, she in 
 her renewed earthly happiness wanted to see her charms 
 in a woman's natural mirror : namely, the face of man : if 
 of man on his knees, all the better : and though a little 
 man is not much of a man, and a sister's husband is, or 
 should be, hardly one at all, still some sort of a reflector he 
 must be. Two or three jests adapted to Andrew's palate 
 achieved his momentary captivation. 
 
 He said: "'Gad, I never kissed you in my life, Louy." 
 
 And she, with a flavour of delicate Irish brogue, " Why 
 don't ye catch opportunity by the tail, then ? " 
 
 Perfect innocence, I assure you, on both sides. 
 
 29
 
 450 EVAN HAREINGTON 
 
 But mark how stupidity betrays. Andrew failed to under- 
 stand her, and act on the hint immediately. Had he done 
 so, the affair would have been over without a witness. As 
 it happened, delay permitted Harriet to assist at the cere- 
 mony. 
 
 " It wasn't your mouth, Louy," said Andrew. 
 
 "Oh, my mouth! — that I keep for my chosen," was 
 answered. 
 
 "'Gad you make a fellow almost wish — " Andrew's 
 fingers worked over his poll, and then the spectre of right- 
 eous wrath flashed on him — naughty little man that he 
 was ! He knew himself naughty, for it was the only time 
 since his marriage that he had ever been sorry to see his 
 wife. This is a comedy, and I must not preach lessons of 
 life here : but I am obliged to remark that the husband 
 must be proof, the sister-in-law perfect, where arrangements 
 exist that keep them under one roof. She may be so like 
 his wife ! Or, from the knowledge she has of his circum- 
 stances, she may talk to him almost as his wife. He may 
 forget that she is not his wife ! And then again, the small 
 beginnings, which are in reality the mighty barriers, are so 
 easily slid over. But what is the use of telling this to a 
 pure generation ? My constant error is in supposing that I 
 write for the wicked people who begat us. 
 
 Note, however, the difference between the woman and the 
 man! Shame confessed Andrew's naughtiness; he snig- 
 gered pitiably : whereas the Countess jumped up, and point- 
 ing at him, asked her sister what she thought of that. Her 
 next sentence, coolly delivered, related to some millinery 
 matter. If this was not innocence, what is ? 
 
 Nevertheless, I must here state that the scene related, 
 innocent as it was, and, as one would naturally imagine, of 
 puny consequence, if any, did no less a thing than, subse- 
 quently, to precipitate the Protestant Countess de Saldar 
 into the bosom of the Koman Catholic Church. A little bit 
 of play ! 
 
 It seems barely just. But if, as I have heard, a lady has 
 trod on a pebble and broken her nose, tremendous results 
 like these warn us to be careful how we walk. As for play, 
 it was never intended that we should play with flesh and 
 blood.
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS 451 
 
 And, oh, be charitable, matrons of Britain! See here, 
 Andrew Cogglesby, who loved his wife as his very sonl, and 
 who almost disliked her sister ; — in ten minutes the latter 
 had set his head spinning ! The whole of the day he went 
 about the house meditating frantically on the possibility of 
 his Harriet demanding a divorce. 
 
 She was not the sort of woman to do that. But one thing 
 she resolved to do; and it was, to go to Lymport with 
 Louisa, and having once got her out of her dwelling-place, 
 never to allow her to enter it, wherever it might be, in the 
 light of a resident again. Whether anything but the 
 menace of a participation in her conjugal possessions could 
 have despatched her to that hateful place, I doubt. She 
 went : she would not let Andrew be out of her sight. Grow- 
 ing haughtier toward him at every step, she advanced to 
 the strange old shop. Evan Harrington over the door ! 
 There the Countess, having meantime returned to her state 
 of womanhood, shared her shudders. They entered, and 
 passed in to Mrs. Mel, leaving their footman, apparently, in 
 the rear. Evan was not visible. A man in the shop, with a 
 yard measure negligently adorning his shoulders, said that 
 Mr. Harrington was in the habit of quitting the shop at five. 
 
 " Deuced good habit, too," said Andrew. 
 
 " Why, sir," observed another, stepping forward, " as you 
 truly say — yes. But — ah! Mr. Andrew Cogglesby? 
 Pleasure of meeting you once in Eallowfield! Remember 
 Mr. Perkins ? — the lawyer, not the maltster. Will you do 
 me the favour to step out with me ? " 
 
 Andrew followed him into the street. 
 
 " Are you aware of our young friend's good fortune ? " 
 said Lawyer Perkins. " Yes. Ah ! Well ! — Would you 
 believe that any sane person in his condition, now — non- 
 sense apart — could bring his mind wilfully to continue a 
 beggar ? No. Um ! Well, Mr. Cogglesby, I may tell you 
 that I hold here in my hands a document by which Mr. 
 Evan Harrington transfers the whole of the property be- 
 queathed to him to Lady Jocelyn, and that I have his 
 orders to execute it instantly, and deliver it over to her 
 ladyship, after the will is settled, probate, and so forth : I 
 presume there will be an arrangement about his father's 
 debts. Now what do you think of that ? "
 
 452 EVAN HAKKINGTON 
 
 " Think, sir, — think ! " cried Andrew, cocking his head 
 at him like an indignant bird, "I think he's a damned 
 young idiot to do so, and you're a confounded old rascal to 
 help him." 
 
 Leaving Mr. Perkins to digest his judgement, which he 
 had solicited, Andrew bounced back into the shop. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 IN WHICH THE SHOP BECOMES THE CENTRE OF ATTRACTION 
 
 Under the first lustre of a May-night, Evan was gallop- 
 ing over the moon-shadowed downs toward Beckley. At the 
 ridge commanding the woods, the park, and the stream, his 
 horse stopped, as if from habit, snorted, and puffed its sides, 
 while he gazed steadily across the long lighted vale. Soon 
 he began to wind down the glaring chalk-track, and reached 
 grass levels. Here he broke into a round pace, till, gaining 
 the first straggling cottages of the village, he knocked the 
 head of his whip against the garden-gate of one, and a man 
 came out, who saluted him, and held the reins. 
 
 " Animal does work, sir," said the man. 
 
 Evan gave directions for it to be looked to, and went on 
 to the doorway, where he was met by a young woman. She 
 uttered a respectful greeting, and begged him to enter. 
 
 The door closed, he flung himself into a chair, and said: 
 " Well, Susan, how is the child ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he's always well, Mr. Harrington ; he don't know 
 the tricks o' trouble yet." 
 
 " Will Polly be here soon ? " 
 
 " At a quarter after nine she said, sir." 
 
 Evan bade her sit down. After examining her features 
 quietly, he said : 
 
 " I'm glad to see you here, Susan. You don't regret that 
 you followed my advice ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; now it's over, I don't. Mother's kind enough, 
 and father doesn't mention anything. She's a-bed with bile 
 — father's out."
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION 453 
 
 " But what ? There's something on your mind." 
 
 " I shall cry, if I begin, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 " See how far you can get without." 
 
 " Oh ! sir, then," said Susan, on a sharp rise of her bosom, 
 "it ain't my fault. I wouldn't cause trouble to Mr. Harry, 
 or any friend of yours ; but, sir, father have got hold of his 
 letters to me, and he says, there's a promise in 'em — least, 
 one of 'em; and it's as good as law, he says — he heard it 
 in a public-house; and he's gone over to Fall'fieldto a law- 
 gentleman there." Susan was compelled to give way to 
 some sobs. " It ain't for me father does it, sir," she pleaded. 
 " I tried to stop him, knowing how it'd vex you, Mr. Har- 
 rington; but he's heady about points, though a quiet man 
 ordinary ; and he says he don't expect — and I know now 
 no gentleman'd marry such as me — I ain't such a stupid 
 gaper at words as I used to be; but father says it's for the 
 child's sake, and he does it to have him provided for. 
 Please, don't ye be angry with me, sir." 
 
 Susan's half -controlled spasms here got the better of her. 
 
 While Evan was awaiting the return of her calmer senses, 
 the latch was lifted, and Polly appeared. 
 
 " At it again ! " was her sneering comment, after a short 
 survey of her apron-screened sister; and then she bobbed 
 to Evan. 
 
 " It's whimper, whimper, and squeak, squeak, half their 
 lives with some girls. After that they go wondering they 
 can't see to thread a needle! The neighbours, I suppose. 
 I should like to lift the top off some o' their houses. I 
 hope I haven't kept you, sir." 
 
 "No, Polly," said Evan; "but you must be charitable, or 
 I shall think you want a lesson yourself. Mr. Raikes tells 
 me you want to see me. What is it? You seem to be 
 correspondents." 
 
 Polly replied : " Oh, no, Mr. Harrington : only accidental 
 ones — when something particular's to be said. And he 
 dances-like on the paper, so that you can't help laughing. 
 Isn't he a very eccentric gentleman, sir?" 
 
 "Very," said Evan. "I've no time to lose, Polly." 
 
 "Here, you must go," the latter called to her sister. 
 "Now pack at once, Sue. Do rout out, and do leave off 
 thinking you've got a candle at your eyes, for goodness' 
 sake ! "
 
 454 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Susan was too well accustomed to Polly's usage to com- 
 plain. She murmured a gentle "Good night, sir," and 
 retired. Whereupon Polly exclaimed: "Bless her poor 
 dear soft heart! It's us hard ones that get on best in the 
 world. I'm treated better than her, Mr. Harrington, and I 
 know I ain't worth half of her. It goes nigh to make one 
 religious, only to see how exactly like Scripture is the way 
 Beckley treats her, whose only sin is her being so soft as 
 to believe in a man! Oh, dear! Mr. Harrington! I wish I 
 had good news for you." 
 
 In spite of all his self-control, Evan breathed quickly 
 and looked eagerly. 
 
 "Speak it out, Polly." 
 
 "Oh, dear! I must, I suppose," Polly answered. "Mr. 
 Laxley's become a lord now, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 Evan tasted in his soul the sweets of contrast. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " And my Miss Rose — she — " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Moved by the keen hunger of his eyes, Polly hesitated. 
 Her face betrayed a sudden change of mind. 
 
 "Wants to see you, sir," she said resolutely. 
 
 "To see me?" 
 
 Evan stood up, so pale that Polly was frightened. 
 
 "Where is she? Where can I meet her?" 
 
 "Please don't take it so, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 Evan commanded her to tell him what her mistress had 
 said. 
 
 Now up to this point Polly had spoken truth. She was 
 positive her mistress did want to see him. Polly, also, 
 with a maiden's tender guile, desired to bring them together 
 for once, though it were for the last time, and for no good 
 on earth. She had been about to confide to him her young 
 mistress's position toward Lord Laxley, when his sharp 
 interrogation stopped her. Shrinking from absolute inven- 
 tion, she remarked that of course she could not exactly 
 remember Miss Rose's words; which seemed indeed too 
 much to expect of her. 
 
 "She will see me to-night?" said Evan. 
 
 "I don't know about to-night," Polly replied. 
 
 " Go to her instantly. Tell her I am ready. I will be
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION 455 
 
 at the West park-gates. This is why you wrote, Polly? 
 Why did you lose time? Don't delay, my good girl! 
 Come!" 
 
 Evan had opened the door. He would not allow Polly 
 an instant for expostulation; but drew her out, saying, 
 " You will attend to the gates yourself. Or come and tell 
 me the day, if she appoints another." 
 
 Polly made a final effort to escape from the pit she was 
 being pushed into. 
 
 " Mr. Harrington ! it wasn't to tell you this I wrote. 
 Miss Rose is engaged, sir." 
 
 "I understand," said Evan, hoarsely, scarcely feeling it, 
 as is the case with men who are shot through the heart. 
 
 Ten minutes later he was on horseback by the Fallowfield 
 gates, with the tidings shrieking through his frame. The 
 night was still, and stiller in the pauses of the nightingales. 
 He sat there, neither thinking of them nor reproached in 
 his manhood for the tears that rolled down his cheeks. 
 Presently his horse's ears pricked, and the animal gave a 
 low neigh. Evan's eyes fixed harder on the length of 
 gravel leading to the house. There was no sign, no figure. 
 Out from the smooth grass of the lane a couple of horsemen 
 issued, and came straight to the gates. He heard nothing 
 till one spoke. It was a familiar voice. 
 
 "By Jove, Ferdy, here is the fellow, and we've been all 
 the way to Lymport ! " 
 
 Evan started from his trance. 
 
 "It's you, Harrington?" 
 
 "Yes, Harry." 
 
 " Sir ! " exclaimed that youth, evidently flushed with wine, 
 "what the devil do you mean by addressing me by my 
 Christian name?" 
 
 Laxley pushed his horse's head in front of Harry. In a 
 manner apparently somewhat improved by his new dignity, 
 he said : " We have ridden to Lymport to speak to you, sir. 
 Favour me by moving a little ahead of the lodge." 
 
 Evan bowed, and moved beside him a short way down the 
 lane, Harry following. 
 
 "The purport of my visit, sir," Laxley began, "was to 
 make known to you that Miss Jocelyn has done me the 
 honour to accept me as her husband. I learn from her that
 
 456 EVAN HAKKINGTON- 
 
 during the term of your residence in the house, you eon* 
 trived to extract from her a promise to which she attaches 
 certain scruples. She pleases to consider herself bound 
 to you till you release her. My object is to demand that 
 you will do so immediately." 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Should you refuse to make this reparation for the harm 
 you have done to her and her family," Laxley pursued, "I 
 must let you know that there are means of compelling you 
 to it, and that those means Avill be employed." 
 
 Harry, fuming at these postured sentences, burst out: 
 " What do you talk to the fellow in that way for? A fellow 
 who makes a fool of my cousin, and then wants to get us to 
 buy off my sister! What's he spying after here? The 
 place is ours till we troop. I tell you there's only one way 
 of dealing with him, and if you don't do it, I will." 
 
 Laxley pulled his reins with a jerk that brought him to 
 the rear. 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn has commissioned you to make this demand 
 on me in her name?" said Evan. 
 
 "I make it in my own right," returned Laxley. "I de- 
 mand a prompt reply." 
 
 " My lord, you shall have it. Miss Jocelyn is not bound 
 to me by any engagement. Should she entertain scruples 
 which I may have it in my power to obliterate, I shall not 
 hesitate to do so — but only to her. What has passed 
 between us I hold sacred." 
 
 "Hark at that! " shouted Harry. "The damned trades- 
 man means money! You ass, Ferdinand! What did we 
 go to Lymport for? Not to bandy words. Here! I've got 
 my own quarrel with you, Harrington. You've been set- 
 ting that girl's father on me. Can you deny that?" 
 
 It was enough for Harry that Evan did not deny it. The 
 calm disdain which he read on Evan's face acted on his 
 fury, and digging his heels into his horse's flanks he rushed 
 full at him and dealt him a sharp flick with his whip. 
 Evan's beast reared. 
 
 "Accept my conditions, sir, or afford me satisfaction," 
 cried Laxley. 
 
 " You do me great honour, my lord ; but I have told you 
 I cannot," said Evan, curbing his horse.
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION 457 
 
 At that moment Kose came among them. Evan raised 
 his hat, as did Laxley. Harry, a little behind the others, 
 performed a laborious mock salute, and then ordered her 
 back to the house. A quick altercation ensued; the end 
 being that Harry managed to give his sister the context of 
 the previous conversation. 
 
 " Now go back, Kose," said Laxley. " I have particular 
 business with Mr. Harrington." 
 
 " I came to see him," said Eose, in a clear voice. 
 
 Laxley reddened angrily. 
 
 " Then tell him at once you want to be rid of him," her 
 brother called to her. 
 
 Rose looked at Evan. Could he not see that she had no 
 word in her soul for him of that kind ? Yes : but love is 
 not always to be touched to tenderness even at the sight of 
 love. 
 
 "Rose," he said, "I hear from Lord Laxley, that you 
 fancy yourself not at liberty ; and that you require me to 
 disengage you." 
 
 He paused. Did he expect her to say there that she 
 wished nothing of the sort? Her stedfast eyes spoke as 
 much : but misery is wanton, and will pull all down to it. 
 Even Harry was checked by his tone, and Laxley sat silent. 
 The fact that something more than a tailor was speaking 
 seemed to impress them. 
 
 " Since I have to say it, Rose, I hold you in no way bound 
 to me. The presumption is forced upon me. May you 
 have all the happiness I pray God to give you. Gentlemen, 
 good night ! " 
 
 He bowed and was gone. How keenly she could have re- 
 torted on that false prayer for her happiness ! Her limbs 
 were nerveless, her tongue speechless. He had thrown her 
 off — there was no barrier now between herself and Ferdi- 
 nand. Why did Ferdinand speak to her with that air of 
 gentle authority, bidding her return to the house ? She was 
 incapable of seeing, what the young lord acutely felt, that 
 he had stooped very much in helping to bring about such 
 a scene. She had no idea of having trifled with him 
 and her own heart, when she talked feebly of her bondage 
 to another, as one who would be warmer to him were she 
 free. Swiftly she compared the two that loved her, and
 
 458 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 shivered as if she had been tossed to the embrace of a block 
 of ice. 
 
 " You are cold, Rose," said Laxley, bending to lay his 
 hand on her shoulder. 
 
 "Pray, never touch me," she answered, and walked on 
 hastily to the house. 
 
 Entering it, she remembered that Evan had dwelt there. 
 A sense of desolation came over her. She turned to Ferdi- 
 nand remorsefully, saying : "Dear Ferdinand ! " and allowed 
 herself to be touched and taken close to him. When she 
 reached her bed-room, she had time to reflect that he had 
 kissed her on the lips, and then she fell down and shed such 
 tears as had never been drawn from her before. 
 
 Next day she rose with an undivided mind. Belonging 
 henceforth to Ferdinand, it was necessary that she should 
 invest him immediately with transcendent qualities. The 
 absence of character in him rendered this easy. What she 
 had done for Evan, she did for him. But now, as if the 
 Fates had been lying in watch to entrap her and chain her, 
 that they might have her at their mercy, her dreams of 
 Evan's high nature — hitherto dreams only — were to be 
 realized. With the purposeless waywardness of her sex, 
 Polly Wheedle, while dressing her young mistress, and 
 though quite aware that the parting had been spoken, must 
 needs relate her sister's story and Evan's share in it. Rose 
 praised him like one for ever aloof from him. Nay, she 
 could secretly congratulate herself on not being deceived. 
 Upon that came a letter from Caroline: 
 
 " Do not misjudge my brother. He knew Juliana's love 
 for him and rejected it. You will soon have proofs of his 
 disinterestedness. Then do not forget that he works to 
 support us all. I write this with no hope save to make you 
 just to him. That is the utmost he will ever anticipate." 
 
 It gave no beating of the heart to Rose to hear good of 
 Evan now : but an increased serenity of confidence in the 
 accuracy of her judgement of persons. 
 
 The arrival of Lawyer Perkins supplied the key to Caro- 
 line's communication. No one was less astonished than 
 Rose at the news that Evan renounced the estate. She smiled
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION 459 
 
 at Harry's contrite stupefaction, and her father's incapacity 
 of belief in conduct so singular, caused her to lift her head 
 and look down on her parent. 
 
 " Shows he knows nothing of the world, poor young fel- 
 low ! " said Sir Franks. 
 
 "Nothing more clearly," observed Lady Jocelyn. "I 
 presume I shall cease to be blamed for having had him 
 here ? " 
 
 "Upon my honour, he must have the soul of a gentle- 
 man!" said the baronet. "There's nothing he can expect 
 in return, you know ! " 
 
 "One would think, Papa, you had always been dealing 
 with tradesmen ! " remarked Kose, to whom her father now 
 accorded the treatment due to a sensible girl. 
 
 Laxley was present at the family consultation. What 
 was his opinion ? Rose manifested a slight anxiety to hear it. 
 
 "What those sort of fellows do never surprises me," he 
 said, with a semi-yawn. 
 
 Rose felt fire on her cheeks. 
 
 "It's only what the young man is bound to do," said 
 Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 " His duty, aunt ? I hope we may all do it ! " Rose inter- 
 jected. 
 
 " Championing him again ? " 
 
 Rose quietly turned her face, too sure of her cold appre- 
 ciation of him to retort. But yesterday night a word from 
 him might have made her his ; and here she sat advocating 
 the nobility of his nature with the zeal of a barrister in full 
 swing of practice. Remember, however, that a kiss separates 
 them : and how many millions of leagues that counts for in 
 love, in a pure girl's thought, I leave you to guess. 
 
 Now, in what way was Evan to be thanked ? how Avas he 
 to be treated ? Sir Franks proposed to go down to him in 
 person, accompanied by Harry. Lady Jocelyn acquiesced. 
 But Rose said to her mother : 
 
 " Will not you wound his sensitiveness by going to him 
 there ? " 
 
 " Possibly," said her ladyship. " Shall we write and ask 
 him to come to us ? " 
 
 "No, Mama. Could we ask him to make a journey to 
 receive our thanks ? "
 
 460 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " Not till we have solid ones to offer, perhaps." 
 
 " He will not let us help him, Mama, unless we have all 
 given him our hands." 
 
 "Probably not. There's always a fund of nonsense in 
 those who are capable of great things, I observe. It shall 
 be a family expedition, if you like." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Mrs. Shorne. " Do you mean that 
 you intend to allow Eose to make one of the party ? Franks ! 
 is that your idea ? " 
 
 Sir Franks looked at his wife. 
 
 " What harm ? " Lady Jocelyn asked ; for Rose's absence 
 of conscious guile in appealing to her reason had subjugated 
 that great faculty. 
 
 " Simply a sense of propriety, Emily," said Mrs. Shorne, 
 with a glance at Ferdinand. 
 
 " You have no objection, I suppose ! " Lady Jocelyn ad- 
 dressed him. 
 
 " Ferdinand will join us," said Rose. 
 
 "Thank you, Rose, I'd rather not," he replied. "I 
 thought we had done with the fellow for good last night." 
 
 " Last night ? " quoth Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 No one spoke. The interrogation was renewed. Was it 
 Rose's swift instinct which directed her the shortest way to 
 gain her point ? or that she was glad to announce that her 
 degrading engagement was at an end ? She said : " Ferdi- 
 nand and Mr. Harrington came to an understanding last 
 night, in my presence." 
 
 That, strange as it struck on their ears, appeared to be 
 quite sufficient to all, albeit the necessity for it was not so 
 very clear. The carriage was ordered forthwith; Lady 
 Jocelyn went to dress ; Rose drew Ferdinand away into the 
 garden. Then, with all her powers, she entreated him to 
 join her. 
 
 " Thank you, Rose," he said ; " I have no taste for the 
 genus." 
 
 " For my sake, I beg it, Ferdinand." 
 
 "It's really too much to ask of me, Rose." 
 
 " If you care for me, you will." 
 
 " Ton my honour, quite impossible ! " 
 
 " You refuse, Ferdinand ? " 
 
 "My London tailor'd find me out, and never forgive me."
 
 A lovers' parting 461 
 
 This pleasantry stopped her soft looks. Why she wished 
 him to be with her, she could not have said. For a thousand 
 reasons : which implies no distinct one : something prophet- 
 ically pressing in her blood. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 A lovers' parting 
 
 Now, to suppose oneself the fashioner of such a chain of 
 events as this which brought the whole of the Harrington 
 family in tender unity together once more, would have elated 
 an ordinary mind. But to the Countess de Saldar, it was 
 simply an occasion for reflecting that she had misunderstood 
 — and could most sincerely forgive — Providence. She ad- 
 mitted to herself that it was not entirely her work ; for she 
 never would have had their place of meeting to be the Shop. 
 Seeing, however, that her end was gained, she was entitled 
 to the credit of it, and could pardon the means adopted. Her 
 brother lord of Beckley Court, and all of them assembled in 
 the old 193, Main Street, Lymport ! What matter for proud 
 humility ! Providence had answered her numerous petitions, 
 but in its own way. Stipulating that she must swallow this 
 pill, Providence consented to serve her. She swallowed it 
 with her wonted courage. In half an hour subsequent to 
 her arrival at Lymport, she laid siege to the heart of Old Tom 
 Cogglesby, whom she found installed in the parlour, com- 
 fortably sipping at a tumbler of rum-and-water. Old Tom 
 was astonished to meet such an agreeable unpretentious 
 woman, who talked of tailors and lords with equal ease, 
 appeared to comprehend a man's habits instinctively, and 
 could amuse him while she ministered to them. 
 
 " Can you cook, ma'am ? " asked Old Tom. 
 
 "All but that," said the Countess, with a smile of sweet 
 meaning. 
 
 "Ha! then you won't suit me as well as your mother." 
 
 " Take care you do not excite my emulation," she returned, 
 graciously, albeit disgusted at his tone.
 
 462 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 To Harriet, Old Tom had merely nodded. There he sat, 
 in the arm-chair, sucking the liquor, with the glimpse of a 
 sour chuckle on his cheeks. Now and then, during the 
 evening, he rubbed his hands sharply, but spoke little. The 
 unbending Harriet did not conceal her disdain of him. When 
 he ventured to allude to the bankruptcy, she cut him short. 
 
 "Pray, excuse me — I am unacquainted with affairs of 
 business — I cannot even understand my husband." 
 
 " Lord bless my soul ! " Old Tom exclaimed, rolling his eyes. 
 
 Caroline had informed her sisters up-stairs that their 
 mother was ignorant of Evan's change of fortune, and that 
 Evan desired her to continue so for the present. Caroline 
 appeared to be pained by the subject, and was glad when 
 Louisa sounded his mysterious behaviour by saying : " Evan 
 has a native love of concealment — he must be humoured." 
 
 At the supper, Mr. Eaikes made his bow. He was modest 
 and reserved. It was known that this young gentleman 
 acted as shopman there. With a tenderness for his position 
 worthy of all respect, the Countess spared his feelings by 
 totally ignoring his presence ; whereat he, unaccustomed to 
 such great-minded treatment, retired to bed, a hater of his 
 kind. Harriet and Caroline went next. The Countess said 
 she would wait up for Evan, but hearing that his hours of 
 return were about the chimes of matins, she cried exult- 
 ingly: "Darling Papa all over!" and departed likewise. 
 Mrs. Mel, when she had mixed Old Tom's third glass, wished 
 the brothers good night, and they were left to exchange 
 what sentiments they thought proper for the occasion. The 
 Countess had certainly disappointed Old Tom's farce, in a 
 measure ; and he expressed himself puzzled by her. " You 
 ain't the only one," said his brother. Andrew, with some 
 effort, held his tongue concerning the news of Evan — his 
 fortune and his folly, till he could talk to the youth in person. 
 
 All took their seats at the early breakfast next morning. 
 
 " Has Evan not come home yet ? " was the Countess's first 
 question. 
 
 Mrs. Mel replied, " No." 
 
 " Do you know where he has gone, dear Mama ? " 
 
 " He chooses his own way." 
 
 "And you fear that it leads somewhere?" added the 
 Countess.
 
 A lovers' parting 463 
 
 " I fear that it leads to knocking up the horse he rides." 
 
 "The horse, Mama! He is out on a horse all night! 
 But don't you see, dear old pet ! his morals, at least, are 
 safe on horseback." 
 
 " The horse has to be paid for, Louisa," said her mother, 
 sternly ; and then, for she had a lesson to read to the guests 
 of her son, "Ready money doesn't come by joking. What 
 will the creditors think ? If he intends to be honest in 
 earnest, he must give up four-feet mouths." 
 
 " Fourteew-f eet, ma'am, you mean," said Old Tom, count- 
 ing the heads at table. 
 
 "Bravo, Mama!" cried the Countess, and as she was 
 sitting near her mother, she must show how prettily she 
 kissed, by pouting out her playful lips to her parent. " Do 
 be economical always ! And mind ! for the sake of the 
 wretched animals, I will intercede for you to be his in- 
 spector of stables." 
 
 This, with a glance of intelligence at her sisters. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Raikes," said Andrew, " you keep good hours, 
 at all events — eh ? " 
 
 " Up with the lark," said Old Tom. " Ha ! 'f raid he won't 
 be so early when he gets rid of his present habits — eh ? " 
 
 "Nee dierum numerum, ut nos, sed noctium computant," 
 said Mr. Raikes, and both the brothers sniffed like dogs that 
 have put their noses to a hot coal, and the Countess, who 
 was less insensible to the aristocracy of the dead languages 
 than are women generally, gave him the recognition that is 
 occasionally afforded the family tutor. 
 
 About the hour of ten Evan arrived. He was subjected 
 to the hottest embrace he had ever yet received from his 
 sister Louisa. 
 
 " Darling ! " she called him before them all. " Oh ! how I 
 suffer for this ignominy I see you compelled for a moment 
 to endure. But it is but for a moment. They must vacate ; 
 and you will soon be out of this horrid hole." 
 
 "Where he just said he was glad to give us a welcome," 
 muttered old Tom. 
 
 Evan heard him, and laughed. The Countess laughed too. 
 
 "No, we will not be impatient. We are poor insignificant 
 people ! " she said ; and turning to her mother, added : " And 
 yet I doubt not you think the smallest of our landed gentry
 
 464 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 equal to great continental seigneurs. I do not say the 
 contrary." 
 
 " You will fill Evan's head with nonsense till you make 
 him knock up a horse a week, and never go to his natural 
 bed," said Mrs. Mel, angrily. « Look at him ! Is a face 
 like that fit for business ? " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly not ! " said the Countess. 
 
 "Well, Mother, the horse is dismissed, — you won't have 
 to complain any more," said Evan, touching her hand. 
 " Another history commences from to-day." 
 
 The Countess watched him admiringly. Such powers of 
 acting she could not have ascribed to him. 
 
 " Another history, indeed ! " she said. " By the way, Van, 
 love ! was it out of Glamorganshire — were we Tudors, ac- 
 cording to Papa? or only Powys chieftains? It's of no 
 moment, but it helps one in conversation." 
 
 " Not half so much as good ale, though ! " was Old Tom's 
 comment. 
 
 The Countess did not perceive its fitness, till Evan burst 
 into a laugh, and then she said : 
 
 "Oh! we shall never be ashamed of the Brewery. Do 
 not fear that, Mr. Cogglesby." 
 
 Old Tom saw his farce reviving, and encouraged the 
 Countess to patronize him. She did so to an extent that 
 called on her Mrs. Mel's reprobation, which was so cutting 
 and pertinent, that Harriet was compelled to defend her 
 sister, remarking that perhaps her mother would soon learn 
 that Louisa was justified in not permitting herself and 
 family to be classed too low. At this Andrew, coming from 
 a private interview with Evan, threw up his hands and eyes 
 as one who foretold astonishment but counselled humility. 
 What with the effort of those who knew a little to imply a 
 great deal ; of those who knew all to betray nothing ; and 
 of those who were kept in ignorance to strain a fact out of 
 the conflicting innuendoes the general mystification waxed 
 apace, and was at its height, when a name struck on Evan's 
 ear that went through his blood like a touch of the torpedo. 
 
 He had been called into the parlour to assist at a con- 
 sultation over the Brewery affairs. Kaikes opened the door, 
 and announced, " Sir Franks and Lady Jocelyn." 
 
 Them he could meet, though it was hard for his pride to
 
 A lovers' parting 465 
 
 pardon their visit to him there. But when his eyes discerned 
 Rose behind thein, the passions of his lower nature stood 
 up armed. What could she have come for but to humiliate, 
 or play with him ? 
 
 A very few words enabled the Countess to guess the cause 
 for this visit. Of course, it was to beg time ! But they 
 thanked Evan. For something generous, no doubt. Sir 
 Franks took him aside, and returning remarked to his wife 
 that she perhaps would have greater influence with him. 
 All this while Rose sat talking to Mrs. Andrew Cogglesby, 
 Mrs. Strike, and Evan's mother. She saw by his face the 
 offence she had committed, and acted on by one of her 
 impulses, said : " Mama, I think if I were to speak to Mr. 
 Harrington " 
 
 Ere her mother could make light of the suggestion, Old 
 Tom had jumped up, and bowed out his arm. 
 
 " Allow me to conduct ye to the drawing-room, up-stairs, 
 young lady. He'll follow, safe enough ! " 
 
 Rose had not stipulated for that. Nevertheless, seeing 
 no cloud on her mother's face, or her father's, she gave Old 
 Tom her hand, and awaited a movement from Evan. It was 
 too late to object to it on either side. Old Tom had caught 
 the tide at the right instant. Much as if a grim old genie 
 had planted them together, the lovers found themselves 
 alone. 
 
 " Evan, you forgive me ? " she began, looking up at him 
 timidly. 
 
 "With all my heart, Rose," he answered, with great 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 "No. I know your heart better. Oh, Evan! you must 
 be sure that we respect you too much to wound you. We 
 came to thank you for your generosity. Do you refuse to 
 accept anything from us ? How can we take this that you 
 thrust on us, unless in some way — " 
 
 " Say no more," he interposed. " You see me here. You 
 know me as I am, now." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " the tears stood in her eyes. " Why did I 
 come, you would ask ? That is what you cannot forgive ! 
 I see now how useless it was. Evan ! why did you betray 
 me?" 
 
 " Betray you, Rose ? " 
 
 30
 
 466 EYAN HARRINGTON 
 
 " You said that you loved me once." 
 
 She was -weeping, and all his spirit melted, and his love 
 cried out: "I said 'till death,' and till death it will be, 
 Kose." 
 
 " Then why, why did you betray me, Evan ? I know it 
 all. But if you blackened yourself to me, was it not because 
 you loved something better than me ? And now you think 
 me false ! Which of us two has been false ? It's silly to 
 talk of these things now — too late! But be just. I wish 
 that we may be friends. Can we, unless you bend a 
 little?" 
 
 The tears streamed down her cheeks, and in her lovely 
 humility he saw the baseness of that pride of his which had 
 hitherto held him up. 
 
 " Now that you are in this house where I was born and 
 am to live, can you regret what has come between us, 
 Eose ? " 
 
 Her lips quivered in pain. 
 
 " Can I do anything else but regret it all my life, Evan ? " 
 
 How was it possible for him to keep his strength ? 
 
 " Eose ! " he spoke with a passion that made her shrink, 
 " are you bound to this man ? " and to the drooping of her 
 eyes, " No. Impossible, for you do not love him. Break it. 
 Break the engagement you cannot fulfil. Break it and 
 belong to me. It sounds ill for me to say that in such a 
 place. But, Eose, I will leave it. I will accept any assist- 
 ance that your father — that any man will give me. Beloved 
 — noble girl ! I see my falseness to you, though I little 
 thought it at the time — fool that I was ! Be my help, my 
 guide — as the soul of my body ! Be mine ! " 
 
 " Oh, Evan ! " she clasped her hands in terror at the change 
 in him, that was hurrying her she knew not whither, and 
 trembling, held them supplicatingly. 
 
 " Yes, Eose : you have taught me what love can be. You 
 cannot marry that man." 
 
 " But, my honour, Evan ! No. I do not love him ; for 
 I can love but one. He has my pledge. Can I break it ? " 
 
 The stress on the question choked him, just as his heart 
 sprang to her. 
 
 " Can you face the world with me, Eose ? " 
 
 " Oh, Evan ! is there an escape for me ? Think ! Decide !
 
 a lovers' parting 467 
 
 No — no ! there is not. My mother, I know, looks on it so. 
 Why did she trust me to be with you here, but that she 
 thinks me engaged to him, and has such faith in me ? Oh, 
 help me ! — be my guide. Think whether you would trust 
 me hereafter ! I should despise myself." 
 
 " Not if you marry him ! " said Evan, bitterly. And then 
 thinking as men will think when they look on the figure of 
 a fair girl marching serenely to a sacrifice, the horrors of 
 which they insist that she ought to know : — half hating her 
 for her calmness — adoring her for her innocence : he said : 
 " It rests with you, Kose. The world will approve you, and 
 if your conscience does, why — farewell, and may heaven be 
 your help." 
 
 She murmured, " Farewell." 
 
 Did she expect more to be said by him ? What did she 
 want or hope for now ? And yet a light of hunger grew in 
 her eyes, brighter and brighter, as it were on a wave of 
 yearning. 
 
 " Take my hand once," she faltered. 
 
 Her hand and her whole shape he took, and she with 
 closed eyes let him strain her to his breast. 
 
 Their swoon was broken by the opening of the door, where 
 Old Tom Cogglesby and Lady Jocelyn appeared. 
 
 "'Gad! he seems to have got his recompense — eh, my 
 lady ? " cried Old Tom. 
 
 However satisfactorily they might have explained the case, 
 it certainly did seem so. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn looked not absolutely displeased. Old Tom 
 was chuckling at her elbow. The two principal actors re- 
 mained dumb. 
 
 " I suppose, if we leave young people to settle a thing, 
 this is how they do it," her ladyship remarked. 
 
 "'Gad, and they do it well ! " cried Old Tom. 
 
 Rose, with a deep blush on her cheeks, stepped from Evan 
 to her mother. Not in effrontery, but earnestly, and as the 
 only way of escaping from the position, she said : " I have 
 succeeded, Mama. He will take what I offer." 
 
 " And what's that, now ? " Old Tom inquired. 
 
 Rose turned to Evan. He bent and kissed her hand. 
 
 " Call it ' recompense ' for the nonce," said Lady Jocelyn. 
 " Do you still hold to your original proposition, Tom ? "
 
 468 EVAIST HAHEINGTON" 
 
 "Every penny, my lady. I like the young fellow, and 
 she's a jolly little lass — if she means it: — she's a woman." 
 
 " True," said Lady Jocelyn. " Considering that fact, you 
 will oblige me by keeping the matter quiet." 
 
 " Does she want to try whether the tailor's a gentleman 
 still, my lady — eh ? " 
 
 "No. I fancy she will have to see whether a certain 
 nobleman may be one." 
 
 The Countess now joined them. Sir Franks had informed 
 her of her brother's last fine performance. After a short, 
 uneasy pause, she said, glancing at Evan : 
 
 " You know his romantic nature. I can assure you he was 
 sincere ; and even if you could not accept, at least — " 
 
 " But we have accepted, Countess," said Rose. 
 
 " The estate ! " 
 
 "The estate, Countess. And what is more, to increase 
 the effect of his generosity, he has consented to take a 
 recompense." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed the Countess, directing a stony look 
 at her brother. " May I presume to ask what recompense ? " 
 
 Rose shook her head. " Such a very poor one, Countess ! 
 He has no idea of relative value." 
 
 The Countess's great mind was just then running hot on 
 estates, and thousands, or she would not have played goose 
 to them, you may be sure. She believed that Evan had been 
 wheedled by Rose into the acceptance of a small sum of 
 money, in return for his egregious gift ! With an internal 
 groan, the outward aspect of which she had vast difficulty 
 in masking, she said : " You are right — he has no head. 
 Easily cajoled ! " 
 
 Old Tom sat down in a chair, and laughed outright. 
 Lady Jocelyn, in pity for the poor lady, who always amused 
 her, thought it time to put an end to the scene. 
 
 " I hope your brother will come to us in about a week," 
 she said. " May I expect the favour of your company as 
 well ? " 
 
 The Countess felt her dignity to be far superior as she re- 
 sponded: "Lady Jocelyn, when next I enjoy the gratifica- 
 tion of a visit to your hospitable mansion, I must know that 
 I am not at a disadvantage. I cannot consent to be twice 
 pulled down to my brother's level."
 
 A LETTER OF THE COUNTESS 469 
 
 Evan's heart was too full of its dim young happiness to 
 speak, or care for words. The cold elegance of the Count- 
 ess's curtsey to Lady Jocelyn : her ladyship's kindly press- 
 ure of his hand : Eose's stedfast look into his eyes : Old 
 Tom's smothered exclamation that he was not such a fool as 
 he seemed : all passed dream-like, and when he was left to 
 the fury of the Countess, he did not ask her to spare him, 
 nor did he defend himself. She bade adieu to him and their 
 mutual relationship that very day. But her star had not 
 forsaken her yet. Chancing to peep into the shop, to intrust 
 a commission to Mr. John Raikes, who was there doing pen- 
 ance for his career as a gentleman, she heard Old Tom and 
 Andrew laughing, utterly unlike bankrupts. 
 
 " Who'd have thought the women such fools ! and the 
 Countess, too ! " 
 
 This was Andrew's voice. He chuckled as one emanci- 
 pated. The Countess had a short interview with him (before 
 she took her departure to join her husband, under the roof 
 of the Honourable Herbert Duffian), and Andrew chuckled 
 no more. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 A YEAR LATER, THE COUNTESS DE SALDAR DE SA5LC0RV0 TO 
 HER SISTER CAROLINE 
 
 " Rome. 
 
 " Let the post-mark be my reply to your letter received 
 through the Consulate, and most courteously delivered with 
 the Consul's compliments. We shall yet have an ambassa- 
 dor at Rome — mark your Louisa's words. Yes, dearest ! I 
 am here, body and spirit ! I have at last found a haven, a 
 refuge, and let those who condemn me compare the peace of 
 their spirits with mine. You think that you have quite con- 
 quered the dreadfulness of our origin. My love, I smile at 
 you ! I Jcnoio it to be impossible for the Protestant heresy 
 to offer a shade of consolation. Earthly-born, it rather 
 encourages earthly distinctions. It is the sweet sovereign
 
 470 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 Pontiff alone who gathers all in his arms, not excepting 
 tailors. Here, if they could know it, is their blessed 
 comfort ! 
 
 " Thank Harriet for her message. She need say nothing. 
 By refusing me her hospitality, when she must have known 
 that the house was as free of creditors as any foreigner under 
 the rank of Count is of soap, she drove me to Mr. Duffian. 
 Oh ! how I rejoice at her exceeding unkindness ! How 
 warmly I forgive her the unsisterly — to say the least — 
 vindictiveness of her unaccountable conduct! Her suffer- 
 ings will one day be terrible. Good little Andrew supplies 
 her place to me. Why do you refuse his easily afforded 
 bounty ? No one need know of it. I tell you candidly, 
 I take double, and the small good punch of a body is only 
 too delighted. But then, / can be discreet. 
 
 " Oh ! the gentlemanliness of these infinitely maligned 
 Jesuits ! They remind me immensely of Sir Charles Gran- 
 dison, and those frontispiece pictures to the novels we read 
 when girls — I mean in manners and the ideas they impose 
 — not in dress or length of leg, of course. The same win- 
 ning softness ; the same irresistible ascendancy over the 
 female mind ! They require virtue for two, I assure you, 
 and so I told Silva, who laughed. 
 
 " But the charms of confession, my dear ! I will talk of 
 Evan first. I have totally forgiven him. Attache' to the 
 Naples embassy, sounds tol-lol. In such a position I can 
 rejoice to see him, for it permits me to acknowledge him. I 
 am not sure that, spiritually, Kose will be his most fitting 
 helpmate. However, it is done, and I did it, and there is no 
 more to be said. The behaviour of Lord Laxley in refusing 
 to surrender a young lady who declared that her heart was 
 with another, exceeds all I could have supposed. One of the 
 noble peers among his ancestors must have been a pig ! Oh ! 
 the Roman nobility ! Grace, refinement, intrigue, perfect 
 comprehension of your ideas, wishes — the meanest trifles ! 
 Here you have every worldly charm, and all crowned by 
 Religion ! This is my true delight. I feel at last that what- 
 soever I do, I cannot go far wrong while I am within hail 
 of my gentle priest. I never could feel so before. 
 
 " The idea of Mr. Parsley proposing for the beautiful widow 
 Strike ! It was indecent to do so so soon — widowed under
 
 A LETTER OF THE COUNTESS 471 
 
 such circumstances ! But I dare say he was as disinterested 
 as a Protestant curate ever can be. Beauty is a good dowry 
 to bring a poor, lean, worldly curate of your Church, and he 
 knows that. Your bishops and arches are quite susceptible 
 to beautiful petitioners, and we know here how your livings 
 and benefices are dispensed. What do you intend to do? 
 Come to me ; come to the bosom of the old and the only true 
 Church, and I engage to marry you to a Roman prince the 
 very next morning or two. That is, if you have no ideas 
 about prosecuting a certain enterprise which i" should not 
 abandon. In that case, stay. As Duchess of B., Mr. Duffian 
 says you would be cordially welcome to his Holiness, who 
 may see women. That absurd report is all nonsense. We 
 do not kiss his toe, certainly, but we have privileges equally 
 enviable. Herbert is all charm. I confess he is a little 
 wearisome with his old ruins, and his Dante, the poet. He 
 is quite of my opinion, that Evan will never wash out the 
 trade stain on him until he comes over to the Church of 
 Rome. I adjure you, Caroline, to lay this clearly before our 
 dear brother. In fact, while he continues a Protestant, to me 
 he is a tailor. But here Rose is the impediment. I know 
 her to be just one of those little dogged minds that are inca- 
 pable of receiving new impressions. Was it not evident in 
 the way she stuck to Evan after I had once brought them 
 together ? I am not at all astonished that Mr. Raikes should 
 have married her maid. It is a case of natural selection. But 
 it is amusing to think of him carrying on the old business in 
 193, and with credit! I suppose his parents are to be 
 pitied ; but what better is the creature fit for ? Mama 
 displeases me in consenting to act as housekeeper to old 
 Grumpus. I do not object to the fact, for it is prospective; 
 but she should have insisted on another place of resort than 
 Fallowfield. I do not agree with you in thinking her right 
 in refusing a second marriage. Her age does not shelter her 
 from scandal in your Protestant communities. 
 
 " I am every day expecting Harry Jocelyn to turn up. He 
 was rightly sent away, for to think of the folly Evan put 
 into his empty head ! No ; he shall have another wife, and 
 Protestantism shall be his forsaken mistress ! 
 
 "See how your Louy has given up the world and its 
 vanities ! You expected me to creep up to you contrite and
 
 472 EVAN HARRINGTON 
 
 whimpering ? On the contrary, I never felt prouder. And 
 I am not going to live a lazy life, I can assure you. The 
 Church hath need of me ! If only for the peace it hath given 
 me on one point, I am eternally bound to serve it. 
 
 "Postscript: I am persuaded of this; that it is utterly 
 impossible for a man to be a true gentleman who is not of the 
 true Church. What it is I cannot say ; but it is as a convert 
 that I appreciate my husband. Love is made to me, dear, 
 for Catholics are human. The other day it was a question 
 whether a lady or a gentleman should be compromised. It 
 required the grossest fib. The gentleman did not hesitate. 
 And why ? His priest was handy. Fancy Lord Laxley in such 
 a case. I shudder. This shows that your religion precludes 
 any possibility of the being the real gentleman, and whatever 
 Evan may think of himself, or Rose think of him, I know 
 the thing." 
 
 THE END
 
 Travels and Life in Ashanti 
 
 and Jaman 
 
 By RICHARD AUSTIN FREEMAN 
 
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 Centenary Edition. A complete uniform edition of the Stories of Samuel 
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 15
 
 WORKS Edited by Prof. EDWARD ARBER 
 
 Fellow of King's College, London; Late English Examiner at the London Uni- 
 versity; and also at the Victoria University, Manchester ; Emeritus Professor 
 of English Language and Literature, Mason College, Birmingham. 
 
 An English Garner 
 
 INGATHERINGS FROM OUR HISTORY AND LITERATURE. 
 
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 EnQltsb iReprints. 
 
 Text. . s. d. 
 
 Areopagi'tica . . 1644 1 
 The Ploughers . . 1549 1 
 The School 0/ Abuse . 1579 1 
 An Apology/or Poetry 1 1580 1 
 Travels . . . 1590 1 
 
 Table Talk . . 1634-54 1 
 Toxophilus . . . 1544 1 
 Criticism on Paradise 
 
 Lost . . 1711-12 
 
 E UP HUES . 1579-80 
 The Rehearsal . .1671 
 The Steel Glass, etc. . 1576 
 Microcosmographic . 1628 
 7 Sermons before 
 
 EDWARD VI. 1549 1 
 Utopia. . . 1516-57 1 
 The Art of English 
 
 Poesy . . . 1589 2 
 Instructions for Foreign 
 
 Travel . . . 1642 1 
 Roister Doister . 1553-66 1 
 18 Mk. of Eves. The Revelation, etc. 
 
 1186-1410 1 
 A Counterblast to To- 
 bacco, etc. . . 1604 1 
 Fragmenta Regalia . 1653 1 
 Poems . . . 1582-93 1 
 CASTARA . . 1640 1 
 The Schoolmaster . 1570 1 
 Miscellany [Songs and 
 
 Sonnets] . 
 Sermons 
 
 A Discourse of Eng- 
 lish Poetry 
 A Harmony of the 
 
 Essays . . 1597-1626 5 
 Read me, and be not 
 ivrotJi! . 
 
 29 Raleigh, etc Last Fight of the 
 
 ' Revenge ' 
 
 30 Googe Eglogues, Epitaphs, 
 
 and Sonnets 
 
 No. 
 
 1 Milton 
 
 2 Latimer 
 
 3 Gosson 
 
 4 Sidney 
 
 5 E.Webbe 
 
 6 Selden 
 
 7 Ascham 
 
 8 Addison 
 
 9 Lyly 
 
 10 Villiers 
 
 11 Gascoigne 
 
 12 Earle 
 
 13 Latimer 
 
 14 More 
 
 15 Puttenham 
 
 16 Howell 
 
 17 Udall 
 
 19 James I. 
 
 20 Naunton 
 
 21 Watson 
 2* Habington 
 
 23 Ascham 
 
 24 Tottel's 
 
 25 Lever 
 
 26 W. Webbe 
 
 27 Lord Bacon 
 
 28 Roy, etc. 
 
 1557 2 
 1550 1 
 
 1586 1 
 
 1528 1 
 I59 1 ! 
 
 1563 1 _ 
 
 41 
 
 Zhc Entjltsb 
 Scbolar'9 Xibrarp. 
 
 s. d. 
 
 1 William Caxton. Reynard 
 
 the Fox . . . .16 
 
 2 John Knox. The First Blast 
 
 of the Trumpet . .16 
 
 3 Clement Robinson and 
 
 others. A handful of 
 Pleasant Delights . .16 
 
 4 [Simon Fish.] ASupplication 
 
 for the Beggars . .16 
 
 5 [Rev. John Udall.] Diotre- 
 
 phes 16 
 
 6 [?] The Return from Par- 
 
 nassus ... 16 
 
 7 Thomas Decker. The Seven 
 
 Deadly Sins of London . 1 6 
 
 8 Edward Arber. An Intro- 
 
 ductory Sketch to the 
 " Martin Marprelate " 
 Controversy, 1588-1590 . 3 
 
 9 [Rev. John Udall.] A 
 
 Demonstration of Disci- 
 pline 16 
 
 10 Richard Stanihurst. 
 
 " iEneid I.-IV." in English 
 hexameters . . . .30 
 
 11 "The Epistle" . . .16 
 
 12 Robert Green. Menaphon 1 6 
 
 13 George Joy. An Apology to 
 
 William Tyndale . .16 
 
 14 Richard Barnfield. 
 
 Poems . . . .30 
 
 15 Bp. Thomas Cooper. An 
 
 Admonition to the People 
 
 of England . . .30 
 
 16 Captain John Smith. 
 
 Works. 1 1 20 pages. Six 
 Facsimile Maps. 2 Vols. 12 6 
 41 
 
 K
 
 I 
 
 AA 000 606 254