THE BORDERLAND
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 THE DRUMS OF FATE 
 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS 
 
 " One of the finest tales of London life>hich has been written for years." Morning 
 Leader. 
 
 " Since ' 'Liza of Lambeth ' was written, nothing so poignant as ' The Drums of 
 Fate ' has been given to literature. It has just that rare quality which endeared 
 Dickens to his readers." Daily Express. 
 
 " A masterpiece of characterization." Saturday Review. 
 
 " A novel of force and originality. Mr. Halifax knows what he is talking about, 
 and this tale of mean streets draws you down to the ' thoughts that burn like iron 
 when you thirst.' If anything, the tale is too clever ; but read it. The roll of the 
 drums will stir you." Daily News. 
 
 " Delicious maddening haunting Jo ! ... A city tragedy, told by a man 
 who has genius in him, and has drawn that rare thing a portrait of a woman who 
 was a sinner." Public Opinion. 
 
 " The pathos of such existence has seldom been so truthfully represented in 
 Iterature before. It is all so natural." Bristol Times and Mirror. 
 
 " This remarkable book of tears and laughter." Star. 
 
 " For the individual characters we have nothing but the highest praise. From 
 an artistic point of view they soar high, and we heartily congratulate Mr. Halifax 
 on his latest creation. We look forward to good work from his pen." Literary 
 World. 
 
 " If you want to read a book quite out of the common, read ' The Drums of Fate.' 
 Jo Galilee is as original as any petticoat that has flitted across the fiction of the 
 twentieth century." " Dagonet," in the Referee. 
 
 " Touched with the genuine humour of the London streets." Daily Telegraph. 
 
 " It is a positive pleasure to come across such a clever, powerful, original novel as 
 this. We have seldom seen a study of greater fidelity, pathos, and mingled humour." 
 Bookseller. 
 
 " A striking, a luminous, a clever study. A well-written book, ful of convincing 
 truth." Liverpool Daily Post. 
 
 THE GRIP OF GOLD 
 
 " Most readers will remember that clever novel, ' The Drums of Fate,' with which 
 Mr. Halifax made such a success a short time ago. In ' The Grip of Gold, 1 he shows 
 that his power is by no means on the wane. It is a story full of human interest, told 
 with a realistic touch that grips the attention at once. ' The Grip of Gold ' should do 
 much to enhance Mr. Halifax's reputation as a novelist." The Queen. 
 
 " There is abundant material in ' The Grip of Gold ' for two sensational novels, 
 and Mr. Robert Halifax marshals his resources so deftly that the interest of the story 
 never slackens." Daily Graphic. 
 
 " The work of a clever and powerful writer who has the secret of portraying human 
 passion with an actuality that is compelling. ... A story which keeps the reader's 
 interest up to a high pitch from opening to finish." Nottingham Guardian. 
 
 " A book of large ideas, of real thought and imagination." Morning Leader. 
 
 " A capital story, well told." Layman. 
 
 " Makes excellent reading." Daily News. 
 
 " A clever and well written story." Bookseller. 
 
 " Will hold the reader in a grip of its own till the last knot is loosed." Literary 
 World. 
 
 " Full of exciting situations a thrill, indeed, from beginning to end." Daily 
 Express.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 By 
 ROBERT HALIFAX 
 
 Author of "The Drums of Fate." 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E. P. BUTTON & CO. 
 1912
 
 BUTLER ft TANNER, 
 
 THE SKLWOOD PRINTING WORKS, 
 
 FROMK, AMD LONDON.
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IN the dying mellow light of a September 
 evening, at a date recent enough for all 
 who love the truth and their fellow men, 
 a man and a woman came to a pause in one 
 of the streets linking Hoxton with the long 
 Kingsland Road. 
 
 " Anything the matter ? " asked Miss Val- 
 jean, with sudden rich interest in the position. 
 
 " Nothing," John Laverock answered, with 
 determination to match. 
 
 " Oh ! I was afraid you might have missed 
 your purse or thought better of it." 
 
 " Better of what ? " 
 
 " Of what ? " She prodded the kerb line 
 with her umbrella tip delicately, her head at 
 a critical angle. " Of your splendid intention 
 of sweeping London clean in six months 
 beginning with Hoxton." 
 
 ' That's cruel," he said, his arms slowly 
 folding. " That's as cruel as feminine." 
 
 " Not at all. It being arranged that you 
 were to take up Louis' mantle in London, 
 while he donned yours in Hertfordshire, 
 naturally, of course, it was my woman's part
 
 6 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 to show you where and how he had worked. 
 And so here we are." 
 
 " Is that how you assisted your brother, 
 Miss Valjean ? I mean, did you adopt that 
 attitude when you went from house to house 
 with him ? " 
 
 " I never went not quite into the houses 
 or very seldom," she said, softly majestic. 
 Her umbrella-tip had worked quite a nice 
 groove between the kerb and pavement. 
 " Not that I I mean, women's clothes are 
 different from men's, aren't they ? " 
 
 " I suppose they are," he admitted, his 
 mouth still set. She had not yet asked him 
 why his type of man almost invariably 
 eschewed moustaches and yet wore full heads 
 of hair. " Well ? " 
 
 " Well ? " she echoed. " Louis was per- 
 fectly sanguine until his health broke down. 
 Aren't you ? " And now she had to look up 
 at him, and the blood showed in her white- 
 lily cheeks a little. "Don't be silly," she 
 said. " What I mean is, that they are all 
 staring at you. We don't stand in these 
 streets taking mental snap-shots, whatever 
 you do in your Hertfordshire lanes." 
 
 He looked around. His tall, fighting, free- 
 striding figure, beside the dainty woman's, 
 had undeniably riveted interest. Women 
 with great arms and shameless full bosoms 
 leaned over railings to take his measure and
 
 THE BORDERLAND 7 
 
 compare estimates. Battalions of children 
 had concentrated in a staring semi-circle 
 unpleasantly close, and men smoking in door- 
 ways seemed moodily sanguine of develop- 
 ments. Miss Valjean they knew, of course, 
 and sniffed the air when she occasionally 
 passed that way, leaving a trail of scent. 
 But absolute newcomers, pausing here, would 
 as a matter of course look to be expectorated 
 upon from one or two points of vantage. 
 
 " Are you saved, Mrs. Mucklehorn ? " 
 earnestly inquired one lady of another at a 
 high window opposite. 
 
 " Shaved ? " 
 
 " Saved, I said. Don't be rude." 
 
 " Oh, I dunno yet," was the reply. " I 
 ain't in the blanket fund yet." 
 
 " Ah, then it's you they're after. Let your 
 hair down and rub your eyes." 
 
 " Has Louis visited in this street at all ? " 
 John Laverock asked of Miss Valjean. He 
 had not flinched, but he certainly had the 
 look of a man suddenly asked to plough a 
 field of lava. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " Her lips were twitching 
 curiously. " For quite a long time, I fancy. 
 But I believe he recognized that only one sort 
 of thing seems to grow in this atmosphere. 
 Suppose we were to walk back to the Kings- 
 land end and take the next turning down into 
 Hoxton ? "
 
 8 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 She moved, and he followed not too grace- 
 fully, because the children were revolving in 
 a circle about them. Some of the expressions 
 of regret sent after them were of a nature that 
 apparently contained as much condensed local 
 humour as those chalked at intervals upon 
 the pavement. And John Laverock seemed 
 to expect the woman at his side to bear that 
 as easily as himself. 
 
 " It was much the same down in Hert- 
 fordshire," he explained to her, quietly. 
 " On the surface, you might believe that no- 
 thing is sacred nothing accomplished after 
 twenty centuries of the leaven of Christian 
 purity. The church was fairly full on Sun- 
 days, but the people swore and poached on 
 Monday if not before. And there it is 
 the great problem put before all thinking men 
 of to-day. Is progress real ? Is the world 
 better at base than it was two thousand years 
 ago ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," Miss Valjean said. " Be- 
 cause men and women are precisely in the 
 same awkward position now as then born 
 with their moral compass-needle always point- 
 ing in the direction that they are warned they 
 must not follow." 
 
 " Born in sin yes ! " 
 
 " Not at all. Motherhood is sacred, 
 because sanctioned by God," she said, with 
 cold, silencing decision. Once again he
 
 THE BORDERLAND 9 
 
 fancied that this sister of Louis Valjean 
 deliberately took up a challenging attitude 
 to draw him to remind him that, although 
 an enthusiast, he was first and foremost a 
 thing of flesh and blood like herself. 
 
 They were back in the main road. The 
 great electric cars swung by like stately 
 armour-clads at sea ; cyclists careered in their 
 track ; the nightly feverish rush from City to 
 suburbs was in full swing. It made John 
 Laverock feel a very small fighting unit. 
 He had it in him to stand out like a gladiator, 
 but in this vast arena, filled with the roar of 
 indefinite sound, individual effort seemed 
 numbed. 
 
 All of it Miss Valjean knew. From day to 
 day she had watched. His very thoroughness 
 and clean-shaven resoluteness kept her mouth 
 in a constant twitch hard to conceal. He 
 was something entirely, fascinatingly fresh 
 and new so different from Louis, who had 
 no theories and who accepted Hoxton and 
 the world around as it was. He seemed to 
 want to put out his hands fine, strong hands 
 and arrest the living chain as it passed, and 
 deliver his message to each slippery link in 
 turn. At any rate, his span of tenure in 
 London, as a worker in the Christian Brother- 
 hood Mission, promised to be full of excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " This way," she said archly. "It was a
 
 io THE BORDERLAND 
 
 great mistake to stop as you did, but it cannot 
 be helped. If there's the smallest weak spot in 
 one's armour, these people find it and keep it." 
 
 "Then I'll go back." He drew up, his 
 grey eyes looking down at her. 
 
 " Oh, no, not now. Besides, it is really 
 quite sufficient for a night or so if you grasp 
 some real idea of the streets and the people. 
 You cannot hope oh, I say ! " She put a 
 finger tentatively to her lips, glanced furtively, 
 and sank her voice breathlessly. " Don't 
 look round": I do believe that is the man 
 whom Louis said was beyond any man's power 
 to reclaim the man who never dared to come 
 out in daylight. It is ! Ben Fisher ! " 
 
 Naturally John Laverock wheeled round 
 at once. Ben glared wolfishly back. At 
 the moment his face, hairless and flabbily 
 white, certainly suggested a prolonged diet 
 of buttered toast taken in a dark cellar. 
 Big, bald, inert, his dough-like flesh seemed 
 to invite a finger-pressure. But it was a 
 libel to claim that he never came out in 
 daylight merely a woman's way of saying 
 that he had no fixed habits. And he 
 boasted none. That work evaded him so per- 
 sistently was happily balanced by the fact 
 that his wife, so much smaller and hence 
 more wiry and active, had more offers of 
 employment than she could humanly accept. 
 Ben Fisher had migrated from Islington way
 
 THE BORDERLAND n 
 
 into Hoxton a year or so ago with something 
 of a reputation ; but Hoxton could assimilate 
 anything in that line without moral dyspepsia. 
 
 Miss Valjean had been whispering no doubt 
 with the best intentions. Not knowing them, 
 Ben thought it the moment to remark audibly 
 to a man at his elbow that some interfering 
 so-and-so's would be locked up if they spoke 
 out loud. 
 
 " What's that ? " John Laverock asked 
 straightly. A man's character is written 
 all over him in a hundred different ways for 
 any one who cares to see ; and he had known 
 his man at a glance, and saw an opportunity. 
 
 " Jest private. Nothin'." Ben tilted the 
 bowler hat that rested upon his ears. " On'y 
 tellin' my pal that if I don't like a man I make 
 no bones about it. I bash him one in the neck." 
 
 " You do ? But not just because he's a 
 man who asks only to be allowed to do a little 
 good in the world eh ? Come ! I've heard 
 of you. I've taken Mr. Valj can's place in 
 Hoxton for a time, and we may as well be 
 friends as enemies. Yes, you and I. Shake 
 hands ! " 
 
 Ben looked at his pal, and down at the 
 hand. " Decent fin," he said, a little lamely. 
 " Never done much work, has it ? Oh, I see ! " 
 He became heavily truculent. " You're 
 another talkee-talkee. Well, don't get comin' 
 into my old woman's place number five.
 
 12 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Jest leave the tracts on the top step, as I 
 told the other bloke. That's all I've got to 
 say to you." 
 
 " Are you in work now ? " John Laverock 
 asked, with a puzzling intentness. 
 
 " Me ? " Ben resented this as a distinct 
 side-issue. " Look 'ere, if you're comin' any 
 capers down here " 
 
 " Because I can get you some, if not. That's 
 a fair offer now." 
 
 Up and down him Ben looked, and round 
 at the grinning faces, and was reduced to 
 spitting. " Well, you've made a good lead- 
 off, anyhow," he said. He filled his pipe 
 slily. " If I start, the old woman '11 leave 
 off, won't she ? " he asked, with winking 
 acumen. He lit up. " Work, eh ? Call 
 agin. If it's a foreman's job, near no gas- 
 works, I'll let you know," he decided. " We 
 don't owe no rent yet." 
 
 ' Well," John Laverock said, gravely smil- 
 ing, " you've had your thrust at me, and you 
 may have many more before I say goodbye. 
 But, mind you ' he put his hand on Ben's 
 shoulder, and let him feel the grip of a man 
 who had no right to a grip " we start level 
 now. There's as much ' devil ' in me as in 
 you, and there's as much power for good in 
 you as in me. You're not going to use your 
 devilment against the Mission man's efforts 
 for good, are you plainly ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 13 
 
 Dunno so much," Ben muttered, darkly 
 vague, the slits over his small eyes nearly 
 closed. " You say you're a parson." 
 
 " Not a bit. We believe in taking hold of 
 a man's hand and helping him through. If 
 I knock at a man's door it's not to preach, 
 but to see if he needs any help." 
 
 " Well, I can see you gettin' fat down our 
 street," Ben summed up, to reverse the laugh. 
 " When does this start ? " 
 
 " You know." John Laverock watched 
 him with the same keen, analytical smile. 
 " That's all I had to say, and I mean it. Good- 
 night ! " And he strode on. 
 
 With parted lips, and skirts held as in 
 readiness for flight, Miss Valjean had 
 watched. 
 
 " How you could have touched him ! " 
 
 she breathed severely, as they moved on. 
 " I told you I told you that they say if the 
 last policeman who was killed down this next 
 street could have lived long enough to 
 speak " 
 
 " Enough ! " he put in quietly. " If I 
 stopped to realize all that my eyes and ears 
 have shown me already, I should picture Hell 
 as full long before the doors of Heaven open. 
 I'm not going to. Down here ? " 
 
 " Yes ! All right he shall go on," she 
 seemed to add to herself.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE street they had turned into was 
 almost an exact replica of Phillimore 
 Street lower down baffling to anybody not 
 steeped in its atmosphere and traditions. 
 Like Phillimore Street, and half a score of 
 others that ran parallel, it had apparently its 
 own society circle, and resented intrusion. 
 Full-bosomed ladies craned from windows 
 and exchanged marital confidences with 
 similar ladies opposite, while the husbands 
 concerned brooded in the doorways over mugs 
 of beer, and the offspring of both bandied 
 stones and imprecations as a relief from irk- 
 some daily bounds imposed by the Council 
 schools. 
 
 The State had done its allotted part given 
 just the pound of flesh demanded of it. The 
 pavements were decently kept, the street- 
 lamps in order, and the houses in fair repair. 
 If the trail of reckless personal neglect, verbal 
 filth and animalism was over all, it was 
 doubtless because the State considered its 
 duty extended only to the inanimate, and left 
 the animate to look after itself. If the 
 
 M
 
 THE BORDERLAND 15 
 
 Church, too, had signally failed here in all but 
 establishing fuel and maternity funds, it was 
 because a religion that demanded decency, 
 humility, and other restrictions seemed so 
 derisively superfluous, when the public-houses 
 always remained as an alternative to prosy 
 places of worship. So, just conceivably, it 
 remained for a few determined workers on 
 new methods, like Louis Valjean, to succeed 
 where Church and State had failed utterly. 
 
 " Here we are Hoxton Street ! " 
 
 Miss Valjean said it in a voice of hushed 
 thankfulness. She had been repressing a 
 tense shudder a feeling as though her lace- 
 trimmed skirts were carrying along the moral 
 garbage. Hoxton Street itself to the eye, 
 although not in respect to police records 
 was so different. 
 
 Shaped like a fat bottle with a narrow neck 
 at either extreme, it was lined almost from 
 end to end of its great length with heaped-up 
 stalls, and the marketing public that flocked 
 in from all the surrounding areas was a 
 golden goose which demanded consideration. 
 Over those narrow streets that branched off 
 from the right some silently sinister, some 
 swarming with life, all highly speculative from 
 the Great Architect's point of view dusk 
 had just thrown a merciful veil. 
 
 Here, if you remembered your pockets, 
 and did not appear too conscious or curious,
 
 16 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 you could thread a perfectly safe way, tempted 
 by original invitations to purchase at one of 
 the most economical and varied ready-money 
 markets even London has to show. 
 
 " I say, ma, what a lovely sunset ! And 
 here's the old hen been and laid all brown eggs 
 with double yolks again ! " . . . " Now's 
 your time to get married, my dear. What 
 price my honeymoon bacon at six-and-half a 
 pun' ?"..." Have that half shoulder, 
 lovey. There's only one to beat it that's 
 yours. All English meat threepence. 
 Sold again to a Duke's lady !".... 
 " Now, then, gels, this little lot o' Dover plaice 
 and one in for the baby, if you've got one. 
 If you ain't, that's your fault, not mine. 
 Ninepence fourpence twopence ! Ruined 
 again ! " 
 
 The naphtha lamps flared up. The crowd 
 thickened. The hubbub deepened. John 
 Laverock and Miss Valjean, keeping to the 
 centre of the cobbled roadway, had walked 
 slowly to the " Britannia " end of Hoxton 
 and turned back. From time to time little 
 flashes of excitement arose, to fizz out with 
 almost equal stupefying swiftness. A public- 
 house door swung : a man had " had a word " 
 with his wife or some other man's wife. A 
 few quickening oaths, a sudden blow, a scream, 
 a shouting, a dive down one of the dark 
 refuge-alleys and all was over. It takes
 
 THE BORDERLAND 17 
 
 something definitely dramatic to arouse 
 Hoxton. 
 
 " Keep calm," John Laverock said, as he 
 held Miss Valjean close to him for a thrilling 
 instant. A covey of shoeless, fearless, swear- 
 ing little Britons were in full flight past them 
 after a successful raid upon the rear of some 
 stall. " As only the strongest can survive 
 here, their nerves are perfect. At the other 
 end of the social scale, you see, the hothouse 
 atmosphere breeds neurotics. Between the 
 extremes is the safe buffer of the vast class 
 that lives steadily on in order that it may die 
 respected. The thing is " 
 
 " Yes ; the thing is," Miss Valjean said, 
 as he paused, " did God contemplate this 
 submerged horror all the submerged horrors 
 when He created the scheme of Life ? " 
 
 She was holding his sleeve tightly, as she 
 tried to look along one of those narrow streets 
 now on their left hand. She had caught an 
 indefinite sound as of running feet and stran- 
 gled voices, suggesting suppressed tragedy, 
 down there ; but it was all enigmatical again, 
 overwhelmed by the strident roar of Hoxton's 
 market. To her, each of those semi-silent, 
 coffin-like thoroughfares was a seething caul- 
 dron, from which the lid was partly lifted now 
 and again. To go down there to live down 
 there. . . . 
 
 " I should give one scream," she said
 
 i8 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 slowly. " I should put both hands to my 
 head and ask Heaven to take me. But 
 think ! think of women whose womanhood 
 survives down there ! " 
 
 " No, think of ourselves who expect it to 
 
 survive." 
 
 " Think of the men who there, come 
 along ! " 
 
 She bit her lip upon a smile so deeply 
 the man had been made to look down into 
 her eyes for that moment. He must think 
 what he must* He ought to divine that the 
 sense of humour had leaped treacherously 
 at her tragic note and stifled it. His own grey 
 eyes had withstood every test hitherto ; but 
 she was not yet quite convinced that any 
 normal physical man could be lastingly 
 superior to the first Adam of all. 
 
 A diversion occurred. A piano-organ drew 
 abruptly up beside them, and round went the 
 handle. As if the Pied Piper of Hoxton had 
 given his magic call, out poured the human 
 rats. They sprang as from nowhere, and 
 seemed to fall into step at a point broken off 
 the day before. Dirty feet twinkled in the 
 air, small skirts shook, knees were twisted 
 on a level with the nose all in one minute 
 the street centre was transformed into a 
 " dancing " stage, every performer divinely 
 insouciant, and all supremely superior to 
 erratic changes rung upon the music.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 19 
 
 Then pouf ! 
 
 The man turning the handle paused, looked 
 round for remuneration, saw none in sight 
 when was there ever any to be seen ? and 
 moved abruptly on. The human rats had 
 vanished before one could draw breath. 
 John Laverock looked at Miss Valjean, 
 laughed, and moved on. Comedy and tragedy 
 are so closely interwoven in Hoxton that to 
 disentangle them would be a hopeless task 
 for any one with a sense of pity and proportion. 
 
 " I think we must have been nearly all 
 along one edge of the crater," Miss Valjean 
 said demurely. " Then to-morrow, you 
 know, you can begin your work in grim earnest. 
 I hope there will not be any eruptions," she 
 tacked on, with her delicate little cough. 
 
 " What is it you mean ? " the man asked, 
 a trifle coldly. 
 
 " Well, you see, one can be too enthusiastic 
 too sure of one's self. My last words to 
 Louis at the station were that, in trying to 
 save others he had come near losing himself. 
 A trifle mixed, I know ; but women always 
 are in argument. Look at those cheap 
 tomatoes." 
 
 He looked. He had been clearing his throat 
 to say that the mute antagonism between 
 them her and himself, not the tomatoes 
 might as well find its vent to-night. But he 
 hesitated, and the opportunity slipped. And
 
 20 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 upon such small facts do mighty issues 
 hinge. 
 
 Through the hubbub had come suddenly 
 a note of appealing incongruity. A ring of 
 Salvation Army lasses, with clean, rapt 
 faces and clasped hands, had burst into 
 " Abide with Me," no rats, however, being 
 conjured up by the slow time. Miss Valjean 
 would have floated by with dignified tolera- 
 tion, but John Laverock halted. Purposely 
 or involuntarily ? He never knew. His 
 quick artistic perceptions had framed a pic- 
 ture. He was only a man, and he had seen 
 a Face. No man can say at what moment 
 his heart shall pump double time without 
 warning. 
 
 Annoyed, Miss Valjean refused to whisper 
 a second time, and moved on. He stood 
 quite still, outwardly normal, inwardly lost. 
 Reluctant admiration wrestled with tentative 
 awe and misgiving. As he looked at that 
 face, he seemed to be peering through dark 
 windows for the mystery of a woman's soul. 
 The woman had looked back at him, and 
 seemed slowly, scornfully, to draw down the 
 blinds. 
 
 She was in the centre of the singing circle 
 a passive prisoner one with them, yet apart. 
 In deadliest tranquillity she seemed to chal- 
 lenge her Hoxton acquaintances to jeer at 
 her role as potential penitent to-night. Her
 
 THE BORDERLAND 21 
 
 slip of a figure was frail to consumption- 
 point, but he had not grasped that fact yet. 
 Out from her small, tea-rose-yellow face 
 looked the two turquoise eyes eyes slightly 
 filmed, yet consciously fathomless. Perhaps 
 no one else had ever thought so, but it struck 
 the man curiously as the work of an artist 
 who had begun to model a Madonna and 
 changed it into a Delilah with a few subtle 
 touches. 
 
 Yet she was palpably a product of the slums. 
 Her wax-like small fingers, not clean, were 
 heavy with apparently cheap rings. Her 
 amber hair, with its chestnut tint, was drawn 
 in two curtain-like waves low over her ears. 
 Without that depth in her eyes that stillness 
 as of a volcano believed to be dead, but alive 
 far below she would have been a colourless 
 doll, absurd in her theatrical assumption of 
 Cleopatran dignity. He told himself that 
 she was a mere girl with a mind more mature 
 than his own. 
 
 " Abide with Me " was ended. One of the 
 lasses stepped out, and seemed to communi- 
 cate with Heaven for a moment, her eyes 
 ecstatically closed. Then " O Lord of us 
 all ! " she called, beautifully clear, " look 
 down once more upon Hoxton. Bring light 
 into all its dark places. We ask it yet again 
 to-night. Do what men cannot and will 
 not. Help every selfish man to realize his
 
 22 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 manhood and master the baser instincts 
 within him ; help every weak woman to 
 know that for her the price of sin is shame 
 here and hereafter. Help we lasses to prove 
 it by practice, and not by precept. O 
 Lord, let us all know the sweet sleep of a day 
 purely spent and at last of a life lived for 
 the world's betterment. The brothers who 
 mock us, the sisters who scorn us, bless them 
 all ! " 
 
 A hushed pause. The man had bent his 
 head. His nerves had tingled dully ; it was 
 as if she had known that, all unawares, the 
 impure animal instinct had taken life and 
 writhed in himself for an instant. Then, 
 taking up the thread of " Abide with Me," 
 she clapped her hands, and the ring wheeled 
 into double line, and passed on. And the 
 girl, whose lips had not quivered through it 
 all, moved with them between the lines. 
 And the man, with his slower stride, followed. 
 
 They were going his way that was all. 
 He had lost sight of Miss Valjean ; but 
 although he glanced round conscientiously 
 for her dainty figure at every turn, he never 
 once lost sight of the clapping, singing, rap- 
 turous little throng passing from Hoxton 
 just ahead, with the amber girl between.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 HOXTON'S roar and naphtha-glare had 
 died behind him. He could see the 
 sky again, and feel clearer air upon his face. 
 He was making back toward Downham Road, 
 in a quiet turning out of which he had chosen 
 his two modest rooms. Miss Valjean, who 
 had kept house for her brother, had not offered 
 to do the same for her brother's friend and 
 substitute. 
 
 The Army lasses, just ahead of him still, 
 swung along now in " step " silence, with 
 signs now and then of breaking out into 
 " Onward, Christian Soldiers ! " It was darker 
 here ; he could make out only indistinctly 
 the figure of their trophy in the midst. He 
 would have to stop in a minute in a minute ; 
 meanwhile, his limbs carried him on with a 
 lack of motive which he was aware Miss 
 Valjean would have condemned at a 
 glance. 
 
 And now he found himself once more out 
 in the Kingsland Road, with the stately cars 
 gliding north and south, the motor 'buses 
 buzzing in and out like angry bluebottles,
 
 24 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 and the long northern sweep of road stretching 
 like a jewelled rod far before him. 
 
 The " Army " had wheeled to the left, and, 
 with a little tattoo upon their tambourines, 
 filed into a building which had frankly no 
 pretence at architecture or symbolism. It 
 occurred unexpectedly. The man drew up 
 short, aware of chilled expectancy. Doors 
 had opened and closed ; the amber girl was 
 swept out of his sight. It was like a just 
 rebuff to his curiosity. 
 
 He stood there for a time, listening to the 
 singing within. He appeared to be waiting 
 for a car that never came by. When, of a 
 sudden, he turned and pushed gently at the 
 door of the building, he felt almost as though 
 convicted of stealthy, unworthy intrusion. 
 Why ? He did not know. He stood, hold- 
 ing his breath, in the crude little vestibule. 
 There was no public meeting or, at least, no 
 audience. But on a platform at the end of 
 the room stood the amber girl in the same 
 still attitude ; and around her in a circle 
 knelt the uniformed figures. 
 
 " O Lord ! " arose a woman's voice, weirdly 
 supplicative, " complete Thy work ! Put 
 out Thy hand and touch the heart of our 
 sister here in the balances. Do it now ! " 
 
 There was a murmur, and a hush. The 
 world at his back seemed shut out. The 
 standing girl looked around upon them, and
 
 THE BORDERLAND 25 
 
 away again. It seemed that some great 
 smile was waiting to dawn on her lips. But 
 again she looked down, and away. 
 
 " O Lord ! " went up the same voice in 
 unshaken fervour, " all that we have we 
 yield to Thee ! Gold and fine raiment are 
 of the earth, earthly. For it is written 
 How can we serve God and cling to Mammon ? 
 . . . Smite the rock, O Lord ! Smite the 
 rock now ! Bid this our sister give proof of her 
 desire to turn from the devil's playground ! " 
 
 There was an electrifying " Lord ! Lord ! >J 
 from the bending figures. And then John 
 Laverock understood. One by one slowly 
 the amber girl took the rings from her small 
 fingers the brooch from her throat, the orna- 
 ment from her hair and dropped them with 
 dramatic deliberation into the collection plate 
 beside her. It was done. Her fingers clasped 
 again. He heard her voice low, level, just 
 tinged with reckless indifference. 
 
 " There, then ! all I've got in the world 
 to-night ! " 
 
 A " soldier " threw back his head and out- 
 stretched his arms as in ecstasy. As in ecs- 
 tasy, in the stillness, the verse strained from 
 his lips " Just as I am, without one plea ! " 
 Then all were upon their feet. A crash 
 of tambourines, and out swelled a thril- 
 ling burst of voices " We're marching to 
 Canaan . . ! "
 
 26 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Overwhelmed, John Laverock stepped out. 
 For an instant, during the last pause, he had 
 never seemed nearer to the Sacred Presence 
 and now, as he drew the door to behind him, 
 it seemed conversely that he had never been 
 eyewitness of anything more essentially melo- 
 dramatic. For some reason he set his teeth 
 as he walked away. For some reason he 
 obeyed an impulse and turned again, to 
 wait and see what happened. And, at the 
 end of only a few minutes, something hap- 
 pened. 
 
 The doors had opened, and a little knot of 
 the " sisters " surged out. The amber girl 
 was among them. They seemed to be plead- 
 ing softly to her to stay to turn from some 
 purpose. He saw her put back the detaining 
 hands, feel at her throat, and then walk 
 calmly away, leaving them standing as in 
 some shock. 
 
 She was marching in his direction. His 
 heart took another of those unaccountable 
 jumps another. Straight before her, with 
 half -smiling eyes, she looked, seeing nothing. 
 He was about to stand aside and let her pass 
 out of his experience. Instead, as she came 
 level, he found himself speaking. 
 
 ' Pardon me I wanted to speak to you, 
 as a friend." 
 
 She looked up at him. The rise and fall 
 of her small body ceased. The abstraction
 
 THE BORDERLAND 27 
 
 died out of her turquoise eyes a contemptu- 
 ous flicker took its place. 
 
 ' You be damned," she said, with quiet 
 scorn. " You be damned," she repeated, 
 with the utmost tranquillity, and was mov- 
 ing on. 
 
 For a moment he could not turn. The 
 man in him was stung, as well as the en- 
 thusiast. Then, with a determined pull upon 
 himself, he had caught her up. 
 
 " You did not mean that/' he said. " It 
 was a flash of perversity." 
 
 " Was it ? " she inquired, with another 
 look up and down his strong figure. " You 
 seem to know me. I should say you're 
 gifted. Well ? " She folded her hands and 
 stood waiting. 
 
 " I know nothing. Quite possibly I made 
 a mistake in thinking that you were in trouble 
 of some kind ; but I did think it. And when 
 I heard you say in that room just now that 
 your morsel of jewellery was all you had " 
 
 He paused. She had given an odd little 
 laugh. 
 
 " You thought you could lend me a bit on 
 it, eh ? I knew I should fall on my feet ; 
 I always do. Well, here they are." And 
 she held out her small hand, with the rings 
 and ornaments lumped in it. " Poor devils ! 
 It's about the tenth time they've ' rescued ' 
 me. They ought to know it's no use. Stickers,
 
 28 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 though, aren't they ? " She slipped the rings 
 on to her fingers. 
 
 YOU you took them back ? " he asked, 
 with an inward gasp. 
 
 " I did. Wouldn't you ? I never know 
 lately what's comin' into my mind, you know. 
 Suddenly thought, ' Lor, why should I ? 
 What's the use ? I'm a dove to-night, but 
 a devil to-morrow ? ' Where were you ? " 
 
 " I'm sorry," John Laverock said, intensely 
 puzzled, looking down at her. He wanted to 
 keep her another moment. He had tem- 
 porarily forgotten the crowded cars passing 
 on one hand and the hurrying stream of 
 people on the other. To look at her was 
 somehow like watching a baffling little creature 
 behind the bars of a cage. " If any one had 
 told me that a girl could do such a flippant 
 thing " 
 
 " Me ? " She pushed back his hand disdain- 
 fully. " I could do anything, if I wanted 
 anything, now I don't care whether I live or 
 get out of it. Couldn't you ? Why'd you 
 want to follow us from Hoxton this far ? 
 You're in the ' rescue ' line, too, aren't you ? 
 I thought so." She made a movement as if 
 she were accustomed to hitching shawl-ends 
 together. But in that first moment he had 
 noticed that the dress she wore had been a 
 good one. " Well, good-night ! I'm off." 
 
 " Where to ? " He had to ask it, as she
 
 THE BORDERLAND 29 
 
 moved. He knew now : there was a sup- 
 pressed utter recklessness in her far more 
 dangerous than the hysterics of another 
 type of woman. He slipped up alongside, 
 his voice earnestly quiet. "It is not rude- 
 ness that makes me ask ; but it haunts me 
 to hear you speak in that way." 
 
 " Sorry for you," she said, with the same 
 impenetrable calm. " I have dreams myself 
 a lot, lately. But you don't hanker to 
 be seen walking up the Kingsland Road with 
 me, I'm sure." 
 
 "Nonsense. Why ever not? We are all 
 brothers and sisters in that sense or should 
 be." 
 
 " H'm ! You ought to sleep with some of 
 the people where I live. You wouldn't want 
 a bath to get rid of that idea." 
 
 " Where is that ? " he persisted. 
 
 " Don't take liberties ! " She looked up 
 sideways at him with a flash such as he had 
 never seen in a woman's eyes before. But, 
 truly, her manner seemed to change every 
 instant the hall-mark, he was to discover, 
 of the girl who wears her hair curved low 
 about her ears under a flat straw hat, and has 
 drawn every breath of her life from a London 
 slum, where wits are sharpened upon an ever- 
 revolving grindstone. " Wait till I ask you 
 where you live ! " And he cleared his throat. 
 
 " But don't you understand ? My work
 
 30 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 lies in Hoxton and around. Perhaps you 
 know Mr. Valjean " 
 
 " Comes round with the visitin' lady oh, 
 yes, I've seen the top of his hat from the 
 landing. He's a fool, you know," she added, 
 with cold complacency. " He'd believe it 
 if he heard the things they say behind his back." 
 
 " Well, then, they will say them behind 
 mine. For I have taken his place for six 
 months." 
 
 "Oh! All right," she said, with sudden 
 weariness of manner. "Do as you like. If 
 ever you want a black eye and some language, 
 knock next door to Mrs. Mucklehorn's, down 
 Phillimore Street. Thought I'd tell you 
 beforehand." 
 
 " You're very perverse, but I happen to 
 think that you don't mean a word of it," he 
 answered, pausing. They had reached the 
 bridge, and he fancied he could make out 
 Ben Fisher's hairless, fleshy face under a 
 lamp by Canal Street corner just ahead. 
 " Good-night ! and perhaps I may hope to 
 have a real talk to you one of these days." 
 
 " What for ? " She looked down at the 
 canal water, with its black shine. " What 
 about ? " 
 
 " About ? Yourself ; your present and 
 future ; your woman's part in a world which 
 is mainly what we make of it. We exist for 
 each other or should do."
 
 THE BORDERLAND 31 
 
 " Sounds all right. Sounds marvellous, 
 don't it ? " she mused absently. " Most of 
 the talks I've had with men wouldn't do me 
 much good." 
 
 " What sort of men ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Well, call 'em beasts. I don't know 
 what you are, but I know what most are, give 
 them their chance to show it. Oh, if I'd 
 chose, I might have been a lady long ago." 
 
 " Don't say that ! " he breathed, strangely 
 stirred again as he looked down at the amber 
 aureole around the small calm face, which 
 seemed all the time to see beyond him. 
 
 " What odds ? " she laughed. " It's the 
 truth. I was in the chorus for two months, 
 and might have been at it till doom struck. 
 There's only one way to get on in that line 
 unless you're a genius with moneyed friends ; 
 you know that, if you know anything at all." 
 
 " I don't know, and I don't believe it," he 
 said slowly. " A woman can always remain 
 pure, even beyond the theatre wings al- 
 though there it may be hardest." And she 
 glanced up sideways with her quick scorn. 
 
 ' Would you like to let any sister of yours 
 try her luck there for a month ? " 
 " No ! " 
 
 ' Thought so. She'd have to be cast-iron. 
 I'm not." 
 
 ' You " He paused. The word stuck 
 
 in his throat.
 
 32 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " I came out of it that's good enough for 
 you," she said coldly. " I might want to 
 go back. I'd sooner do that than take on 
 the jam factory again. Want a tip ? don't 
 ever touch shop jam." 
 
 It had plunged into triviality with an easy 
 swoop. But a mere span of seconds were gone 
 since the first word, and yet he seemed to 
 have known her a long time. He could not 
 tell whether he was more repelled by her 
 reckless precocity than magnetized by her 
 personality. Assuredly any stray bubble of 
 conceit in him was pricked by now. 
 
 " Tell me your name ! " he asked, quite 
 earnestly. He had a hand to his notebook. 
 
 " Anything else ? " She paused, and 
 laughed again. " My name ? Donna ! " 
 
 " Donna what ? " 
 
 ' That's all. Enough for any one, isn't 
 it ? It's all you'll get." 
 
 ' Then I'll say ' good-night,' Donna," he 
 said, half sadly. 
 
 " I should think so ! " She gave him one 
 more swift look up and down, as at the 
 termination of a freakish joke. " Good- 
 night to you ! . . . Run ! " 
 
 It flashed in a real spontaneous breath from 
 her lips. He saw her blanch and cower 
 aside. Through the irregular stream of 
 hurrying people across the bridge he was just 
 in time to note a figure darting crouchingly
 
 THE BORDERLAND 33 
 
 like a man from his mark in a sprint race. 
 It loomed close with the swiftness of a shape 
 on a bioscopic sheet. His brain focussed 
 that, and nothing else. A sharp agony had 
 gone through it, and momentarily blinded 
 him. 
 
 The blow, aimed as to blacken his eye, had 
 landed on his temple. Perhaps he had fallen. 
 He only knew that some unknown arm was 
 wound beneath him as a support. All was 
 muffled. The fine cars swung along like 
 illuminated ships in perfect silence. The 
 sky swam gently. The voices of the people 
 pressing around him on all sides now came as 
 from the bedside of a dying man.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 was he ? Do you know ? Would 
 you know him again ? " 
 
 He looked up at them mutely. A deadly 
 nausea, that he meant to keep back at all 
 costs, compelled it. 
 
 " Now, then ! " It was a constable's 
 voice, a little less dreamlike. He flashed his 
 lamp over the strong, clean-shaven face, 
 and saw his mistake. " Give him some air, 
 it's cheap enough. What's the damage, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " I'm all right ! " he muttered faintly. 
 He had seen the pale, intent, half-malicious 
 face of the amber girl peering through at him. 
 His eyes were fixed upon her. " I'm all 
 right ! " 
 
 " H'm ! " The policeman passed a finger 
 over his temple. " Any one see it, and 
 coming forward ? " 
 
 " See it ! " The man holding him was 
 moved to a husky retort. " Hear it, you 
 mean like the crack of a whip. It was all 
 done in a flash. The dirty skunk rushed 
 past me, sprang up, smashed in his blow, and 
 
 34
 
 THE BORDERLAND 35 
 
 greased like lightning killed him, I made 
 sure." 
 
 " Yes ? Well, I can't do anything except 
 make a note of it." 
 
 " Where's the Law ? " 
 
 " The Law's right enough. But the man's 
 gone." 
 
 " I'm all right ! " they heard John 
 Laverock repeat, much more firmly. The 
 crowd was assuming proportions. 
 
 He made his effort gathered himself to- 
 gether in sections, as it seemed although 
 his brain still " sang " and his eyes saw dart- 
 ing shapes everywhere. Some one replaced 
 the trampled hat on his head. Another 
 good look at him, and the crowd began to 
 thin. The constable paced to and fro as if 
 anxious for the cause of the obstruction to 
 be gone too. John Laverock's feet started 
 moving. Walking like a stiff automaton, he 
 had almost regained the Downham Road 
 before he realized what had happened. Then, 
 swaying slightly, he swerved about. 
 
 As suddenly the amber girl turned. She 
 had been walking a score of yards behind 
 him, as in curiosity to see what befell a man 
 who could survive that blow. To catch up 
 with her to put one of the questions that 
 thronged confusedly in his mind was not 
 possible. The majestic rise and fall of her 
 small figure dwindled in the lamplit distance,
 
 36 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 She would not look back he knew that by 
 some intuition ; she was piqued at being 
 seen. He smiled oddly to himself, and went 
 on. It was not within his power to try and 
 fathom the thing not to-night. 
 
 Dazedly, a few minutes later, he found 
 himself ringing the bell at a house not his own. 
 He had gone there quite mechanically as with 
 a sense of some duty to be done. The maid- 
 servant stared at him or, rather, at his 
 condition. 
 
 " Is Miss Valjean in ? " he asked. 
 
 " Some time ago, sir. Excuse me, sir, your 
 coat your hat " 
 
 " See to it for me, will you ? " he whispered. 
 The sickness was threatening awkwardly 
 again. 
 
 She was a deft little thing. As if she under- 
 stood all, she assisted him to the hall chair, 
 quietly brushed and reshaped the hat, and 
 then whisked the brush softly round his 
 shoulders. And then he looked up, to see 
 the drawing-room door open, and Miss Val- 
 jean, as composed and dainty as if she had 
 just stepped out of a picture-frame, watching 
 the proceedings with steadfast interest. 
 
 " Is it finished ? So this is ' Hoxton,' " 
 she observed, with a sweet little titter. The 
 small maid had scuttled. " Aren't you feel- 
 ing yourself ? " she inquired pointedly, as he 
 rose a little unsteadily.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 37 
 
 He looked at her. He was not thinking of 
 anything in particular at all, and it was a 
 little strange that two faint spires of conscious 
 colour should run up her cheeks. 
 
 " I was passing," he said dreamily. 
 
 " Is that all ? Perhaps perhaps you only 
 called in to see Bede on this occasion ? " 
 Bede was her invalid brother upstairs. 
 
 " I was passing," he repeated. Then he 
 recollected himself, and steadied his figure. 
 " Excuse me ! You got back home all right, 
 then. I felt a little uneasy, missing you in 
 that street." 
 
 " Really ! " She bowed, and smoothed 
 back a stray hair from her forehead. " Strange 
 I should think you had called in to say you 
 were sorry. You're not, I can see." 
 
 " What have I done ? " he demanded. 
 But for his strenuous Hertfordshire record 
 she would have known him to be half drunk. 
 
 " Nothing at all." 
 
 " Then then why do you look at me in that 
 fixed way, Miss Valjean ? " 
 
 " Don't be silly. Won't you come in ? " 
 She got it out with a little tremble, and bit 
 her lips. His voice had sounded thick staccato, 
 and was usually so grave and clear. " At 
 least, there is no occasion to stand in that 
 way with your hat on." 
 
 -She swept back into the room. Shaded 
 candles burned in sconces, gossamer-lace
 
 38 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 curtains hung like ethereal films, and all was 
 the essence of comfort and exquisite taste, 
 tempting to the mind and the body alike. 
 John Laverock had followed stiffly. She 
 half turned, standing still to look at him as 
 a woman looks when she wishes fervently 
 she had the freedom of a man's tongue. It 
 was absurd everything was absurd to a 
 degree to-night. He had sat in this room 
 with Louis and herself and again with her 
 alone, listening to her piano-playing fully 
 a dozen times. Yet he was looking around 
 it now as if it were aggressively new to him. 
 His eyes were even turned down to the carpet 
 into which his feet had sunk. Something 
 had swelled ready in her throat as he spoke. 
 It remained suspended for a minute. 
 
 " No, we're not honest any of us. Not 
 sincere ! " 
 
 Bitterly, deliberately, it was spoken. Down 
 he sat, a pale hand to his eyes the hat still 
 on. 
 
 There was a pause, so deep that the hum 
 of London ringed about them took a sound 
 suggesting the distant drone of myriad bees. 
 
 Then "Whatever might you mean?' 5 
 she asked rigidly. 
 
 ' You know ! " Beneath his hand he 
 looked across at her. " I know it, too. We 
 don't try to realize it, for the sake of our own 
 bodily ease ; but the sincerity of our professed
 
 THE BORDERLAND 39 
 
 religion is only on the surface. Yes ! If it 
 were not so if we really tried to follow 
 Christ, who had not where to lay His head 
 we could not live from day to day in such 
 superfluous comfort as as this. We could 
 not ! " he repeated, almost fiercely. 
 
 " You begin, then," Miss Valjean whispered, 
 ironically sympathetic. " Sell your furniture 
 the clothes you have on and set the 
 great example. You begin ! " 
 
 He had not heard. Something perhaps 
 that night's shock had turned on a whim- 
 sical or rebellious current in his brain not to 
 be dammed by mere woman's sarcasm. 
 
 " I feel it ; I have always felt it. Take 
 Hoxton ! It has a complete human answer 
 to the men who preach God to it. The 
 successful men in the Church live in personal 
 ease and comfort, thereby stultifying all they 
 have urged from the pulpit. The most 
 successful of all are wealthy men, who live 
 as such. And yet the Christ on the Cross 
 they represent and hold up before Hox- 
 ton " He paused, drawing in breath to 
 
 check the surge of bitterness. " I'm sorry," 
 he said, more quietly. " But if I am merely 
 honest, I must always know that no sincere 
 man could enjoy superfluities while around 
 him were people wanting necessaries starv- 
 ing even in body or soul women stitching 
 away their sight and maternal powers for a
 
 40 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 few pence per day ; while the infant death- 
 roll in the neighbouring slum averaged 180 
 per 1,000 all the year round." 
 
 " And no sincere woman, of course ! " she 
 whispered. "It is all quite true. Go on ! 
 You may be quite frank, since you are moved 
 to strip away the masks we all have to wear 
 in this life." 
 
 " We do not have to wear them," he per- 
 sisted. He seemed to be drooping forward 
 in the chair. " It is but a mean compromise 
 with conscience. There is charity on all 
 hands, I admit ; but it is not charity at all 
 to give what we can do without. Where is 
 the self-sacrifice among us ? We plead with 
 the people, and we think we mean it ; then we 
 return home to our good meal. It would 
 choke us if we were sincere. We could not 
 sleep in our comfortable bed, knowing there 
 were thousands of shivering outcasts, if we 
 were sincere. O God, forgive all our trans- 
 parent hypocrisy ! " 
 
 She stood very still. Her breast worked 
 a little under its folds, but that was all. 
 Lower and lower in his chair the man crouched ; 
 he seemed to sleep. 
 
 Awe, or something like it, had chained Miss 
 Valj can's primal instincts, and given her a 
 false idea of delicacy. She wanted to touch 
 him, and could not. She seemed in that blank 
 minute to stand alone in a deserted house . She
 
 THE BORDERLAND 41 
 
 thought of Bede, propped among the cushions 
 in his warm room upstairs ; she thought of 
 Louis, away there in the lonely Hertfordshire 
 village. Her eyes, defiant but scared, tra- 
 velled slowly round again to look at the man 
 in the chair. She thought of him being 
 taken ill, maybe delirious, in this house 
 and herself not daring to play the nurse. 
 He had walked so strong and capable beside 
 her an hour or less ago. 
 
 With a little hysterical cry, she reached out 
 to touch the bell She paused. John Lave- 
 rock was stumbling to his feet as by instinct. 
 
 "No, don't!" he said. "I'm sorry. I 
 felt unwell. It has passed it won't happen 
 again. I am going I had better go." 
 
 He stooped for his hat, that had fallen from 
 him at last. His thick brown hair was ruffled 
 over his forehead ; but Miss Valjean had a 
 woman's eyes. Her hands clasping, she gave 
 another a different little cry. She flitted 
 close. 
 
 " Stop ! " she said. 
 
 11 1 can't not to-night," he muttered, 
 misunderstanding. 
 
 " Stop ! " 
 
 With one hand she seized his wrists ; with 
 the other she fearfully lifted back the ruffled 
 hair. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried tremblingly. " Oh, my 
 dear ! "
 
 42 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 The man had winced, and then stood pas- 
 sive, quivering because she had found him 
 out. He smiled down, but it was too late. 
 
 " Oh ! " she repeated, lifted out of herself. 
 " You shall never go down those vile streets 
 again. You never shall ! Don't move it 
 can't be let me look." 
 
 She dragged him forward, knocked aside 
 a shade over one of the candles, and looked. 
 There had been something heavy or per- 
 haps only a thick finger ring in or upon the 
 hand that had felled him like a malleted ox. 
 Soft, graceful, dainty women like Miss Valjean 
 sicken at anything not physically normal 
 Miss Valjean turned her head with a shudder. 
 There was a greenish swelling, hot and velvety 
 to the touch, as large as a pigeon's egg, stand- 
 ing out upon John Laverock's right temple. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " She turned 
 upon him, with a sob of anger, before she 
 thought of healing apparatus. " Where have 
 you been, I say?" 
 
 " Nowhere. At least, I missed you, and 
 came back to Downham Road there, and 
 turned back as far as the bridge again." 
 
 " It's nonsense. It's false ! " she said, 
 her damp eyes aflame. " Don't you think I 
 know something more ? You stayed looking 
 at that girl that beauty ! Donna, as they 
 call her. Donna ! " 
 
 " Well, and what if I did ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 43 
 
 " Bah ! " She flung away. It was hope- 
 less he would not express contrition. " I've 
 no patience with you men that's all. You 
 seem deliberately to walk into trouble, and 
 glory in it bah ! Louis was ' held up ' and 
 robbed down one of those streets one night, 
 and laughed calmly about it. And now you 
 Mary ! " 
 
 John Laverock hastily put on his hat again. 
 
 " Mary ? " he repeated. He was feeling 
 considerably better, and her electrical out- 
 burst rather amused him. " I thought her 
 name was Maud ? Louis called her that." 
 
 "My second name is 'Maud,'" was the 
 chilling reply from the door. " There cannot 
 be two of the same name in the same house 
 or not in this house. Wherever is the girl ? 
 She literally runs when I don't want her." 
 
 Out she swept. Returning a minute later 
 with lint, salve and hot water, she was more 
 composed more tender. She gently did all 
 that was necessary or all that would not pain 
 him too much. " But I know that it ought 
 to be lanced," she said. Then she stepped 
 back, crying softly. 
 
 " But there's nothing to worry about," 
 he said, puzzled. " A bruise is only a thing 
 of a day or so." 
 
 ' Is it ! " She waved her small lace hand- 
 kerchief. ' You did not see yourself when 
 you came in when you sat in that chair.
 
 44 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 I shall write to Louis I will ! Did you " 
 
 She suddenly thought of something " Did 
 you come across that unspeakable Ben Fisher 
 again, and say something to him ? No ? 
 Well, then, where did you is there anything 
 you did do oh, I hate mystery ! " She went 
 to the piano ; the lid was banged down with 
 the blow she could not very well give to the 
 man himself. " All right ! yes, a bruise is 
 only a thing of a day or so. A crack on the 
 head is nothing at all. Only a silly woman 
 would think twice about it. You are going 
 home to supper ? If you choose, you can 
 stay " 
 
 " Thanks." He roused. " But I couldn't 
 touch anything to-night." 
 
 " No oh, no ! I knew that. You forgot 
 all about your dinner, didn't you ? walking 
 all that way to see the procession of unem- 
 ployed and loafers. Very well ; it is nothing 
 whatever to do with me." 
 
 " Good-bye, Miss Valjean and many 
 thanks," he said, after the pause. " I think 
 I'll get home to bed." 
 
 " Oh, I would," she said, with sweet 
 emphasis. After what he had said of sincerity 
 and superfluity, she would die sooner than 
 refer again to the tasteful little supper out- 
 spread on the snowy cloth in the next room. 
 ' You're so very comfortable in those rooms of 
 yours, aren't you ? " she added.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 45 
 
 " Well" he had to look away at that- 
 " I'll make the best of them for a few months, 
 at any rate." 
 
 " You should have asked me you should 
 really have asked some woman to choose and 
 arrange them for you. It was absurd from 
 the first. I suppose you paid your deposit 
 before you had even looked at the appoint- 
 ments ? Men always take the first thing that 
 is offered them and the bigger and more 
 clever the man, the more helpless he seems. 
 That Mrs. Blinco I have only seen her the 
 once, of course " 
 
 " But it was sufficient, eh ? >J He could 
 laugh now. " Yes, maybe the vinegar was 
 at the bottom, and the sugar uppermost, 
 when I took the rooms. They have been 
 shaken together since. Ah, well ! " 
 
 Mary, the small maid, passed up the stair- 
 case with something on a tray for Bede. 
 
 " Good-night ! " he said heartily ; and 
 " Good-night, sir ! " she called back delightedly. 
 Miss Valjean bit her lip as an alternative to 
 comment. The homage of a man, she might 
 perhaps have said, is not such a wonderful 
 thing if extended gratuitously to everything 
 in petticoats. The invariably courteous man 
 is better appreciated by men than by women. 
 
 He walked away. His mind was clear 
 enough now ; it was his body that lacked 
 elasticity. He had kept his enthusiasm very
 
 46 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 dry until now ; but to-night there was a sus- 
 picion of dampness a queer sense of the 
 fact that there were as many culpable im- 
 pulses latent in himself as active in the people 
 he had come to work amongst. It annoyed 
 him to have to wonder what Miss Valjean 
 might have said and done had she divined 
 the amazing thought in his brain as she 
 applied her healing ointment. Her touch 
 was very cool, soft and comforting, and yet, 
 as his eyes closed in the process, he suddenly 
 found himself thinking what if it had been 
 the touch of the amber girl ? 
 
 " Absolute nonsense," he said firmly to 
 himself. " She's right. Absolute nonsense 
 from beginning to end." 
 
 His rooms were only a quarter of a mile 
 distant. He admitted himself with his key. 
 The house seemed curiously dull and depressing 
 after the one he had j ust left . He had two rooms 
 on the ground floor one behind the other 
 because, with an ingrained love of air, those 
 old-fashioned glass doors opening on to the 
 gravel forecourt had struck him as quaint and 
 useful. He drew down the blind now, lit 
 the gas, and waited. And presently came a 
 tap. 
 
 " Did you say you required anything, Mr. 
 Laverock ? " 
 
 " Well, yes ! " He strode to the door. 
 " I should very much like a bath."
 
 THE BORDERLAND 47 
 
 " A bath ! " Mrs. Blinco generally echoed 
 a request slowly to point out its unusual 
 character, presumably as a hint that it must 
 not occur again. She was even more incredu- 
 lous to-night, as shown by her tightly crossed 
 arms and her access of nodding. " A bath, 
 did you say, sir ? You don't mind my saying, 
 I hope, but my other gentleman invariably 
 took his bath out weekly, I fancy at a very 
 trifling cost." 
 
 " Is that so ? " He was impressed, but 
 not turned. " But I understood, when I 
 came, that there was a bath to use on the 
 premises ? " 
 
 " When there is a fire to heat the water," 
 she reminded him, clinchingly. " And when 
 the bath has not been newly enamelled," and 
 back went her head. 
 
 "Oh, I see. Well," he reflected, "per- 
 haps I can have one in my own room. 
 Will you oblige me with a can of warm water, 
 and I'll settle with you for the extra gas 
 used. Oh, and some rough towels, please ! " 
 
 Sniffingly she retired. He knew that she 
 had told her husband, and that the husband 
 had said : " Serve you right for taking in 
 gentlemen boarders," but he stood firm. And 
 presently she came to the door of his bedroom 
 with the can. 
 
 " The towels ? " 
 
 " I have no rough ones. We don't use
 
 48 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 them in this establishment." She was 
 undoubtedly ruffled to-night, he thought. 
 " Here, sir ! " She handed him one. " That 
 is for the best parts ; and this " she took 
 another critical look at it, speaking tartly 
 " this is for the worst. And I must ask you 
 not to splash more than you must. Good- 
 night, sir ! " 
 
 A little later, as John Laverock went back 
 to his sitting-room for a quiet read or reverie, 
 he heard Mrs. Blinco remark -that some people 
 might starve, while others sat up all night 
 burning gas for their own amusement. And 
 he felt a distinct twinge of conscious shame. 
 Or was it merely resentment ? Because he 
 sat there in silence for an hour longer, trying 
 to recall and interpret every look in the eyes 
 of the amber girl.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ? Donna Bohannan ? Oh, yes, 
 to be sure ! " said Mrs. Mucklehorn 
 affably, as she kicked back the baby and 
 waddled up from the area recesses at 
 No. 10, squeezing the soap-bubbles from 
 one huge arm and flicking them narrowly 
 past him. He had never known a woman 
 so wedded to' her wash-tub, he thought. 
 11 Oh, yes ! If you call by to-morrow about 
 this time, sir, as like as not you'll find her in." 
 
 " But you said that yesterday," John 
 Laverock reminded her patiently. " You 
 told me to call to-morrow, you know." 
 
 " Did I ? But this isn't to-morrow this 
 'ere's to-day." She turned attention to the 
 other arm, and he had to shift his position 
 again. " The fact is, I dunno no thin' much 
 about her ins and outs, and don't want to. 
 It's as much as one can do nowadays to pay 
 the rates and support a pack o' fat bishops 
 in knee breeches." 
 
 "I see. You find the rates press rather 
 heavily ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; we like 'em. Look what we get 
 
 49 D
 
 50 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 for our money. We're allowed to live. You 
 see, they're makin' such a fine place o' Lon- 
 don. It don't matter a bit about the people 
 who find the bricks, does it ? Yes, Donna 
 '11 be in about this time to-morrow." 
 
 He turned. He was growing used to the 
 peculiar elusiveness of slum repartee, but 
 there was something in Mrs. Mucklehorn's 
 airy irrelevancies that defied him so far. 
 In truth, too, he scarcely knew why at dusk, 
 every day for a week, he had found himself 
 drawn toward No. 10, Phillimore Street. 
 Each time he had moved on with something 
 of the feeling of a boy who has been warned 
 not to pursue a will-o'-the-wisp any farther. 
 And each fugitive glimpse of Donna Bohannan 
 in Hoxton streets had weakened him again 
 in his intention to let her pass out of his 
 life as a problem. 
 
 And then he turned. Mrs. Mucklehorn's 
 voice had come after him ventriloquially. 
 
 " I always shall say they've sent us a 
 perfect gentleman ! " 
 
 Struck by the emphasis he stepped back, 
 and saw that she had the baby in her arms 
 now. Almost before he knew it, he had 
 taken some coins hurriedly from his pocket 
 and pressed them into the baby's hand. 
 
 " There, now," he said with a smile. " I 
 never thought of it." 
 
 " Never thought you were a gentleman ?
 
 THE BORDERLAND 51 
 
 Well, you look like one, and that passes for 
 the real thing in this world, don't it ? " Mrs. 
 Mucklehorn annexed the coins calmly but 
 forcibly. " What I mean is, the front door's 
 always open. There's nothin' to stop any 
 one goin' up, is there ? Harf a minnit, 
 though ! " 
 
 He was taking the hint and a step forward 
 simultaneously. 
 
 " But I quite understand," he whispered. 
 " She is at home was at home yesterday 
 but told you to make a little lie of it." 
 
 " Somethin' in that," Mrs. Mucklehorn 
 admitted. " But what I mean is, you can't 
 go gallivantin' about the house, sir, on the 
 off chance. There's one up there already." 
 
 John Laverock stood and looked down at 
 her from the steps. Just for a moment he 
 could not speak. His intentions had been 
 creditable enough, but he felt suddenly 
 placed in a false position in the eyes of others. 
 
 " Who he is, and what he is, I ain't goin' 
 to say," Mrs. Mucklehorn proceeded placidly, 
 with a spank at the baby. " And I shan't 
 interfere, so long as she pays up for her room. 
 All I know is, he's been here before, and he's 
 hot stuff, and he marched up them steps 
 just afore you come along. Red sky agin, I 
 see." 
 
 There was an uncertain pause. He had 
 glanced half incredulously once or twice
 
 52 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 into the passage, that was dark as the throat 
 of a wolf. His voice, when it came, sounded 
 husky. There seemed to be a most stubborn 
 haze of mystery about the amber girl. 
 
 " Why do they call her ' Donna ' ? Do you 
 know ? " 
 
 " Lor' love my soul, sir, what next ! I 
 call her a finnickin' hussy, as deep as that 
 drain." She pointed gutterwards. " There's 
 some talk about her bein' called ' Madonna ' 
 up at the music-halls, if that's anythink 
 same as they called her mother before 
 her. Sich rubbish ! Her name's Lou Lou 
 Bohannan." 
 
 " Lou ? " he said. Involuntarily he re- 
 peated a thought that came into his mind. 
 " Lou ! Amber Lou ! " 
 
 " Amber Lou ! That's done it. That's 
 a good 'un ! " Mrs. Mucklehorn laughed 
 long and loud. And she could laugh. 
 
 " Has she no parents living ? " he ven- 
 tured, when it subsided. 
 
 " Gawd knows. Ask her all about it, 
 sir that's what you're here for. My copper 
 '11 be boilin' over. Top floor front ! " 
 
 She waddled down and disappeared. It 
 was left to him to stride away like a fool, or 
 have the simple courage of his convictions. 
 There were other lodgers, he believed, but 
 a sort of stagnant silence held the house just 
 now, made more noticeable by the droning
 
 THE BORDERLAND 53 
 
 babble from the streets all around. Then, 
 as he seemed to hear the sweet, icy little titter 
 of Miss Valjean, he plunged forward and 
 set his feet firmly upon the stairs. He was 
 annoyed to think that he had temporized 
 while the dusk deepened. 
 
 Up he went, till he reached the second 
 landing. There was one more short flight, 
 but he paused, gripping the balustrade, his 
 eyes as keenly strained as his ears. Just 
 above there, some one seemed to be straining 
 at a door. The panels were drummed, the 
 handle shaken ferociously ; and then a man's 
 panting, malicious low laugh. 
 
 " Right you are ! I know all about it. 
 You're in there right enough, because your 
 key's turned that side. You've done me, 
 but you'll come on your knees at the finish. 
 You've got to live ! " 
 
 This, then, was the man Mrs. Mucklehorn 
 had indicated. He had a musical, slightly 
 foreign lilt in his voice, and might easily 
 have been jesting ; but John Laverock had 
 to conceive a definite distrust of him on the 
 spot. Drawing back he was relieved to find 
 the landing deep enough to obviate any 
 physical contact. The man was coming 
 down, humming jauntily. He half paused, 
 listening, just where a glimmer from the 
 skylight caught upon him. His hat, pushed 
 back, showed a crop of little close black
 
 54 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 curls. He had small gold loops in his ears, 
 white teeth, dark skin, and upturned, gleaming 
 eyes. He looked in that instant capable 
 of any devilment that could suggest itself 
 to a fertile brain. 
 
 There was no sound. Another soft little 
 laugh, and he swung himself with a catlike 
 ease round the balustrade and darted lightly 
 down the dark stair. And only when he 
 had gone did John Laverock know himself 
 to be standing with breath held and hands 
 drawn up in the instinct of self-preservation. 
 He had gone hot, too, at the thought of 
 standing back there unannounced and un- 
 suspected. He stepped halfway up the last 
 flight at once. 
 
 " Lou ! " he called, a little awkwardly, 
 but resolutely. If he meant his work to be 
 real and he did he must stifle sentiment 
 and bring himself down to the prosaic Hoxton 
 level. 
 
 No answer. He cleared his throat. 
 
 '' Donna ! " And that sounded a little 
 more lifelike at least, somehow he preferred 
 that name. " Donna ! " 
 
 There was a steady step over bare boards. 
 A key turned, the door opened, and the 
 calm, contemptuous face looked down at 
 him. He knew it now : the fact that his heart 
 beat faster again meant that he could never 
 feel quite at ease under those eyes of hers.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 55 
 
 " It's only me Mr. Laverock," he said. 
 
 " I can see that," was the reply. " You've 
 got my name pat, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Miss Bohannan, then ! Not seeing you 
 to speak to properly, I have called to know 
 how you are, and if there is anything in 
 which I, or Miss Valjean, could help you." 
 
 " I know. It was like your blooming 
 impudence," she said, in the same level voice. 
 At the same time it struck him that she was 
 speaking quite absently, and not thinking 
 of him at all. He waited. She went back, 
 and closed the door. Still he waited ; it 
 did not seem possible that she was such a 
 savage, inaccessible creature as all that. And 
 presently the door opened again. She had 
 lit a lamp. 
 
 " Now you can come in, and say what you 
 want to say, once and for all." 
 
 He hesitated. He had scarcely contem- 
 plated this ; he had thought of her vaguely 
 as living on Mrs. Mucklehorn's premises, 
 and that was all. Then he went forward. 
 If she felt no shyness it was absurd of him 
 to feel it for her. 
 
 The room was almost bare, and the bed 
 on the floor was only partly shut off by a 
 few bits of flimsy drapery on a chair. That 
 much he had to take in at a glance, and then 
 he sat down and leaned forward to talk 
 earnestly resolved not to be turned by her
 
 56 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 forced flippancy, which seemed a veil for 
 deeper feelings. Instead, he began in an 
 involuntary whisper. 
 
 " Excuse me, you are far from well you 
 ought not to be so pale as that ! " 
 
 " No ? P'raps I chew tea, to give myself 
 a better complexion." And he sat back. 
 
 " You can be as rude to me as you like," 
 he said ; " but I am here with a work to do, 
 and, please God, I am going to do my utmost. 
 If it were always pleasant work there would 
 be no credit in success, would there ? The 
 Salvation Army has given us immortal proof 
 of that, hasn't it ? That's right 1 " 
 
 She sat down opposite him, her chin resting 
 in her hands, a far-away smile twitching 
 her pale lips. 
 
 " I thought Mr. Valjean took the cake," 
 she remarked. " I don't now. Your Mission 
 ought to make money. It's got the right 
 men." 
 
 John Laverock closed his eyes for a moment. 
 It was true that for once he scarcely knew 
 what to say. It seemed more than ever so 
 incredible that there should be no softening, 
 uplifting influence brought to bear upon these 
 cramped lives and yet apparently so clear 
 that any effort in that direction would be 
 fruitless. 
 
 " Does the Church visiting lady call here ? " 
 he asked abruptly.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 57 
 
 The fathomless turquoise eyes were watch- 
 ing him with such a strange expression of 
 expectancy. 
 
 " She did, until her third purse was pinched. 
 You'd better mind yours." 
 
 He shifted his legs, and started resolutely 
 again. 
 
 " Have you ever been asked to one of the 
 Mission meetings, or into church or chapel, 
 may I ask ? " 
 
 " Never. And I don't intend to go." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because I'm not cut out for a blooming 
 hypocrite." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " he persisted, 
 still gently, feeling his way to her true view 
 of life. 
 
 ' What I say. People go to church for 
 what they can get to be on the right side." 
 
 " But isn't it best to be on the right side ? " 
 
 " It's the wrong. If there was no heaven 
 at the end of it they wouldn't go. It's like 
 promising a kid a bit o' sugar to be good." 
 
 ' Where did you get your strange ideas 
 from, Donna ? " 
 
 " Nowhere. I use my own eyes and ears 
 not other people's. It's a paying game, isn't 
 it a preacher's ? There's one goes down 
 the Kingsland Road in his motor-car, dressed 
 up like a pet lamb. Don't talk to me about 
 religion. Tell me how / can get a motor-
 
 58 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 car, and I'll chance the rest." She rose 
 majestically, and smoothed back her fair 
 hair before a bit of looking-glass. " I say ! 
 If you don't want to get knifed," came her 
 voice, without the slightest change, " keep 
 away from here a bit." 
 
 " Knifed ? " John Laverock repeated. 
 
 " I should say so. I was going to tell you 
 before, but I wouldn't. You had one warnin' 
 last Wednesday, didn't you ? " And now 
 he knew that she had turned her back upon 
 him with a crude sort of tact. " Don't 
 blame me. It was just as it happened him 
 coming up at that moment. Ben Fisher 
 put him up to it, with some lie or other. You 
 passed him on the stairs just now, didn't 
 you ? " 
 
 " Who is he ? " It was of no use be- 
 ginning on theories connected with the life 
 to come. Spite of himself John Laverock 
 was plucked back inevitably to the material. 
 " I should never have asked you, but who 
 is he ? " 
 
 " Now you're talkin' sense." She had 
 broken the ice. She turned, with her pro- 
 voking tranquillity, and surveyed him. Then 
 she looked away. " Never mind his name. 
 They call him Cobra," she said. " And I 
 ought to know. I lived with him once 
 for a week." 
 
 " You " He could not finish. He sat
 
 THE BORDERLAND 59 
 
 as in a cold spell, the puny grotesqueness 
 of his first intentions forcing itself upon him. 
 It was not the mere fact : it was the deadly, 
 indifferent coolness of this aspect. She stood 
 before him, naked and challenging and un- 
 ashamed. He was reduced to a whisper 
 " Do you mean me to believe that ? " 
 
 " Mean what ? I never tell lies," she 
 said, " because I don't care what people 
 think of the truth. If I tell you now, it's 
 only what I've told others, because one of 
 these days he'll swing through the trap for 
 his devil of a temper." 
 
 " And and drag you down with him ? " 
 John Laverock got out huskily. 
 
 " Not if I can help it." She gave her odd 
 little laugh, twisting her fingers together 
 wearily. " But that's my affair, isn't it ? " 
 
 " No ! " the man said quietly. He rose, 
 and put his hand on her shoulder. He had 
 mastered himself completely. " No, Donna ! 
 You belong to God, and God will require 
 an account of your life, as of mine. Do 
 you believe that ? If no one has ever told 
 you so before, do you believe it was put into 
 my heart to want to speak to you, and help 
 you, from the moment of our first talk 
 together ? " 
 
 Slowly she twisted free, and stood back, 
 looking him up and down in the way that 
 was all her own. For once she whispered.
 
 60 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 "I say! Supposing he was to take it 
 into his head to come back. What would 
 he think ? How would yon go on ? " 
 
 John Laverock had trough! a small panel 
 of books and leaflets on his round that evening. 
 In the pause, he picked up what was left 
 of them. 
 
 4 Would you care to read one or two of 
 these, if I leave them ? ** he asked, in a very 
 ordinary voice. 
 
 " So that you can call back for 'em, eh ? " 
 
 "No; I should call in any case. You 
 can keep them." 
 
 "What are they?" She avoided the 
 leaflets astutely, and turned over a paper- 
 covered hook with her "amal^ unckan fingers . 
 "David Cop Copperfidd ? What a name! 
 And what akrtof it!" She handed it back. 
 "No, I never read, except it's the Era, or 
 the Sunday paper. Mr. Varjean used to 
 leave stacks of tracts and other rubbish. 
 Whit's the use ? Her fip ended inde- 
 scribably. " I say, what's the use o" readm" 
 about heaven if you know you're booked for 
 the other ? " 
 
 * The other ? " he repeated. Her fmagm- 
 adve shi.::s nanplusBed him. 
 
 " Tes ! What would yon do if yon was 
 me? Would you sweat in a jam-factory 
 for six sniffings a week? Would you sit 
 here IMI! |Mt-hnlfog for ninepence a day ?
 
 THE BORDERLAND 61 
 
 That's what I ask people like you. And 
 they never answer they go on gassing about 
 heaven.'' 
 
 " Hush," he said gravely. " There is no 
 real reason why you should do either. If 
 you care forme to speak to Miss Valjean, or 
 to the Mission Committee, I haven't the 
 slightest doubt we could find you a com- 
 fortable situation " 
 
 " What ! a servant ? Sell my life to 
 keep fed and look respectable ? Not me. 
 I'd sooner starve or go back on the halls. 
 P'raps I shall do that." 
 
 " You will not ! " he said, his mouth set, 
 his figure stiffened in a way that seemed to 
 flatter her femininity. She turned her head 
 to laugh. 
 
 " Not, eh ? Who's going to keep me ? " 
 
 " You will not, I hope," he repeated. 
 " After what you have told me after showing 
 me you know as clearly as I what is right 
 and what is wrong I should say that you 
 went deliberately to your own risk of ruin. 
 I should God help me for saying it I 
 should cease to pity you in the least." 
 
 " Pity me ! " She drew herself up in 
 turn. She looked as superb as any actress 
 in a low-comedy role and she had a tigerish 
 suggestiveness, too. " Pity me ! If that 'sail 
 you come here to do you can keep away. 
 Don't talk to me when you see me down
 
 62 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Hoxton. The world '11 go on very well 
 without your pity ! " 
 
 " You don't understand me," he began 
 again strenuously. But she went on, sticking 
 her small face close to his, unaccountably 
 roused. 
 
 " Yes, I do. Any woman understands 
 that. You're up in the world, and I'm down 
 here. You had a good bringing-up, and I 
 had none. That's all the real difference 
 between us. And if there's a God Almighty 
 so merciful as you keep bunging down our 
 throats, He'll judge according won't He ? 
 Pity me ! If I thought that much of you 
 which I don't I'd just as lief you said you 
 hated me. I shall go back to the halls if I 
 want, and do anything else I want ; because 
 I can see with my own eyes that one pays 
 just as well as the other in this world and 
 a bit better. There ! " 
 
 " So you think ! " he was reduced to saying, 
 very quietly. " So you tell me, at least. 
 But it is perversely untrue to say that I force 
 religion of any kind upon any one here. You 
 know it ! All the religions in the world 
 would fail in such an attempt I know that ! 
 All I ask is, to get into touch with your human 
 selves ; the spiritual self I may hope to reach 
 later. Can't I mayn't I hope to try in 
 your case, Doraia ? If I saw only a moment's 
 softness I should feel so happy I can't tell
 
 THE BORDERLAND 63 
 
 you ! In fact," he took her hand suddenly 
 and gripped it, " I'm going to try, whether 
 you scoff or not." 
 
 " Let go," she whispered. And then he 
 realized that the hand he had held was 
 smaller and more limp than he had been 
 aware. " That's quite enough," she said, 
 turning away coldly. " I'm not anxious to 
 be pitied, while there's plenty of men quite 
 ready to do the other thing. Just tell me 
 when you mean to call again and I'll be 
 out." 
 
 " And still I shall hope for you ; and still 
 believe that it is simply the devilry in you 
 which " 
 
 " In me ? Who put it there ? Did I ? 
 What eyes you have got ! " she said, looking 
 at him in irony apparently always keeping 
 uppermost the consciousness that his sex 
 made him essentially a target for the shafts 
 of her own. In fact, she was eager to wound, 
 and to see his face twitch. " You'd do well 
 in the factory dinner-hour down Old Street, 
 telling the girls just what they've had for 
 dinner. Oh, I don't care what I say, or 
 what you think ! " He had flushed pal- 
 pably, and could have bitten his lip through 
 in chagrin at the fact. " I can tell you 
 something more, if you like." She marched 
 coolly close again, and looked him in the 
 eyes. " You're not a bit better than any-
 
 64 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 body else only you get frightened and 
 repent every time you do anything. That's 
 a fact. If it ever come to the point, you'd 
 want as much pitying as any one. Don't 
 believe me ? Wait ! A black coat covers 
 a lot, don't it ? Yes, but it only covers flesh 
 and blood." 
 
 " Good-night ! " he said, with steady cheer- 
 fulness, as the silence settled down again. 
 He had turned and gathered up his booklets 
 as if he knew that she would sweep them 
 into limbo the instant he had gone. After 
 all, it was only what Miss Valjean had hinted 
 that he must expect. Hoxton would brook 
 no interference with its animal freedom. 
 " Good-night, Donna ! " He was at the door, 
 smiling. " This is our first real talk, but 
 not our last don't think that ! " 
 
 " Mind the Cobra, then," she whispered 
 absently. " He's not talking, but he'll sting 
 you dead as soon as look at you." 
 
 "' We shall see. What is he, may I ask ? " 
 It was the question he had determined not 
 to ask, and she seemed to know that. 
 
 " Cobra King ? Oh, he's a very nice 
 gentleman. You'd like him. Let me see 
 he calls himself a professional agent, and 
 dodges up and down the halls between here 
 and Leicester Square. He'll get any likely 
 girl a small part if she finds him the money. 
 If she can't he finds her something else.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 65 
 
 Obliging, isn't he ? And he's only one of a 
 thousand more like him. But you don't 
 want to know anything about real life, do 
 you ? You're so different. You don't even 
 have to trouble to work, do you ? " 
 
 " I work hard, Donna," he said in his 
 deep voice, looking steadfastly back at her 
 before he turned finally. There was flesh 
 and blood enough in him, at any rate, to 
 make him resolved there and then not to be 
 mastered and jeered into failure by this slip 
 of a girl. " I work hard every day of my 
 fife." 
 
 " I should say so." She laughed to her- 
 self. " Go on good-night ! " 
 
 She pushed the door to, and left him 
 outside. He was very pale, heavy with 
 bitterness, and ready to set his teeth ; but 
 what was that to her ? She had calmly 
 said as much she was one of the women 
 born into the world branded with an invisible 
 "A". And nothing could alter the fact.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 FOUR busy days had ticked by before 
 John Laverock took his courage in 
 both hands and paid the promised call at 
 No. 10, Phillimore Street. Somehow they 
 seemed like weeks. This time he mounted 
 the mysterious stair with full confidence in 
 himself, and like a man who acted as the 
 humble agent of a higher power. 
 
 He was doomed to cold disappointment. 
 The top front room door remained closed 
 to his knock. Imagination it was, perhaps, 
 that persuaded him he had heard a move- 
 ment within the room ; nothing answered 
 his repeated call ; and there was no light 
 beyond the door. Not to-night ! 
 
 Down the dark stair and out on to the 
 pavement he came with a little series of 
 stumbles. A mist of rain was falling, and 
 a lamp outside sent its light into his eyes. 
 He took a few quick, uncertain strides, 
 collided with something, and threw out his 
 hands with instinctive swiftness. 
 
 " Sorry, lad so sorry ! " he breathed. 
 
 66
 
 THE BORDERLAND 67 
 
 " My fault. Stand quite still. Have I upset 
 anything ? " 
 
 " Dunno," was the husky answer the 
 voice of " Lamps Out " Smith had never 
 been anything but husky. " Have a look, 
 and I'll tell yer." 
 
 The lad stood passive, looking before him 
 intently. He knew now who had clutched 
 him, and there was a sort of grateful hypno- 
 tism in the touch not to be lost too soon. 
 Quite a score of typical, fascinating figures 
 stood out by now more or less prominently 
 in the forefront of the crowded Hoxton 
 panorama that haunted John Laverock's 
 dreams ; and this oddity with the peaked 
 scrap of a face, large red ears, and staring 
 eyes that saw nothing, was one of them. 
 
 " Lamps Out," a pipe everlastingly gripped 
 between his front teeth, and a tray of buttons 
 and laces slung from his neck, slouched along 
 the pavements of Hoxton and Haggerston 
 with whimsical persistency from morning 
 till night without ever appearing anxious 
 to sell anything. The boys had abandoned 
 organized rushes to upset his tray, because 
 obviously he bore a protected life, having 
 been knocked down by vehicles only once 
 in crossing the Kingsland Road. In John 
 Laverock's eyes he was an amazingly pathetic 
 figure all the more so because he did not 
 seem to realize anything of the sort. It
 
 68 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 was John Laverock's secret conviction, too, 
 that God steered him along the kerbs, and 
 permitted him to see things that only the 
 blind can see. 
 
 Stooping, John Laverock felt over the 
 damp pavements conscientiously. " Lamps 
 Out " was quick to interpret the sound. 
 
 " Wipe yer hands on me," he advised, 
 smoking away. " Nothink, is there ? " 
 
 " Nothing, I feel sure." John Laverock 
 peered into the tray, saw three halfpence 
 among the buttons, and slid a sixpence 
 beside them. " But your stock is quite wet, 
 Smith. You want a cover of some sort, surely." 
 
 " Rainin', is it ? Blowed if I knew. When 
 it's alms rainin' in yer heart well, you don't 
 notice, sir, do yer ? " (A touch of maudlin 
 sentimentality happily rare in Smith, who 
 was apt to feel shy and awkward in this great, 
 towering presence as he pictured it.) 
 
 " I can walk a little way with you," John 
 Laverock decided. And they stepped out, 
 John Laverock looking down askance at the 
 pipe gripped in the front teeth of the upturned 
 white face. The small idiosyncrasies of his 
 types amused him deeply. " And who buys 
 all this tobacco, Smith ? " 
 
 " Dunno. Well, what I mean is, I'm in 
 co. with a chap that picks up ' toppers ' 
 down the road, and he does middlin' well 
 at it. See ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 69 
 
 " I see," he said although he saw very 
 hazily. " And what's your father doing by 
 now ? " 
 
 " Drunk," was the laconic response. 
 
 " Drunk ? " He drew a sharp breath. 
 Of late this same word flashed up a picture 
 to him that made him want to fling him- 
 self bodily at the public houses until he 
 remembered that the public houses were 
 not responsible. " But you said " 
 
 " I know. Monday's his real day. And 
 it's Toosday, ain't it ? I'm givin' him up to 
 about Friday to start work again. The 
 kid's died, and he's got the quid insurance 
 off mother. See ? " 
 
 " Vile ! ' ] breathed John Laverock to him- 
 self. " The baby gone, eh ? Another ! " 
 
 " Die off like flies, don't they ? " observed 
 " Lamps Out," feeling for a fugitive lucifer. 
 " Only seven left out o' fourteen, or there- 
 abouts." 
 
 " And and does your mother feel the loss ? " 
 
 " Not harf she don't. She was so bad, 
 I'm told, they had to put gin in her beer to 
 keep her quiet. Course, now he's got the 
 quid, she's got to pawn somethink to pay 
 the undertaker man, ain't she ? 'Taint harf 
 a life, one way an' another, is it ? " 
 
 They had walked some way before John 
 Laverock could seem to trust his voice to 
 answer ordinarily.
 
 70 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Life is mainly what we make it, Smith, 
 and I begin to think that the people in these 
 dark places prefer their darkness." 
 
 " Ain't they lit up yet, then ? " " Lamps 
 Out " asked, quite innocently. " 'Bout time. 
 Where are we ? " 
 
 They had turned down a courtway and 
 come out into Hoxton Street itself. The 
 cobbles were greasy and black. Through 
 the drizzle the naphtha lamps sent up a smoky 
 flare, and the competitive humour of the 
 stall-keepers was making itself heard. Women 
 with tightly drawn shawls and no hats 
 hurried by ; barefooted children scampered 
 in and out of the damp, dark recesses like 
 rabbits in a warren save that the rabbits 
 were infinitely better off as to environment. 
 John Laverock, thinking of the scent of the 
 earth and lanes in his own Hertfordshire, 
 often paused just here to realize the tremen- 
 dous contrast anew ; but to-night, in truth, 
 there was for him an inferno-like tinge about 
 the place even in its very depression. That 
 one man could leave any impression here 
 in one lifetime seemed as impossible as that 
 one man could dig the weeds out of a tropical 
 jungle. 
 
 " Perhaps I'm too squeamish." He often 
 said something introspective of this kind. 
 "It seems to me that one-half of these people 
 should never be permitted to marry, because
 
 THE BORDERLAND 71 
 
 they don't realize their responsibilities. They 
 are like children allowed to gratify every 
 dangerous whim. If individual freedom fos- 
 ters breeding-pens such as this " 
 
 " What say ? " asked " Lamps Out." And 
 he laughed. 
 
 "I'm saying, Smith, that this London of 
 ours is like a well-dressed man with dirty 
 underclothing, if you can make anything 
 of that. Let's walk on ! You understand 
 me, I believe. I wish you could see with 
 me, too ! I call these slums of ours unsightly, 
 dangerous excrescences that could be, and 
 ought to be, got rid of before another public 
 library or recreation ground is built in the 
 suburbs. I love my country, I hope, but 
 I shall never forget what I saw in Germany, 
 for instance : scarcely a ragged child any- 
 where in the great towns, and a pawnshop 
 only at rare intervals and that in State 
 control. Here both are all around one. 
 Every incentive seems to be given to the 
 people to remain in a sordid, vicious groove. 
 . . . Smith ! Do you know the girl Bohannan ? 
 Donna, as they call her ? " 
 
 " Know her ! " Smith's throat rattled 
 
 queerly perhaps jealously. " A bit. Who 
 
 don't ? Dunno anythink good about her." 
 
 " Oh, come now nothing of that ! She 
 
 wouldn't say that of you, I know." 
 
 " She carn't ! I'd black her eye if she
 
 72 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 did least, I'd put some one on to do it." He 
 gave his stooping shoulders a hitch back, 
 and paused. " Harf a minnit hark ! That's 
 Black Sam, hard at it again. Know his 
 clapper anywhere. He's great, he is. I'll 
 back him against the p'lice any day." 
 
 A booming voice had made itself heard 
 high above the manifold noises of Hoxton 
 Street. Where a cheap] ack usually stood, 
 a man with a bushy black beard and arresting 
 eyes was mounted on a barrel, bending down 
 to drive his words into a male audience. He 
 lacked no forcible eloquence, and was obvious- 
 ly not cursed with self-consciousness. Every 
 now and then he swung round from the 
 waist as on a pivot, as to detect some one 
 who might be taking stealthy notes in his 
 rear. Then he leaned low again, looking 
 into each face in turn, and emphasizing 
 every " point " with a fierce pause, and an 
 up-swing of his arm to heaven. Gripping 
 Smith's shoulder, John Laverock drew up to 
 listen and to learn what he could from a man 
 who had clearly something worth telling. 
 
 " You almighty fools ! That's what you 
 are, every one of you here. Rat-faced idiots, 
 I might say ; but I know you're not that. 
 I've told you before, and I tell you again ; 
 and you'll own it when it's too late. 
 
 ' Where's it going to end, I ask ? Your 
 rates go up, and your wages stand still or go
 
 THE BORDERLAND 73 
 
 down because there's no work. Soon there 
 will be less, because every day the clever 
 people are bringing out some machine that 
 will do the work of ten men. You are against 
 the wall. And you stand it like sheep. You 
 don't know your own power. And well your 
 Jack-in-office may laugh, as he breaks his 
 three brown eggs over the pink ham on his but- 
 tered toast every morning, and rings the silver 
 bell to say he's indisposed when a deputation 
 of starving men call. You pay for all of it. 
 You have to run the Empire for empire's 
 sake. But when your bad time comes, the 
 Empire shuts its eyes and ears or covers you 
 up in a workhouse. They say you ought 
 to have a pension when you're used up and 
 done for, no matter what your age, but it 
 will cost twenty-five millions a year, and 
 they can't find it. No ; but they found 
 two hundred and fifty millions for the war 
 without turning a hair." 
 
 At each pause, he waited for a " That's 
 right enough ! " from some one in the crowd. 
 He went on, cuttingly. 
 
 ' There are twenty thousand men out of 
 work in London to-night ; and this is only 
 October. There are fifty thousand, if you 
 knew it ; but don't be greedy to a thousand. 
 They mustn't beg, they mustn't steal. Oh, 
 Gawd above, it's a living marvel they can go 
 home and look at their wife and kids' faces,
 
 74 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 and not do one or the other ! I say, are you 
 men, or what are you ? 
 
 " Here, I'll paint you a little picture that 
 is, if you can see one. Here's a place called 
 South Africa, that you won for the Empire 
 I do love that word ! Here's a land that 
 turns up gold or diamonds or what not almost 
 wherever it's scratched. What's become of 
 it ? Have they made any use of it ? Have 
 they developed the railways and all the 
 mineral wealth to get back to England what 
 England paid for it ? No ; they've just 
 turned their backs on it, as you do when 
 you've whopped a man in a scrap. It's 
 been left to a few stray people mostly 
 foreigners to hop in and open up the coun- 
 try and turn it into limited liability com- 
 panies. I've only got one truthful word 
 more to say to you on that point ; but never 
 forget it ! ... The gold being dug out of 
 that country to-day would in a few years 
 provide a free pension for every man, woman 
 or child here that needs it. 
 
 " You drink, they say. Of course you 
 do. There's nothing else. You can't go 
 in for motor-cars and week-ends, and sea- 
 trips, and dances, and and other men's 
 wives. I wish you could, but a man with 
 money can do things that you mustn't. It's 
 all the difference. The magistrate who puts 
 one away for going too far it may be with
 
 THE BORDERLAND 75 
 
 drink or the other man's wife very likely 
 goes home and does the same thing himself. 
 They put down your gambling club, but 
 he can have his, with betting tape and all 
 the rest of it. But he paints it white and 
 puts up velvet curtains you don't. I don't 
 know what you're alive for at all. You're a 
 cursed nuisance to the country when you're 
 out of work or down on your luck." 
 
 ' That's right enough ! " came the deep- 
 throated comment. 
 
 " There you are, then where are you ? 
 The thing is, how long are you going to 
 support an Empire that can't support you ? 
 Ask 'em straight What's to be done ? Send 
 five hundred of your men over to Stepney 
 next Friday, and join the march to the West 
 End. Do that I You'd scare those jewelled 
 hussies in their furs and flounces. Dig it 
 into 'em that, being here, you've a right 
 to live. That's your cry for all time forward 
 The Right to Live ! A fair wage for work 
 done, and enough work to stop men from 
 snarling round every job like dogs round a 
 bone. I say to you that if you once realized 
 the strength that lies under your shirts at 
 this moment " 
 
 " Cop-per I " came a yell. And the black- 
 bearded man with the arresting eyes calmly 
 kicked his barrel out of sight and stood 
 passive with folded arms among the crowd.
 
 76 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 The constable who strolled up could make 
 nothing of it, and had to fall back on a mild 
 " Move on, there ! " They moved on. A 
 constable in Hoxton Street carries nearly 
 his full weight. Occasionally, down one of 
 the side-streets, his brief authority has been 
 stripped from him for ever. 
 
 " Great, ain't he ? " came up Smith's 
 husky, admiring rattle through John Lave- 
 rock's momentary coma. " Can't get away 
 from what he says anyhow, can yer ? " 
 
 " Er I don't know, Smith," John Laverock 
 answered slowly. " It's not for me to say. 
 Sometimes truth is dangerous, without a 
 sense of proportion. What I do say, and 
 must say, is that the people he talks to have 
 it in their own power to make the first move 
 toward a very different state of things." 
 
 " Not harf," " Lamps Out " agreed cor- 
 dially. " It only wants workin' up a bit. 
 Give 'em a gun apiece, and let 'em pick 
 off every bloomin' upstart roamin' the West 
 End " 
 
 " Nonsense," John Laverock put in, with 
 a warmth that staggered him. " What do 
 you mean ? that wholesale murder would 
 increase trade and wipe out human selfish- 
 ness ? " 
 
 " Dunno," he temporized weakly. " It 
 'ud wipe out some o' these millionaire tykes, 
 wouldn't it ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 77 
 
 And he was still more staggered. 
 
 " Very childish and very mistaken, Smith ; 
 and I'll tell you why. I expect you'll find 
 that ' these millionaires ' have brought more 
 brain and more hard work to their money- 
 making than you or I or Hoxton ever dream 
 of." 
 
 " Well, what about it ? They've got the 
 money, haven't they ? and we ain't." 
 
 " Yes ! " He had to laugh. " We won't 
 gp_ into that to-night. See what I meant ? 
 How old are you ? twenty-two ? Well, then, 
 you're old enough to know what I mean 
 by human selfishness, which is at the base 
 of it all. Take your father as an example 
 you won't be offended, I know. So many 
 children of his are brought into the world 
 indiscriminately. There is no attempt to 
 keep up with his responsibilities, or to rear 
 the children as decent members of society. 
 They are born that is all he knows. They 
 must take their chance. They die, or they 
 huddle together in the slums that bred them. 
 They may act in the same way in their turn, 
 because it is in their blood and up-bringing. 
 But if, as he has at least five shillings a week 
 to spare for beer still, he put by that money 
 instead, he could live in a better house, and 
 remember that your mother is a woman, 
 and feed and clothe his children " 
 
 " Hi, hi ! " " Lamps Out " nearly choked
 
 78 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 at the calm simplicity of it. " You tell him 
 that. Why, he'd up with his foot if I let on 
 I ain't got a bit o' sole to my boot. He's 
 all right if he's got his full load o' four ale, 
 but all wrong when he's only three parts ' on.' 
 Come home Sat 'day and bio wed his smoke 
 in the kid's face, and bashed mother agin 
 the wall for layin' hold of it, and chucked " 
 
 " Don't ! " John Laverock said. He was 
 very pale and earnest. " Don't tell me. It 
 makes me doubt never mind what. It 
 makes me feel " 
 
 " Got to put down four ale for a start, 
 haven't yer ? " " Lamps Out " suggested, 
 with acumen, in the pause. 
 
 " No ! Why ? Don't talk such weak non- 
 sense, Smith ! Do that, and you have simply 
 removed the apple out of the pilfering child's 
 reach the pilfering child remains. Drunken- 
 ness is not necessarily a disease don't believe 
 in that coward's refuge ! At each glass a 
 man knows full well whether he is selfishly 
 depriving his wife and children, and the same 
 deliberate selfishness allows him to go on 
 to the stage where responsibility is drugged. 
 There, don't let me say such things, true as 
 they are ! Good-night, Smith ! I've come 
 far enough. Get home out of the wet as 
 soon as you can, and God help you ! God 
 help us all ! " 
 
 He gripped the thin shoulder, wheeled
 
 THE BORDERLAND 79 
 
 abruptly, and was halfway back down Hox- 
 ton Street before " Lamps Out " had located 
 the sixpence on his tray. Smith bit it. 
 " Bloomin' good un, barmy or not barmy," 
 he said to himself referring to the donor 
 as he relit his pipe and debated possibilities. 
 Ere he had decided definitely between fried 
 fish and a saveloy John Laverock was drawing 
 in the breath of another atmosphere another 
 world, it almost seemed. He had reached 
 that quiet stretch between Kingsland and 
 De Beauvoir Roads where there are long, 
 deep gardens, tall trees and a peace only 
 broken by the distant clang-clang of the 
 electric-car bells. 
 
 He had halted with a distinct, if unneces- 
 sary, sense of yearning and shortcoming. 
 He had set out buoyantly to do so much, 
 and he had done practically nothing. It 
 galled the man who tried faithfully to balance 
 his account with conscience every night that 
 fell. The days were ticking out and forming 
 a long chain in his rear. And, worse still, 
 he had only paused on a weak impulse 
 within a stone's throw of Miss Valjean's house. 
 
 It seemed now a matter of course that he 
 should ring the bell there on his homeward 
 way each evening. He wanted to see Bede 
 to sit with him up in that quiet room over- 
 looking the cloister-like vicarage grounds, 
 and rest his physical and mental self in a
 
 8o THE BORDERLAND 
 
 silence more rich than all the talk but 
 he did not wish to meet Bede's sister. Truth- 
 fully, he could not have told why except 
 that that swift look of hers into his eyes 
 seemed of late one that in very manliness 
 he ought not to realize. It was uncomfortably 
 like a window to her soul, and he did not wish 
 to look in. 
 
 In a word, he was telling himself that here 
 in London the way of a man who essays to 
 keep to the straight and narrow path is beset 
 by manifold subtle complications. And he 
 abhorred the necessity for making cunning 
 detours. 
 
 Just possibly, despite the drizzle, she 
 would be embarking on one of her periodical 
 shopping excursions unconscious, woman- 
 like, that the delight in each ' bargain " 
 might imply the misery of the original pro- 
 ducer. But, after a wait of near thirty 
 minutes, while he watched the crimson light 
 in Bede's window, his nerves began to tingle 
 and shame him. He strode forward and 
 rang the bell. 
 
 " Good-evening ! " he said to the little 
 maid, with the obstinate courtesy which Miss 
 Valjean thought the one flabby point in his 
 character. And then, as no one rustled out 
 from the drawing-room, he sank his voice 
 just a little. " You need not I mean, I'll 
 just call up and see Mr. Valjean."
 
 THE BORDERLAND 81 
 
 And he went straight up the stairs. It 
 was the first time he had done that. The 
 maid raised her shoulders in an ecstatic little 
 laugh as she listened from the kitchen door. 
 She knew just how long Mr. Bede's sister 
 had occupied before her mirror that evening. 
 
 He reached the first broad landing, over 
 which the palm-fronds arched from a vase 
 in the grasp of a marble figure. There was a 
 soft swish-swish, and he found himself looking 
 into Miss Valj can's face. It was smiling, 
 but with a cold radiance like that of winter 
 sunshine ; and she had drawn back her 
 skirts a thought too studiedly. 
 
 " Go on ! " she said. " I mustn't keep 
 you I heard." 
 
 " And you " he began, a little breath- 
 lessly. He had had to think involuntarily 
 of another stair landing how near it was, 
 and how inconceivably faraway it seemed! 
 on which he had paused one night, looking 
 back into a feminine face that openly scorned 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, I'm going out." 
 
 " Not not because I came ? " He reached 
 out his hand. He would have none of that 
 hide-and-seek. And she stared blankly back, 
 as it seemed. 
 
 " You ? The idea ! As if I did not know 
 as if I had not seen you standing almost 
 opposite for the last thirty minutes ! How
 
 82 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 very strange of you ! Why why do you 
 need to hold my arm, Mr. Laverock ? " 
 
 His hand went quickly back, and the icy 
 little coo in her voice died as quickly. 
 
 " I am strange, perhaps," he said. He 
 knew now, too, that he had forgotten to 
 lift his hat. Altogether, it seemed that he 
 might fall back on reckless indifference. " I 
 came to London to do great things, did I 
 not ? What have I done, you would like 
 to ask ? I don't know whether Louis thought 
 all I think, or saw all I see, in Hoxton streets. 
 I only know " 
 
 " Yes," she said tentatively, watching 
 him. " Louis had all the same insoluble 
 problems on his mind, I believe except, 
 perhaps, ' Donna.' I cannot answer as to 
 ' Donna ' ! " she added, with the same hushed 
 emphasis. 
 
 And, before he knew it, his blunt shaft 
 had gone back. 
 
 1 Why need you trouble ? She is a woman, 
 after all." 
 
 " Certainly. Every whit as much a woman 
 as I am ! " 
 
 This time, as she held back her skirts 
 lightly for him to pass, it seemed absurd to 
 hesitate. He walked on down a brief side 
 passage, drummed his knuckles softly against 
 the panels of a door at the end, and tiptoed 
 in. There was no real need to tiptoe, but to
 
 THE BORDERLAND 83 
 
 a mind like John Laverock's the hypnotic 
 hush of this room veiled something far 
 deeper than any one but himself seemed to 
 feel.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THERE was a curtain to pass, and then 
 the outer world seemed shut off. 
 In here was a man who had sat and looked 
 death in the face steadily for so long that 
 he had learned to laugh where one expected 
 a shudder : for so long, that the suggestion 
 of a waiting, hovering shape seemed to be 
 an inseparable part of the room. 
 
 Most axioms lie, but creaking gates do 
 hang long ! For more months than seemed 
 possible Death had been stooping toward 
 the man or boy in the cushioned arm- 
 chair there, literally playing cat-and-mouse 
 with him ; periodically bending to dart the 
 final chill breath, and then drawing back 
 for another reprieve. Twice a week some- 
 times oftener a doctor came and sat down 
 opposite him, and ostensibly appeared to 
 earn his fee, but between him and Bede 
 Valjean there was no screen of make-be- 
 lieve. 
 
 " Well ? " John Laverock whispered, go- 
 ing close at once and taking both long, veined 
 hands in his strong grasp and looking down 
 
 84
 
 THE BORDERLAND 85 
 
 at him. It was always like a bather's first 
 plunge, to be taken at once. 
 
 " Well ? " Bede gave him back, his soft 
 mouth playing quizzically, contentedly. Bede 
 knew him now better than any one. 
 
 " Better ? " 
 
 " Much ! Can't you see it ? Not going 
 yet awhile, old chap. You sit down ! just 
 there ! Well ? " 
 
 " There is nothing new," John Laverock 
 said, in the same subdued way. Ever so 
 softly he had moved back the agate jar of 
 scented cigarette-tobacco, the books, and the 
 grapes on the table to make room for his 
 arm, so that he could shade his face with one 
 hand. " That is why I felt I must come in 
 again to-night, because " 
 
 " Of course," Bede said penetratively, in 
 the pause. " You wanted something to 
 break your depression upon. I knew that ; 
 I watched. You always will as long as you 
 keep to your ideal of making other people 
 something that they are not and never can 
 be. I told you I told Louis before you 
 that as the regenerating process has to be 
 begun all over again with each generation, 
 Nature palpably rejects it, and leaves it a 
 mere tattooing affair of the skin or the 
 imagination." 
 
 He said everything in a sustained series of 
 quick, quiet gasps, with now and then a
 
 86 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 pause not accounted for. Sometimes a film 
 came down over his great dark eyes, and 
 then, with his head ever drawn forward, and 
 his breast ever rising and falling in the effort 
 to breathe, he looked like a cage-bird that was 
 dying upon its perch. John Laverock had 
 not yet perhaps never would grown used 
 to it. He looked away and held his breath 
 in those moments. And then, along his 
 veins each time there ran the thrill as Bede's 
 long, wan fingers reached out for the cigarette- 
 papers as though nothing were amiss. Such 
 awe there was in watching the mind and 
 actions of a beloved one who was slipping 
 away and did not cry out to be held back. 
 Bede sat there only to think, and puff his 
 cigarettes, and wait. Yet he looked out 
 upon his world, and talked of it, as calmly, 
 as analytically, as though he had a stake in 
 its future development. 
 
 ' Yes, you have told me that many times," 
 John Laverock replied, when he could. 
 " And God has given you a mind that enables 
 you to prove apparently all you say. But 
 God has given me a stubborn tenacity in- 
 stead. Light must and will be brought into 
 all the dark places at last. Sin, Bede, is as 
 definite and as yielding to influence as a 
 disease of the body yes ! " 
 
 ' Hoxton still ! " whispered the other. 
 " Old chap, you miss the great essential
 
 THE BORDERLAND 87^ 
 
 truth. Your ' sin ' is everywhere and al- 
 ways. Everybody ' sins ' in every hour of 
 his life, negatively or otherwise. But here 
 our refined taste enamels it white. In slum- 
 land it wears its own colour, and so jumps 
 to your eyes like an impressionist picture. 
 Over and over again I have been going to 
 make you tell me just what you mean by ' sin.' ' 
 
 John Laverock sat still, looking into the 
 glowing fire, the hand against his face giving 
 a twitch now and then. 
 
 " You mustn't ! " Bede burst out, with a 
 rare touch of excitement. " You mustn't ! 
 You assume all, and act as strenuously as 
 though it were proved truth. Religion springs 
 only from a natural human craving for some- 
 thing desirable beyond this life. Without 
 the crown who would wish to bear the cross ? 
 That very fact " 
 
 " No ! " John Laverock said, almost 
 sternly, putting out his hand. " No ! I can 
 bear it from any lips but yours." 
 
 " But I love to talk to you, and see into 
 your mind ! " he panted. " None of my 
 vitality can go in action ; it must all go to 
 my brain I must think ! And sitting here 
 from day to day, always thinking, I know 
 perhaps more of the world than you who 
 move up and down in it. I see them pass 
 I watch them I hear often what they say. 
 And what of it ? Where you would grieve,
 
 88 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 I can smile. I know beforehand that the 
 character of each one has been formed inde- 
 libly by his environment, and cannot be re- 
 formed any more than a new set of teeth 
 can be grown. I tell you I tell you again 
 where no sin is intended there is no sin ! 
 But we have twisted Nature about and about 
 to suit our changing conditions, our artificial 
 life. You would name sinful those who do 
 not conform to certain conventionalities and 
 stifle their primitive impulses, whereas they 
 are simply natural and not afraid of criti- 
 cism. Oh, be honest, whatever it costs you 
 to sacrifice your ideals ! But, again, don't 
 be too honest. Don't ask every man to 
 pause and recollect man's first duty all the 
 while. He would find life impossible ; he 
 would find himself hated by all. A man 
 must be himself, and nothing else. Life is 
 life as his particular eyes were fashioned to 
 see it. ... You saw her to-night ? " 
 
 It came as subdued and detached as though 
 no other words had passed between them. 
 He had rolled his thin white tube of tobacco, 
 put it to his lips, and fallen back exhausted. 
 
 ' Who ? " John Laverock brought his 
 face round with an effort. His mind had 
 been sweeping along on a wild torrent of 
 thought, to be giddily brought to a stand- 
 still. All was suddenly quiet and normal 
 again. " Who ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 89 
 
 " Your amber girl ! Your Hoxton Queen 
 Bee ! Your wonderful woman who embodies 
 in herself all the types outside the social 
 pale. Your girl who walks the streets with 
 her calm devilment, her disdain, her flat 
 straw hat, her swift tongue, her hair looped 
 over her ears. Did you think I did not 
 know her ? Fair and dark, she is a London 
 product and of London only. She fears 
 neither God nor man. The girl against whom 
 you have concentrated all your guns 
 Donna ! " 
 
 ! " Did I did I tell you all this ? " John 
 Laverock asked, drawing a breath in the 
 pause. 
 
 " Why not ? All that, and much more ! " 
 The long white fingers wavered out as if to 
 propitiate him. John Laverock looked down 
 at them, laid his hand over them, and kept 
 it there. He had swallowed some throat 
 lump. 
 
 " I forgot ! Honestly, I forgot. You read 
 me through and through, Bede. You are 
 like a judge, sitting there to pass sentence." 
 
 ' Then you must feel guilty ! . . . No, 
 no, old chap, we won't be artificial. I like 
 you. I love you ! I do read you in our 
 silences I can't help it. You brought her 
 before me. You sat there, that first night, 
 and sketched her in words from the life. It 
 was a prose poem if you knew it. You were
 
 90 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 so impressed, so sure you had discovered the 
 mind in her the spring from which all her 
 future possibilities might flow, and which 
 had been turned into a foul marsh by the 
 Hoxton exhalations your own words ! The 
 next evening I waited, and the next and 
 the next. But you held back. Since then 
 you have gone round the subject like one 
 skirting the edge of a pond. Bring her before 
 me again ! " 
 
 " It was not to-night," John Laverock 
 said, in the way of a man impelled against 
 his will. " I was not to see her to-night. 
 I did not tell you what happened, because 
 ... It was last Thursday evening. I went 
 into her room there in Phillimore Street. 
 God knows and you know that I wanted 
 to speak to her as I have spoken to many 
 others. But I found it impossible, or so it 
 seemed that night. I cannot explain, but 
 at every turn she pinned me down to the 
 sense of being a mere physical puppet like 
 herself, and that in her place I should be as 
 she is. Since then she has avoided me, 
 looked back with her pale smile and vanished 
 down some side-turning. To-night, when I 
 knocked at her room again, no one answered. 
 That is all. I was depressed, I don't know 
 why. I walked back into Hoxton with blind 
 Smith, and then came straight on here." 
 
 " Not one touch of humour anywhere
 
 THE BORDERLAND 91 
 
 that you could pick out of the prevailing 
 gloom ? " 
 
 " Ah, one ! " He brightened, as with re- 
 lief. " I looked over the railings at No. 36 
 to call down to old Wisbey, the cobbler ; 
 he works till midnight with a bit of candle 
 in the area room, you know I can never 
 pass him by he looks like the sunken-eyed 
 figure of Father Time kneeling among a few 
 scraps of leather. There is a morsel of back 
 yard, and he grows actually grows a few 
 scarlet runners in two tubs in the corner. I 
 asked after them at once, and he growled : 
 them fish had come back, owin' to the warm 
 weather, and were swimmin' all over 'em 
 again. What fish ? Why, them fish hay- 
 fish, of course ; he thought I'd lived in the 
 country and knew all about it ! I had to 
 turn away like a fool in the end, and then I 
 recollected. Some one has given him the 
 botanical name, and he has never let it go. 
 He meant the white blight aphis." 
 
 Bede, watching him, had listened as with- 
 out hearing. He put down his cigarette. 
 Only the audible heave of his breast broke 
 the silence of the warm room. His great 
 dark eyes, with their velvety depths, looked 
 into space. 
 
 " She's quite right," he said quietly, but 
 startlingly. ;< Never mind the cobbler ; you 
 can take him that packet of tobacco to-
 
 92 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 morrow. Don't tell him that he ought not 
 to smoke, because it seems to you a weak, 
 wasteful habit. It is ; but our lives are 
 made up of weak, wasteful habits in food, 
 dress, amusements, and so on. ... She's 
 perfectly right your Donna ! What radical 
 difference olid you think there was, beyond 
 that you had each been reared in different 
 grooves ? There is none. What did she 
 tell you of herself ? I want to know that ! " 
 
 " She told me that she that she had 
 once lived with a man as his wife." 
 
 " Ah ! " Bede tried to lift himself from 
 the cushions, and fell back again. " It's 
 all right don't mind me you will be gone 
 soon, and then I have the long night to face. 
 Alice will come in and kiss me, and stand 
 looking at me, and tell me again that I must 
 have a night nurse. As if I could bear to 
 lie here and look eternally across at some 
 respectable old soul with no ideas, and her 
 hands folded on her lap ! . . . Donna lived 
 with a man as his wife ! You tell me that 
 as if you had made an abnormal, terrifying 
 discovery. Isn't [she a natural woman ? 
 Aren't our inclinations in that way purely 
 as private and justifiable as our appetites at 
 meals ? " 
 
 " No ! " John Laverock's voice answered, 
 on that deep note. " No ! " 
 
 " I see. Poor girl ! I can understand
 
 THE BORDERLAND 93 
 
 just how she looked at you, and what you 
 felt. Then you stand pledged to subvert all 
 human nature, eh ? " 
 
 " No ! " he said again in the same rigid 
 voice. He took no notice now of the thin 
 fingers groping toward him. 
 
 " Not ? Don't be hard. I am not making 
 a butt of your beliefs. But perhaps, up in 
 this room all day, I can see sanely and clearly, 
 whereas all your manifold impressions are apt 
 to run into one another like damp colours 
 eh, old chap ? Look at me ! I think I 
 think that the thing we all most need is 
 tolerance. She made her mistake, maybe ; 
 but that is all. You may make yours some 
 day in another way. Maybe she loved him 
 for the time. Maybe she loves the same man 
 still, whoever he is. But he wearied. And just 
 so that weariness exists where the legal and 
 divine sanction has been given." 
 
 "It is not love. It is lust ! " John Lave- 
 rock said unsteadily. He stood up like a 
 gladiator, then sat down again. Bede's 
 quivering, lovable mouth ! 
 
 " Don't be angry," Bede whispered again 
 pantingly, " because you will not have me 
 here always to combat, and you are just the 
 man to remember with pain. Man alive, be 
 merciful to her, at any rate ! Haven't you 
 realized in thirty odd years of life ? A man 
 looking upon a woman, and a woman looking
 
 94 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 upon a man, seldom pause to think. They 
 are involuntarily fulfilling the vital law at 
 the base of all things. For indiscretion they 
 may pay, and others may pay, but the 
 immutable law remains. Puritanism is not 
 purity. Your ' love/ Laverock, is simply 
 lust glorified ! " 
 
 This time there was no response. He 
 could not, or he would not, let his thoughts 
 take sound. Out of their lives ticked a 
 number of minutes unaccounted for, one of 
 those pauses in which the never-ceasing 
 breath struggle going on beneath Bede Val- 
 j can's velvet jacket came to sound precisely 
 like the drain of wavelets down some distant 
 pebbly beach. Slowly in John Laverock's 
 own throat the swelling grew and grew ; the 
 heat of stifled argument died out and left 
 him cold. He looked up at last with dulled eyes, 
 and saw Bede sitting there as beyond a film. 
 
 " Oh, if I could only make you understand ! 
 You, Bede, you only ! " he wanted to cry 
 out. " If you only knew all I feel, and how 
 hard it is to go on when everything living 
 seems ranked against one ! You do know ! " 
 
 But he did not say it. Bede's voice came 
 again just as he was about to sway up. 
 
 " Hush listen ! . . . I want you to lis- 
 ten to that ! " 
 
 Solemn and low deepening, ever deepen- 
 ing majestic in its inseparable suggestions
 
 THE BORDERLAND 95 
 
 of eternity and God beyond, came in a sound. 
 It seemed to roll away past and present, to 
 span the gulf wherein waited all the vast 
 legions of the pale, cold dead, and to link up 
 little earth and its still-existent pigmy mil- 
 lions with the unknown beyond. It was the 
 voice of the great organ from the church 
 close by. A pigmy's fingers drew it forth, 
 but behind him there was the power which 
 evolved a universe, peopled it, and left the 
 peoples to work out their own salvation. 
 Grandly, appallingly, still it seemed in Bede's 
 curtained room just then, although ringed 
 about by all London. 
 
 " Don't move," came Bede's laboured 
 voice, as from a distance. The muffled 
 thunder had died away. " Tell me if I'm 
 not right. All that you felt in that moment 
 gives the keynote to your character. You 
 heard something that was not ! Your life 
 is a series of such mental thrills. You can- 
 not sit still and allow yourself to realize that 
 they are merely emotional myths ; you don't 
 want to. You cling to all your illusions 
 about life. You place some people upon 
 pedestals from which they must fall, and 
 others appear to you to be struggling in a 
 morass from which you must pluck them. 
 . . . Old chappie ! old chappie ! " He 
 looked up with eyes that were glazed and 
 loving and apologetic. He had caught the
 
 96 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 other's clenched hand, and held it. " I 
 like you, or I wouldn't cut you with the 
 truth the truth as I can see it. Why 
 worry about your fellow-men ? ' Life is 
 life ! ' You are trying to take out of divine 
 hands the divine process. You are hurling 
 yourself against the rocks that have stood 
 for all time. And you will find you must 
 fail. Because, if you believe that God created 
 a hell, you must believe that God created 
 sinners to people it. Can you, John Laverock, 
 here to-day and gone to-morrow, add one 
 or take one away from their number ? " 
 
 A minute more of the silence. Something 
 had seemed about to choke in John Lave- 
 rock's throat, but that was all. Then " Good- 
 night ! " he whispered ; and walked quickly 
 from the room. 
 
 Outside all was overwhelmingly different. 
 The thin warm rain still descended, the 
 pavements gleamed blackly, the electric car 
 bells clanged at a distance, people hurried 
 by as though it were full enough to be asked 
 of them to reach home after one day's work 
 in time to prepare for another. The roll 
 of the church organ was stilled life was 
 life. 
 
 " No ! " John Laverock said aloud to 
 himself, with a stubborn emphasis. " No, 
 Bede ; no ! " 
 
 He should have turned to the left for his
 
 THE BORDERLAND 97 
 
 own rooms. Instead he struck across into 
 Kingsland Road, along which the stream of 
 vehicles and pedestrians still poured north- 
 ward so strongly that to move in the other 
 direction seemed like swimming against the 
 tide. The noise seemed like the tense hum- 
 ming of wires in a wind. His mind was in 
 a state of semi-suspension, wanting some 
 sharp abstraction to right it. And it came. 
 
 He did not know just how far he had 
 walked, when he started and swerved round. 
 He saw only a half-clothed boy's heels 
 twinkling round a corner. He went on, 
 thinking he had dreamed it. But it came 
 after him again, fainter, with the same 
 impish, sing-song mockery, like the tag of a 
 tune with echoes. 
 
 " Amber Lou-ou-ou ! " 
 
 He felt himself turn white, and looked 
 down, as if the passers-by had had a sudden 
 flash-glimpse of his soul. As he went on, it 
 echoed in his brain again and again, and 
 refused to be stilled 
 
 " Amber Lou-ou-ou ! " 
 
 It brought him back to the normal, as if 
 a burst in his ears had restored hearing and 
 a proportionate sense of things. He looked 
 up and saw that he was over the canal bridge, 
 within a few score paces again of Phillimore 
 Street.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ONE of the things that had most impressed 
 John Laverock on previous brief visits 
 to London was London's crowd. One of the 
 things that impressed him yet more, now 
 that he was coming to know his London, 
 was the fact that fully one-half of London's 
 crowd had solved the problem of how to 
 live without working. 
 
 Was there a house ablaze ? Within a few 
 minutes this same crowd had concentrated to 
 suffocation point, prepared to remain wedged 
 and fascinated as long as a glowing ember 
 remained. Was there a mid-week foot- 
 ball match or a music hall matine'e, the same 
 crowd waited at the pay-box with a supreme 
 indifference for toil ; while a spectacular 
 street procession found them lining the pave- 
 ments in their thousands for hours in ad- 
 vance. In outward appearance they were 
 all of the business or working classes. They 
 lived on, they had money to spend, and a 
 full capacity for enjoyment. And the eternal 
 mystery remained how did they live ? 
 
 The thought recurred involuntarily to John
 
 THE BORDERLAND 99 
 
 Laverock as, passing a certain public house, 
 he passed as by natural sequence the big 
 figure of Ben Fisher inert, motionless, with 
 swinish slits of eyes in his putty-like face, 
 and the same huge bowler hat low over his 
 bald head. Ben's physical mould was not 
 of his own casting, but it was hard to think 
 that he ever took off his clothes, even at 
 night, or to bathe ; hard to believe that he 
 ever stirred from that shadowy square formed 
 by the public house window ; harder still 
 to believe that he had ever been born of 
 woman. 
 
 John Laverock gave him a genial " Good- 
 evening," and a keen glance. There was no 
 response, save that the hairless eyelids came 
 quite down over the slits of eyes. 
 
 Only a few yards on, he happened to glance 
 back. For a man so torpid, so indisposed 
 to any action that exhausted the human 
 tissues unnecessarily, Ben Fisher had vanished 
 from his post with noticeable precipitancy. 
 
 He turned again ; Ben Fisher, so far, was 
 beyond him. It seemed the most natural 
 thing in the world that he should right-wheel 
 into Phillimore Street, yet now he found 
 himself walking consciously, and unable to 
 do more than give one furtive glance up at 
 Mrs. Mucklehorn's top front window. The 
 full-bosomed ladies with folded arms in open 
 doorways appeared to be regarding him with
 
 ioo THE BORDERLAND 
 
 more interest than usual on this occasion, 
 and at any moment the greeting yells of the 
 children who swarmed after him might 
 change into that impish, sing-song " Amber 
 Lou-ou-ou ! " Mrs. Mucklehorn had basely 
 betrayed that harmless involuntary utterance 
 of his. 
 
 Now he was out at the far end. The long 
 glaring vista of Hoxton Street ran before him 
 both ways yet again. Should he turn back ? 
 Plenty of dogged will-power there was in the 
 man ; but it seemed like tempting criticism 
 to run the gauntlet of Phillimore Street a 
 third time that night. He walked on a few 
 steps, and drew up to reflect. He had lost 
 none of his original perseverance, but he 
 would be more discreet. Yes, he would wait 
 until he passed her quite by accident moving 
 along one of these pavements. His method 
 had been too direct and impulsive, perhaps. 
 He must allow himself to become insensibly 
 absorbed into the confidence of these people, 
 and not hope to take them by storm. He 
 had been vouchsafed a sharp lesson in tact. 
 He slid a hand up to his eyes for a moment 
 and asked the Almighty to give him the help 
 he asked for others. 
 
 " Penny the whole lot, sir ! " said a woman, 
 with wheedling pathos. She had " spotted " 
 him unerringly from the other side, and was 
 pushing a handful of raw beetroots against
 
 THE BORDERLAND 101 
 
 his coat. There was a moaning mite of a 
 child held loosely at her bare breast, and she 
 looked as though her entire fortune hinged 
 upon a quick sale. " Do, sir ! The last 
 lot, sir ! There you are a ha'penny 1 " 
 
 He had his intuitive doubts, and he had 
 no use for the vegetable in that state. But 
 it was the baby that appealed to him once 
 again. He found twopence, and left the 
 beetroots. 
 
 As she darted back across the roadway he 
 heard her shout to another woman, " Clicked 
 again ! " Number two was hurriedly making 
 for him, but he declined a deal in onions. 
 He was watching number one. She had 
 made unsteadily for the public house almost 
 directly opposite. As she went to catch at 
 the door it swung out abruptly. A sort of 
 creeping paralysis took him ; he had never 
 been more certain of anything than that 
 the door struck the small head clutched to 
 her breast he saw the sickly little arms go 
 up as in a convulsion and fall again. For 
 near a minute he could not move. Then he 
 strode across, every human instinct in him 
 tingling. He pushed at the door vehemently. 
 
 He paused. No one saw him for a moment, 
 or no one troubled. His eyes focussed what 
 he would have described as a crowded little 
 hell of noise and tobacco-smoke. It over- 
 whelmed any word on his tongue.
 
 102 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Number one had a small glass of some 
 colourless liquid in one hand ; with the free 
 arm, while she talked, she rocked violently 
 the potential citizen at her breast. It still 
 cried, its bleat, just audible in the deafening 
 hubbub, going through the man's heart. 
 Even the woman heard. Looking down, she 
 shook the child into silence. And then, as 
 with a maternal qualm, she dipped her fore- 
 finger rapidly several times into her glass 
 and thence into the child's mouth. John 
 Laverock knew it for crude gin. 
 
 Sick to the soul, he let the door swing and 
 turned away. He was beginning to under- 
 stand Hoxton's infantile death-roll even as 
 officially admitted. And Hoxton, Louis Val- 
 jean had told him, was a thriving and whole- 
 some centre as compared to other slums in 
 this richest city in the world. It made 
 money somehow, and it spent it anyhow, 
 and the devil was welcome to any other 
 human consideration. 
 
 About to recross, he was aware of a shock 
 of a different kind. Maybe it was the un- 
 expectedness of it that set his blood racing 
 afresh. There she was, within a hundred 
 yards of him Donna Amber Lou ! 
 
 He stared unconsciously, fixedly, at her 
 with his grave grey eyes. For some reason it 
 took him a moment to believe that the two 
 men with whom she talked at the corner
 
 THE BORDERLAND 103 
 
 were Ben Fisher and and Cobra King. 
 At least no, they were not talking. Amber 
 Lou had her back to him, and seemed to be 
 studying the pavement attentively ; but the 
 two men were narrowly watching himself. 
 They would have drawn back, but there was 
 not time. And it flashed to him at once 
 that he had been watched previously : that 
 the heavy, hairless man had acted upon 
 instructions to report upon his movements 
 in the vicinity of Mrs. Mucklehorn's. 
 
 Ben Fisher was a mere pawn upon the 
 board. The other man Cobra was of an- 
 other calibre. He was well dressed, and held 
 a cigarette fastidiously between fingers upon 
 which rings glittered. Every movement of 
 the man was of the darting, serpentine order, 
 even to the swift turn of his foreign-looking 
 eyes, and the swifter smile that bared his 
 white teeth. The action of his brain, the 
 few rapid words when he spoke, the smile 
 that followed, were all compassed within a 
 flash of time. 
 
 Yes, they had him under observation, 
 had been speaking of him ; and the passing 
 crowd between chanced to have left this 
 temporary gap. The fact held him in vague 
 misgiving for a moment ; in the next his 
 muscles tightened most strangely, and he 
 swallowed some many-cornered lump. With 
 deliberate meaning Cobra had leaned forward
 
 104 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 and buried his lips against the neck of Amber 
 Lou. She struck him away, passionately, as 
 it looked ; but he was smiling his sinister 
 smile again ; he had given the full indica- 
 tion he desired. And then, of a sudden, 
 Amber Lou turned and walked away with 
 her composed majestic step. The crowd 
 intervened, and the two remaining figures 
 seemed to melt. 
 
 John Laverock came to himself and moved 
 mechanically back toward the northern out- 
 let of Hoxton Street. He had just reached 
 the first comparatively quiet stretch beyond 
 it when he felt his coat plucked sharply. 
 
 " Donna ! " he muttered, staring down 
 into the tea-rose, contemptuous face. " Don- 
 na ! " Either she had crossed the road 
 ahead of him, or she had been waiting here 
 by mere instinct ; it mattered not which at 
 that moment. 
 
 " Stand right under the lamp let 'em 
 see you I would ! " she said, on that low 
 level note that was hard and yet blood- 
 stirring. " You do ask for what you'll get 
 one o j these days, don't you ? You do ; 
 yes I " 
 
 " What does that mean ? " he demanded, 
 not budging. He refused even to be drawn 
 into looking apprehensively around. " What 
 have I done ? " 
 
 " Oh, all right ! " With her baffling little
 
 THE BORDERLAND 105 
 
 smile she was about to march calmly away 
 again ; but his nerves had been wrought 
 up to a pitch that night. He took a deter- 
 mined stride and caught her by the wrist. 
 
 " There ! It is not all right. You came 
 after me to say something, and 1*11 hear it." 
 
 " You will ? You'll stand here and make 
 me ? You don't care two straws if they 
 are watching you all the time ? " 
 
 "I do not. Why should I ? I know 
 that you were waiting here, and that is 
 enough." 
 
 " Yes ; a damned fool I was to take the 
 trouble, wasn't I ? " 
 
 " Don't, Donna don't ! I can't bear to 
 hear any woman I respect lending her lips 
 to such words." And the lips twitched. She 
 had said it with a studied deliberation 
 that should goad him into an outburst. 
 ' Yes, you do it knowingly ; I am aware of 
 that," he added straightly. " But it won't 
 deter me in the least, as I told you. Come ! 
 I need not hold you ; I trust you. I knew 
 there was something in the air to-night. What 
 have I done ? " 
 
 She drew her mouth in and out, her blue 
 eyes looking past him. He noticed and 
 perhaps she was not averse to his noticing 
 that she wore some finery over her dingy 
 skirt and blouse, and that there was a real 
 feather drooping from her hat to-night.
 
 io6 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " It isn't what you've done, is it ? " she 
 asked absently, after a pause. " It's what 
 they've taken it into their heads you'd like 
 to do, isn't it ? And if you can't see it for 
 yourself it's no use talking." 
 
 " Well ! " He looked away, with a breath 
 of desperation. " I must be the densest 
 man walking Kingsland to-night. I expect 
 to be misunderstood I was warned of that ; 
 but this beats me. No, come here ! " She 
 had made another movement, only to find 
 his arm a bar. For a moment he thought 
 she would swing him aside in her own quick 
 fashion ; but she subsided again. It was 
 only that her mouth had tightened, and her 
 foot tapped the pavement ominously. He 
 had waited to allow some people to pass. 
 He whispered. " Donna or Lou I don't 
 care which I call you will you always per- 
 sist in looking upon me as some one quite 
 out of your own sphere your own circle, 
 that is ? You know what I mean ! Speak 
 to me plainly ; as plainly as you were speak- 
 ing to that other man just now ! " 
 
 " You wouldn't like me to," she said, 
 looking up at him. " You'd soon see where 
 the difference comes in. You are different, 
 aren't you ? or you wouldn't be a preacher." 
 
 " A preacher ! " He had almost to laugh, 
 without knowing why. " I think you know 
 very well the aim of the Christian Brother
 
 THE BORDERLAND 107 
 
 hood Mission to which I belong as Mr. 
 Valjean belongs. Never mind ; call me that 
 if you wish to. Isn't a preacher a man ? " 
 
 " No," she said flatly. " If he sets up in 
 that line it shows he thinks himself a good 
 deal better than the rest. Whether he's a 
 blooming hypocrite or not well, I don't 
 know, and I don't care a rap. You're a 
 preacher ; and Cobra isn't." 
 
 " I see. Now you've spoken plainly. Tell 
 me, will you, why the man should harbour 
 any grudge against me, considering that, 
 until last Thursday night, I did not know 
 of his existence." 
 
 " Well, there you are. His knife's in 
 you. I can't say it any plainer, can I ? " 
 
 " Tell me why ! " he persisted, struggling 
 between anger and amazement. " I'm not 
 blind ; I guessed at something. But, why ? 
 You're the woman you know." 
 
 " Jest it," came the undisturbed reply. 
 " He's heard of you following me up and 
 down Hoxton, hasn't he ? Very likely he 
 put you down at once as some one in his 
 own line. You've got a way of your own 
 that gives people something to talk about, 
 haven't you ? " 
 
 " I have ? " 
 
 ' You have. I told you what he was. 
 Think I'm joking, don't you ? He ' did ' 
 three months over a man that only touched
 
 io8 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 his beer glass in mistake." Up and down 
 him she looked in her critical, belittling 
 manner. " What chance would you stand, 
 big as you are, with a man who knows every 
 trick in the game, and would have his knife 
 in and out again while you're taking your 
 coat off ? " 
 
 " And is that the class of man to whom 
 to whom you would give yourself have 
 given yourself ? " He said it with difficulty. 
 To the question of Cobra's physical su- 
 periority he declined to give another thought. 
 But there was sting in the seeming fact that 
 she deliberately preferred the other type of 
 man to himself. "Is it ? " 
 
 " What rubbish," she whispered. For an 
 instant even she was awed or irritated. 
 " You're talking of long ago." 
 
 "I'm talking of to-night ! You were with 
 the man in Hoxton only a few minutes ago. 
 It is none of my business, perhaps ; but to 
 think that you, with all the possibilities of 
 
 a splendid woman in you " He broke off. 
 
 It sounded unnatural, or would sound so to 
 her. The words were bubbling up in his 
 throat fast enough, but could not find suitable 
 expression. He had only determined one 
 thing that she should not drift back to the 
 " halls " at Cobra's instigation. 
 
 A curious silence. The tap of her foot 
 had ceased. She had closed her lips as with
 
 THE BORDERLAND 109 
 
 a perverse decision to tell him no more to 
 keep the door of her inner self quite closed 
 to him still. Then suddenly she cleared her 
 throat. 
 
 " What d'you want with me ? What is it 
 you see in me, that you're so upset and 
 anxious about me ? Am I the only one 
 worth troubling over ? If you must know, 
 p'raps I did you a good turn by taking him 
 on just now." 
 
 " Taking him on ? " he repeated me- 
 chanically. 
 
 " Yes. You're not to know everything 
 that's in my mind, are you ? P'raps you 
 saw Ben Fisher ? Well, when you see him, 
 you always know there's something on. Not 
 that I care ! " And her shrug proved it. 
 " I thought I'd just know what they were 
 up to that's all." 
 
 " And what was it ? " 
 " I'm to let you come after me. I'm to 
 let you come up to my room whenever you 
 like. That's all." 
 
 " I don't understand not in the least," 
 he said tensely, watching every movement 
 in the small oval face. And she tossed her 
 head impatiently. 
 
 " I thought not. But you will. You're 
 playing up to him at this minnit, aren't you ? 
 
 A tale about you " 
 
 " About me ? "
 
 no THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " and me " Another mocking 
 
 pause. 
 
 " You ? " he gasped. 
 
 " might cost you something." 
 
 " What on earth " 
 
 " Oh, stop it ! " she put in wearily. " I 
 shan't speak any plainer. You've put his 
 back up that's enough. Keep away ! " 
 
 " I shan't believe it. Donna, I can't." 
 He put the detaining hand on hers. " This 
 is some idea of your own. You think I am 
 gentleman enough fool enough to be 
 scared. You think to frighten me by " 
 
 " I reckon I have ! " with another shrug. 
 "I've given myself away to rights in coming 
 and telling you, if that's anything." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " Ask yourself. As likely as not, if they 
 walked after you, or cut round to the front, 
 they know just what we're talking about. 
 Oh, they know all about you ! " 
 
 " Did you tell them ? " 
 
 " Me ? " She drew herself up. " Be care- 
 ful, won't you ? Sorry I troubled. I'll say 
 good-night ! " 
 
 " Donna ! One moment ! " He held her, 
 as if just realizing, and looked keenly on all 
 sides. It had impressed him more than he 
 would own, oddly-vague as it sounded. 
 " What you mean is that you have run a 
 risk on my account. I appreciate it ay, I
 
 THE BORDERLAND HI 
 
 do ! But don't fear for me ! One word to 
 the police " 
 
 " You won't. You won't ! " she repeated, 
 with a palpable tremble, drawing back. 
 
 Deep into her defiant turquoise 'eyes he 
 looked, and whispered 
 
 " What, because he is the man with whom 
 you once " 
 
 11 Never you mind," she whispered back. 
 " Because, for one thing, it wouldn't pay 
 you. If you don't care, well I don't ! " 
 
 She snapped her fingers in his face, twisted 
 free, and was walking away. Ere he could 
 believe it she was passing serenely out of 
 sight back to her Hoxton fastnesses. 
 
 There was a metallic shiver of tambourines, 
 a burst of fresh voices. Down the road 
 with quick step came the band of lasses 
 who seemed to have found the secret of per- 
 petual happiness, who feared neither heat, 
 nor rain, nor ridicule. 
 
 " Ask the Saviour to help you ! " It rang 
 about him as they passed, their rapt faces 
 looking neither to right nor to left. " He 
 will carry you through ! " It died away 
 with the tramp of their feet in the distance. 
 
 He drew a breath, and squared his shoulders. 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! The great work is going on," 
 he said to himself. " In God's mysterious 
 way it must be going on even in Hoxton ! "
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 '* "IV /TIGHT you have heard anything ? " 
 
 1VJL asked Mrs. Blinco, with great 
 steadiness. 
 
 Arms folded, she had sat waiting for her 
 husband to put down his newspaper and 
 recollect that he had a wife. Men who read 
 in silence, she had said, were ten degrees 
 more selfish than the average man. And 
 this, based upon Mrs. Blinco's standard, 
 was saying a good deal. And for years Mr. 
 Blinco had retaliated with the silence which 
 rankles in a talkative woman most. 
 
 " I did not," he answered. 
 
 " I knew that," she said with a sniff. " I 
 did." She would not stoop to pluck the 
 rustling sheet from his grasp she had lowered 
 herself only once in that way. She sat on, 
 one foot swaying to and fro in ceaseless 
 eloquence. This, with slight variations, was 
 the evening's programme. " I heard it 
 again," she said presently, with an indiffer- 
 ence to match his own. 
 " Then go and see." 
 
 112
 
 THE BORDERLAND 113 
 
 " Thank you. I happen to be as comfort- 
 able as you are." 
 
 ' Then hold your tongue and let me read." 
 
 " I will." She directed her glance into 
 the dying fire, and whispered to herself, 
 ' What a blessing to know that I can support 
 one pig ! " 
 
 " What ? " asked her husband languidly. 
 And she was silent. " You support me, do 
 you say ? " he asked, still more slowly, as if 
 on the point of a gust of laughter. 
 
 " I do. I say that every helpless, shiftless 
 man is supported by his wife. Could you 
 venture out with the buttons off your clothes ? 
 Could you cook yourself a dinner ? Could 
 you do any mortal thing but catch a train up 
 to the office and catch a train back ? No, 
 you'd die first," she said, with well-meant 
 but obscure emphasis. " I can do this I can 
 do that I can do everything, because I'm 
 the woman. You simply give me what you 
 think you must just as you might do with 
 any slut of a housekeeper. I say that a 
 married woman nowadays is a machine 
 bought body and soul " 
 
 ' When did machines have souls ? " 
 
 " I say that the passion of a man at its 
 very best is pure selfishness, while that of a 
 woman at its very worst is a self-sacrifice. 
 A pretty thing, to think that Creation can 
 only be kept going by woman's pain and 
 
 H
 
 ii4 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 shame ! I wish I only wish I could stand 
 up and tell the women of the whole world 
 what a husband is when the veneer is off him. 
 They may well say : ' Scratch the best man 
 breathing, and you find an animal.' You 
 do. By heaven, you do ! " 
 
 " Quite right," he agreed, sleepily. " No 
 one has cared to say what you would find if 
 you scratched a woman, of course." 
 
 " Don't talk," she whispered, with sarcasm. 
 " You may be missing a line in the gambling 
 column. Don't ! " 
 
 And, shaking with silent laughter, he went 
 on reading. 
 
 " Half-past ten," she said after a while. 
 " I'm going to bed, if I may." 
 
 " You can't. Your gentleman-boarder is 
 not in." 
 
 " Ah, of course. I'm the wife I must wait 
 up. Well, I married a man : I deserve all 
 I get." 
 
 Presently he folded the paper, rose, shook 
 his limbs, and checked a yawn. " Er I 
 think I did hear something." 
 
 " Oh, no, impossible ! No burglar, you've 
 said, would ever come to a house like this." 
 
 " Burglars be hanged." 
 
 He strolled down the passage, turned up 
 the light, and went into the front room John 
 Laverock's sitting-room. He was gone about 
 two minutes.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 115 
 
 " Well ? " she queried sweetly. 
 
 " You left one of the glass doors swinging 
 open, of course." 
 
 " Pardon me, I did not." 
 
 " Then he did ; and there's an end of it." 
 
 He went up the stairs, smothering his 
 " Good-night ! " in a cough. It was generally 
 accepted that Mr. and Mrs. Blinco had arrived 
 at the stage of bare mutual tolerance when 
 " Good-night ! " to each other in a normal 
 voice would have sounded like a return to the 
 golden days of courtship and illusion. 
 
 Opposites in temperament ought never to 
 mate for a permanency. The prevailing 
 opinion was that Mrs. Blinco lived to save 
 money, and her husband lived to spend it. 
 And across the rift they glared at each other 
 from day to day, and tugged it wider and 
 wider. And so it had become as it always 
 becomes a mere living on in order to die. 
 
 She sat with her foot still swaying, and her 
 gaze fixed upon the slow-moving clock- 
 hands. Her bitterness nevertheless, she was 
 deep in two definite speculations : how much 
 gas the pin-point of a hall light was consuming, 
 and whether it would pay her to adopt some- 
 one's baby preferably with " no questions 
 asked." The baby's squalls would at least 
 shake her husband's apathy, while he cer- 
 tainly could not suggest any pecuniary profit 
 to himself over such a maternal transaction.
 
 n6 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Presently, as the clock stood at eleven, she 
 got up, with a " That's done it ! " She was 
 going to switch off all lights and leave John 
 Laverock to grope a fugitively-penitent way 
 in. A man who remained out until past 
 eleven o'clock, religiously inclined or not, was 
 assuredly bent upon no good. Come to that, 
 she had no faith in the professed moral 
 principles of any male breathing. 
 
 As she reached the hall she heard his quick, 
 firm step outside. She chose to smile coldly 
 her husband's homing step at times had 
 been marvellously clever and deceptive until 
 he essayed the staircase. She threw open the 
 door quickly, so that he had to give an 
 involuntary stumble. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon," she said. " I 
 never dreamed of you being " 
 
 " Am I so late ? Yes, I am ! I'm sorry 
 to have kept you up. To tell you the truth, 
 I felt unwell. The London air does not agree 
 with me yet, and " 
 
 " The London what, Mr. Laverock ? " She 
 inclined her ear, a little deaf for the moment. 
 
 " This air ! I started off for a long tramp, 
 and went much farther than I intended." 
 
 " Ah ! Very nice and very healthy ex- 
 cept that I never believe in night air for 
 gentlemen, nor my mother before me. Would 
 you like me to wait and dry your clothes, Mr. 
 Laverock ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 117 
 
 " Pooh, no ! " He had closed the door and 
 put a hand to his temples for a moment. He 
 looked a little pale in the dim light, she 
 thought ; and, being a man, he deserved it, no 
 doubt. He had not explained away that 
 bruise on his brow as yet. " No ; I am not 
 made of such poor stuff as all that." 
 
 " Just as you like," she said, with tight- 
 lipped impressiveness. " Once get the rheu- 
 matics in one's bones, and the end is only a 
 matter of time, as my mother used to say. 
 Ah, and she was a mother ! she had a real 
 man for a husband." 
 
 " Why, and haven't you, Mrs. Blinco? " 
 he turned at his bedroom door to remark. 
 Late or not, it seemed a good moment to say 
 something that had gathered in his throat 
 several times during those past few weeks. 
 " I'm sure of it yes ! " 
 
 ' Then, if you're sure, there is no need for 
 anything more to be said, Mr. Laverock," she 
 replied distantly. " Of course, lookers-on 
 do see more of the game we are told so. 
 Whether they feel it whether they know 
 quite what they're looking at well, that's 
 quite beside the question, naturally. I mar- 
 ried him, and I ought to be grateful. I hope 
 I am. A woman does not wed for pleasure, 
 of course, as a man does. She marries because 
 she feels called upon to sacrifice herself, I 
 suppose. There's nothing else. If she goes
 
 n8 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 out to earn a living she is ousting the men from 
 their proper sphere ; if she remains an old 
 maid, she is secretly pitied and laughed at as 
 a ' remainder.' And so, all things con- 
 sidered " she passed her thin red hands 
 slowly over each other and eyed the crack in 
 the ceiling as though John Laverock was 
 responsible for it " all things considered, you 
 can hardly wonder at the increase in suicide, 
 can you ? It will go on ! " 
 
 "Well, it's strange," he said. He had 
 heard much the same remarks before, and 
 confined himself to nods of silent sympathy. 
 There was no telling precisely whether she 
 meant her husband to hear too, nor what 
 view her husband might take of his position 
 as a third party. " I mean, I get on really 
 excellently with Mr. Blinco " 
 
 ' You do." It made her turn up the light 
 a little, the better to nod at him. " You do 
 yes. You are not married to him." 
 
 " Well, no, I'm not." And she nodded 
 away in tart triumph. " But what I mean 
 is, Mrs. Blinco, it's such a vast pity for a 
 hard-working husband and a good wife to 
 drift " 
 
 " Who ? I beg your pardon ! hardwork- 
 ing, you say ? My husband ? I'm glad you 
 have seen no deeper than that, Mr. Laverock. 
 I'm glad for his sake. My husband does not 
 know what work is ! any more than you do,
 
 THE BORDERLAND 119 
 
 I was going to say. Did you ever know a man 
 who would change places with any woman ? 
 Did you ever see a workman who did not 
 throw down his tools and run run ! the 
 very instant his time was up ? My good- 
 ness, no ! And you never will. A woman 
 has quite enough to do when she's first 
 married. When she has six children " 
 
 " But you have not six children, Mrs. 
 Blinco." 
 
 " I might have had ! " she retorted severely. 
 ' When she has six children, I say, her hus- 
 band expects her to do six times the amount 
 of work as a matter of course, and on the 
 same money. Nature, if you wish to know it, 
 cursed woman in the very beginning, and kept 
 her cursed, as far as the world's treatment of 
 her goes. I'm sure " 
 
 " Hush ! Let me speak," he said. There 
 were hollows of weariness under his eyes, but 
 he was drawn to say a good word for his own 
 sex and for the man upstairs in particular 
 if possible. " Now, it seems to me there are 
 only one or two really important points on 
 which you are at variance. To think that 
 a mutual understanding might pave the 
 way " 
 
 "Oh, don't. Don't begin that!" She 
 waved it away with both arms. " If you 
 do, I shall think you know not what you say ! 
 In fact, I read it all in the Sunday-school
 
 120 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 books years ago. TryBlinco. Tell him that. 
 Don't always expect the woman to take the 
 first step toward the impossible." 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, smiling. " The woman is 
 the softer, and can do wonders if she will. 
 Why " he put out his hand, and sank his 
 voice " you loved him. I'm sure you did. 
 Then, you love him still, now he's Darby and 
 you're Joan well, ahem, nearing it, at any 
 rate. Suppose, now, you have had a few 
 cold words together this evening. It's hard, 
 I know ; but, in the morning, meet him with a 
 forgetful smile, and kiss him and and give 
 him for breakfast the little relish he used to 
 like ; and then " 
 
 " Ha ! " She had been staring hard. She 
 sniffed rapidly. " And then give him the 
 little relish he likes for tea, and let him smoke 
 in the bedroom, and provide him with a new 
 wife when I get a bit drab. In a word, let 
 the woman wear out, while the man rusts out 
 the way of the world ! No, Mr. Laverock, 
 if I'm not keeping you up, that is." She 
 stooped toward him with great earnestness. 
 " I'm not one to complain ; I'll put up with 
 my fate, if it's got to be. All I can hope for 
 now is to be allowed to lay by a few shillings 
 for the day when I'm released or done with. 
 And that I will do ! " 
 
 " But if money cannot buy you happi- 
 ness "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 121 
 
 " It can, and does. Without it, I've proved 
 you stand up to be knocked down again in 
 this life. And I'mno longer a willing skittle, 
 I assure you. Don't talk to me about 
 money ! I've lived longer than you, Mr. 
 Laverock although you might not think it 
 to look at me. When we hear of a person 
 who has lived so conscientiously that he could 
 save nothing, we say ' It was God's will ' 
 and then forget it. When we hear of a man 
 who has sweated his workpeople and got 
 rich by sharp practice and ' rigging ' stocks 
 and shares, we say that nothing succeeds like 
 success and make him a baronet. You 
 can't enlighten me ! All these pretty sayings 
 are frauds when tested. Very few do good 
 and blush to find it known nowadays, but 
 blush with annoyance if it doesn't leak out ; 
 and so on. But I'm tired. I'll wish you a 
 very good-night, Mr. Laverock, and a little 
 more insight into the ways of this world as 
 they are, and not what they seem to be ! " 
 
 The gas was shut off with a sharp snap. 
 He heard her rattle the door-bolts emphatic- 
 ally and go up the staircase. He was sorry 
 for her, in a sense, and had endeavoured in 
 every way to make his own presence in the 
 house as little felt as possible ; but he was 
 telling himself, as he sat there in the quiet 
 back room, that he wished he had left to Miss 
 Valj can's superior finesse the choice of his
 
 122 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 apartments. Now that he had been made to 
 realize Mrs. Blinco's aim in life, it would be 
 doubly unpleasant to tell her that he was 
 contemplating a change. In fact he was not 
 sure that he could do it. 
 
 Taking off his damp shoes, he had gone on 
 mechanically to remove his coat and vest. 
 Then, with a little laugh, he called to mind 
 that he had had neither tea nor supper yet. 
 The supper would be set, and the gas left 
 burning, in the next room. 
 
 He had only a folding door to pass. Yes, 
 the supper was laid, and a letter served partly 
 to conceal the thinness of his shaving of ham. 
 He tore it open a letter from Louis Valjean 
 brought a whiff of his own beloved Hertford- 
 shire that seemed very precious to-night. He 
 sat down, and pushed back the plates, to 
 read and absorb every word. 
 
 "... Let me know something about 
 Bede. He has written to me here twice, but 
 he speaks only of you not of himself. I am 
 hoping and trusting that some word of yours 
 may pierce the fatalistic mantle he has 
 wrapped about himself. Sit with him, talk 
 with him, John, whenever you can ; and I 
 shall picture myself there with you both. If 
 there should seem any change for the worse 
 but I cannot bear to talk of that. You 
 know ! While we profess to welcome our 
 Hereafter as the summit of happiness, it is
 
 THE BORDERLAND 123 
 
 strange how we do everything in human 
 power to cling to this life. 
 
 " You will be anxious to know about my 
 own health. Nothing organically wrong, I 
 hear. Your doctor here says I was com- 
 pletely ' run down.' My rapid strides back 
 to health have surprised him perhaps pleased 
 him, as he has to drive four miles to see me. 
 How do these people fare in times of sickness? 
 Truthfully, John, glorious as this stretch of 
 poppy and corn country is, I do not feel that 
 I would exchange places with you perman- 
 ently. The people themselves find no joy in 
 existence. There are no lights, no shops, 
 and no stimulus to enterprise or effort what- 
 ever. Human life here strikes one as utterly 
 stagnant and motiveless, with the iron rod of 
 the landed proprietor over all ; while yet I am 
 afraid that our friend the universal enemy 
 finds a good deal for the idle hands to do 
 under the surface. 
 
 " You seem to be shocked by the moral 
 atmosphere around you there. But if this 
 village is typical of English rural life, it is 
 I who should be aghast. And I hear to-day 
 of a local divine resigning his living as a pro- 
 test against the ' rank, open immorality of 
 the week-end parties held among the local 
 gentry,' which is discussed to the detriment 
 of the whole country-side. I may meet him 
 shortly, and will ascertain the truth.
 
 124 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " It struck me oddly to find that very few 
 of the older couples here have been legally 
 married,but have mated more or less promiscu- 
 ously, with terribly muddling results as far 
 as their children and grandchildren are con- 
 cerned. The fact that the church is three 
 miles distant is something of an excuse on 
 Sundays ; but the poaching that goes on in 
 the week appears to be in the local blood. Can 
 we wonder ? Starvation wages rule here ; 
 and the brains and souls are starved as well. 
 Some pen greater than mine could write a 
 telling impeachment of rural life, I am afraid. 
 
 " There seems no real vigour or reaching- 
 power in the Church here : a mere parrot-like 
 muttering of responses, a cold sermon high 
 above the minds of the congregation, and 
 such a fervent ' Ha ! ' of relief when the ordeal 
 is ended. No, it is not worship of God : it is 
 a mere clinging to traditions. I greatly fear 
 I have offended the Rector who, by the by, 
 is surely prostituting the deepest Chris- 
 tian ideal by accepting the living with a 
 Rectory and 300 a year, and paying a 
 curate 80 per annum to do every atom of 
 his work ? This is our National Church ! 
 
 " I called to see him, and found him enter- 
 taining a garden-party. I ventured to speak 
 of what poverty and utter apathy I had seen 
 in the villages so far, and heard that it had 
 always been so, and always would be so the
 
 THE BORDERLAND 125 
 
 people did not strive for any betterment and 
 could not appreciate it ; and so forth. I 
 must have looked what I felt : I was asked 
 to call some other day. I could not help it, 
 John I had to speak ! I gave him word for 
 word your own unshakable conviction that 
 the Constitutional Church, based for so many 
 centuries on pomp and financial lines, and 
 not upon a spontaneous desire to lift the fallen 
 as our Master commanded, was mainly sup- 
 ported by a fear of shattering old idols in 
 glass cases, and must surely crumble. 
 
 " I don't feel that I am in touch with God 
 in this Church. I am simply impressed by a 
 theatrical sensuousness by the shadow of 
 the real. 
 
 " You will be grieved to hear that Betty 
 Sorrell, the woman in the last house by the 
 lane, was caught by the keepers on Monday 
 night while poaching dressed as a man. There 
 was a hand-to-hand fight in the woods, I hear. 
 It may have been due to that that her child 
 was born in the town gaol that same 
 night . . ." 
 
 Without moving, John Laverock strained 
 his eyes upward so that he could see across 
 the room. He thought nay, he knew 
 he had heard a thin, gurgling sound that 
 conceivably could come only from a human 
 throat. 
 
 He was not frightened the sensation of
 
 126 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 not being alone in his room went too deep for 
 that. He sat on in a sort of incredulous 
 stupefaction, little thrill after thrill trickling 
 along his nerves. He sat on until his brain 
 allowed him to realize for a surety. There 
 was a man standing cramped and stiff and 
 still behind the heavy curtain at the left- 
 hand side of the old-fashioned glass doors. 
 There was a man who had stood there so long 
 that some irrepressible sound had betrayed 
 him.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 HE appeared to go on reading. He was 
 like one staring at a bomb that might 
 at any moment explode. He took in all the 
 probabilities. Did the man know that he 
 knew ? 
 
 There was no movement yet. He had 
 never looked at the curtains closely before. 
 They were of thick, rusty material, and appar- 
 ently quite opaque. The table stood be- 
 tween, but if he gave a stealthy movement 
 to the right, there was nothing to impede 
 one bound that would bring him sheer to 
 the spot. Then he could throw out his arms, 
 enfold the curtain with its living burden, 
 and give his shout. 
 
 All this he told himself in a tense, analytical 
 way, while yet he sat steeped in the uncertain 
 and growing horror of the thing. He even 
 made a calculation as to where the man's 
 knees, protruding slightly, gave the key to 
 the man's size ; and where, higher up, one 
 clenched hand seemed to lend a slight tremor 
 to the material. But when he went to make 
 the soundless movement to the right, he
 
 128 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 found that his muscles were not responding to 
 his brain. His body seemed a dead weight 
 of metal, and the chair beneath him a magnet. 
 It was the consciousness of eyes that perhaps 
 could see him, and of a mind that might be 
 waiting with a counter-movement. Singu- 
 larly enough, from first to last there did not 
 occur to him the idea of a movement to the 
 left and a bound for the door. 
 
 He sat on, Valj can's letter gripped so tightly 
 that it seemed to grow thick between his 
 fingers. He heard twelve strokes boom from 
 the church near at hand, and thought of Bede 
 up in that warm, silent room, and wondered 
 if there were such a thing as cerebral telepathy 
 in truth. He knew that he had been numbed 
 because he could feel the blood crawling 
 again in his limbs. 
 
 Two men passed the house, talking in deep 
 tones, their footsteps drawing a dull clang 
 from the pavement. There was tremendous 
 awe in the bare realization, that next moment, 
 that he had let them pass. Pooh ! Pooh t 
 Pooh ! He whispered the nerving syllable 
 to himself three times. He recalled a similar 
 moment in the mission-house away in Hert- 
 fordshire. In the thick of a dark night he 
 had heard dull, inchoate sounds. He had 
 crept down in his night-shirt, withdrawn 
 the bolts of the back door with infinite stealth, 
 sprung out and all but throttled a gipsy-
 
 THE BORDERLAND 129 
 
 tramp who was stealing his faggots. Where 
 was the essential difference now ? 
 
 Half-unconsciously, his head still down, he 
 reached out his hand toward the mantelshelf. 
 The curtain did not move no no ! He 
 leaned his body in the same direction, as to 
 find something he wanted. He could not see 
 it. Acting splendidly, he was upon his feet. 
 His back had to be turned for an instant, and 
 the mere fact brought out a prickly heat upon 
 him. It proved the spur. With a sharp, 
 sudden " Who's there ? ", he leaped for the 
 spot. 
 
 " Oh, Gawd ! " 
 
 It was strained out gaspingly. Something 
 slid out convulsively from the curtain as he 
 clutched it something that felt like a thick 
 eel going down between his arms. It doubled, 
 straightened up, and stood at bay against the 
 wall there. And then all the varied, accumu- 
 lated sensations oozed out of John Laverock 
 with a weakening rush. He was looking into 
 the heavy, hairless face of Ben Fisher, with 
 its sickly smile and fish-belly pallor. 
 
 " Ben Fisher ! " he said to himself. It 
 needed the pause of quite a minute to con- 
 vince himself that Amber Lou's words of that 
 night were not materializing in an evil dream. 
 " Ben Fisher ! " 
 
 " ' Sorl right," Ben said, feeling at his puffy 
 throat. A blotchy flush was tinting his face, 
 
 l
 
 130 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 and in his eyes was an overture at mutual 
 understanding more loathsome than leprosy. 
 " You don't want no upset. More do I. 
 I wouldn't I wouldn't make no sound, if I 
 was you." 
 
 John Laverock plucked at the curtain, 
 and let it fall again. 
 
 " He put you here," he whispered at once. 
 
 " You've got it," Ben assented thickly. 
 " It's him you want, not me. I knew some- 
 thin' 'ud come of it. Told him so all along. 
 But there you are ! " 
 
 " Stand where you are, and please don't 
 move," John Laverock said in the pause. 
 He was ashamed now of what seemed sheer- 
 est cowardice. Perfectly clear the next step 
 appeared, and yet he found himself weighing 
 consequences. He had his sensitiveness as 
 well as his resoluteness. He walked across 
 and sat down at the table, trembling with the 
 reaction. He stood up again, stern and grey. 
 It was incredibly weak in him to have tem- 
 porized for an instant ! " Now ! I have 
 often asked people what you do for a living. 
 This answers me. I am compelled to give you 
 in charge for attempted burglary, and you may 
 work for the next six months or so." 
 
 " You know better," the other man rattled. 
 " Housebreakin' at the outside. I was here 
 long afore twelve struck afore eleven. There's 
 the winders, to prove it. The bloke come
 
 THE BORDERLAND 131 
 
 through and locked me in. That's all there is 
 in it. May I die ! " 
 
 " All ? You hope to brave it out in that 
 way, do you ? I'm going to tell you that 
 you are a scoundrel, Fisher ; and a contempti- 
 ble specimen, if there be any degrees in 
 villainy. A scoundrel ! " 
 
 " Very likely," he muttered. The lids 
 were half down over his straw-coloured eyes, 
 so that their expression was problematical. 
 " Hold hard, before you say any more of 
 that, though." 
 
 " What what do you mean ? " 
 
 " There you are ! " He went to the length 
 of a leering wink. He was furtively button- 
 ing the coat across his chest now. " I on'y 
 know what I'm told. I was asked to slip a 
 message under the winder there, and found it 
 open, and thought and thought I might as 
 well lay it on the table to make sure no one 
 else got it. 'Fore I knew where I was, the 
 bloke had come through in the dark and 
 locked up had me like a rat. I should ha' 
 undone 'em and been outside in another minnit 
 and no fuss at all, on'y you come in, and 
 I had to keep quiet jest as it was to be, like." 
 
 John Laverock stood stiff, with a long, 
 unwavering look that made him stir uneasily. 
 
 "If I wished, to I cannot trust a word 
 that you say. What right have you in this 
 house at all ? If you had a message for me,
 
 132 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 why should it not reach me in the ordinary 
 way ? Why must no one else see it ? Answer 
 that ? " 
 
 " Not so loud," he muttered, peering round. 
 " If you can't take a hint there's others will, 
 and sharp." 
 
 " Answer me ! " John Laverock took a 
 step, thoroughly roused now. " What have 
 you laid your hands upon since you entered 
 this room ? " 
 
 " Me ? Nothin'." He seemed hurt and 
 amazed. " Nothin', if I never move again." 
 
 " It is a lie. I know just what has hap- 
 pened. You came at that man's instigation 
 to leave a message, as you call it. You 
 found the doors ajar my own fault and 
 you set to work to thieve anything that came 
 handy." He stepped quickly close. " Here 
 it is here they are ! I knew it. I only 
 want to look at a man's face once to know 
 what he is capable of." He had tapped two 
 bulging coat pockets in turn, " Now, have 
 you anything to say? ' 
 
 " All right." He drew a hand across his 
 mouth. " Put me away, and I'll get even 
 for it inside a month. S'help me, I will 
 that." 
 
 " We'll see. Put everything here." 
 
 For a minute he stood with head lowered, 
 breathing heavily like an ox brought to the 
 shambles. Laverock's eye and pointing finger
 
 THE BORDERLAND 133 
 
 did not waver. A minute more, and three 
 articles had been slid with inexpressible 
 furtiveness on to the table, while the fixed 
 faces of the two men almost touched. Then 
 Ben Fisher stood back, like one purged and 
 absolved. 
 
 " That's the lot," he said, " if I never move 
 again." 
 
 A Dresden shepherdess, a feather cushion, 
 and a small clock the familiar tick of which 
 John Laverock had not missed until that 
 moment. 
 
 "And now I'll have this 'message,'" he 
 said briefly. " Then I think I shall have 
 fathomed the extent of to-night's dirty work. 
 Put it there." 
 " Not not me." 
 
 " You refuse ? " He went back a step. 
 " I don't mind. Quick ! " 
 
 "I'll bash your brains out, you arister- 
 cratic pup, t if you touch that bell," Fisher 
 breathed. He felt at his waistbelt, and 
 licked his palms. There was as much of the 
 hyena as the swine in the man. " Touch it, 
 and I'll leave you stone dead." 
 
 He suddenly threw himself forward , 
 Laverock had seemed to hesitate. There 
 was a dull crack, and he went back, held to 
 wonder stupidly at a man who could strike 
 him with an open hand when a clenched one 
 might have broken his jaw.
 
 134 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Put it there," John Laverock said again, 
 as quietly as though nothing had happened. 
 " I mean to get to the bottom of this, if I can. 
 You needn't fear giving yourself away ; your 
 face shows you have done that already. 
 You're only the agent ; I want the principal. 
 Out with it ! " 
 
 And out reluctantly it came from his waist- 
 coat pocket an envelope folded in halves, 
 but surprisingly clean. John Laverock felt 
 a thrill which he kept to himself. 
 
 " Thank you. Step back again, and mind 
 what you are up to." 
 
 He obeyed. The situation was not develop- 
 ing according to precedent ; something in 
 John Laverock's restrained method was be- 
 ginning to overawe him unpleasantly. And 
 Laverock, opening the envelope steadily, read 
 the message. Fisher could have tripped him 
 up easily now, so still and absorbed he stood, 
 as the meaning of it travelled to his brain. 
 
 It was couched somewhat in the type of a 
 sporting challenge. 
 
 " Certain and final ! Make no error this 
 time ! If J. Laverock, Esq., thinks to hold 
 up his head in this neighbourhood another 
 day, this is a straight and genuine offer that 
 won't be repeated. If he chooses to come 
 down with a twenty pound note by Tuesday 
 next, he may hear no more of it. If not, as 
 sure as Hell's hot Hoxton will be made too
 
 THE BORDERLAND 135 
 
 hot to hold him. It's known he's been after a 
 girl, to wit, Lou Bohannan, for weeks past, 
 and it's known to a few he was up in her room 
 for near an hour last week for reasons best 
 known to himself, and that he tried the same 
 game to-night, to say no more. Lou Bohan- 
 nan won't deny it, any more than she'll deny 
 what she's been in the past/as every one knows. 
 There's a dozen witnesses, if they're wanted, 
 and there's no error about what's wha't this 
 journey. So J. Laverock can hold his tongue 
 or find himself in a bad box. It's no odds to 
 the writer of this ; but it may turn out trumps 
 with the Christian Brotherhood concern. If 
 the twenty pounds isn't handed to the door- 
 keeper at the Slade Club, Kingsland Road, by 
 10 p.m. Tuesday next, in an envelope marked 
 ' J. K., Private/ he had better buy a mill- 
 stone for his neck than come round Hoxton 
 again. Fair words and final ! " 
 
 There was a long pause. A half-smile had 
 twitched John Laverock's face. Then, nod- 
 ding comprehensively, he returned the mess- 
 age to its envelope. 
 
 " Disguised or not, our friend the Cobra 
 writes quite a creditable hand, Fisher. I'm 
 sorry I cannot oblige him in the matter, small 
 as the amount may seem to him in the cir- 
 cumstances. I hope it won't be himself who 
 is removed from Hoxton. You know what 
 this means for both of you, of course ? I
 
 136 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 impound this letter. I have you both in a 
 trap from which you cannot escape. I shall 
 take one day to consider it. If I do what I 
 ought, it will mean anything from two to 
 three years' imprisonment for you." 
 
 " You won't," Fisher said in a scarcely 
 audible voice. All the excitement had died 
 down unaccountably. Within and without 
 there reigned a stark silence, as if London all 
 around were drugged. " If you're a man 
 you won't." 
 
 " Is that your usual experience ? " He was 
 at the, window, and had slipped back the 
 fastenings, and taken out the two sash- 
 screws which had hampered Fisher's exit. 
 The same smile was twitching his lips, but 
 Fisher was not to know that. " My dear man, 
 blackmail never yet scared the man who had 
 not laid himself open to blackmail. De- 
 pend upon that. And you, in your heart, 
 know just how much truth there is in this foul 
 composition. Eh ? I'll hear you answer that." 
 
 " Arst him, not me," Ben whispered, still 
 staring, coma-like. " Wouldn't matter two 
 straws to me if you made up to every gel 
 round the place, same as he does." 
 
 " Meaning that you're not a man but a 
 beast," John Laverock said. He was as cool 
 and composed now as though a great difficulty 
 had been swept away. " I ought to feel sorry 
 for you, but I can't. It is such men as you
 
 THE BORDERLAND 137 
 
 who poison all the good work of others. One 
 word more ! Where was this letter written ? " 
 
 " In in a pub." 
 
 " And where did you leave him ? " 
 
 " Down the road," was the vaguely-hoarse 
 reply. 
 
 " And what did you get for doing it ? " 
 
 " Nothin' not as yet." 
 
 " Exactly. You were to share in the 
 profits. You were in the scheme." John 
 Laverock thought for another minute, and 
 then drew open the left-hand window. " Very 
 well ; you can go." 
 
 " Go ? " 
 
 " Yes. I have done with you. I hold the 
 evidence, and that is quite sufficient. This 
 way ! " 
 
 Ben Fisher edged a step out, and then 
 paused. Not for one instant did he believe 
 that the thing ended here ; a way out, in 
 that off-hand manner, rose high above his 
 philosophy. And, being what he was, there 
 was something else seething in his nutmeg of 
 a mind. Blackmail ! 
 
 " This way ! " John Laverock repeated, 
 sharply. " You have done all you came to do ! " 
 
 He did not like the look in the man's half- 
 closed eyes, but he was attributing it solely 
 to nervous dread of developments. Fisher 
 came level, and paused again, looking out 
 into the roadway as if he feared being seen.
 
 138 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 The unwholesome scent of his big body, the 
 noise of his half -suppressed breathing both 
 were very distinct. And then, of a sudden, 
 with a treachery as irresistible as typical of slum 
 practice, he had both his great thumbs hard 
 over the " apple " of the other man's throat. 
 
 John Laverock saw a crimson mist felt 
 something flicked from the other's lips into 
 his face. There was no tangible sound 
 simply a swaying to and fro on the carpet, 
 with those bulging hands clamped around 
 his neck and throttling the life-breath out 
 of him. He was strong ; he had led a 
 clean, simple life ; he could have met 
 Ben Fisher on level terms and given him the 
 thrashing of his life. But strength was use- 
 less never thought of while he fought to 
 get back his breath ; while the crimson 
 slowly changed to purple and thence to 
 black ; while the great roaring grew in his ears. 
 
 It was a thunder as of many voices shout- 
 ing, of bells pealing followed by a muffled 
 silence through which came the faint echo of 
 that impish, sing-song " Amber Lou-ou-ou ! " 
 
 And then he lay quite still as he had crashed 
 down, his head striking the wall with a thud. 
 Something had been snatched from his pocket 
 and the gas-light turned out. The glass doors 
 closed, and he was quite alone, with all the 
 look upon his upturned face of a man who 
 could never tell.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 UP the smooth, slimy sides of a black pit 
 a man was crawling slowly crawling. 
 His feebly-straining knees and ringers lifted 
 him a few feet, and then he slid back again 
 almost as many, to begin the inert process 
 again. 
 
 It was so deep a pit that no definite sound 
 from above could reach him yet not yet. 
 He seemed to have crawled thus far in the 
 course of years from a nameless dark abyss 
 into which, did he cease to struggle, he must 
 topple back for ever. At times he flung back 
 his head, with an inarticulate moan, to stare 
 upward. Far above he could see it the 
 faint disc of light. Was it any nearer ? 
 was it ? O, God, yes, a little ! He closed 
 his eyes, leaned forward, and fought on. 
 Soon soon, perhaps, some eye above would 
 discern the living speck climbing the pit side. 
 In time, if his soul did not dry up in despair, 
 he might clutch at fingers thrust down to 
 pluck him over the edge. On, slowly on ! 
 
 And in time, dreamlike as it seemed, he 
 found himself gripping the fingers. He felt 
 
 139
 
 140 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 himself being dragged slowly over the lip, his 
 numbed limbs hanging helpless. There was 
 a swooning blank, and then a bursting dawn 
 of light in his eyes a rushing sound in his 
 ears. He was lying upon an altar in the dim 
 light of some vast, arched cathedral. The 
 far-away organ sounded low, the distant 
 voices of choristers made the hush holy. 
 
 It died away. But he did not desire to 
 move not yet. The sensation of utter still- 
 ness, utter suspension of every faculty, after 
 that struggle from the depths, was too in- 
 finitely sweet. Hours seemed to pass before 
 his heavy eyelids lifted a little as without his 
 knowledge, ever so little, but enough to show 
 him a face that he had known in that other 
 existence on earth. 
 
 It was Alice Valjean, sitting there so motion- 
 less that he seemed to be looking at a wax 
 figure. The next effort of his brain to right 
 itself told him that the clutching fingers were 
 hers ; the blood-warmth from them seemed 
 to be slowly entering into his own. One more 
 spell of the vague awe, and then it was made 
 known to him that at regular intervals a 
 tremor passed down her figure, and her hand- 
 clasp tightened. 
 
 The light from some window seemed to 
 catch upon her set face ; she appeared to be 
 looking out as at something no one else could 
 hope to see. And presently the soul awoke
 
 THE BORDERLAND 141 
 
 and thrilled and shuddered within him. She 
 had stooped stooped with a mechanical 
 movement that suggested repetition at inter- 
 vals. She was kissing him. Her lips touched 
 his eyes, his forehead, his mouth. She sat 
 back. He lay quite still as before, the shudder 
 dying away within him. 
 
 He would not look again. Never in life 
 must she know that her kiss had touched 
 more than unconscious flesh. He lay motion- 
 less until his instincts had groped their slow 
 way to the position. He could feel the bed- 
 clothes beneath him, and knew that he had 
 lain there a long time. Soon his subtle sixth 
 sense assured him that it was his own bed, 
 and that he was in his right mind. But the 
 realization must have occupied a long time. 
 When at length it dawned upon him in his 
 innate sensitiveness that he was deceiving 
 the woman there by his silence, and he gave 
 that convulsive twitch of his arm and stared 
 up fully, the light upon Miss Valj can's face 
 had been obscured by blue dusk. 
 
 She shrank away with a little frightened, 
 doubting cry. Slowly she craned back again, 
 her hand feeling for his as for the first time, 
 her eyes searching his face. He was vaguely 
 glad that the rest had seemed so unreal that 
 a genuine vast wonder could stare back from 
 his own eyes. 
 
 " Oh, you know me ? " she cried softly.
 
 142 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 ' You can see it is Alice Miss Valjean ? 
 Yes, he does he does ! . . . Oh, where has 
 your mind been ? What does it all mean ? 
 . . . No, no, you're not to speak not to 
 move yet. But you know me ? you won't 
 drift away from us like that again ? " 
 
 " Where's Bede ? " he whispered. It 
 seemed to form and sound without his know- 
 ledge. 
 
 " Bede ? " She moved back a little, look- 
 ing around. She was trembling. " Why do 
 you want Bede ? You have been very ill ; 
 you have lost two whole days from your life. 
 What what made you think first of Bede ? " 
 
 He gazed at her with the hollow eyes that 
 in two days appeared to have doubled in size. 
 The three days' growth of hair upon his face 
 made it seem whiter than it was. The firm- 
 ness of his jaws stood out a little too dis- 
 tinctly, the flesh above them having fallen in. 
 But if his physical part had responded to the 
 havoc in his mental being during that long 
 climb from the pit, he should have been a 
 skeleton. 
 
 " Two days ? " he said disbelievingly, in 
 the same quick breaths. " Why who brought 
 you here ? " 
 
 " Don't you want me want any one ? " 
 she faltered, bending very still. While he 
 lay like a sleeping child she had felt herself 
 exceedingly brave, and even palpitatingly
 
 THE BORDERLAND 143 
 
 proud of her vast temporary responsibility ; 
 but now he knew, and all was suddenly 
 different. And no welcome consciousness had 
 dawned in his face yet. " Oh, we thought 
 we didn't know what to do. But she had 
 sat here for two days and nights, and I made 
 her go upstairs and lie down. And I'm afraid 
 I'm afraid she has gone to sleep. Gone to 
 sleep, and I said I said I would wait here 
 until the doctor came again." 
 
 " Who ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Mrs. Blinco. She wouldn't hear of a 
 nurse, or of carrying you to the hospital." 
 She retreated a little farther from his stare. 
 " Don't you know anything of what has 
 happened ? " 
 
 The man turned his head and moaned in 
 his realization of helplessness like a boy. It 
 was not for her to hear, or, if she heard, to 
 try and understand. 
 
 He faced round again. It had to be met 
 and endured. We are not measured by our 
 weakness when ill, but by our strength when 
 in health. 
 
 " Sit down," he said, with an effort. Just a 
 trace of colour had come back to his skin. 
 " I'm very sorry." He put out his hand. 
 "I'm very sorry. I knew nothing." 
 
 And, for some reason, she turned away and 
 burst into tears. It was not at all in keeping 
 with the nurse's role, but even a nurse may
 
 144 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 be no more than a woman. Maybe it was 
 the sincerity in his voice that had sunk so 
 deep into her. He was sorry ! 
 
 " Don't cry," he whispered. Lumps had 
 been gathering in his own throat. " Don't 
 do that. It cannot be helped. Perhaps, 
 if we knew all, we ought to thank God for one 
 more mercy." 
 
 " Yes," she said, in a half doubtful, very 
 small voice. 
 
 He waited. She knelt down slowly by the 
 side of the bed. The man's eyes closed, and 
 he seemed to be muttering something in the 
 silence. Then she was on her feet again. 
 
 " Here here you were to drink this. I 
 forgot I did not know what I was doing. 
 Do I " 
 
 There was no help for it. He lay passive, 
 as her arm crept beneath his head, as he felt 
 how it shook. She drew him as close to her 
 breast as she could without seeming to, and 
 held something to his lips in a glass. A good 
 deal of it ran down his shirt front, and was 
 lost, but a little trickled down his throat, 
 and in a minute seemed to be galvanizing 
 every fibre in his body. 
 
 " I'll sit up," he said. " This can't be 
 I'm not as bad as you think. Yes, try me ! " 
 
 " Indeed, I will not ! " She let the head 
 slip back, and put her cool, delicate hand to 
 his forehead commandingly for a moment,
 
 THE BORDERLAND 145 
 
 " Wasn't it strange," she asked breathlessly, 
 u you should come back to real consciousness 
 while I was here ? Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do ," he said slowly. " I do. But 
 how came I here ? " 
 
 " Hush, you're not to talk at all," she said 
 very earnestly. That subject was too ab- 
 stract and too profound to be entered upon 
 just now. " I shall have to be going soon 
 unless Mrs. Blinco shouldn't wake. You 
 must say now just what you would like to be 
 done. I wish you would ! It's not nice to 
 say, but I really I really cannot somehow 
 take to that person upstairs. I don't know 
 why she should have taken everything into 
 her own hands, as though you were her own 
 flesh and blood." 
 
 John Laverock did. Mrs. Blinco was not 
 playing the Good Samaritan with purely 
 charitable motives. But of that he would 
 not speak. 
 
 " You must wake her," he said, after the 
 pause. " I will settle with her afterwards. 
 I shan't be a burden long to anybody. What 
 doctor is it ? " 
 
 " A Doctor Prothero. I don't know him. 
 Her own doctor, I expect. I couldn't very 
 well bring another. Only think ! we did 
 not know until late last night that anything 
 had happened so terrible. Are you listening ? " 
 His eyes had closed. "Do I worry you ? 
 
 K
 
 146 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Is your pillow soft enough ? Shall I lift you 
 . . . all right, I won't ! " He had flinched. 
 " No, we knew nothing," she whispered on, 
 still craning above him as though ready to 
 draw back at any instant. " A note a dirty 
 note was pushed under our door, to say you 
 were oh, dying ! And no one knows who 
 put it there." 
 
 The eyes opened again and looked at her 
 with fixed intentness. That stare did not 
 relax until he had recalled everything that 
 had passed in the adjoining room on a night 
 which seemed years back. 
 
 " Then, no one knows " He half 
 
 struggled up, his throat straining to sound 
 something. It frightened her. 
 
 " Lie still oh, lie still ! I couldn't bear 
 it if you were taken bad again like that. 
 Why must you know all at once ? Then 
 there's nothing to tell you we thought you 
 could tell us ! You had a fit of some kind, and 
 you struck your poor head no, don't touch 
 it ! All Mrs. Blinco says is that she found 
 you lying upon the floor in there on Wednes- 
 day morning. I can scarcely believe it. 
 And now it is Friday evening. You have 
 only moved and talked strangely at intervals, 
 and taken a drain of a drug twice. And why 
 those windows should have been found 
 unfastened there, it is all such a mystery. 
 I ought not to have told you ! "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 147 
 
 " I knew," he said. He had been very 
 white again, and his hands clenched upon 
 the coverlet for a moment. He was pre- 
 paring himself for the lie the lie that would 
 end all at once. " It's no mystery. I knew. 
 I I opened the windows myself. I felt bad ; 
 I remember falling against the wall quite 
 well. I could not save myself. My head 
 struck it I know now." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " she said doubtfully. 
 " I mean, you seemed so strong so unlikely 
 to do anything of that kind." 
 
 " In the midst of life," he whispered, look- 
 ing away, " we are in death. You and I 
 all of us ! " 
 
 That was all. She dared to hang breath- 
 lessly over the bed for more than a minute ; 
 but no new note was to be struck. It was 
 not to be shown her whether he accepted 
 her presence there as a mere matter of fem- 
 inine duty, or whether his silence was a sign of 
 some deeper masculine thought. She drew 
 away, uncertain whether to assume coldness 
 or not. In such a position, she could be only 
 very dear to him, or sink the woman entirely 
 in the nurse. And he had not asked her to 
 remain, even temporarily. 
 
 She was wildly conscious of not being able 
 to do for him all that was required of her. 
 She was doing nothing. And he had been 
 to the threshold of the Unknown and back
 
 148 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 again, and he was physically starved. She 
 wrung her hands and bit her lip as she stood 
 back where he could not see her. She did not 
 want Mrs. Blinco ; and yet if only Mrs. 
 Blinco would come in and let her steal out 
 for a few minutes ! 
 
 It was practically dark now. She lit a 
 lamp there was no gas in this room and 
 placed it so that his face was shrouded in 
 shadow. Of what could he possibly be think- 
 ing ? Was he thinking, or had his mind 
 swooped into the darkness again ? She stole 
 forward a little. She saw that he looked like 
 a dead man, but that he breathed ; and that 
 was all. She wrung her hands desperately 
 again in secret. She knew it now : she could 
 never, never, nurse a man who had no exclu- 
 sive claim upon her ! 
 
 The folding doors over there shut out all 
 sounds from the street. Just when the silence 
 had so sunk into her that she told herself 
 she must cry out if he moved, she heard the 
 doctor's carriage draw up sharply. A rat-tat 
 went through the house a doctor's dignity 
 is paramount to all other considerations. 
 Even Mrs. Blinco must have heard it. 
 
 No. Rat-tat came again, even louder. 
 John Laverock half started up. " Lie still ! ' 
 she gasped, and ran out. 
 
 " Dear me ! Dear me ! " said the doctor, 
 bustling in and striking his silk hat against
 
 THE BORDERLAND 149 
 
 the gas-bracket. " Where are we ? All in 
 darkness ? Surely patient " 
 
 " Oh, he's alive ! " she gasped, confusedly. 
 It is singular how the most composed of 
 women are fluttered in the medical presence. 
 " He has talked quite rationally. I gave 
 him the draught. But he must he must 
 have some one there with him. He will die ! " 
 
 " But I thought you were there with him ! " 
 said the doctor, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes ; but but I mean, some one who 
 knows what to do ! " 
 
 " Dear me ! " said the doctor again, as he 
 went in. " Dear me ! This won't do ! " 
 
 She held her breath to listen for a moment. 
 Then she flew up the staircase. " Where 
 are you, Mrs. Blinco, oh, where are you ? You 
 must come down at once. You really must ! " 
 
 A door opened, a candle-light shone out, 
 and Mrs. Blinco was looking at her with 
 swollen eyes. 
 
 " Good gracious me," she said, " you'd 
 frighten any one. I couldn't have a death 
 in my house. Why, I thought you were so 
 used to sickness, and anxious to be with him ?" 
 
 " I am ! But but the doctor's here. Oh, 
 be quick ! " 
 
 They stumbled down. The doctor was 
 sitting calmly by the bedside holding John 
 Laverock's hand, and talking in a quiet, 
 ordinary voice.
 
 150 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " It's wonderful," he said, looking round at 
 them. " I say it's wonderful. I was fully 
 prepared to find brain fever pouncing on him. 
 There is nothing of the kind. Now, come, 
 which of you two good ladies is looking after 
 him ? You ? " Mrs. Blinco had gone for- 
 ward while Miss Valjean stood in the throes 
 of a bursting " I ! 1 1 " " Well, then, will 
 the other leave the room ? One is enough. 
 He only needs quiet and sleep. You're a 
 wonderful man, sir, and that's all I need 
 say!" 
 
 As cold as ice Miss Valjean stood at the 
 door. Not wanted ! For a minute she could 
 not, would not, move she felt so sure that 
 an imploring stare from John Laverock's eyes 
 would bid her to drop all other considerations 
 and remain. But he did not seem to give her 
 a second thought. It was Mrs. Blinco who 
 raised him into a sitting position, and un- 
 fastened his shirt-front, while the doctor got 
 out a thermometer. She watched in a sort of 
 unconscious fascination. And then suddenly 
 the doctor turned his head, saw her, stood up, 
 and saw fit to motion her sharply out. 
 
 In the obscurity of the front room, stifling 
 a great cry, Miss Valjean drew on her hat 
 and gloves. Her hand hard to her lips, she 
 went along the passage, found the lock, clicked 
 the door behind her, and was gone. The 
 woman not wanted is the saddest, bitterest
 
 THE' ^BORDERLAND , 151 
 
 woman on earth save the woman who has 
 been wanted and then cast aside. 
 
 The long night ticked by. Dawn came, 
 flushing the sky over London with lilac and 
 saffron, and the rush of the strenuous human 
 tide down the Kingsland Road had begun. 
 John Laverock thought of it all thought of 
 it as something that he had never expected 
 to witness again. He had taken a little nutri- 
 ment and slept for seven hours without stir- 
 ring, while Mrs. Blinco sat and dozed, or 
 swayed her foot and looked at the ceiling for 
 a financial inspiration. More nutriment had 
 been silently handed him at 8 a.m., and he 
 took it humbly, conscious of his dependent 
 position. He could not keep offering thanks, 
 because he divined that Mrs. Blinco set no 
 great store upon verbal gratitude. And now 
 she had washed his face, and combed his 
 hair, and remarked encouragingly that a 
 beard would suit him better than it did most 
 men, although she couldn't understand why 
 the " things " were wanted at all, being neither 
 use nor ornament. Most men with beards 
 looked about as foolish as a middle-aged 
 man in knee-breeches. 
 
 It all exhausted him. He lapsed into 
 another stupor. When he awoke, soon after 
 midday, Mrs. Blinco was not in the room, 
 and he felt quite able to get out of bed with- 
 out her assistance. He essayed it, and
 
 152 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 found himself lying stretched upon the 
 carpet. 
 
 " There's a nice thing," she said placidly, 
 when he lay back upon the pillows once more. 
 Secretly she was not regretting the incident. 
 " That's men all over ! If you're paying for 
 a nurse, Mr. Laverock, you must let the nurse 
 earn her money. I'm sure I try." 
 
 He felt like weeping in his mortification. 
 But he laughed the ghost of a laugh instead. 
 
 " Do you do you think Miss Valjean will 
 come to-day ? " he asked. He felt no actual 
 pain now merely a terrible, inexplicable 
 heaviness. 
 
 " I don't somehow fancy so," Mrs. Blinco 
 replied, with slow emphasis. 
 
 " I hope not," he whispered. 
 
 " And so do I," she agreed grimly. 
 
 " I mean I mean, I can hardly expect it 
 of her." 
 
 " Oh, I know what you mean. I mean the 
 same. If she comes, I shall say you have got 
 up and gone out." 
 
 " Oh, don't do anything of that don't 
 wound her ! " 
 
 " Wound her fiddlesticks ! All a woman 
 like that could do in a case of illness is to 
 knock up a fantastic jelly and leave it on the 
 doorstep. She does ' fancy work,' I expect. 
 H'm ! Women who do ' fancy work ' don't 
 generally fancy work."
 
 THE BORDERLAND 153 
 
 " She she has a sick brother to attend 
 always." 
 
 " I'm sorry for him," Mrs. Blinco said 
 decisively. Then she had to close her eyes and 
 droop her head. 
 
 " That's what I mean," he breathed. " It 
 can't go on. You will be worn out. What 
 will your husband think ? " 
 
 " Think ? As much as he's able to, I sup- 
 pose that much." She snapped thumb and 
 finger. " Three good meals a day covers 
 everything with most men. ' : 
 
 He was silent. He did not know whether 
 to feel most sorry for her, or for her husband, 
 or for himself. 
 
 ' You should certainly have taken me to 
 the hospital at once," he ventured, after 
 thinking a bit. 
 
 " Bah ! " she said calmly. " And have 
 you put on a slab and cut up like a shin of 
 beef. They'd have gloried in getting hold of 
 a body that couldn't feel anything for two days. 
 There wouldn't have been half of you left." 
 
 And now it was wearing on toward dusk 
 again. She had propped him up in her no- 
 mincing-matters fashion, and was watching 
 to see if he perversely turned pale and slid 
 down. He really felt almost well, he kept 
 saying. And the doctor had been again, 
 and had bustled out with the same muttered 
 " Wonderful ! Wonderful I "
 
 154 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Mrs. Blinco, you're to go straight up- 
 stairs and lie down," he commanded, sud- 
 denly, almost brokenly. He had been 
 looking at her. " I say, yes ! Put the bell 
 here, so that I can ring if I want you. I'm 
 all right. You're not ! " 
 
 " Then I think I will," she said, not averse 
 to showing that she could scarcely keep her 
 speech coherent. She had really withstood 
 an ordeal with acrid determination that he 
 only now realized in full. " God forgive me, 
 though," she hesitated, " if I should go dead 
 off and that doctor came banging again." 
 
 " He won't. Let him go again, if he does. 
 You must ! " 
 
 She had placed the bell and nutriments 
 near him. Every now and then she stumbled 
 drowsily, and it distressed him keenly. She 
 was just turning, with a hand to her forehead, 
 when there came a half-hearted rat-tat at the 
 door. She sat down. 
 
 ' There you are. I knew some one would 
 come. I knew it." 
 
 " Then," he said warmly, " if it should be 
 Miss Valjean, she can come in and sit with 
 me. Or it may be some one from the but 
 they don't know, do they ? Anything 
 anything so long as you snatch a little rest 
 before the night comes ! " 
 
 She went out. He heard a mumbling. 
 Then she was back.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 155 
 
 " It is not Miss Valjean," she said. " It 
 
 is " She swayed and caught at the 
 
 wall. 
 
 " Oh, don't ! " he implored. " FU get up. 
 I'm ashamed of myself. Never mind who 
 it is ! What matters ? " 
 
 " It's a girl who says says she knows 
 you in your Mission work. Wants to speak 
 to you very particularly about business. 
 Knocked twice last night. Don't believe her 
 I never heard it." 
 
 " Ask her no, never mind. Let her come 
 in a minute, if she wishes to. I can't think. 
 Yes, yes, it is some one I know. Show her 
 in, and then " 
 
 He lay back, feeling deathly faint. For 
 a moment he lost touch with passing events. 
 Only a mere moment. Then the door had 
 opened again, and into the room, and halfway 
 across it, with a calm, composed step, came 
 Donna Amber Lou. 
 
 " Is it all right ? " asked Mrs. Blinco. 
 
 There was a deep, strange struggle within 
 him. He thanked God unconsciously for 
 the creeping dusk that half hid his face. 
 Then he whispered back steadily. 
 
 " Yes ! It's my friend." 
 
 Mrs. Blinco was in the comatose, " giving 
 way " state that required nothing more. 
 She gave a deep sigh, and then her feet were 
 dragging up the staircase.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE door had closed. Amber Lou 
 looked at it, and back again at him, 
 as if uncertain what was going to happen of 
 her cool temerity. Or, perhaps, the look of 
 John Laverock's face was not just what she 
 had expected. 
 
 In that curious pause he took in every 
 detail. His heart had thumped : it had 
 seemed so impossible for Mrs. Blinco to mis- 
 take her for anything but what she was. 
 But now he understood. Amber Lou's face 
 and hands looked perfectly clean. She was 
 dressed tidily, even tastefully ; and she was 
 not wearing the emblem of her class the flat 
 straw hat. Never until this moment had he 
 known how he loathed the black flat straw 
 hat. 
 
 " Why ! " He had to say it first of all, 
 in a voice that he strove to keep steady. 
 " You look quite different. You look a lady!" 
 
 " Think so ? " It was the same low and 
 level tone, but distinctly subdued for the 
 occasion. " You didn't mind me coming like 
 that, then ? " 
 
 156
 
 THE BORDERLAND 157 
 
 "Mind?" He put out his hand. "I 
 couldn't believe ; I can't believe it yet. 
 What put it into your heart to think of me ? " 
 
 " Oh, it was nothing of that," she said, 
 standing with her fingers clasped in front of 
 her. Her inborn self-possession could never 
 seem to waver for an instant. The turquoise 
 eyes in her yellow-rose face looked straight 
 out contemplatively. " I didn't expect you 
 to see me I wasn't sure you could see any 
 one ; but I didn't know what else to say when 
 I'd once knocked, with that woman's gimlet 
 eyes on me. I was thinking they'd done for 
 you." 
 
 She dropped her head with a sudden jerk. 
 For a moment he was held by a thrill that he 
 could not analyse. Those last seven words 
 of hers had ended in a dry, defiant but un- 
 mistakable sob that was almost a revelation. 
 
 ' They haven't oh, no ! " he breathed 
 eagerly. " See for yourself." 
 
 ' Then it doesn't matter," she said, pluck- 
 ing at her fingers. She seemed about to make 
 one of her majestically startling turns for the 
 door. 
 
 " Oh, but it does ! I'll only tell you what 
 the doctor says that it might have finished 
 any other man. How came you to know ? " 
 
 " I knew all about it." She flashed a 
 quick look at his hand lying limp there, and 
 away again. " I guessed the lot the moment
 
 158 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 I heard Ben Fisher had cleared out of it." 
 " Ah ! And and what of the other man ? " 
 " He's gone, too," she whispered. " That 
 was good enough." 
 
 " Gone for good, you mean ? " 
 " I don't know. You'd better not ask. 
 They wouldn't go far, but you'd never find 
 'em. You'd better let it drop." 
 
 " They have not," he sank his voice, 
 " sent you here to spy for them to know 
 whether it was life or death for me ? " 
 " You can think that if you want to." 
 " No ! Tell me let me think you came 
 because you wanted to ; you were sorry. 
 Look at me, Lou, won't you ? " 
 
 She obeyed. She had been going to smile, 
 but she checked it. The imploring ring in 
 his voice the sight of him lying there so 
 different and yet so amazingly unrevengeful 
 seemed to reach a depth in her never as yet 
 probed. 
 
 " I did, then," she said, almost softly. 
 " P'raps I'm not quite such a savage as you 
 thought. Oh, I know all about it ! " 
 
 All through this uncertain spell she had 
 remained standing on the same spot. In 
 truth, the man feared to suggest a chair ; her 
 disdainful refusal seemed so inevitable. And, 
 after the initial surprise, it was borne in upon 
 him that she must be thinking her position 
 more than odd.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 159 
 
 " You're not shy ? " he dared suddenly. 
 " You quite understand how it is I am left 
 alone here for a time ? " 
 
 " Well, I was just wondering," she ad- 
 mitted. " If you've been as bad as all that " 
 
 " She's worn out, Donna ! Couldn't you see 
 it ? I ought to have gone to the hospital, 
 but I had no say in the matter it all hap- 
 pened so suddenly. Only last night, Donna 
 only last night I struggled through. I never 
 thought I was to see any of you again. . . . 
 Don't be afraid. Come closer ! Come and 
 speak to me, won't you ? " 
 
 She took a step another as if drawn 
 against her will. She drew back her hands 
 tightly to her sides, and looked down at him 
 as he wished. In that moment, maybe, a 
 " bash over the head " took on a new aspect 
 for her. She had her first glimpse of the gentle 
 side of tragedy. Her lips worked several 
 times before she would sound her query. 
 
 " What did he do to you ? Fisher, was 
 it?" 
 
 The man smiled faintly. 
 
 " Why do you want to know ? I am going 
 to let it drop, as you asked. No one but you 
 and I is to know that it happened. Are 
 you sorry, then ? . . . I don't think he meant 
 to murder me no, I don't think that. He 
 was frightened ; he acted on an animal 
 impulse. He got his hands round my throat,
 
 160 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 and I couldn't defend myself, and down I 
 went." 
 
 " The devil," she whispered, looking at the 
 wall beyond. Her small throat twitched. 
 " The wicked devil." 
 
 " Hush ! " John Laverock reached out and 
 gripped her fingers suddenly in his. " Hush ! 
 you have dropped all that now from now ! " 
 
 Then the inevitable silence. She seemed 
 drugged by the warm, convulsive grip by 
 something beneath it all too deep to be turned 
 aside with a laugh. If the man seemed so 
 contented why, it seemed that she ought 
 not to move until his eyes opened again. 
 More than once she had given her fingers a 
 tug, but his own were too big and powerful. 
 
 And now he was trembling violently. It 
 ceased he had clenched his teeth. The 
 sick look in his face had gone to his eyes, as 
 he unclosed them. She looked around the 
 room just as Miss Valjean had looked 
 yesterday. 
 
 " What is it ? Can I do anything ? " she 
 asked abruptly. " If you don't mind, I 
 don't." 
 
 He nodded, and smiled weakly again. 
 But he did not offer to release her hand. 
 
 " It's a funny set-out, isn't it, you being 
 left like this ? " she said huskily. " Did 
 you let her think I was some some friend 
 you expected ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 161 
 
 And he nodded again, without hesitation. 
 Amber Lou inwardly resented it, but she was 
 woman enough to feel a momentary gratifica- 
 tion, all the same. She stooped a little. 
 
 " Had any tea ? It was past five when I 
 knocked. I don't mind telling her I'll have 
 her out of it ! " 
 
 " Tea ! " He caught at the half-forgotten 
 syllable. It suggested a wonderful fragrance 
 just then. He had not tasted tea for days. 
 In fact Mrs. Blinco had not attempted to 
 run any risk of over-feeding her patient. 
 ' You mean would you make me a cup ? " 
 
 She hesitated. It was strange ay, and 
 pregnant with the irony of circumstance, 
 that there glistened in his eyes the very 
 light for which another woman had searched 
 yesterday in vain. 
 
 " 1 could ; but what about her ? Hasn't 
 she been near, or sent some one in to you yet ? 
 You know who I mean Mr. Valj can's sister ! " 
 
 He looked at her. She had tried to say it 
 with such an indifference. 
 
 " Ah, now I know," he said, slowly. " Now 
 I do know all. It was you who put the note 
 under her door. You did that for me." 
 
 " Not so much to do, was it considering ? " 
 
 " No ; because you know all I would do 
 for you in trouble"!/' He turned his 
 head on the pillows. He was beginning to 
 feel a little strange again there was a " lift- 
 
 L
 
 162 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 ing " sensation at the arch of his head which 
 must be fought against. " Yes, she came ; 
 but perhaps I offended her. Never mind 
 that now. You can do anything you please 
 here yes, anything I need you badly ! " 
 
 " I suppose you know you're holding me 
 as if I was gold ? Ah, that's better." His 
 hand had dropped away. " Touching this 
 cup of tea, then how do you make it ? " 
 
 " Anyhow," he muttered, watching her. 
 " Anyhow." 
 
 " Don't be silly." She had to laugh. She 
 was her cool, inimitable self again now, and 
 not in the least apprehensive of anything 
 Mrs. Blinco might have to say. " I mean, 
 there's no fire. You can't boil water without 
 at least I can't." 
 
 " I think I think she used an oil-stove in 
 that corner for her breakfast. I'm not sure." 
 
 " Ah ! No, she didn't look as if she wasted 
 much coal. It's alight ! and here's a cup and 
 saucer. Now what about the tea ? " 
 
 " Goodness knows," he said, faintly. He 
 had not thought of that. 
 
 Amber Lou was on her knees. He heard 
 her laugh to herself an odd little laugh that 
 was new to him on her lips. He tried to 
 raise himself, and caught just a glimpse of her 
 shoes. The soles were well, there were no 
 soles worth mentioning. 
 
 " It's all right," she said coolly, looking
 
 THE BORDERLAND 163 
 
 back. " You keep still ; I was only thinking. 
 You ought to be married, that's the long and 
 the short of it. Now then, I'm going into 
 her kitchen, and you needn't fear I shall 
 touch anything of hers." 
 
 She marched out. Now that she had spoken 
 in that voice, his contentment deepened. It 
 was curious that the stark novelty of the 
 situation should have died quite out already, 
 and that she seemed to have stepped into 
 a blank. Perhaps he dozed for a few minutes. 
 The next thing he knew was that his arm 
 had been shaken. 
 
 Long and steadfastly up at her he looked, 
 swelling after swelling unchecked in his throat. 
 The blind was drawn, and the evening shut 
 out ; Amber Lou's hair shone golden against 
 the lamplight behind her. 
 
 ' Well, don't you want it now I've made 
 it ? " she queried, with a shaky scorn. " I 
 couldn't help being a while. I've been out 
 there was no milk to be seen in this house. 
 I put the mat up against the door. You 
 didn't hear that, did you ? " 
 
 The man slowly drew himself up, and groped 
 out to take the cup. Perhaps the light had 
 dazzled him for a moment. For the first 
 time she appeared to grasp that he was far 
 weaker than he had seemed at the outset. 
 And the focus of his eyes seemed " out," 
 by the way in which he took the cup.
 
 164 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Here, what's the matter ? " she queried, 
 bluntly if softly. " Do you have a cushion 
 to lean against, or what ? Well, go on 
 there you are ! Have your cup of tea, at any 
 rate ! " 
 
 She dragged up a pillow and held it in 
 position, with both arms stubbornly tight 
 around him for support. He could not see 
 her now ; she was looking down, wondering 
 when he was going to drink it or if his class 
 of people drank tea differently from others. 
 As a matter of fact he kept putting the cup to 
 his lips and lowering it again. 
 
 "Drink up!" she whispered. " You'll 
 have it stone cold. Something in your throat, 
 is there ? Seems to me they've let you job 
 along as best you can, haven't they ? I 
 wouldn't say anything at all about this ; I'll 
 wash the cup out. I had to open a dozen tin 
 boxes before I found a screw of tea in a corner. 
 That woman's after saving, isn't she ? I 
 always thought you lived in a grand house 
 like Mr. Valjean's. Well ? " 
 
 Of a sudden, with a series of little chokes, 
 the man let the cup drop plump to the 
 white coverlet. Out spread the rich brown 
 stain in all directions. 
 
 " My Gawd ! " Amber Lou breathed in- 
 voluntarily to herself. " That's done it ! " 
 
 "I'm sorry," she heard him say, in the 
 silence.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 165 
 
 " Sorry ? That's not much use. What'll 
 she say about her dimity bed ?. . . Hang 
 her bed, if you couldn't help it ! You're 
 shaking all over, you are. Here, let me see 
 to it. She couldn't grumble if you'd burst 
 a blood-vessel, could she ? No ; well then, 
 that's all right." She had dried the mischief 
 as well as she could, and given the bedclothes 
 cunning little twists to hide the worst. " Now 
 don't start worrying. You're not half as 
 well, you know, as when I came in. How's 
 that ? Can you wait while I make another 
 cup ? I don't mind ! " 
 
 No, he did not want it now. The glamour 
 of tea Mrs. Blinco's tea had departed with 
 the first and only sip. 
 
 " I'm keeping you here," he said. She 
 was still holding the pillow around him, as 
 he seemed to prefer that attitude after the 
 long spell of lying flat. 
 
 " Just now you wanted me to stay. Which 
 is it to be ? I don't mind. I only lit the 
 lamp because it looked more cheerful. I'd 
 light a fire, too, if I knew where she kept 
 the coals October ! Not that I came for 
 anything of that. If it's not rude, couldn't 
 some one write to the Mission people for 
 you ? I'll go and tell them, if you like. 
 It's down Shoreditch way, isn't it ? " 
 
 " No no," he said, his head shaking against 
 her. " I want to let it all drop. I don't
 
 166 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 wish a breath of it to leak out in Hoxton or 
 anywhere you know that." 
 
 ' What, on account of me ? " she breathed 
 in the pause, staring. " You don't think 
 
 I " The burst of contempt broke off ; he 
 
 could finish it for himself. In her mind she 
 had suddenly weighed against his Quixotic 
 silence her position at this passing moment. 
 " I couldn't live in a house like this," she 
 went on, to keep the pause from deepening 
 too much. " It's like a churchyard. Doesn't 
 her husband come home doesn't any one 
 ever come in or go out ? " 
 
 There was no answer. Peering down in 
 her calm fashion, it seemed to her that he 
 was asleep. " This is all right ! " she whis- 
 pered to herself. And yet, if Mrs. Blinco 
 had entered the room at that moment, she 
 would not have moved. The fact of his 
 illness, and that alone, could have made her 
 step across the gulf of restraint. In her 
 crude way she told herself that very likely 
 sleep was the thing he wanted. 
 
 The minutes went by. Her arms were 
 beginning to tire a little. Her lips drew in 
 with a little ironic smile, as she saw that 
 the lamp wick was burning down from lack 
 of oil. 
 
 Now it was half dark, with small flickers 
 of lemon light on the walls, as the wick 
 expired.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 167 
 
 " I say ! " she said, on the lowest note 
 of her voice, bending a little. 
 
 He stirred slightly. Some inarticulate 
 word sounded in his throat. His head came 
 round, till his lips lay against the hand she 
 had slid up to shake his shoulder. She 
 felt distinctly the lips part and close again 
 upon her flesh, with a passive little 
 sound. 
 
 She could not move. She stood stiffened, 
 little sensations that she had never experienced 
 before following each other down her body. 
 Into her mind crowded strange thoughts, 
 making it expand curiously, but she put 
 them easily from her. " He doesn't know," 
 she said to herself. " He's forgotten who 
 I am, and all about it. He didn't want me 
 for that ! " 
 
 Soon, as his breathing seemed even, she 
 let him droop back to his pillows, with more 
 soft stealth than he would have suspected 
 in her. Now was her moment to creep out ; 
 and yet she did not like the idea. She was 
 resenting inwardly the whole unsatisfactory 
 position. 
 
 The lamp was all but burned out. She had 
 stooped for the last time, to draw up the 
 coverlet noiselessly. And then then her 
 heart took that scared leap. His arm was 
 flung out, and touched her face, and drew 
 it down.
 
 168 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Donna ! " He called it out, as if he had 
 dreamed it. " Donna ! I want Donna ! " 
 
 " You've got me/' she had to breathe 
 back. " I'm here. Be quiet. What is it 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " Donna ! " he said again, almost as 
 loudly. " Donna ! O, God forgive me ! 
 O, God, tell her ! " 
 
 His arm fell of its own accord. She could 
 draw back, quivering as after a blow. But 
 with scorn she drove the ineffaceable glimpse 
 of his soul out of her mind. He did not 
 know ! She was intuitive enough to divine 
 that he would have died sooner than utter 
 any such words consciously. 
 
 And that very knowledge pricked some 
 dormant protective instincts within her. 
 What she did not fathom was the fact that 
 in that hour John Laverock's personality 
 had entered into her own everyday life, 
 whereas up till now he had been a shadowy 
 figure quite outside it. 
 
 His hand-bell ! it stood just there. 
 
 She found the matches, went out, closed 
 the door upon him, and lit the hall gas. 
 Going to the head of the stair, she rang her 
 bell sharply. It was almost a duplicate of 
 Miss Valj can's action of the evening before, 
 but it was done very differently. Then 
 she went down to the hall door, and was 
 discovered standing with it half open.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 169 
 
 " Who's flared that light ? Who is it ? " 
 came Mrs. Blinco' s voice from the landing 
 presently. " Oh, it's you ! You're going ? 
 I don't seem to have slept a wink." 
 
 " Only three hours," was the dry reply. 
 " I thought I'd better stay with him a bit, 
 as no one else seemed anxious. Now I'm 
 going for his doctor, if you'll tell me the 
 house." 
 
 " What for ? " Mrs. Blinco came slowly 
 down, a shawl wrapped about her. " You 
 look very pale ! what's the matter with 
 him ? " 
 
 " I was born pale. There's nothing the 
 matter with him except that I should say 
 he's going to be worse before he's better." 
 
 " Well, then, it's more than I can manage," 
 said Mrs. Blinco, with an access of asperity. 
 " He's a most provoking patient. The doc- 
 tor ? What time is it ? Past eight ? Oh, 
 well, then he's coming at nine. Much obliged 
 to you good-evening ! " 
 
 She was pushing the door to. She was 
 a little staggered to find it pushed back 
 very pronouncedly. 
 
 " Don't do that," Amber Lou said in a 
 different voice. " You can't play about with 
 the man's life like that. I mean, if you don't 
 want him here, say so, and I'll walk down to 
 the Mission people, sharp." 
 
 " Are you are you any connexion of Mr.
 
 170 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Laverock's ? " queried Mrs. Blinco, with 
 sudden vague suspicion. " My brain was 
 a little fuddled when I answered your knock, 
 I think." 
 
 " Moral, don't drink," was the low reply. 
 She drew herself up. " If you want to know 
 anything about me, ask him. I don't think 
 you'll close the door on me twice. I don't 
 think ! " 
 
 " Sorry," she said, startled. " We are 
 all liable to mistakes. Might you be coming 
 again ? " 
 
 " I can't say. I haven't thought about 
 it. I'm going to walk up and down here 
 till the doctor's been ; and p'raps you won't 
 mind stepping out and telling me what he 
 says." 
 
 " Oh, very good ! " said Mrs. Blinco, 
 dubiously. " I can't stop talking." 
 
 " Disease of yours, eh ? " 
 
 " Pardon me ! I say, I can't stop talking 
 I must attend to him." 
 
 " Yes, do ! " was Amber Lou's parting, 
 chilly shot. 
 
 She walked away. Perhaps never till to- 
 night had she known her mind to carry her 
 along automatically, but she found herself 
 down at Dalston presently, in the blaze of 
 the shops. She felt in her pockets, and 
 found a few coins. 
 
 It was a little after nine when she came
 
 THE BORDERLAND 171 
 
 marching calmly back. The doctor's carriage 
 was there, its twin lights shining like a wolf's 
 eyes at her in the darkness. She waited 
 a little way off, her foot tapping tentatively 
 on the pavement. Then she saw the doctor 
 emerge with importance, his sonorous voice, 
 audible across the roadway, making a fine 
 advertisement. 
 
 " You're not surprised ? I'm not not 
 in the least oh, dear me, no ! In fact, I fully 
 looked for it." 
 
 " Liar ! " Amber Lou said to herself, 
 hardly knowing why, save that there was a 
 sort of sinking sensation at her heartstrings 
 that she was not going to own to. 
 
 He had gone. Mrs. Blinco ran to the 
 gateway and peered both ways a little sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 " Oh, there you are, then," she sniffed. 
 It was the moment to wipe her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, here I am." Amber Lou walked up. 
 " Lord Bug, isn't he ? What was that he 
 said ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing. He's worse ; that's all." 
 She induced her voice to falter, to remove 
 former impressions. " In fact, he's a bit 
 delirious." 
 
 " I I thought that," Amber Lou said, 
 her mouth setting in a cold little smile. 
 " That all ? " 
 
 " All ! I'm perfectly alone in the house.
 
 172 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 My husband hasn't condescended to bring 
 himself home yet." 
 
 " I don't wonder," was flashing from the 
 girl's lips, but, curiously again, she checked 
 herself. " That's the worst of biting off 
 more than you can chew," she said shortly. 
 
 And Mrs. Blinco drew back from the 
 hyperbole. " Allow me to congratulate you 
 upon your command of language," she said. 
 " Mr. Laverock is, at least, in the care of a 
 lady, if I may say so." 
 
 There was an unsatisfactory pause, while 
 Amber Lou's foot kept up the ceaseless 
 tattoo. 
 
 " What's to be done ? " came the abrupt 
 query then. "Is he to lay there and shift 
 
 for himself ? Because, come to that " 
 
 she stopped. 
 
 ' Thank you, there's no occasion to come 
 to anything." Mrs. Blinco was properly 
 frigid now. " I think I know my duty as a 
 married woman who has been a mother 
 which you are not, by the look of 
 you." 
 
 " All right ! " Her brief, scornful reverie 
 was ended. " You don't mind putting these 
 beside him, to freshen the room a bit, do 
 you ? " And she held a bunch of angel- 
 white blossoms across the gate. 
 
 They got no farther. 
 
 " Good-night to you ! " whispered Mrs.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 173 
 
 Blinco, with withering sweetness. " Leave 
 the freshening to me. Good-night ! " 
 
 The door snapped. Amber Lou was left 
 standing on the pavement with the first 
 and last gift of flowers she would buy for 
 any man breathing.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 " T OST, somewhere between sunrise and 
 I v sunset sixty golden minutes, each 
 set with sixty diamond seconds ! No reward 
 is offered, as they are gone for ever." 
 
 Those quaint words sang through John 
 Laverock's brain as he stepped a little un- 
 steadily from Mrs. Blinco's front door and 
 felt the fresh air of heaven upon his face 
 again. Mrs. Blinco was looking after him, 
 as though confidently waiting for him to 
 stumble and fall headlong ; but as he seemed 
 to have falsified the doctor's prediction, so 
 he disappointed hers. For only forty-eight 
 hours more were gone, and this, his first 
 dash from the thraldom of the back room, 
 was the outcome of an obstinate man's 
 deliberate stiffneckedness. 
 
 The evening was divinely still and clear 
 for October, with little dots of golden fleece 
 still hanging in the carmine of the west ; 
 but he wore an overcoat, buttoned up around 
 his throat. And this it was, perhaps, that 
 made more noticeable the leaden haggard- 
 ness of his strong jaws, and the sunken 
 
 174
 
 THE BORDERLAND 175 
 
 appearance of his eyes. Apart from a little 
 natural giddiness, he had said, he felt hungry 
 for a hard day's work. Conscience had smitten 
 him, as he sat there, and he had leaped up. 
 And conscience was now a synonym for 
 Hoxton. 
 
 He forgot at once how badly he needed 
 shaving. He headed straight for the blue 
 haze above which the dome of gaslight was 
 beginning to waver. There were at least 
 two score of beings dotted about there who 
 had come to regard his daily call and few 
 minutes' earnest talk with interest, and be- 
 tween whom and himself there seemed to 
 have yawned a gulf. 
 
 Old Wisbey, the cobbler, would have fallen 
 back into his habit of shrill, vindictive 
 cursing when the cats misused his plants. 
 Sal Dowson would have yielded to another 
 drinking-spell while her baby lay alone up- 
 stairs for a day at a stretch. Mrs. Rowley 
 would have forgotten his offer of weekly 
 assistance on the condition that she had no 
 more children. And Mrs. Mucklehorn but 
 he skipped Mrs. Mucklehorn's house, and 
 stumbled on through the remainder of the 
 bewildering category. 
 
 It was a queer sensation the forcing 
 himself sharply back in that brief walk to 
 all the living realities. He could have said 
 that his world seemed to have gone on with-
 
 176 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 out him. Either it was that his mental 
 range had not been properly restored, or 
 that London streets had a photographically 
 clear and tinted appearance to-night. There 
 was an intangible, gliding aspect about the 
 steady stream of home-bound figures that 
 passed him ; a muffled suggestion in the 
 tread of their feet, the cries of children at 
 play, and the clang-clang of the distant 
 electric-cars ; a sense of being out of touch 
 with it all. 
 
 When just at the wide space where four 
 roads strike north, south, east and west, 
 Hoxton Street being one of them he heard 
 a vague blare of music, it seemed quite 
 consonant with the order of things to-night. 
 He did not obey the rush of pedestrians to 
 form a line on the kerb, but stood still in the 
 roadway until a mounted policeman loomed 
 close and edged him back. 
 
 Round the bend of St. John's Road, with 
 a pitiful semblance of dignity and marching 
 array, poured a four-deep line of men, women 
 and children mostly men. The latter walked 
 with sullen, jaded strides ; their women 
 took little runs now and then to keep up 
 with them. Tramp tramp tramp. The 
 constables in the van had the bored look of 
 men shepherding a lot of half -tame animals 
 who must be humoured, in case they ever 
 turned dangerous. A few indifferent musi-
 
 THE BORDERLAND 177 
 
 cians behind them strove to maintain the 
 martial spirit to the end ; and behind these 
 came a big, dark-bearded mechanic with 
 arresting eyes, who carried a worn old banner 
 upon which was still legible the traditional 
 device : " Curse your charity ! We want 
 work ! " although, paradoxically, men on 
 the flanks rattled money-boxes. 
 
 It was Black Sam in his element. And 
 then John Laverock understood. This was 
 merely a detached remnant of a host of 
 London's submerged which had poured from 
 all quarters into Hyde Park to demonstrate 
 its strength and its necessity. And London 
 had heard, and could only give the same 
 pacifying answer : that there was not really 
 enough to go all round at present that the 
 " boom " in trade must sooner or later 
 reflect itself upon the employes as well as 
 upon the employers and that Christ Himself 
 had expressly ordained that " The poor ye 
 have always with you." 
 
 Tramp tramp. They were going by now. 
 The watching crowd viewed them with typical 
 complacent curiosity, without either groan 
 or cheer, as beings who were essentially 
 part of the cosmic scheme. Spellbound him- 
 self by something in the dispirited, non- 
 descript appearance of many among them, 
 John Laverock computed mechanically that 
 at least sixty per cent, of their number must 
 
 M
 
 178 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 be accounted genuine strugglers who could 
 justly ask of Leisured Opulence " the right 
 to live." At least ! 
 
 " Rough, ain't it ? " observed a man 
 with a bag of tools over his shoulder and a 
 pipe in his mouth. " I mustn't grumble. 
 I was in that lot last winter. Sold every 
 stick of the third home up. People don't 
 know what it is to be in work one week and 
 out the next ; no 'bacca, no grub, and the 
 kids howlin'. I'd like 'em all to have a 
 year's turn at it. They'd find the money 
 then as easily as they find it for a Guildhall 
 banquet. My oath ! " 
 
 " Rubbish." A stout old gentleman with 
 an umbrella and gold-rimmed spectacles 
 glared round. " You can't burn the national 
 candle at both ends and in the middle too. 
 You've got your real remedy." 
 
 " Oh ! What's that ? Teach 'em con- 
 tentment in church, eh ? " 
 
 " Rubbish. There is a remedy. Only one, 
 and a stiff one ; but one that will have to 
 come. Over-population, sir indiscriminate 
 over-population is our curse, like the rabbits 
 in Australia. While machinery cuts down 
 every demand for labour, the number of 
 labourers increases. The law of supply and 
 demand, sir, is the first consideration of 
 every thriving business ; and it will have 
 to be considered nationally. Do you realize,
 
 THE BORDERLAND 179 
 
 sir I don't suppose you trouble to, by the 
 look of you that while the wealthy classes, 
 who could afford to train good, wholesome 
 stock, are remaining deliberately childless, 
 these people go on eating up the land with 
 their offspring, thirty per cent, of whom are 
 physically or mentally unfit, and twenty 
 percent. of whom possess or transmit criminal 
 tendencies. Result : the State is busy night 
 and day enlarging its workhouses, prisons 
 and lunatic asylums. And the nation sits 
 down and looks on and does nothing. Where 
 do you think such a policy can end, sir ? 
 Where do you, sir ? " he appealed to John 
 Laverock, with growing heat. And John 
 Laverock could only answer with silence. 
 The workman coughed sceptically. 
 
 ' Yes, we've heard all that, scores of times. 
 What's your remedy, boss ? Poison in their 
 grub ? " 
 
 " No, sir ! You've got that already. 
 Nearly everything you eat and drink is 
 poisoned with adulterants more shame to 
 us for allowing it. No, sir ! The State 
 has a vital problem before it so vital that 
 every successive government shirks it and 
 passes it on to the next ! Let the State 
 inculcate by some form of graduated taxa- 
 tion that a man shall limit his family 
 according to his means, the same as he 
 limits his house-room, and the cut of his
 
 180 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 clothes. And, above all, let the State insist 
 that every employer shall pay his man a 
 fair living wage. End sweating do those 
 two things and you arrest our social rot, 
 sir, if you don't end it. Charity, sir ! Charity 
 is a disgraceful compromise in a nation like 
 this. It insults the willing, and it breeds 
 the loafer. It acknowledges the wrong that 
 exists, but can never right that wrong. You 
 think over that, sir, when you've tackled 
 all the other solutions ! " 
 
 The workman passed on his way with a 
 laugh. The shifting crowd impelled John 
 Laverock across the road. The tramp of the 
 remnant of London's skeleton army was 
 dying out of hearing. 
 
 " Smith ! " 
 
 John Laverock gave an involuntary shout. 
 He had caught a glimpse of " Lamps Out " 
 pushing a way with both hands at the tail 
 of the procession. Till that moment he had 
 been forgetting the existence of " Lamps 
 Out " of Haggerston. He ran and caught 
 up the odd figure in an old " frock " coat 
 three sizes too large for it, and with the tray 
 of buttons and laces on the point of capsizing. 
 
 " Come back, here you'll be hurt. What 
 are you after ? Any one would think you 
 could see ! " 
 
 " Lemme go ! Black Sam's goin' to have 
 a meetin', p'lice or no p'lice ! "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 181 
 
 " Lamps Out " twisted and wriggled, but 
 it was no good. He gave in resentfully. 
 
 " Lost my pipe now," he explained, with 
 warmth. " Some one collared it out o' my 
 mouth. I'd ha' clawed his tongue out if I 
 knew who it was. Dirty bleed'n' trick." 
 
 " Come, come ! I won't listen to that. 
 We can easily get you another, if you must 
 have it. What's the price ? " 
 
 " Tuppenny cherrywood." He was feeling 
 over his tray in a tremble to see if his day's 
 takings had been collared as well. Once 
 again it was a secret marvel to John Laverock 
 that any human being could exist from day 
 to day in such haphazard fashion blind ! 
 " Where've you been all this time ? " " Lamps 
 Out " queried. His direct method was always 
 toned down with a flavour of respect. " Ain't 
 seen you for months." 
 
 " Days," the other reminded him. They 
 were back on the pavement now, and he was 
 glad to put one hand to a railing to steady that 
 giddiness. "I've been queer, Smith, and I 
 don't feel as I ought to yet." 
 
 " Oh ? Thought you sounded a bit harf 
 an' harf, like. Didn't tell you, did I ? The 
 old man's done it this time not harf done 
 it. They've bunged him in the infirmary, 
 and he ain't comin' out very quick. Why, 
 he got chucked out of a pub. for dealin' the 
 old woman one out. She'd gone there to find
 
 182 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 him and get a shillin' off him, and he ups with 
 his fist instead. Well, you never don't know 
 what happened, do yer ? Anyway, a bloomin' 
 bus couldn't pull up in time, and there you 
 are. All right, ain't it ? All right for the 
 old woman, I mean. Don't make much odds 
 to me whether he gets over it or not. Don't 
 cost me nothin' to live. Ain't got that 
 tuppence handy, have yer ? " 
 
 " Look here," said John Laverock. He 
 had been trying to think. " Give her this 
 shilling now I trust you, mind and meet 
 me just here to-morrow night about this time, 
 and I'll see what can be done. The worst of 
 it is, the Mission Fund drains out much faster 
 than it well, never mind, I'll come down and 
 see her as soon as I can. My heart's with her, 
 poor soul ! Don't forget." 
 
 " Not me. Er you said somethink about 
 a tuppenny " 
 
 " Oh, ah that precious pipe ! Here you 
 are good-night, Smith ! " 
 
 He turned and struck down Hoxton Street. 
 It was Monday night he had been forgetting 
 that, too. Hoxton, as far as business went, 
 resembled a theatre after the audience had 
 gone. The stalls and barrows stood deserted 
 by the kerb ; more than half the shops had a 
 " gone away " appearance. Here and there 
 a naphtha lamp flared : a negro with gleaming 
 teeth related how he could make all other
 
 THE BORDERLAND 183 
 
 teeth gleam as nicely with his preparation, 
 or a pill-vendor went through the list 
 of human diseases and showed how his 
 pills were specially constructed to deal with 
 the whole list in bulk. But real trade was 
 suspended. Hoxton had not yet quite ex- 
 hausted Saturday's wages ; an air of semi- 
 stagnation was over all. And yet Hoxton 
 was still Hoxton. 
 
 An odour of fried fish and stale greenstuff 
 lurked in the air. At the corners of those 
 abysmal narrow streets on the right, knots 
 of women stood who looked as if they had 
 crept out of noisome cellars for a furtive 
 look at the autumn night. Other women, a 
 degree more tidy and normal, leaned from 
 windows and shouted subtle jokes to acquaint- 
 ances below. Barefooted children darted and 
 scampered in all directions, with a general 
 disregard for decency and a vocabulary of 
 obscenities to congeal the blood of any one 
 who knew not his slum-land and the slumber- 
 ing conscience of London. From each public- 
 house came the familiar Babel of shouting 
 and singing, while in the glare outside troops 
 of girls, arm-in-arm, improved upon the 
 can-can and laughed loudly over vile jests 
 that made one wonder for their womanhood. 
 Hoxton, on the surface, was fully contented 
 to toil and pleasure in its own way. But 
 below the surface down in those coffin-like
 
 184 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 dark side-streets there the drunkards and 
 the diseased slept, and there the innocent 
 unfit were conceived and born in the image 
 of God.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE sky was jet black everywhere now, 
 with a powder of stars. John Lave- 
 rock had paid his few brief calls in Hoxton 
 Street itself, with varying success or dis- 
 appointment ; and now he turned and 
 wheeled into Phillimore Street, which, on a 
 dry night, with its crowded doorsteps and 
 underclothing hung to dry from windows, 
 roughly resembled a row in a Chinese fair. 
 
 The muffled suggestion was over all partly 
 still, and at times he had experienced a 
 warning wave of faintness ; but he attributed 
 both to his enforced spell of inactivity. 
 
 He leaned over the railings at No. 36, 
 to find old Wisbey's area shutters closed 
 it was Monday, of course. SalDowson lived 
 two doors higher up. She had a baby, but 
 no husband. She could earn one-and-six- 
 pence a day at plain needlework ; but as she 
 invariably spent two-and-sixpence the next 
 day, and pawned her customers' materials 
 to make good the deficiency, the outlook for 
 her and her baby was not encouraging. 
 
 " Sheer waste of time," the fatherly "point" 
 
 186
 
 186 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 constable, with a fund of local statistics, had 
 remarked once to him. " Out of thirty- 
 three ' dead drunks ' up at court last Monday 
 twenty-one were her sort. Here's last year's 
 charge-street for the borough : 817 ordinary 
 ' drunks,' and 1,230 drunk and disorderly or 
 drunk while in charge of children. All 
 women ! Clap on another ' nought ' for the 
 number never charged or noticed and there 
 you are. It's in their blood in their bones. 
 When a day in the cells stops drunkenness, 
 one dose of castor-oil will cure consumption." 
 
 However, he went hopefully up the steps 
 once again. 
 
 " Who is it ? " yelled a woman from the 
 obscure lower regions. " Oh ! Well, tell him 
 she's sleepin' it off, and can't see no one. 
 And if she don't wake up again she won't 
 be missed. That's me. And I don't care if 
 she hears." 
 
 " Who has the little one ? " he asked 
 anxiously. It was what he had half feared 
 on Monday. 
 
 " Who ? Who does he suppose ? If I 
 hadn't taken it from her, it 'ud ha' fell in the 
 copper sure as fate, at twelve o'clock this 
 blessed day. It was on the edge. And best 
 out of it, I say. Has he gone ? " 
 
 He was going. It struck him that, from 
 the raucous tone of the woman downstairs, 
 she too had slept something off ; and it could
 
 THE BORDERLAND 187 
 
 all be heard by the interested lodgers on 
 either side. 
 
 Mrs. Mucklehorn's was directly opposite. 
 He had been going to pass. On an impulse, 
 that seemed weak and yet was justifiable, he 
 changed his mind and went quietly across. 
 If he hesitated and feared, it would seem that 
 he feared the breath of blackmail. 
 
 Dense columns of steam arose from the 
 lower door and windows. Mrs. Mucklehorn, 
 while denying strenuously that she " took in " 
 washing, had begun the week in no uncertain 
 fashion. Going down the few steps, he could 
 see her waddling to and fro in the distant 
 candlelight, with a huge hillock of soap- foam 
 before her ; but no response came to his call 
 or knock. Finally he went up the front 
 steps and mounted the stair. And it seemed 
 an age since he had felt that balustrade shake 
 under his grasp before. 
 
 All was dark. Right to the top he felt his 
 way, calling now and then, not sure at any 
 moment whether a door might open and some 
 one stare out at him. He knocked softly 
 three times. " Donna ! " he said. " It is I, 
 Mr. Laverock. Are you at home ? " 
 
 No answer. He tried one more tap, and 
 then it struck him that the door had yielded 
 in a little. It was going back. The star- 
 light from the window opposite showed him 
 bare boards. Her room was vacant.
 
 i88 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 The sensation that crawled over him was 
 one not easily explained or forgotten. No- 
 thing only an empty room ! and yet 
 haunted by the invisible presence of the 
 woman who had sat there, and thought there, 
 and slept there, and had her being there. He 
 felt inexpressibly chilled, and he knew now 
 of a sudden, without wishing to know, what 
 it was that had buoyed him up with expect- 
 ancy until this moment. 
 
 He turned away from it as from an un- 
 worthy thought that may dart through the 
 cleanest mind taken unawares. He did re- 
 press a shudder as he reached the last stair, 
 but that was because of the dark dreariness 
 of the house itself. Down through the steam 
 he went again, and this time Mrs. Mucklehorn 
 saw him. Quite calmly he called a question. 
 
 " Gone ! " shouted Mrs. Mucklehorn, her 
 copper-stick suspended. " Went last Sat'day 
 night paid up her one-and-six and took her 
 things off in a barrer. It's along o' Cobra, if 
 you ask me." 
 
 " Along of Cobra ? " he repeated. He mis- 
 took her meaning. He knew that a shaft of 
 dull pain had gone through him. " Are you 
 sure ? " 
 
 " Sure ? No, bless me, you can't be sure 
 of anything nowadays. Harf a minnit, 
 sir ! " She made a mighty plunge or two of 
 the stick into seething cauldrons, as it looked
 
 THE BORDERLAND 189 
 
 to him ; thrust aside a child who seemed 
 preparing for a perfunctory bath ; and 
 waddled placidly forward. Remembering 
 the flying soapsuds, he stepped back. " Well, 
 and how are you, sir ? Sorry to hear you 
 was on your back. Did you want her ? 
 Well, I never asked where she was goin', 
 and I dunno any one who did. She never 
 opened her mouth unless she chose. She 
 went off huffy and quiet, about nine, Sat' day 
 night. She wouldn't be gone far unless, 
 as I say, it's along o' that Cobra. He was 
 here twice late the same night, askin' after 
 her, and he wasn't harf in a fever about some- 
 thin'. He was no good to her I know that 
 much. I never like them streak o' lightnin' 
 sort o' chaps." 
 
 " You think she wouldn't have gone f ar ? " 
 was all he could ask, standing very still. 
 
 " Bless you, no. Once here, always here. 
 Look at me : I've moved up an' down the 
 same street for fifty-three years had this 
 house twice over. Mucklehorn ? Well, he's 
 middlin'. He'd be all right if it wasn't for 
 the sherbet and his rheumaticky pains. Still, 
 they can't say of him what they can of that 
 Ben Fisher could get his livin' anywhere 
 where there ain't no police. That's some- 
 thin'." 
 
 " How how is Mrs. Fisher going on ? " he 
 asked, with a twinge of his nerves. He had
 
 190 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 been feeling his way to that point. And she 
 shrugged her deep shoulders. 
 
 " Goodness knows. It don't do to ask. 
 You've got to keep your eyes skinned and 
 your mouth shut nowadays. Her man ain't 
 been seen by mortal eyes for nigh a week, 
 I'm told. Yes, keeps lovely weather, Mr. 
 Laverock, for them that's out in it with a full 
 belly. There's my copper over again. I'll 
 tear that Frankie's ear off. I told him to 
 hop out o' the bath and see after it." 
 
 In part relieved, and yet with the same 
 sense of a sick, growing void within him, he 
 went by Mrs. Fisher's house and drew up at 
 the busy Kingsland Road corner. Some one, 
 indeed, had sent after him a galling, if furtive, 
 echo of that haunting " Amber Lou-ou-ou ! " 
 but he did not even turn his head. It was 
 but a contemptible reminder of the Cobra's 
 financial inspiration, and could be allowed to 
 fizzle out as the Cobra's coup had done. 
 
 He would make his way home. His 
 effort had abruptly exhausted itself. There 
 were singing noises in the air everywhere, and 
 and a desire to be quite alone, down on his 
 knees, and realize that he was being impelled 
 quite consciously into the lethal chamber of 
 passion a longing for two warm arms to 
 enfold him and hold him. He set off back 
 with long strides, his hands clenched against 
 himself.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 191 
 
 He would never know why, but, passing the 
 public-house by the canal bridge, he swerved 
 aside, swung in the middle door, stared round 
 and found himself looking into the eyes 
 of the very man. Ben Fisher ! 
 
 For once they were wide open, and re- 
 mained so. Standing by a barrel behind the 
 door, he had a full pot of beer halfway to his 
 mouth. But that it was pewter it would 
 have cracked, as his arm dropped down to the 
 barrel and moved as in a palsy among the 
 spilled liquor. There were other drinkers in 
 the bar, but they simply looked ; they, too, 
 appeared to see something of the risen dead 
 in the drawn white face and tall figure of the 
 man who had stepped silently in. Into stone, 
 or ice, Ben's body seemed to be congealing 
 under that stare. 
 
 "So we are still on the same earth to- 
 gether ? " John Laverock said, with a bitter 
 little laugh. " And the old haunt drew you 
 as strongly as this ? . . . Step out here." 
 
 Ben moved forward and after him like a 
 clockwork figure. A few paces down quiet 
 Canal Street he was allowed to pause. He 
 could just move his palms over each other, as 
 if preparing for the great muscular swing that 
 would end in his heavy face. He was going 
 to take it glad to take it without a word 
 or a whine. 
 
 To his eternal surprise there came nothing
 
 193 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 but the quiet voice of a man who trembled 
 more in sorrow than in anger. 
 
 " I am not going to expose you. I have 
 nothing to say to you on that score now. . . . 
 I simply wish you to tell me what has become 
 of her. Yes, Lou Bohannan. I feel that 
 you can, and will." 
 
 "That's a bet." Ben Fisher felt at his 
 intact throat, and whispered hoarsely. He 
 had been staring at the blackly-flowing canal 
 in torpid amazement, but it told him nothing. 
 
 " That's a bet. You go " he cleared his 
 
 voice and wheeled round to point quite con- 
 vincingly " go down the road, turn up 
 Holly Street, take the third on your left, and 
 then . ' ' He mentioned an obscure thorough- 
 fare, and mentioned something concerning 
 the thoroughfare. " She's two doors from 
 the Dalston Lane end of it. And s'help 
 me " 
 
 "That will do. When did she go there ? " 
 
 " Sat'day night. And strike me purple 
 blind if " 
 
 " No, no ! I'm going to believe you, strange 
 as it seems. When did you find it out ? " 
 
 " Late las' night. Cobra had his ' narks ' 
 out, and one of 'em spotted her." Husky 
 still, he fumbled at his belt, prepared yet for 
 possible flight. " Don't b'lieve me ? You 
 can go down there now, and you'll find 
 him "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 193 
 
 " Find him ? " 
 
 " When you've found him, you're as nigh 
 her as makes no odds." 
 
 John Laverock took two quick steps. He 
 swung round again. His own voice was a 
 little changed, but nothing could change the 
 fact that his hand was straight out. 
 
 " Take it, Fisher," he was saying. " I 
 can forgive, if I cannot forget. I mean it. 
 Thank you ! The number of my enemies 
 in this world is down to to just two now ; 
 that man and myself. Good-night to you ! " 
 
 And with those cryptic words he walked 
 away, leaving behind a man so flabby and 
 unstrung that he failed to go back and drink 
 his beer. 
 
 N
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 DOWN the broadest reach of Kingsland 
 Road, and into Holly Street on the 
 right, a man went striding with fire in his 
 veins and a haze before his eyes. There 
 were no more pauses for self -analysis. He 
 was justified now. The great palliating 
 motive had been put into his hands. It was 
 not passion that drew him now, but deadly 
 fear for the soul and body of the woman 
 Lou Bohannan. 
 
 He had found the obscure street. There 
 was nothing outwardly suggestive in it to 
 feed his fever, as he walked down one pave- 
 ment and returned by the other. He had 
 seen merely a double line of small drab houses 
 in a still, dingy thoroughfare along which 
 came every few seconds the scream of a rail- 
 way vent- valve. He had looked keenly at 
 the house, without pausing. He had mentally 
 decided which room was likely to be hers. 
 But for some reason he would not knock 
 there not yet. He had drawn the hat over 
 his eyes and the coat collar up around his 
 chin. He had spoken quietly to a policeman 
 
 194
 
 THE BORDERLAND 195 
 
 who passed. After that, whenever a man 
 went by, he turned and looked after him with 
 great hollow eyes, and only drew breath when 
 the man passed out of sight. He was slowly 
 but surely passing into the mood which makes 
 a man dare evil that good may come of it. 
 
 More than an hour would have passed. 
 The door of the house had not seemed to open 
 once, as far as he could judge from the corner 
 where he hovered. Sometimes he tried to 
 laugh and walk away ; at others he drew up 
 his stiffened arms in conviction as real as 
 though the debasement of her body were the 
 corresponding agony of his own. 
 
 And then of a sudden all seemed to merge 
 into desperate determination that obliterated 
 everything else. Crossing the road in a few 
 silent leaps, he had intercepted her, as she 
 came moving mechanically round the corner 
 and entered the quiet, dingy zone. 
 
 " Oh, it's you ! "with the ghost of her 
 ironic little laugh. 
 
 ' Yes." He looked into the fathomless 
 eyes upturned. They should quail before 
 him to-night. " Yes, it is I. I have found 
 you out I may be in time to save you from 
 that last step of all." 
 
 She put back his hands, and looked both 
 ways meditatively. Then her breath quick- 
 ened a little, as she began to understand. 
 
 " I say, I think you'd better go better
 
 196 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 say good-bye, and drop me. You've been 
 asking questions, haven't you ? Yes, I 
 thought so. Well then, you ought to see I'm 
 not worth your worrying over. I don't know 
 why you do," she ended, looking straight 
 up, a challenging pause between each word. 
 
 " Never mind anything of that." The man 
 was not sufficiently master of himself to keep 
 back a choke. " Enough that I say you are 
 not going back to that house." 
 
 There was a silence. For a moment all 
 the world was shut out. She looked down at 
 her twisted fingers. She looked up again, 
 and drew in a breath as of semi-stupefaction. 
 
 " Are you mad ? ... Do you mean that ? " 
 
 " I have said it. God shall judge me, for 
 right or wrong. I never meant anything 
 more, happen what must." 
 
 " What do you think could happen ? " she 
 whispered, still too impressed to laugh or 
 move. 
 
 " I have not looked beyond the moment 
 when I should face you here and turn you 
 back." 
 
 " That's nonsense," she said. He had 
 thought for an instant that she Amber Lou 
 was about to clap a hand to her eyes and 
 give a wild sob. " Whatever you think, or 
 whatever you say " 
 
 "Is it too late ? " He grasped her arm 
 almost roughly.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 197 
 
 She would not answer, save by a little curl 
 of her lip. 
 
 ' Whatever you say," she went on pres- 
 ently, "I'm paying for my room ; and you 
 can't keep me out of it." 
 
 " How much have you paid ? " His ques- 
 tion came at once, stern but tender, full of 
 the same resolute finality that amazed himself 
 as much as her. 
 
 Again she was silent. 
 
 " Do you hear ? How much ? " he re- 
 peated. " It makes no difference whether 
 you lie to me or not. You can put it out of 
 your mind for the time being that I am a 
 man at all. I simply ask : How much ? " 
 
 " Nothing as yet," she had to say, low 
 and defiantly. " I've not I've not decided 
 to stop. ... I wish you'd go 1 " 
 
 " One moment ! " He kept his firm grip 
 on her arm. " All life is before you, Lou 
 Donna ! I should be less than a man if I 
 allowed one night to pass* Answer me truly, 
 and without any fear. Will you take me, 
 knowing me for what I am, into that house, 
 and let me sit and talk to you as I would talk 
 to any pure woman ? " 
 
 "No." It came in a sort of hard little 
 moan. " No ! Let me go you're hurting 
 me ! You're trying to make me worse 
 giving me all these things to think of ! You 
 can see it for yourself I got away from him
 
 ig8 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 and from you too I don't want anything 
 more to do with you. There ! " 
 
 " Oh, Lou ! " he whispered. And he let 
 her hand drop back, and leaned against the 
 wooden door of a closed yard at his side in 
 sheer weakness of mind and body. 
 
 There was a sudden scamper of light feet 
 on the pavement behind. He did not seem 
 to hear ; it was Amber Lou's half-stifled 
 scream that made him turn. Some shape 
 sped level and half paused. He had just a 
 flash-glimpse of Cobra King's bared teeth 
 and gleaming eyes. Something crashed into 
 the woodwork within an inch of his head. The 
 self-same twist of Cobra's arm, it seemed, 
 had dealt a vicious blow at Amber Lou's 
 breast. Before her moan had died almost 
 before the jagged lump of flint had ceased to 
 roll back the light rush of feet was dying 
 away. 
 
 " Donna ! Donna ! What is it ? Where 
 has he hurt you ? " He seemed to come from 
 a brief dream. He was panting it brokenly, 
 as he put both arms around the small figure. 
 " Oh, come away come away from this 
 hell's threshold ! Come with me any- 
 where !" 
 
 She stood her ground. Crouched low 
 against the wall, she was weeping with a 
 terrible softness to herself. The man felt 
 himself on the verge of a storm of sobs, too.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 199 
 
 " Don't don't, Lou ! You break my 
 heart ! You make me forget .... Dear one ! 
 It was here he struck you here ! . . . O, 
 God, tell me what to do ! " 
 
 In the pause her crying ceased. Her 
 voice came dully up to him. 
 
 " Go home, please. You mustn't be seen 
 here like this. Let me drift drift to 
 the devil that wants me and drove me. 
 There's nothing else nothing else." 
 
 The man looked down at her. He could 
 not speak. His own faculties seemed numbed. 
 One arm was still supporting her. He drew 
 out his handkerchief, and dried her face, 
 smoothed back the amber hair smoothed it 
 unthinkingly back from the ears over which 
 he had not cared to see it looped. Pausing 
 in the movement, he saw her lips quivering 
 passively, like those of one who cared not 
 what happened. With a little answering cry, 
 he put his own to them, stilled them, and 
 dried the dampness on her cheek. 
 
 She did not seem to know ; or the power 
 to resist was quite lacking. Her eyes, filmed 
 and blurred now, looked desolately into the 
 night beyond him. He took her hand, to 
 feel once again how fragile it was. He took 
 in every detail of the frail figure ; and the 
 heart within his own strong frame hungered 
 and hungered the more to take her away 
 to keep her away from all the swinish leers
 
 200 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 and poisonous influences to see the true 
 womanhood shining in her defiant eyes. 
 
 He did not stay to think. Sane thought 
 seemed so half-hearted so inconceivable 
 when so much was at stake. A horror of the 
 still, dingy street had taken him. Without 
 another word, he drew her arm tightly within 
 his, and was moving back along it past the 
 house and on. 
 
 " You'll be sorry," she gasped faintly. 
 She had fought to get free, but his strength 
 was ten times that of hers now. " You'll 
 be sorry. You don't know what I am or 
 what I Ve been." 
 
 " You are not that now," he said brokenly. 
 He half swung her round to face him. " You 
 are still still the woman you were when you 
 came to me in my hour of weakness ? Swear 
 that to me ! Oh, answer me, while I can ask 
 it ! There is only only that one week in 
 your life that you told me of ! Answer ! " 
 
 She looked up at him, white scorn in her 
 face, her teeth clenched. 
 
 " I can," she said slowly. " You kissed 
 me. You kissed me, and you need not be 
 ashamed to remember it." 
 
 No more. He had put his hand over her 
 lips, and drawn her on. He saw dimly now 
 just where the path was leading him, but 
 he had entered upon it for the woman's sake, 
 and would not turn back if all London tried to
 
 THE BORDERLAND 201 
 
 bar his way. If he had to put the world behind 
 him, the world must go. If she sank she sank 
 alone. With his arm about her both might 
 rise. 
 
 Very silent she was now. She was mastered 
 by a man. He had but a light touch upon 
 her arm as they came out from Holly Street 
 into Kingsland Road. True, she looked both 
 ways with a remnant of stubborn hesitation ; 
 but the shops were long since shut, and the 
 pavements nearly deserted. The night closed 
 around them again as they passed down the 
 street directly opposite. She could summon 
 her voice ; her face was partly hidden from 
 him. 
 
 " You'll be sorry," she repeated. " You 
 haven't thought." 
 
 " I have kept my word. Where are 
 we ? ... Yes, make me think now ! let 
 me think for both of us ! What have I 
 done ? " 
 
 ' What what you can undo without going 
 another yard." 
 
 " Ah ! " He smiled past her, as she came 
 to a stop. " Don't think that ; you little 
 know me yet. It might have been months 
 years before I brought myself to such a 
 step ; but to-night I was driven, and you 
 shan't find me a coward at a crisis. Yes, it 
 is a crisis ; and you must let me meet it 
 in my own way. If you trust me for the
 
 202 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 time, I'll answer to God for the rest. Do 
 you, Lou, or not ? " 
 
 "HI must, I must," she said, in a voice 
 growing calm. 
 
 " No, no, that does not answer me. Speak 
 from your heart, as I speak from mine. Do 
 you trust my motives ? my reason for bring- 
 ing you away from that." 
 
 " You've made me," it came at last. " No 
 woman could stand against you." She 
 looked away. " Do what you think best," 
 she whispered. " I won't say another 
 word." 
 
 He drew her hand between his, and found 
 it cold, and chafed it gently, thinking hard 
 the while. 
 
 ' Yes, you may talk now," he said. " We 
 will talk together. We can be as calm now 
 as two people who have come along a precipice 
 safely. What is there of yours left in that 
 house ? " 
 
 " A a box ? " 
 
 " Only one ? Unpacked ? " 
 
 " No ; only uncorded. That and a small 
 one." 
 
 " Then to-morrow I will fetch them from 
 the place myself. Yes, I shall do that." 
 She had given a tremor. " And now that 
 is settled, and for ever forgotten. And now, 
 what of to-night ? " 
 
 She had no answer attempted none. She
 
 THE BORDERLAND 203 
 
 was completely abandoned to his mastery, 
 with a strange vista ahead of her along which 
 she would not try to look. 
 
 "If," he said, " I got you a room some- 
 where close here as I ought to be able to do 
 I should have to stand outside it the night 
 long. No, no, not that I think you would 
 mean to deceive me escape from me. But 
 there is all the past to pull you back ; and 
 only this one passing hour to let you realize 
 what is real and earnest, and how different 
 life may seem if there is always some one close 
 at hand to help you. And so " 
 
 " Trust me once," she said. " I can go 
 anywhere you can't. Trust me by myself 
 to-night ; and then " 
 
 " I couldn't, Lou I couldn't. I seem to 
 know so well what would happen. You 
 would tell yourself you were a stumbling- 
 block in my path ; you would be gone by 
 morning. I should never know where and 
 how your life had ended." 
 
 " Do you want to ? " she asked, with sud- 
 den huskiness. " Do you want to know, as 
 much as all that ? " 
 
 " I kissed you," John Laverock replied, 
 looking away, his chafing hand becoming 
 still. " I am going to be quite honest with 
 myself. I kissed you ; and you knew it. 
 Until that moment, I had never wished to 
 kiss a woman in that way. I cannot explain ;
 
 204 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 I cannot understand ; I can only tell you the 
 truth." 
 
 And through her upturned, amazed eyes 
 gradually shone the glory of a wonder and 
 belief the first faintly vague dawn of awaken- 
 ing pride in the womanhood that she had but 
 just reached. It might fade ; the shutter of 
 ironic incredulity might intervene again ; 
 but it had shone there for a moment. 
 
 " It is past eleven, dear," he said quietly. 
 He had stood, his hands gripping hers pre- 
 ciously, till he suddenly remembered he had 
 a watch. " I am afraid I have brought you 
 into a false position. . . . No, no, I have not ! 
 Why should we care, as long as we have some- 
 thing to hope for ? ... Are you afraid ? 
 afraid to take my own front room for just 
 this night, while I take the back ? If so, 
 I won't say a word to persuade you. I will 
 do anything your woman's brain suggests 
 except except that I know I could not rest 
 until I saw you safe again to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well, then," she said, her lips 
 setting a little. " What you mean is, that 
 you wish me to take the back room, and you 
 the front. Then you can trust me. I can't 
 think of anything if you cannot." 
 
 They moved on again, less quickly. He had 
 stated a proposition, but neither he nor she 
 had the least belief in its reality. An inevit- 
 able lethargy had succeeded the whirlwind :
 
 THE BORDERLAND 205 
 
 vague ecstasy in the man at his own daring 
 and triumph mute, unspeakable awe in the 
 woman at her own blind obedience to the 
 man. 
 
 They passed within a few yards of Miss 
 Valj can's stately-looking house. The man 
 looked up, and saw the crimson-shaded light 
 in Bede's room. If he could have called 
 to Bede, and to Bede alone, he would have 
 said : " Look look ! ' There is no sin 
 where no sin is intended ! ' I win her for 
 God not for myself." And the woman, 
 about to pause and speak again before it 
 became too late, as it seemed, saw the working 
 of his haggard but happy face, and realized 
 anew that nothing she could say to-night 
 would shake his determination. 
 
 Perhaps, had it been possible to prolong 
 that walk indefinitely, he would willingly 
 have done so. But he knew her ; he believed 
 he could follow the mazes of her mind as she 
 moved beside him. So essentially human 
 herself, so steeped in the practical and com- 
 monplace, it was for him to avoid anything 
 which might give her a doubt of his sanity. 
 So he drew up without any show of hesitation 
 a pace or so from Mrs. BHnco's gateway. It 
 was a moment palpitating with mystery and 
 problem from the view-point of the world 
 around ; but John Laverock spoke as natur- 
 ally as though none existed.
 
 206 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " In the morning perhaps I may decide 
 to tell her. To-night, if she should be waiting 
 up, it would be difficult to make her under- 
 stand, and " 
 
 " Yes, she'd drive me out," Lou finished 
 for him. Much of her wonted composure 
 seemed to have returned, but her breath 
 came faster, and her dry, dilated eyes showed 
 a fear of the dark silence behind and ahead 
 that maybe she had never felt until now. 
 " She'd drive me out at sight, and you too ; 
 and you know it your voice shows. You 
 can't deceive me." 
 
 " I don't mean to," he said gravely. " If 
 you can trust me, all questions are answered 
 that you and I need trouble about. Eleven 
 o'clock is not of our own deliberate choosing, 
 always remember. Besides " he chafed her 
 hand again, and smoothed back the disordered 
 hair from her brows " these rooms are quite 
 my own, until I give up tenancy. Have no 
 fear at all ! " 
 
 "And then then what about the morning?" 
 she breathed, half clinging, half resisting. 
 It could be only himself and his own position 
 that she was troubled over, he told himself 
 with a twinge and yet with a fresh thrill of 
 hope for her womanhood. 
 
 " Leave that to me, cannot you ? You 
 forget one thing, Lou. It means this and 
 only this." He bent close, " J have your
 
 THE BORDERLAND 207 
 
 honour to guard from now; and my own honour 
 depends on my doing that. You can under- 
 stand ? Then, let all else go. Listen quite 
 calmly, will you ? " 
 
 " Yes yes I am ! " 
 
 " I am going in with my key. I must leave 
 you here a minute perhaps longer oh, you 
 don't know how I trust you now ! Then I 
 have simply to open the glass doors there. 
 Just that." 
 
 He pressed and released her hands. 
 Amber Lou caught at his arm again, and 
 stood an instant, looking beyond him. Then, 
 with a quiver of her breath, she walked quietly 
 on alone, through the gateway, and to the 
 end of the small square of ground fronting 
 the windows. He could see her, through the 
 evergreen border, standing very still. Startled 
 for the moment, he understood ; and his heart 
 swelled. 
 
 " God bless you, dear," he said across the 
 border. " I will not keep you long like that." 
 
 He went steadily in as usual, just swinging 
 the gate to after him. His key clicked, and 
 the door closed behind him. The bolts shot 
 into place, leaving the woman outside. And, 
 as it was to be, a questioning, shawl-draped 
 figure rose from a sentinel-post in the kitchen. 
 Mrs. Blinco had chosen to wait.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Mr - Laverock ? " 
 
 " It is ! " 
 
 " You do know the time, I presume, sir ? " 
 she asked, coldly solemn. " I may be for- 
 given for thinking you out of your senses, I 
 hope ? " 
 
 " Certainly certainly," he called back, 
 almost cheerfully. Yet how his heart 
 throbbed ! "As long as I am not, and time 
 proves it, what odds ? " 
 
 " Odds ? " she repeated. She was not 
 feigning her suppressed indignation. " A 
 sick man, barely up from his bed, to go career- 
 ing about the streets until twenty to midnight? 
 Is that nothing ? If I had been a professional 
 nurse you would not have dared. As it is 
 well, there, I consider it unkind ungrateful." 
 And the shawl-fringe went to her eyes. She 
 had watched the clock, and burned gas, for 
 over two hours. Andjie walked in as if nothing 
 had happened and seemed none the worse ! 
 
 " Oh, come ! " he said, a little impatiently. 
 " I have work in the world to do, like your- 
 self, and I must try to do it. But but I 
 
 208
 
 THE BORDERLAND 209 
 
 am tired ; you'll believe that. I want no- 
 thing nothing at all, thank you. Good- 
 night ! " 
 
 She stood like a drab ghost in the dimness 
 
 for a moment, looking at him, as he held open 
 
 the back-room door. His voice recalled her. 
 
 " Is is Mr. Blinco in ? " he asked a little 
 
 thickly. 
 
 " He is," she replied, with emphasis. " Well 
 you may enquire. It appears to me that the 
 world is slowly going upside down slowly 
 but very surely. Ah, well, I'm no one I 
 don't count." 
 
 ' You've been very, very good," he rapped 
 out. " I shall repay you, for all. Is that 
 enough ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't speak of that never mind 
 that. I shall never be missed not even by 
 my own husband. Good-night ! There is 
 your medicine the doctor's boy brought it. 
 Take it ; I don't expect you to drink it. 
 Good-night ! " 
 
 He held his breath, literally, until sure that 
 the door above the staircase had closed 
 finally. He held it for another spell until 
 his heart threatened to burst. Then he 
 turned the door-key on the inside, and walked 
 to the folding-doors. He would not hurry, 
 he told himself. But 
 
 " Oh, Lou, Lou ! " he was saying, in a moan 
 of misgiving, as he had to take that silent 
 
 o
 
 2io THE BORDERLAND 
 
 leap across the front room. " I trusted you ! " 
 
 He shot up the blind. And she was there, 
 with only the glass between. She had not 
 stirred. He waited just a moment, his pale 
 face smiling back at her reassuringly. Then 
 steadily he slid back the fastenings. One 
 unseeing glance she gave at the night around, 
 one back at himself, and then was inside. 
 He just pressed her hand again. " Victory ! " 
 he whispered. 
 
 It was not for her to understand not yet. 
 As far as she grasped, he might be meaning 
 his own fleshly triumph over another man 
 Cobra King. But he whispered it : " Vic- 
 tory ! " and it had a fear-dispersing sound. 
 
 She had been to these rooms before ; but 
 now all was different. At first she would 
 not move. Then, lifting her head, she gave 
 before her the swift look of a startled child. 
 Her face flamed. It was new, sudden, con- 
 sciousness of her sex. The flame, dying out, 
 left her very white. But all that the man 
 did not seem to see. 
 
 He had lowered the blinds, turned up the 
 gas, and moved about the room quietly but 
 not on tiptoe, or stealthily. Once again he 
 had been forgetting all about his supper, but 
 it had been spread out there with a sarcastic 
 elaboration by Mrs. Blinco's hands, and it had 
 a not unwelcome look in the mystic nebulosity 
 which, spite of himself, still clung about the
 
 THE BORDERLAND 211 
 
 situation. In fact, as he moved, he kept 
 turning his head furtively. He half thought 
 the still figure of Amber Lou must be a myth 
 that would vanish. And oh, the tense, 
 suppressed joy of each realization that she 
 was standing there ! 
 
 He thought rapidly, and decided that 
 nothing could be more natural than to insist 
 upon her sharing the meal with him. That 
 would break the spell for her. He was not 
 fearing in the least now ; but she was a 
 woman. And the world casts the stone at 
 the woman, and never at the man. 
 
 It was solely the stern necessity to whisper 
 everything that galled him now. 
 
 " Still," he said, " it is only just to ourselves, 
 and kind to her. Let her sleep quite peace- 
 fully, now she can. I do feel happy, Donna ! 
 It's a new feeling something more than 
 happiness . I have done the only thing I could 
 think of in the circumstances, and I'm not 
 going to let you regret it in the least. I don't ! " 
 
 " Sure ? " she whispered, looking at him. 
 On her part, she was beginning to wonder 
 hazily just when and where the " preacher " 
 had slipped from him, and only the " man " 
 had been left . She only knew she could never, 
 never, think of him as anything but a man 
 again. 
 
 " Perfectly ! " 
 
 " And yet yet you might have been lying
 
 212 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 dead by now. He meant it to-night this 
 time," she said, still standing stiff. " You 
 don't know, but I knew. He had waited for 
 you not me with that stone. He meant 
 it, and he means it still." 
 
 " Then, we won't fear. Forewarned, we 
 shall be forearmed. Just leave everything 
 to me from this moment. You're still very 
 cold, although it is really warm to-night ! " 
 He took off her jacket, and then her hat, 
 and laid them carefully upon a chair. He 
 would have lit a fire had he dared. Instead, 
 he drew her to the table. 
 
 " Now, dear, don't say a word to wound 
 me. Eat half of my supper, and I will eat the 
 other half not because we want it, but be- 
 cause it is wise. What is there ? Not much 
 for ' a grand house ', I'm afraid, Lou. Still, 
 we're quite happy ! " He had to fall back 
 on that iteration again. 
 
 Amber Lou put a piece of bread to her 
 mouth, and paused. With wide blue eyes 
 she stared straight before her. A series of 
 sudden little chokes followed each other 
 quickly in her throat. The man reached 
 across, held her hand, said " No ! " in a deep, 
 quiet voice ; and she was stilled. 
 
 " I won't again, "she said, almost piteously. 
 " But you know you know how you found 
 me." 
 
 " Enough ! " he said, in the same hushing
 
 THE BORDERLAND 213 
 
 way. " I have drawn a line behind us, 
 and you will not cross it again while I live. 
 Now, eat ! " 
 
 She obeyed, in a subdued, stupefied man- 
 ner. Now and then, when he looked across, 
 her filmed blue eyes, watching him so intently, 
 gave him a faint, half-unconscious, smile 
 that made him want to leap up, and kneel 
 beside her and draw her head on his shoulder, 
 and thank her. But to do anything of that, 
 he knew, might bring the outburst that 
 nothing could check. All was strange ; all 
 was uncertain save that she was gradually 
 fitting herself to the position trying to be 
 the woman he believed her to be. That was 
 wonderful enough ! 
 
 Now the meal was over. He was not going 
 to sit and talk to her, as if eager to prolong the 
 mere novelty. As he rose, she stood up ; 
 but he motioned her back. 
 
 ' You've been so brave so tactful far 
 more than I could have asked. Be so still ! " 
 
 He went across to the broad, old-fashioned 
 couch in the corner, and quietly stripped 
 away the coverings. Her under-lip twitching 
 now and then, she watched him moving to 
 and fro between the folding- doors. In a few 
 minutes she knew that he had practically 
 transferred the bulk of his own bedding to 
 the couch. She wanted to rise up against it, 
 but could not ; the very naturalness of the
 
 214 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 man's method conveyed to her the highest 
 sense of his delicacy and resolution. But, 
 finally, when the pillows had been placed, 
 the woman in her revolted. She would not 
 be outdone. She walked through and stood 
 looking down at his own mattress with a 
 sensation not easily described. 
 
 " Yes, I will see I will speak," she whis- 
 pered. " I've not said anything, but I knew 
 you were not even fit to be out of doors to- 
 night, much less this ! Bring half of them 
 back, please ! " 
 
 He stood firm. So did Amber Lou. Be- 
 fore it could reach smiling-point, she pushed 
 past him and showed what she meant. Then, 
 with her own hands, she calmly prepared his 
 bed. She went up to him, without a pause. 
 
 " Now you know whether you can trust 
 her. Good-night ! " 
 
 " I shall not say it," he said quietly. 
 " It sounds like a farewell even that word. 
 No ; you'll be so near that I need only say 
 ' God bless you ! ' " 
 
 She turned away. She turned again, drew 
 his face down a little abruptly, and put her lips 
 to his cheek ; as to say that she could appre- 
 ciate all, and that she was woman enough to 
 divine where the " victory " really lay that 
 night between the fleshly and the spiritual 
 forces within himself. 
 
 She went through, nearly closing the folding
 
 THE BORDERLAND 215 
 
 doors behind her. His own room was in 
 darkness, save for a glimmer from the low 
 gaslight he had left burning in hers. As he 
 moved quietly back, he found himself totter- 
 ing, in a weakness so pronounced that he 
 could wonder where all his nervous strength 
 had come from that evening. As he took 
 off his shoes, his eyes were closing in a deadly 
 weariness. Yet he sprang to the realization 
 sharply he must not sleep. Not for one 
 minute. There was the morning to be reck- 
 oned with. He had compelled her mute 
 compliance on every point. 
 
 He lay down on the bed just as he was. 
 Without listening, he knew that Amber 
 Lou, in her room, had done the same. He 
 was wishing earnestly she might be able to 
 forget herself for a few hours, but dared not 
 go beyond the bare hope. 
 
 Sleep ? Nay. A sort of vertigo had taken 
 his brain round and round like a maelstrom 
 the moment his head touched the pillows. 
 It frightened him. He swayed up, coldest 
 sweat breaking out at every pore. He sat 
 in tremor after tremor. If if the threaten- 
 ing physical breakdown came now ! 
 
 A gulp of cold water kept it at bay. If he 
 could only venture to draw those folding-doors 
 quite close, she might not have to hear him 
 tip-toeing to and fro. A long time he waited, 
 as it seemed ; and then stole to do it. And
 
 216 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 instantly came her voice, in two breathless 
 bursts, telling that she was upon her feet. 
 
 " What is it ? What is the time ? " 
 
 He started back as if the woodwork had 
 burned him. Only with the greatest effort 
 he controlled his throat. 
 
 " It's all right. You're not to worry about 
 me. I felt faint unwell and I did not 
 wish to disturb you. That's all." 
 
 " I ought to worry," came her voice, softly 
 vehement, in the pause. " You were ill. 
 I knew it when I first looked at you. Can 
 I_can I " 
 
 " Hush no ! I'm very much annoyed 
 with myself for making you think that. 
 You are to lie down, dear, and just forget 
 everything, as I am going to do. I'll call you 
 in time long before any one is about." 
 
 Another pause. He had cunningly drawn 
 the doors almost together by degrees. 
 Then 
 
 " I don't believe you ! " flashed from be- 
 hind them, dangerously audible. " How 
 would you wake ? how could you ? I know. 
 You were going to sit up ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, Lou ! Don't get excited. Look 
 here could you sleep, if I can ? " 
 
 " No 1 " 
 
 And he gave a little groan. 
 
 " I thought not. I've roused you. But 
 try. I'm gone. Try ! "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 217 
 
 He slipped away, looked out through the 
 back window, and wondered how the stark 
 hours, with his nerves still at that elastic 
 stretch of suspense, were to be lived through. 
 He tried to forget her to keep his mind 
 from treacherously passing the doors and 
 catching a glimpse of her as she lay with her 
 eyes wide open ; but he found that an im- 
 possibility. He had been swept by yearning 
 pity into that kiss ; he had looked deeper 
 into her woman's soul than any other man had 
 done ; and it was not to be humanly sup- 
 posed she could forget in an hour. 
 
 Sitting on the edge of the bed, he forced 
 himself out of a partial stupor, and looked 
 again at his watch. Ten minutes to two. 
 He listened for her breathing, but could hear 
 nothing. To and fro he went tip-toeing, now 
 and then putting a hand to his head to keep 
 back that intolerable foreboding of collapse. 
 He thought of his medicine, and drank 
 a double dose at random he would do any- 
 thing to keep capable and clear-headed until, 
 say, half -past five. 
 
 Now it was half-past two. In about three 
 hours more the obstinate sky out there would 
 be streaked with grey dawn. Then he would 
 steal out to the kitchen and make a cup of 
 tea no, two cups. A little later, he would 
 unfasten the glass doors and walk quietly 
 from the house with her ; and Mrs. Blinco
 
 218 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 might conclude that his madness had ex- 
 tended now to long tramps before break- 
 fast. Beyond that point his speculations 
 would not go. 
 
 " Oh, this pain this sickness ! " he cried 
 to himself once, with suppressed impatience. 
 " Oh, if I could sleep for one hour, and be 
 sure of waking. One hour ! " 
 
 He flung himself down on the bed and 
 buried his face in his arms. A long time he 
 seemed to lie, trying to force a lethargy and 
 yet struggling against it. There were sharp 
 little agonies darting like lightning-streaks 
 through his forehead, and at times a " winding 
 up " of his brain that seemed about to go on 
 to snapping point. But he bore it, seldom 
 stirring only clenching his teeth against 
 any sound, or swinging up an arm in the 
 darkness now and again. 
 
 He had heard nothing. Maybe the lethargy 
 was gaining hold without his knowledge. 
 He could not move, when there came a rustle 
 so soft and so intangible as to suggest the 
 entry of a spirit. Something was hovering 
 over him ; something that bent close, and 
 that tried not to breathe too palpably. He 
 opened his eyes suddenly wide. 
 
 " Oh," he said, with a moan, his arm flung 
 up. " Oh, this night ! " 
 
 " I know ! " Closer still she stooped, and 
 put her hand upon his forehead. " Lie
 
 THE BORDERLAND 219 
 
 still. I know ! I've watched you till I 
 couldn't bear it any longer." 
 
 She slipped her hand to and fro very softly 
 through the wave of hair above his temples, 
 as if instinct told her where the " lifting " 
 pain must lie. Again and again the man 
 moaned, and then he was still. The touch 
 Amber Lou's touch although not trained 
 to softness, came like a velvety green oasis 
 and soothed his raw nerves as nothing else 
 could have done. When it seemed about 
 to cease he groped out to hold her to 
 him. 
 
 " Yes, all right," came her far-away whis- 
 per. " I'm here. I ought to have known 
 I did ! Let everything go. I'll know just 
 what to do." 
 
 The minutes passed oh, so slowly, so 
 curiously ! Her effort had tired, but the 
 lulling caress went on, save at moments when 
 her own weary head sank forward. If she 
 paused for ever so little, his breathing, growing 
 deeper, seemed about to break in a quiver, 
 and his arm made that groping movement. 
 Sleep had come to him, she felt almost posi- 
 tive ; and yet the mind within him was 
 afraid to cease work on her account ! 
 
 She stole her face round once just once 
 to look past the crevice of his blind. There 
 was just a suspicion of sickliness in the sky 
 out there, but nothing more. Unthinkingly
 
 220 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 automatically she went to lift her aching 
 body from the cramped position. And a 
 long tremble went through her as the silence 
 was cut by his dull, weak little cry. 
 
 " Don't go ! " 
 
 " Not ? " she said, looking low into his 
 face. " Not ? You want me ? ... 'Sh ! No, 
 I won't go ! " 
 
 She paused. And then, ever so softly, she 
 lay down beside him, and drew his head 
 close to her, and held him tightly so, his cheek 
 
 buried against the quick throb of her heart. 
 * * * * * 
 
 It was full daylight when John Laverock 
 heard a sound through his dreams as of 
 muffled drums beating. It was the incessant 
 tap of fingers against his door panels. 
 
 " No no ! " he half shouted, starting up. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Laverock ? 
 Breakfast ready, when you are. Nearly nine 
 o'clock ! " 
 
 He stared around. He was alone. He 
 looked at the pillow beside his but he was 
 alone. Fear and vast wonder ay shame and 
 joy held him in their grip for a minute. Then 
 he saw a folded scrap of paper pinned to his 
 mirror there. As if still dreaming he read 
 the few words that had been scrawled across 
 it with a stump of pencil. 
 
 " Just six o'clock. Am going. Do nothing 
 to-day but rest, because I ask you. Shall
 
 THE BORDERLAND 221 
 
 pass by end of street about 7 to-night, if 
 you wish it." 
 
 " Bless her ! Bless her ! " he said brokenly, 
 crumpling it up. " I will ! " It was a new 
 voice, even to himself. The weak sunlight 
 flooding the room was more golden than 
 ever it had seemed before. 
 
 He trod to the folding-doors as toward 
 something semi-sacred. It seemed beyond 
 belief : she had carried back her couch- 
 coverings in silence, and removed all visible 
 traces. Then she had gone out by the glass 
 doors just at daybreak, wedging them to- 
 gether with a bit of wood after her. It was 
 he who had slept that night, and not Amber 
 Lou. 
 
 He refastened the windows, and went 
 back. And then Mrs. Blinco was tapping 
 again with his breakfast, and the never-to-be- 
 forgotten interval had to pass into the realm 
 of memory.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 AGAINST all traditions, at noon that day 
 the sun hung like a great orange be- 
 hind a veil of heat. By four o'clock it was 
 a fading crimson blotch behind the bank 
 of slate-coloured cloud that forged over 
 London, giving it an unnatural, funereal 
 appearance. People turned up their faces 
 for a breath of air that was not, and to wonder 
 what the heavens were plotting. 
 
 For John Laverock the sun had not lost 
 a shred of its first brightness. He trod 
 Kingsland Road, and then Holly Street, 
 with the air of a man detached from his 
 surroundings. Two small facts, if he could 
 have halted to realize, were typical of his 
 changed mental condition : Hoxton seemed 
 to have slid quite into a background, and he 
 had forgotten Bede Valjean Bede, who 
 lay propped up in that room and waited 
 for him. 
 
 The obscure street just off Dalston Lane 
 looked not nearly as dramatic and depressing 
 now as it had looked by night. But, for him, 
 there would ever be evil in its sinister silence
 
 THE BORDERLAND 223 
 
 its pretence at respectable unobtrusiveness. 
 It was the supine tentacle of an octopus, 
 waiting to absorb its prey. He walked its 
 length for the last time, and knocked at the 
 house. 
 
 A woman put her head from an upper 
 window and looked at him. He looked 
 back at her in silence. She came down, opened 
 the door two inches, and looked him up and 
 down again. He had an unmistakable " cut." 
 
 " Yes, I knocked. Are you afraid of me ? " 
 he asked straightly. 
 
 " Who are you ? " She looked as if her 
 nights and days were spent between her bed 
 and the card-table. Every trace of feminine 
 freshness had been burned out of her skin. 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 " Only to know if Miss Bohannan is in." 
 
 " Who on earth's that ? " 
 
 There was a pause. Then another woman's 
 voice came from a quarter invisible. 
 
 " He means that girl who came Saturday 
 night. She went out yesterday evening, 
 and hasn't been back." 
 
 " Thanks thanks ! " His heart leaped. 
 He put a foot on the mat. " I have simply 
 called for her boxes. She will not be back. 
 If you'll just " 
 
 The woman silently yielded way for him. 
 There was a look about him which seemed 
 wholly incompatible with natural deductions,
 
 224 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 but which compelled obedience. She pointed, 
 and ran back to whisper with the other woman. 
 
 He had stepped into a room that was 
 gloomy and stuffy. He could have shuddered 
 at the tawdry draperies at the few innocent- 
 looking prints on the wall. Striking a match, 
 he found the boxes two cheap tin things. 
 He would not glance at their contents, to 
 see if they were worth plucking from this 
 place ; but for just a moment it was hot in 
 him to stride out and say : "I have changed 
 my mind. She will not require again any- 
 thing that was left here of hers." But there 
 might be a relic some small memento of 
 the past to which Amber Lou had clung. 
 He retied the cord, gripped both boxes in 
 one hand, and stepped out. 
 
 " There was a trifle to pay, I understand," 
 he said bluntly. 
 
 This time they were prepared for him, 
 with folded hands, little coughs, and business- 
 like attitudes. He saw at a glance that they 
 had jumped to an inspiration he was engaged 
 in Rescue Work. 
 
 " Yes. Fifteen shillings," one said sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 " Nonsense," he replied. 
 
 "You think so?" she tittered. "Then 
 perhaps you will be good enough to put back 
 the boxes and allow Miss What's-her-name 
 to settle her own affairs."
 
 THE BORDERLAND 225 
 
 He looked from face to face, but neither 
 flinched in the least. It was a novelty, for 
 the time of day. 
 
 " You might lower your demand if I 
 called the police," he suggested. 
 
 " Oh, we are quite friendly with the police, 
 thank you," was the reply, convincing enough. 
 
 " In that case," he said, taking his resolu- 
 tion, " you must send them after me, for 
 that is all I have with me, and all I intend 
 to pay you." 
 
 He put down half-a-sovereign, and walked 
 out with the boxes. He heard a smothered 
 cascade of laughter behind, and knew that 
 there was no risk of a denouement. In five 
 minutes more the street was left behind 
 for ever. 
 
 It was not yet half-past five, but the air 
 had grown purply dark. A light in an upper 
 window showed him Mrs. Blinco's wavering 
 reflection on the blind there. He breathed 
 freely. Entering quietly with his key, he 
 slid the boxes far under his bed, knowing 
 from experience that they would be safe 
 there until Saturday morning, when the dust- 
 clouds drove him from the house. Then 
 he drank a cup of tea, and waited. Problems 
 had to solve themselves now as they arose. 
 
 As he stepped from the house again at 
 half-past six a greenish-yellow fork of light 
 darted down the heavens. It startled him
 
 226 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 a little, but he went on, merely wondering 
 that there had been no thunder. And it had 
 quite gone from his mind when, a few minutes 
 later, he saw a small, calm figure turn the 
 corner opposite to where he waited. He 
 went across, took her hands in his, looked 
 down into her face once, and was full of a 
 deep content. 
 
 " You are early ! " he whispered. 
 
 " So are you ! " she whispered back. The 
 scared, defiant stare had gone from her eyes. 
 There was only the least tremble in her hands. 
 
 "Don't talk yet," he said. " We won't 
 stand here. There is the evening before 
 
 us." 
 
 " And the storm," she added, in the same 
 bated way. It was as if both unconsciously 
 tried to pick up the thread where it had 
 dropped at dawn. 
 
 He had drawn her arm within his. It 
 seemed the right thing to do now now 
 that he had plucked her out of her own 
 element into his, with all its inevitable res- 
 traint and strangeness. Morally considered, 
 she was a wild thing, only lassoed into a 
 semblance of submission as yet. If he once 
 allowed her to realize the depth of what the 
 world termed the social gulf and there his 
 thoughts paused. There was one thing that 
 could bridge any human gulf, however deep, 
 at a bound, and that, even now, he felt
 
 THE BORDERLAND 227 
 
 a curious shame in contemplating. He wanted 
 to believe that something far deeper, far 
 nobler, had swayed him throughout. 
 
 They had walked on and on, like two shy 
 children, till almost the length of the long, 
 rural-like Southgate Road lay behind them. 
 In truth, there was something in her silence 
 that made him afraid to break his own. 
 Being a man, with limitations on certain 
 essential points, he had left it to her to devise 
 in the interval a way out of the temporary 
 dilemma as to ways and means. But no 
 effort to do so reflected itself in her face, 
 with its calmly-compressed lips, its absent 
 blue eyes, and its expression of half sad, 
 half stubborn abandonment to him. What, 
 he asked himself, if she had taken him literally 
 at his word in everything ! 
 
 One more baleful fork shot down the sky 
 ahead with the swiftness of a serpent's sting. 
 This time a distant growl made the still air 
 quiver. Two heavy rain-drops splashed upon 
 his hand and upon hers. 
 
 He drew her to a momentary standstill, 
 to try and realize that the night was not 
 normal. But all was deceptively still again. 
 To turn back seemed somehow like admitting 
 a disillusion or a fiasco. He went on, as 
 with an objective in sight ; and Amber Lou 
 walked passively beside him. He had assuredly 
 not intended to come citywards into these
 
 228 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 crowded streets ; and yet the very rush and 
 scurry around was a check upon this perilous, 
 lulling silence of theirs. 
 
 " Lou ! " he said " Donna, I mean 
 I'm going to call you that. Do you mind ? " 
 
 " Mind ? Where are we ? What is there 
 to mind if you like it ? " she answered, 
 as in a reverie. 
 
 They were passing the quiet oasis known 
 as Finsbury Circus, with its broad pavements, 
 its fountain, and its lordly proof of what the 
 State can achieve when it makes up its mind 
 to beautify drab areas. 
 
 " Are you tired, then ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I can hardly feel myself moving." 
 
 " But you have not left it until now to 
 to think ? " 
 
 " I have ! " she said, as if she had been 
 preparing herself for a stern reproof. " I have ! " 
 
 " You have nowhere to go when when 
 you leave me ? " 
 
 " Nowhere at all ! " 
 
 He was thrilled and silenced by mixed 
 sensations for a moment. Then he pressed 
 her hand quickly. 
 
 " Don't worry ! What have you done, 
 then, since since you left me ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! " It was the same passion- 
 less voice, but with something dormant in it. 
 
 "I see. You could not. What have / 
 done ? Nothing ! nothing but bring away
 
 THE BORDERLAND 229 
 
 your boxes from that place. I meant, where 
 did you go ? " 
 
 " I wanted to be all by myself you made 
 me ! I went by the tram, and it stopped at 
 Hampstead, and I sat down there in the 
 quiet that's all." 
 
 " But with nothing to eat all day ? " 
 He paused, looking into her face keenly. 
 
 " I never thought of it. I didn't want 
 it. No no ! " She checked his hand, drew 
 him on. " I don't want it now. Don't 
 keep thinking of me." 
 
 " But I must ! If I do not it will seem 
 as though I deliberately kept you in last 
 night's position. You have nowhere to go 
 except except Oh, Lou ! " 
 
 That was the extent of his effort. The 
 misgivings came so thickly, and paralysed 
 his faculties. What could he say what 
 ought he to do ? Sheer drugging impulses 
 seemed drawing them along a path to which 
 there was no visible end. What last night 
 had seemed a justifiable resource 
 
 Both paused simultaneously. He had not 
 the faintest idea as to where he was now, 
 and not time to ascertain. That thunder- 
 burst had come like the stunning roar of a 
 tiger leaping for their very throats. Amber 
 Lou gave a little cry and clung to his arm. 
 There was the briefest, vaguest pause 
 another buffeting roar an avalance of sudden
 
 230 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 rain that whipped the pavements into foam a 
 series of lightning-streaks which gave the 
 streets a ghastly illumination and a flight 
 of human figures that left them standing 
 alone as in a doomed, dead city. 
 
 " My precious ! " John Laverock gasped, 
 all unconsciously. He had thought to fling 
 his own coat about her frail shoulders, but 
 was half blinded. " In here ! ' ; 
 
 It was the dimly-lit portal of an old church 
 one of the old City churches that may have 
 stood for centuries, half forgotten, grandly, 
 coldly serene amid the rush of human progress. 
 
 As they panted through, the door was 
 closed against the rain-storm behind them. 
 The thunder without was drowned by that 
 of the organ high above the dim chancel 
 where tall candles flickered a light upon stone 
 figures and painted angels that had looked 
 down upon the same cloister-like vista for 
 ages. It was London, and yet it was like 
 stepping from earth across the threshold 
 of the realm we see in dreams. 
 
 Dotted here and there along the carved 
 oaken pews was the figure of a worshipper, 
 almost lost in the vast solemnity. Divine 
 service was being held. The voice of a man 
 robed in white, unreal in the far-back glow 
 of those candles, came through the hush as 
 steadily, as conscientiously, as though a full 
 assembly knelt there to worship the Almighty,
 
 THE BORDERLAND 231 
 
 as though no lorces of the Almighty were 
 whipping the fugitive thousands outside. 
 And the low organ wail, and the subdued 
 intonation of unseen figures, answered him 
 in the pauses, with the greatest and saddest 
 of all finalties in language the reverent, 
 sonorous, sublime " Amen ! " 
 
 Into the remotest shadowy recess of all 
 the man had drawn the woman's figure. 
 It had begun to tremble violently against 
 him, as his arm held her close. She had 
 closed her eyes, and could not open them 
 again. This vast solemnity spoke to her 
 of the end of all things ; to her mind the voice 
 of the white-robed man was the voice that 
 calls to account in the name of the Majesty 
 in which all men and women, from the 
 highest to the lowest, must keep their secret 
 belief. In this psychic hour of her career, 
 when all had grown uncertain and vague, 
 with possibilities hungering to sprout in the 
 dark so quickly that they might exhaust 
 their own vitality and die back, this great 
 revelation shone suddenly into her, and 
 seemed to lay her small soul bare. . . . Once 
 at the play a drama of the emotional type 
 even her scornful imagination had thrilled 
 at the sight of a stage-woman a woman 
 like herself driven out of a vile environment 
 by the light of the dawning Cross. In this 
 moment she was that woman !
 
 232 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 The voice went on. The voices answered 
 him. She seemed to fear to breathe. Mere 
 physical movement seemed to disturb the 
 workings of a Divine process. In the deep 
 obscurity of the high, old-fashioned pew the 
 man held her tightly to him, as if he under- 
 stood as if, through the storm, he had 
 been the unsuspecting instrument of God. 
 
 The steady down-slash of rain without 
 could just be heard. But it belonged to an- 
 other world. A great silence had folio wed the 
 organ's last swell and die-away. The white- 
 robed figure of the man had slowly advanced. 
 He looked before him, his hand upon the 
 eagle-winged lectern : looked across the dim 
 space seemed to be looking at themselves. 
 
 A wild sob that had been gathering in the 
 woman's throat, and shaking her breast, 
 threatened to burst from its bonds. The 
 man again as though he understood put a 
 hand to her lips, and pressed her to him. 
 
 " Be brave," he whispered. " Let God 
 speak. Listen ! He speaks to you ! " 
 
 And at last the waiting voice came. 
 
 " For you, to-night, I have no sermon, but 
 a simple allegory a message to those who go 
 through life saying : ' There is no Light 
 because the Light has never come to me ! ' 
 The picture of a man as I have seen him in 
 my thoughts blind, perverse, despairing, 
 when the truth knocked at his very door 1 "
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 drip, drip but no rain. Drip ! 
 at unnerving intervals, with now 
 and then that still smaller sound like that 
 of dry lips parting for a passive kiss, or a 
 dumb man straining in secret to regain his 
 voice. Two falling leaves had touched and 
 rustled ' good-bye ' ; or a shorn tree had 
 shivered inertly. Drip ! To the Man, watch- 
 ing from his closed window with dull, stubborn 
 eyes the pen cast aside that meant his 
 livelihood it was like the slow drain of 
 life-blood. His own ! 
 
 " He thought of Summer. O, God ! 
 Summer, in her whirl of yellow flame, who 
 came rushing back each year to blow breath 
 of poppies upon his chilled limbs and faculties, 
 who took him to her thyme-scented bosom 
 and wound her downy hair lovingly about 
 him, and from whose full breast he drank 
 the warm milk that was new life to her best- 
 beloved, most petulant, child the struggling 
 poet of moods ! Summer ! . . .To stand and 
 see this regal, full-blown rose scattered to 
 sodden soil ! To see November, the cold- 
 
 233
 
 234 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 breath' d, mist-haloed, cynical old grave- 
 digger, covering all with his fungi, his matted- 
 leaf rugs, and his crape of silence ! Out 
 of death, life yes ! Patient Nature would 
 endure her travail yet again ; Spring would 
 open its eyes to blink smiles or weep showers ; 
 but for that he would have to wait weary 
 months. And, being what he was, he had 
 convinced himself that he could not bear the 
 spell of waiting again that there was no 
 relief. When his power to work failed him 
 utterly, when the perverse despair reached 
 its fullest hold, he would fling open the corner 
 drawer, close his eyes, and clutch the cold 
 pistol lying there. It was something to think 
 that he might end all in a moment ! 
 
 " Asked, he would have said impatiently 
 that he knew no religion required none. 
 But he lied ! He worshipped his own comfort 
 the sun. 
 
 " He worshipped it with a passion, an 
 absorbing sincerity, that made all other 
 worships seem incredible and make-believe. 
 When the sun hung like a topaz in serene 
 blue, it was for him the only justification of 
 life. Those who could not see eye to eye 
 with him were insane. When the drab 
 days came like a shutter between, his heart 
 sank as though the tragic figure of Death 
 had climbed the throne of the universe for 
 ever. This was his blindness his inseparable
 
 THE BORDERLAND 235 
 
 selfishness. He resented the shy, veiled ap- 
 pearance of Nature in her period of gestation. 
 He was living only half his appointed exist- 
 ence ! Like the child at the play, he could 
 brook no intervals. He was numbed at his 
 desk robbed of inspiration and desire to 
 create. Poverty threatened. He would end 
 it. Sooner or later the culminating point 
 would come ! 
 
 " But Summer ! He flung open his doors, 
 strained out his arms in the glow, called to 
 the Woman to come and realize that every- 
 thing on earth save herself responded to 
 the sun's caress and justified his own bitter 
 theory. . . Winter ! At the first humid scent 
 of mushrooms he grew silent and foreboding. 
 No one must laugh aloud, or suggest that 
 the grey, stark stillness had a fitting place 
 in the mosaic of the seasons much less an 
 artistic one. He shut himself obstinately 
 in with his fire, and shivered rebelliously, and 
 nursed his dyspepsia, and only wrote in savage 
 spasms for the Woman's sake. And in his 
 heart he called God more than cruel. 
 
 " The Woman was watching, too. Watch- 
 ing the Man. He came always first : for 
 her, no time to think of seasons. She ' under- 
 stood ' him. That meant, she was expected 
 to understand ; she had been singled out to 
 be a struggling poet's soul-mate. His brain 
 was so much greater than hers ! She must
 
 236 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 never question or show surprise ; she must 
 see life as he saw it through his dark glasses. 
 Her great yearning love for him, her belief 
 in his genius and depth, made her an un- 
 conscious willing martyr. It told her when 
 to sing at her work, and when to be voiceless 
 and sad ; when to arrange his room, and 
 when to leave it severely untouched. She 
 knew, through closed doors, the moment 
 when to steal in and draw the pen from his 
 fiercely-gripping fingers and thaw his bitter- 
 ness once again close against her throbbing 
 heart. She knew when to cling to him as 
 her hero, and when to soothe him protectively 
 as her babe. The Man had picked a pearl 
 from the oyster of life, but held it so loosely 
 that it might fall from his grasp. And this 
 was what her love would never let her tell 
 him in words. 
 
 " She came in, hooded and cloaked for 
 her daily walk. His hand slipped away 
 from that corner drawer but that she was 
 not to know. It was just to look at him 
 to let her lips quiver in a mute kiss that need 
 not disturb him. And then. . . . 
 
 " He was crouching there, cold, stubborn, 
 breathless waiting for her to go ; but to 
 her he was a sick man who had turned upon 
 his pillow to watch the closing door. With 
 a little rush of fear and longing she was 
 suddenly beside him, and had gathered him
 
 THE BORDERLAND 237 
 
 determinedly to her, and smoothed back 
 his hair in the way known to some dear, 
 tender women, and looked deep into his 
 eyes. 
 
 " ' Yes yes loved one, there is light in 
 the darkness for those who seek to find ! The 
 days are passing our life is going,' she said, 
 keeping back the tremor in her voice. ' I 
 want you to leave all and come with me, just 
 this once only this once ! ' 
 
 " ' Out in that ? ' He shivered, and tried 
 to draw away. He laughed derisively, be- 
 cause she held him still. ' Out ? For the 
 mere love of mechanical walking ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' she whispered ; ' for love of me. 
 Wife knows ! Be still, my husband bend 
 to my will for just this one hour, I will 
 never ask it again. Never again ! ' 
 
 " She drew on his thick shoes and laced 
 them steadily. Dazedly he rose, as she fitted 
 his overcoat upon him, and put a hand over 
 his mouth for silence. He gasped, and gasped 
 again, as she drew him gently out of his 
 nerve-drugging atmosphere into the raw outer 
 world. The first tingle of it crept over him 
 like flies moving over bare flesh. A billow 
 of cold air seemed to engulf him and chill his 
 marrow and make the thing grotesquely 
 impossible ; but the Woman waited. He 
 was drawn on, shuddering ironically. So long 
 still at his desk, he walked stiffly as if on the
 
 238 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 stumps of feet ; but the Woman said nothing 
 only held his hand fast between hers. 
 
 " Grotesque ay ! What could there be 
 in this sodden, leafless cemetery of an earth 
 to make a man wish to remain upon it ! And 
 yet the Woman seemed almost happy, and 
 swung along beside him, and sang softly to 
 herself as over a secret still kept, and darted 
 him round once to make him see a spray of 
 living berries sticky with the shrouded mist 
 that prowled over the universal ruin ! And 
 now she was turning calmly into the woods. 
 The woods ! A lump had rattled in his 
 throat ; but she drew his face sharply down 
 and kissed him, and stunned him with amaze- 
 ment. He stumbled dully on. He felt like 
 a man dragged from the warm hollow of his 
 bed, thrown into the sea, and made to swim 
 for his life. 
 
 " Down the twilight of the long ride they 
 went, the Woman shaking back her hair, 
 and laughing warmly now as she pointed to 
 the plantation where stood in readiness the 
 conical firs of the children's Christmas dreams, 
 and jumping lightly across a ditch when the 
 Man walked round it, and seeming never to 
 read the thing brooding beneath his silence. 
 
 " Into the sponge of moss his feet sank. 
 He loathed it all tensely ; he was unshakably 
 bitter ; summer was dead, and there was no 
 known compensation none ! Down the once
 
 THE BORDERLAND 239 
 
 green drives, where in summer he had held 
 his breath for the dance of the shy elves upon 
 emerald velvet, his sunken eyes looked now 
 for the noiseless glide-by of the funeral coach. 
 Across the solemn glades, where lemon lengths 
 of light had quivered like shaken lances, 
 where crimson tints had imparted the holy 
 beauty of an old cathedral, where the very 
 hush had been rich with the rush of dream- 
 angels' wings,* he saw nothing now but the 
 mist-ghoul, prowling stealthy and poacher- 
 like, licking the trees that stood as sentinels 
 dead at their posts. The birds were silent ; 
 the scampering life of the undergrowth had 
 gone torpid in its burrows or lay with its 
 tiny stiff feet pointing mutely skyward. 
 The mystery was torn away from everything. 
 That mossy niche, curtained by a mystic 
 drapery of creeper-tendrils, where often he 
 had sat with the Woman's head nestled against 
 him, was a naked, dreary burial-mound 
 now. A few red leaves clung on ; a few 
 pitiful trailers hung bleached and dry like 
 the hair of an old crone's head ; but the 
 glamour was gone at the best these were 
 but the few wisps of bunting left at dawn in 
 a dismantled ball-room. It was November ! 
 And without the warmth and the glamour 
 he had told himself finally that the blood 
 could not move in his veins and permit him 
 to write for money..
 
 240 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " And now they had come out into the 
 road at the far side, and he had turned 
 watering, incredulous, desolate eyes upon the 
 Woman, as he realized that he must follow the 
 circuit of the long road all round, or recross 
 the naked woods. And again she drew his 
 face quickly down to hers, and blew upon his 
 fingers and hushed his lips with her hand, 
 and drew him on again this strange Woman ! 
 And she had plucked a few starved black- 
 berries, and pretended to find them sweet and 
 fit for food ; but he drew savagely away from 
 that last word in mockery of make-believe. 
 He had obeyed her whim but he had no 
 wish to live on. 
 
 " And so on and on they tramped between 
 the hedgerows, the Woman still singing 
 softly to her inner self, the Man still staring 
 ahead, and carrying along his sense of in- 
 justice and finality. His own cheeks might 
 be sickly, but he had glanced at hers, and 
 seen the pseony tint creeping into their thin- 
 ness ; and so he dared not say what he wished. 
 Till the gate at last creaked behind them 
 again, he preserved his bitter silence, and 
 thought of the pistol in the corner drawer 
 his revenge upon the world that looked to 
 him to make bricks without straw. 
 
 " And then he turned her round in the 
 path, and pointed to the grey lava of dusk 
 that was blotting out every landmark
 
 THE BORDERLAND 241 
 
 " ' Look ! ' he said. ' Look at it, and 
 ask why all inspiration is dried up in me 
 why I would prefer death itself to this death- 
 in-life ! ' 
 
 " But the Woman, passing on, only turned 
 a strange, maddening little smile up to his 
 angry stare. 
 
 " They went in. She threw open the door 
 of his room, where the fire burned redly to 
 welcome him back after his nameless ordeal. 
 He strode toward it, and drew back a little, 
 with an unconscious puff-out of his breath ; 
 and threw off his overcoat, and drew back 
 farther still and stood and looked at her, 
 his haggard face suddenly streaked. 
 
 Why ' 
 
 " ' Eh ? ' she cried. ' Eh, dear one ? * 
 The light in her wide eyes danced behind 
 tears like leaping firelight seen through the 
 windows of a dark room. ' Eh ? ' She flung 
 her arms around his neck. ' Eh, husband ? ' 
 she cried, yet again. ' Loved one, what is it ? ' 
 
 " And he put up a hand to his eyes, like 
 one blinded by a revelation. And his voice 
 choked in wonder and doubt and gratitude 
 unspeakable. 
 
 " ' Why phew ! . . . What does it mean ? 
 Open that door !. . . This this isn't winter ! . . . 
 It is all different. I can think I can work 
 
 Tm warm \ ' 
 
 ***** 
 
 Q
 
 242 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " And so may the mist of perversity fall 
 from the eyes of all who continue to walk in 
 pitiful darkness. And in such manner may 
 the great awakening the eternal Light of 
 God's infinite wisdom shine into the void. 
 
 " Amen ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 11 /^OME in," said Bede Valjean, in his 
 \^4 panting, thin voice. " I know you. 
 Come in." 
 
 The portiere rings clashed softly, travelled 
 back again, and John Laverock had entered. 
 A long, long time it seemed since he had 
 stepped into the heated silence of this room 
 noticeably less oppressive to-night, be- 
 cause of the chill sting in the air outside. He 
 was pausing. In truth, he had feared, while 
 he longed, to look again into the face of the 
 man or boy who sat among the cushions 
 there, the hair brushed back from his alabas- 
 ter forehead, the velvet jacket hiding his 
 frailty, the great dark eyes so softly search- 
 ing, the curve of his spine buried among the 
 cushions. 
 
 " All alone ? " John Laverock asked. 
 It seemed he must say something, however 
 superfluous or commonplace, before he took 
 his quick stride forward. 
 
 " All alone," Bede whispered, watching 
 him. It was John Laverock and yet John 
 Laverock with a difference. " Sit down ! 
 
 243
 
 244 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Don't let the fact of a blank month come 
 between us for a minute ! " 
 
 " Is it really that a month ? Oh, don't 
 say so ! " 
 
 He had moved a chair so that his back was 
 to the light. It brought a little smile flicker- 
 ing to Bede's lips lips that were always on 
 the quiver as if about to speak jestingly. 
 Then, as the other's face flushed a little, he 
 groped out his hand in the old way. 
 
 " Only by the almanack, old chap ! There 
 it hangs, as the minister brought it. There 
 is a text for every day in the year. I asked 
 him this morning on what basis they were 
 chosen, and why ' Rejoice merrily ' from 
 Solomon's Song should fit Wednesday, the 
 23rd of November, more than any other day, 
 and whether everybody was expected to 
 look at it and begin rejoicing irrespective of 
 their real feelings. He thought it a cynical 
 joke of mine. A good sort, he doesn't know 
 that a cynic is merely a man who tells the 
 truth without coating his pill. He really 
 loves truth, but I mustn't remind him that 
 his graveyard is a monument of living lies. 
 What do you make of such men, John ? He 
 is an unconscious slave to habit, isn't he ? 
 like the County Council, that gravely prints 
 ' Wash and brush up ' on all its public baths 
 and lavatories. Those are the little things 
 I have to sit up here and laugh at to myselfg
 
 THE BORDERLAND 245 
 
 A man brushed ' up,' instead of down, would 
 be ' brushed up ' in temper, eh ? " 
 
 He was talking at random to clear the air 
 and bring a smile ; but no smile came. John 
 Laverock did not seem to have heard. He 
 had brought his eyes round at last to look 
 into Bede's face, saw that there was the 
 change he had feared, and looked away again, 
 little lumps clicking like hailstones in his 
 throat. 
 
 " I was a coward," he burst out in the 
 pause. " What it cost me to come, after 
 this blank, you had better not ask." 
 
 " I never meant to," Bede's small whisper 
 shot back. "If we all had windows to our 
 souls most of us would need to keep the 
 blinds down. Why not you, at times ? 
 How can you expect to be an exception ? It 
 is egotism, old chap, if you knew it." 
 
 " I shall not listen." He turned away. 
 " I don't want to see that side of you to-night. 
 I know what my own conscience tells me 
 night and day. I I have no right to try and 
 lead others in the way that I cannot keep 
 myself ! " 
 
 " Sit still ! " Bede begged strenuously. 
 He had gone walking to and fro. " What 
 can I say ? What unnatural thing have you 
 done ? John ! Don't you know that the 
 more you tell a man he is wicked the more 
 you flatter him nowadays ? Man alive, let's
 
 246 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 be honest. We would all belong to the 
 1 Smart Set ' if we could just as a sparrow, 
 could it think, would prefer to be a peacock 
 or a bird of paradise. As a rule, we decry 
 the things we cannot imitate. Sit down, and 
 be calm be yourself ! " 
 
 He obeyed. He gripped the thin, long 
 fingers more crushingly than he knew, and 
 sank his head. 
 
 " Would you believe me believe me if 
 I said that I am or have been living in 
 open sin ? " 
 
 The laboured rise and fall of Bede's chest 
 seemed to slacken for a moment but only 
 for a moment. His intuition, so exquisitely 
 developed that he had to mask it with 
 materialistic jests, had told him at a glance 
 of the self-accusing storm soon to break. 
 
 " Would I ? Why not ? Born in sin, we 
 must live in sin and die in sin. All my 
 heart goes out to you, if there is some price 
 to pay if that is what you came to tell me ! " 
 
 John Laverock sank his head lower still, 
 his dull eyes looking at the fire opposite. He 
 spoke in staccato notes. 
 
 " You shall judge. I have done the thing 
 I thought most vile in other men. I I have 
 lived with a woman who is not my wife." 
 
 In the silence Bede felt out for his cigarettes, 
 and smoked, and thought, and waited. 
 Nearer death than life as he was, he could not
 
 THE BORDERLAND 247 
 
 focus the thing as it lived in the other man's 
 brain. All his interest lay in the man him- 
 self. 
 
 " But you have repented ? " he asked 
 quietly. " You have fallen back on your 
 faith ? What then ? " 
 
 There was no answer. Bede laid down 
 his cigarette. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he said faintly. "I'm 
 sorry for a man who has not the courage of 
 his love or his lust whichever I am to call it.' ' 
 
 " I have ! " It broke almost fiercely. " I 
 love her, as nobly and sinlessly as a man can 
 love a woman. But I let the sin come too ; 
 and I never I never thought I should have 
 to feel the shame of that, for her and myself 
 too ! " 
 
 " Hush ! I don't understand," Bede said. 
 " The fascination the very irresistibility 
 -of ' sin ' is in proportion to the forbidden 
 element in it, I admit. But if you are a 
 coward, all of us are cowards to go on ' sin- 
 ning ' if we admit the degradation of it. 
 But go on ! " 
 
 " I can say no more to-night." The 
 dull eyes looked up abruptly. " I ought not 
 to have told you. But but I could not 
 face you again as a hypocrite. I had talked 
 with you so often upon that very thing 
 morality " 
 
 " Morality yes ? Merely the term for a
 
 248 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 prudent code formulated by society for its 
 own protection. Go on ! " 
 
 " I deserved and I came to be shamed 
 and judged by my own standard " 
 
 " Nonsense," Bede gasped, his head mov- 
 ing upon the cushions. " I won't have that. 
 What right has any man to judge another, 
 even in thought, unless he has been in pre- 
 cisely the other's position ? We are not 
 capable ; we base our convictions upon im- 
 pressions we have a misleading relative 
 point of view for nearly everything. We 
 call a glutton a beast ; a drunkard is only 
 ' misguided.' It is all a topsy-turveydom, 
 old chap yes ! The one fact remains that 
 we are no whit better, and no whit worse, in 
 our morals than our progenitors a thousand 
 years back. We are all at heart self-cheat- 
 ing opportunists. The temptation comes 
 we succumb. Some repent some do not ; 
 that is the sole difference. This is the point : 
 Did you did you set yourself deliberately 
 to wrong any woman ? " 
 
 " No ! no ! " 
 
 " I knew that. And if any wrong has been 
 done unintentionally, you will go about to 
 put it right at once like a sensible man ! " 
 
 " I want to I do love her yes ! " 
 
 " And the revelation of it all has swept 
 you off your mental balance. And you have 
 been ill, too. Yes, I see it all. I thought
 
 THE BORDERLAND 249 
 
 of you every day every day I wondered. 
 Because I knew." 
 
 " You knew ? " the other rattled. 
 
 " I knew that that girl Donna had 
 come into your life to stay ; perhaps for a 
 year, perhaps for ever. You thought your- 
 self so strong in fact, you did not apply the 
 ordinary requirements of human nature to 
 yourself at all. But a mere child could have 
 read it in your eyes, as you talked to me of 
 her. She was moving invisibly with you, 
 night and day. You were in passion's grip. 
 And it was no more unnatural or shameful 
 in you than any other human disease taking 
 you unawares." 
 
 John Laverock had held his breath, wait- 
 ing in a curious, swelling bitterness which 
 would not be kept back. 
 
 ' Then, if it was all so plain to you, it 
 was your friend's part to warn me against 
 myself. A word from you might have done 
 that. Your eyes were open ; and, as God 
 hears me, I have been blind ! JI 
 
 " Hush ! " the other begged again. " You 
 forget. You would have laughed in your 
 strength, as Goliath laughed. And I could 
 only see the first flush of the disease. I 
 could not tell how it would end I only 
 wondered if it would run its normal course. 
 What are you but a man ? what is she but 
 a woman ? "
 
 250 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Over and over again, in that next strained 
 silence, John Laverock looked at the door 
 and made as if to rise to drop back again 
 and clap that hand to his eyes. And then 
 then with a suddenness almost unnerving, 
 that choke had burst from him, and others 
 followed in quick succession which nothing 
 could check. He had drawn away ; Bede's 
 hand could not reach him. Bede could only 
 wait, the big, glazed, dark eyes contracted 
 in pain, a faint " Don't ! " leaving his lips 
 now and again. And at last the convulsive 
 tremors ceased. His voice came again, far 
 more collectedly. All the tension had died 
 out. 
 
 " I'm sorry, Bede ; I'm sorry. I would 
 not have come if I had known I could not 
 trust myself. But I had to know what you 
 thought. I came to tell you what I would 
 not tell to any other living man. I am in 
 such trouble. I honestly want to do the 
 right thing, and I cannot. It is haunting 
 me making a different man of me." 
 
 " Yes, tell me ! " Bede said. " I want to 
 know, but I would not ask. You were so 
 strange but that has passed now. You 
 need not have hesitated a moment. You 
 know you know that whatever is told me 
 in this room, I can never take out of it." 
 
 "It is not that no ! But it was sacred 
 sacred to her and myself. I would not
 
 THE BORDERLAND 251 
 
 have told you her name. But you knew it ! 
 . . . She gave herself to me, in the unselfish 
 love that will blind a woman to all conse- 
 quences for the man's sake. And I, the man, 
 the stronger, who should have proved my 
 love by shielding her have only shielded 
 her in name ! Now you know to what I 
 have sunk ! " 
 
 " Be calm," Bede breathed. " We shall see. 
 It could only have happened because " 
 
 " She was driven into my arms ! she 
 could call upon God to bear witness to that. 
 I cannot tell you all, if I wished. I had 
 taken her away from that life that terrible 
 Hoxton life without a thought as to what 
 must follow. For days I was only swayed 
 by the one fear that I might lose her again 
 nothing but that. I made her take my 
 help and my money, because it seemed that 
 any work she was suited for must bring her 
 back into contact with the old associations. 
 And about it all there seemed some deadly 
 need for secrecy that I cannot explain. And 
 I found I loved her more each hour and I 
 wanted her always near me and I drugged 
 my own sense of right and wrong. And it 
 is she who must pay ! " 
 
 ' You have temporarily suspended your 
 work, then ? All is at a standstill, of course ? 
 Then you have only to call upon yourself to 
 end it. What is the stumbling-block ? "
 
 252 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " I I am responsible for her life her 
 happiness her whole future. She has under- 
 gone a change that that at moments frightens 
 
 me." 
 
 " Not every man would feel that responsi- 
 bility so keenly. She is not a woman who 
 would suffer half as deeply as you, the man, 
 might. Are you living with her still ? " 
 
 " Yes no not in reality. I have taken 
 a room for her. But I cannot blot out the 
 facts. What must you think after all that 
 I have sat here and said ? " He clenched 
 his hands together, turning upon the seat 
 yet again. " What must she think, however 
 much she has come to care for me ? That I 
 wanted her for that alone ! " 
 
 " So you did. So you did ! " 
 
 Bede paused, his head thrown back. A 
 single-noted cough left his lips short, and 
 sharp, and dry like the tearing of a new 
 calico sheet. John Laverock had leaped 
 to his feet shakily, waiting as in fear of another 
 waiting until the glazed, loving, apologetic 
 eyes slowly reopened and looked at him with 
 a little smile. Then he sank back. 
 
 " Oh, Bede ! " he said brokenly. 
 
 " It's all right. I don't often cough now. 
 You haven't upset me only yourself ! I 
 shan't laugh I shan't sneer ; but I won't 
 let you cheat yourself any longer. You 
 wanted her, however unconsciously, for the
 
 THE BORDERLAND 253 
 
 reason that Nature implanted in every man ; 
 and religious or any other form of scruple 
 go down before that reason. What you 
 really dread is, not the fact, but the conse- 
 quences. You want to break loose from a 
 temporary spell that threatens to paralyse 
 your energies that leaves you in the posi- 
 tion of the hypocrite, as you call it. Then, 
 the way to do a thing is to do it. End it ! " 
 
 " I can't," he said, his eyes hopeless, but 
 his voice dogged. " I have no wish to. I 
 tell you that I love her I want her al- 
 ways. Now do you understand ? " 
 
 And Bede's eyes looked back at him with 
 a fixed, wistful wonder for a long time. 
 
 "I don't," Bede whispered. ''Nothing 
 except this : what a happy man you must 
 be what a farce all this talk has been ! 
 You want her always and you have got 
 her ! " 
 
 " In secret ! " he said, the voice gone al- 
 most to nothing. " Not as it should be. 
 In secret ! " 
 
 " What of that ? Will you realize ! Love 
 or lust always is, in its very essence, 
 secret until it palls. It walks alone, apart 
 from the world's eyes, conscious of the for- 
 bidden element. The public marriage the 
 legal tie is only a concession to convention- 
 ality ; a publicity of that which is essentially 
 private. The act of marriage never yet
 
 254 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 solemnized any understanding between a 
 man and a woman never yet made it the 
 more binding. The inherently bad or un- 
 faithful man would be bad or unfaithful 
 whether the compact were legalised or not. 
 Who knows better than you that half of the 
 civilized world out there clanks its fetters 
 in daily misery because it cannot free itself 
 from the bad or unfaithful partner ? If you 
 love her, and act honestly by her, the mechani- 
 cal blessing of a paid priest is not something 
 that will make or mar your dual destinies. 
 No ! If it were, you would make her your 
 legal mate at once." 
 
 " That is my trouble," John Laverock 
 said. He did not seem to have heard the 
 rest. " That is my trouble to-night. She 
 refuses to hear of becoming my wife." 
 
 " Refuses ? Because she is Donna and 
 you are John Laverock ? You have actu- 
 ally asked her to take your name and become 
 one with you in everything ? " 
 
 " I have. She has given herself to me, to 
 prove her affection, as she believes. And I, 
 as a man, would not hesitate to give her the 
 surest and only proof of mine. And she will 
 not ! She forgets that I have ruined her 
 life ; she fears that she may ruin mine ! JJ 
 
 He was upon his feet, standing very still 
 save for the tremor. There was a long 
 silence, disturbed only by the sinking-in of
 
 THE BORDERLAND 255 
 
 the coals and by the far-away rattle beneath 
 Bede's velvet jacket. 
 
 " You are going ? " Bede asked wistfully 
 at last. " Going in that way ? " 
 
 " I must. There is no other way. I am 
 going back along the streets with the know- 
 ledge the sure knowledge that if people 
 knew all they would point the finger of scorn 
 at me. I must live on in sin or I must let 
 her go ! " 
 
 " She knows that ? You have made her 
 see it in that light ? " 
 
 " On my knees ! On my knees, Bede, 
 with my arms around her neck ! Once she 
 had almost given way, and the tears came. 
 And then she laughed to make it easier 
 for me ! I knew. She saw the sudden 
 picture : she saw herself walking along those 
 streets with me as my wife. She could 
 do it face them proudly even Hoxton ; 
 but she thought of me, and she laughed. 
 And and if I speak of that again I may 
 lose her. She thinks I am offering the great- 
 est sacrifice ; whereas, as God hears me, I 
 want to do right I love her oh, only God 
 knows what a mist is about me ! " 
 
 He strode suddenly, stumblingly, for the 
 door, his hand out, as if the air of that room 
 could not be borne another moment. 
 
 " Good-bye ! " Bede's panting little cry 
 came after him. " Good-bye ! " it came
 
 256 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 again, on a strenuous, faltering note. He 
 heard it he was to remember it all through 
 his life but he did not turn. And now the 
 curtain-rings had clashed, and the door closed 
 hurriedly behind him, as upon a man who 
 had kept back a groan or a shudder until 
 that moment. 
 
 From Bede was shut out eternally all 
 sound or knowledge of what awaited him on 
 the outer side of it.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A WOMAN had drawn back quickly. 
 Her hand grasped the balustrade, 
 one foot was upon the first stair of the flight 
 leading upward. He was in time to hear a 
 long, quivering breath escape her, and then 
 she stood as coldly still as himself. It was 
 Miss Valjean. 
 
 His own figure was in the full light from 
 the hall below ; hers was entirely in shadow. 
 Yet he could seem to feel that the whole of 
 her graceful, dainty shape, gowned so deli- 
 cately that the cloth covering seemed to fit 
 her like a third skin, had just now an invis- 
 ible armour of stiffened muscles and fibres. 
 She had only waited. 
 
 She would not speak, except with her eyes. 
 She took advantage of her sex, knowing that 
 her mere attitude dared him to pass on in 
 silence. At bay herself, she could make him 
 feel that he was the one at bay. 
 
 " Well ? " He had completely nerved 
 himself in that instant of realization. He 
 sent his voice down to that penetrating soft- 
 ness only so that Bede should never hear. 
 
 257 R
 
 258 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 ' Well ? " she repeated, the same merciful 
 instinct compelling her. 
 
 He should not have all the dignity and 
 self-control ! He should not divine that she 
 tingled with a hunger-like craving to drive 
 her hand into his set face again and again, 
 and scream, and then make him silence her 
 sounds with his kisses ! 
 
 " Did the end justify the means ? that 
 is all I need ask," he said, so ominously 
 stern, sad and composed that the last shred 
 of hope should have died within her as, 
 maybe, it died. 
 
 " Yes ! yes, yes ! " she whispered it thrice, 
 drawing a breath between each vehement 
 syllable. 
 
 " Very well. Then there is nothing more 
 to be said ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! You can go. And, of course, 
 you could never show your face here again." 
 
 He winced, and drew in his lips. He was 
 stung to the depths, she could see. He had 
 tried to smile as in contempt for her methods, 
 but he had to look away with miserable, 
 gloomy eyes. For a minute she had him 
 pilloried against the door there, without a 
 word in self-defence, his face a haggard be- 
 trayal of the mind within. Then he came 
 to himself, and looked steadily back at her. 
 
 " Yes, I know exactly what it means, Miss 
 Valjean. Just this : If you felt you must
 
 THE BORDERLAND 259 
 
 let me know how low I have fallen in your 
 estimation, you might have said it downstairs 
 not here." 
 
 " He knows. Knows quite enough ! " she 
 flashed back, with bitter tranquillity. " Be- 
 ing a man, he saw no wrong in a mere woman's 
 ruin none ! " 
 
 " Being a man, it might wound him to 
 know that another woman had listened to 
 find that out." 
 
 " You can tell him you are quite equal 
 to it. You can tell him that I sank my 
 womanliness for a moment long enough to 
 know that the man in there with him had 
 sunk his manliness for all time ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you are wrong," he answered. 
 It was all uttered as between two persons on 
 the threshold of a sacred place. " You are 
 speaking in passion. Even if you do not 
 understand, it is not a woman's way to make 
 a man feel he is vile beyond hope." 
 
 ' You glory in it, no doubt. No doubt ! 
 I understand that. The contrition you ex- 
 pressed is the sop thrown to your conscience. 
 The fact that your end was achieved while 
 you masqueraded as a man with a mission 
 can soon be forgotten. What remains ? 
 Only the woman ! You meant to redeem 
 her. You have redeemed her by ' love ' ! " 
 
 " Silence ! " John Laverock said, taking 
 a step, his arms drawn up. And she shrank
 
 260 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 a stair higher. She was frightened of him 
 in that moment while he stood listening, his 
 grey eyes looking beyond her, his tall, strong, 
 capable figure embodying her lifelong ideal 
 of a man's physical and mental form. He 
 seemed about to take one more step, and 
 shake her in his grasp. And she would 
 submit ! 
 
 But he only raised his hand, pointing to 
 the door behind. 
 
 " Did you speak of shame ? Where is 
 your own ? You have listened here before." 
 
 " Once ! I have nothing to conceal. Yes 
 once." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 Miss Valj can's shapely fingers twisted on 
 the balustrade. Her face, turned away, 
 worked enigmatically for a moment. She 
 had a sweet, arch voice that seldom varied 
 in its modulations, but now it was strained 
 with that heart-swelling at her corsage 
 which she would have given years of her 
 life] to be able to stifle. The delicately- 
 true fit of that corsage seemed to be suffo- 
 cating her. 
 
 " Why ? " she gasped slowly. " Perhaps 
 I wanted to believe in you to know that you 
 were what you wished the world to think 
 you. Or perhaps I only wished to know 
 what men talk about when they are alone 
 when there is no artificial restraint upon
 
 THE BORDERLAND 261 
 
 their one theme. That would be nearer the 
 mark, in your estimation, would it not ? " 
 
 " I am incapable, then, of imagining any 
 woman to be as pure in heart as pure in face ? " 
 
 " That that I do not know. It is simply 
 that I shall never again believe in any man 
 that I shall always know now that the best 
 of us are at heart as bad as the worst. But 
 nothing matters now." 
 
 " Nothing ever mattered ! " he said, with 
 the blunt directness that now and then was 
 stirred up in him. 
 
 " No o o ! " It was a weak, trailing 
 little laugh. " No o o ! " 
 
 He stood looking up at her, his mouth hard, 
 his eyes aflame and yet troubled as if un- 
 certain whether to reach out for her hand 
 or whether to take her at her word and walk 
 from the house. Then his ringers slid a little 
 way up the balustrade towards hers. 
 
 " Alice ! " he said, ever so quietly. " Alice ! 
 I am going to call you that once again, if 
 only because you are Bede's sister. What 
 has been done can never be undone. I am 
 not going to make any lame attempt to put 
 myself right in your eyes ; perhaps it is true, 
 as you say, that if all our secret thoughts and 
 talk could be read and overheard we should 
 all shrink from each other. But will you 
 come downstairs for one minute and hear 
 what I have to say ? "
 
 262 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 He waited for no answer. If he had done 
 so, there was but one answer she could 
 have given " No ! " Reaching the hall he 
 stood back, and she swept past him into the 
 drawing-room, her pose regal, her face death- 
 pale, the swish of her skirts like that of the 
 wind through dry grasses. 
 
 He followed. Their feet made no sound 
 on the thick carpet. The door swung to 
 behind them. There was no light, and no 
 movement of her arm toward the chandelier. 
 He could not tell for an instant exactly how 
 near he was to her. And then, when her 
 voice came, he fathomed that she preferred 
 the darkness, because it hid her face, and 
 because in some mysterious way it enabled 
 her to speak with an icy contempt, whether 
 she felt it or not. 
 
 " One minute, Mr. Laverock, you said." 
 
 " I did. I " 
 
 He paused, looking toward the voice. 
 All the words that had gathered in his throat 
 on the landing were gone now. He asked 
 himself why Bede's pooh-poohing sympathy 
 with his moral lapse should have unnerved 
 him to the point of sobs, while her just, 
 scathing bitterness stiffened him with a sense 
 of defiance and resentment. Was it merely 
 because the sting of degradation in a woman's 
 eyes went so much more deep ? 
 
 " Where are you ? " he found himself say-
 
 THE BORDERLAND 263 
 
 ing huskily. He strode forward. " Miss 
 Valjean, I can't bear this I won't life is 
 too short for angry words that mean estrange- 
 ment. Where are you ? " 
 
 " Here ! But don't touch me don't 
 touch me ! " 
 
 " I will ! I have done nothing that I 
 stand ashamed of there, no ! If I had, it 
 is a woman's part to forgive, if she cannot 
 forget. You think fit to forbid me the house, 
 but while Bede wants me " 
 
 "It is my house not Bede's." She was 
 moving backwards round and round the 
 circular oak table between them. " It is my 
 house, held in trust for my brother Louis. 
 If I cannot forbid you, your own shame shall. 
 If you can go on with your work of redemp- 
 tion in Hoxton, there should walk with you 
 the knowledge that you are a whited sepul- 
 chre preaching purity in the open and 
 practising the reverse in secret. You came 
 here yes, you came here to sit with a sick 
 man, to talk to him of his soul and all the 
 while " 
 
 With a little throat rattle, goaded by the 
 insistent vehemence that stabbed him through 
 the darkness, he took a quick leap and caught 
 her wrists. . . . He was to let them fall 
 again in the same instant, with a shudder 
 that left its mark upon him. 
 
 Maybe a thrill of actual fear had taken her
 
 264 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 at the contact. Maybe it was the culminat- 
 ing point when her wounded pride must find 
 its vent in words that should revenge for 
 all. 
 
 " You dare ! " She had given a warm 
 little laugh, that died into a thin whimper. 
 " You dare to touch me with those hands ! 
 Go back to her your Donna ! Go back to 
 your harlot to the love bought with your 
 money ! " 
 
 " O God ! " the man said in a hushed 
 voice, scarcely knowing it. 
 
 There fell a silence, broken only by that 
 heaving sound of her breast across the table. 
 
 " O God ! " he said again, as to himself. 
 
 He stood a little longer, quite motionless ; 
 and then intuition seemed to tell her that all 
 was over that he was moving slowly for the 
 door. 
 
 " Come back ! " she said breathlessly. 
 " I I don't go yet ! Let me " 
 
 "It is too late," his expressionless voice 
 came back. " You have said it. You have 
 shown me what you truly think." 
 
 " Not not of you ! You are only a man 
 whom a good woman could have helped 
 and been proud of ! But she she a vile, 
 shameless thing, reared in the slums, with 
 only the fascination of her own reckless 
 bravado she has dragged you down and 
 scored over all the women worthy worthy
 
 THE BORDERLAND 265 
 
 of a man's affection. She an animal has 
 made of you " 
 
 " Yes, pause," he said, in the same dull 
 way. "It is not me you are hurting now ; it 
 is the woman I hope to make my wife " 
 
 " Your wife ? " came the muffled cry. 
 " Wife ! " 
 
 " My wife. It may never be ; but I will 
 tell you what I have done, unknown to her 
 in the hope that it may be. I have pub- 
 lished the banns of our marriage my marri- 
 age with Donna Bohannan. I have done that ! " 
 
 " Your wife ! Wife ! A girl of the streets 
 oh, heaven, spare me spare us that in- 
 dignity ! His wife ! " It trailed away into 
 the series of warm, wild little sounds, half 
 laugh, half sob, as she bent her head down 
 upon the table. She suddenly lifted herself, 
 her head thrown back in superb irony, her 
 breast swelling, her finger pointed all crys- 
 tal-clear to his intuition in the darkness. 
 ' Tell me when ! Tell me when your mar- 
 riage takes place ! Let me be at the church, 
 to see with my own eyes this travesty of 
 romance let me look at her again, to see 
 what could blind a sane man and drag him 
 down to the gutter-level in that manner ! 
 But I forgot ! you love her. You have lived 
 with her already, as man and wife. In God's 
 eyes, as Bede says, you are man and wife at 
 this moment ! "
 
 266 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 ' Yes," he said, not stirring. " Such is my 
 blindness that I mean, if only possible, to 
 lift her to the level at which no one can cast 
 a stone at her or at myself. And such is her 
 love her willingness to efface herself on my 
 account that I cannot bring her to take 
 my name ; because, as you would point out 
 to her, such a marriage might ' drag me 
 down/ That you did not hear me tell your 
 brother. But you hear it now." 
 
 "It is," she whispered, "it is the very 
 smallest remnant of womanly sense I should 
 expect in her. She knows she knows any 
 such thing is impossible. She knows herself 
 as you do not know her. The very sordid 
 stamp of Hoxton of hell itself is upon the 
 fact that you, a man pledged to God to lift 
 others from their weaknesses, are yourself 
 upon the knees of a Delilah. Oh, think of 
 it you ! " There was that sound again in 
 her throat as of impending strangulation. 
 
 And the man was mute. She had put her 
 finger upon the raw wound. He could not 
 justify himself in the sight of the world. 
 And by the world a man is judged ; and 
 upon that judgment hinges all a man's 
 influence for good or for evil in this world. 
 
 " Yes, go," Miss Valjean said, in a voice 
 pityingly chill. " Back to her, if you will 
 if you must. Back to your own senses, if 
 you are wise if you have still the instincts
 
 THE BORDERLAND 267 
 
 of the gentleman we thought you. Realize 
 that, no longer able to help yourself, you are 
 no longer able to help others ; and that the 
 discovery of that fact will be another weapon 
 for the scoffers. . . . I I take back all 
 else I have said. I I would not wound you, 
 but oh, I would save you from that even 
 as she would ! " 
 
 There was a little bump. She had slid 
 down upon her knees, her forehead against 
 the table. In a whirl, yet moved to a degree 
 almost beyond bearing, the man held his 
 breath a moment more. Then he craned 
 toward her, his voice entirely changed. 
 
 " If it is to be the last time, as it must be, 
 I cannot go until ... I mean, I am man 
 enough still to wish to thank you for coming 
 to me in my illness as you did that day 
 when it must have seemed to you there was 
 no gratitude in me. I do I do thank you 
 for all ! " 
 
 There was no answer, save a tremble that 
 he could feel, rather than see. He stole out. 
 There was a coldness in his limbs. He looked 
 along the passage, as if in guilty fear that it 
 might have been overheard. Then the 
 street door clicked as quietly as possible 
 behind him. 
 
 A moment more perhaps two and it had 
 clicked in just the same way behind Miss 
 Valjean.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE house near the church was left 
 behind. 
 
 The man walked steadily, his head now 
 thrown back, his stride decisive. He was 
 not thinking ; he was looking mechanically 
 straight out before him, as though resolved to 
 think no longer. Above him the clear, cold, 
 starry heaven lay like a black mantle pow- 
 dered with silver sequins . There was keen frost 
 in the air, and his every step drew a rhythmical 
 ring from the pavement. He looked not 
 once either to right or left or to the rear. 
 
 Reaching De Beauvoir Road, his home- 
 ward way lay down the turning that faced 
 him. Instead, he wheeled to the right to- 
 ward Balls Pond, and then to the left. There 
 was no uncertainty in his turns. He moved 
 as though he could have taken that way 
 blindfolded. 
 
 It was a long peaceful street, of small, old- 
 fashioned houses with green balconies, side- 
 walks and quaint angles mocked by the 
 modern builder of bubble residences. He 
 came to a dead stop by a lamp, and looked 
 
 268
 
 THE BORDERLAND 269 
 
 up at a window above the ground floor. He 
 seemed to make no sound or sign, but a blind 
 up there moved. He waited a moment, his 
 congealing breath forming a little halo in the 
 lamplight. Then he walked forward. The 
 door had opened. Two arms were put up 
 around his neck, drawing his head down, in 
 perfect silence, as it seemed. Then the door 
 closed, and he was within. 
 
 From the opposite pavement, plain to be 
 seen if that blind moved again, Miss Valjean 
 watched in a sort of stupor that was almost 
 a suspension of life. The cloak around her 
 shoulders was still unfastened ; she held the 
 lapels together with one ungloved hand. 
 
 This was the shadowy auditorium. She 
 seemed to be watching for the next rising of 
 a curtain spectator of some play of which 
 she, and she alone, had grasped the true in- 
 ward significance. The very silence of the 
 acting was its fascination. She had seen 
 two shapes faintly silhouetted upon the 
 blind the shapes of the man and the wo- 
 man. 
 
 They flickered away. There was a blank 
 spell, in which sick thrill after thrill passed 
 down her stiff figure. 
 
 Some people went by, and she knew that 
 they had paused to stare back. A hand 
 wavered up to her face, as to shield it ; but 
 she could do no more ; and they went 'on,
 
 270 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 speculating audibly. They had had a sug- 
 gestion of the figure of Lot's wife looking 
 back immovable evermore. But Tragedy 
 flits through one's focus so often in London 
 streets that it becomes commonplace. 
 
 Perhaps half an hour had ticked by. She 
 would never be sure ; she had utterly lost 
 count of time. Then all her deadened 
 faculties twitched, and the sick wave took 
 her again. That door had re-opened sud- 
 denly. The man was going. The two arms 
 drew down his head ; his lips moved along 
 as though silently caressing an upturned 
 forehead. And then, with a glance at his 
 watch, he was striding away. 
 
 Miss Valjean looked after him, quick little 
 breaths shaking her. Till the last ring of his 
 footsteps had died she bore her mental tra- 
 vail. A moment more, and she was lifting 
 her hand to knock at that door. 
 
 She heard the step on the stairs. She 
 could have seen through the glass panels, 
 but she would not look. A mute, funereal 
 figure, she stood until the door was wide open. 
 Then she faced slowly round, with no word 
 only the fixed gaze. Very tightly her cloak 
 was held about her. 
 
 " It's Miss Valjean," Amber Lou said, as 
 to herself. The silence had appeared to last 
 indefinitely. She seemed to swallow a little 
 obstruction in her throat, and then her voice
 
 THE BORDERLAND 271 
 
 was quite cool. " You are welcome," she 
 said. " You need not stand like that." 
 
 " Am I ? " Miss Valjean replied, in a thin, 
 frozen whisper. " If you live to see the end 
 of the world you will never think of a greater 
 lie than that." 
 
 Just the pause, and then 
 
 " Very well, then. I'll tell the truth, and 
 shut the door." 
 
 It was closing. Just in time Miss Valj can's 
 hand shot out. 
 
 " Will you ? Oh, no ! Where a Christian 
 gentleman has been I need not be afraid to 
 venture. . . . Thank you ! Now you can 
 close it." 
 
 They faced. Miss Valjean had the advan- 
 tage in height and pedigree, but in nothing 
 more. Amber Lou, dressed quietly in black, 
 and with the fair hair smoothed back Madon- 
 na-wise from her small oval face, stood with 
 a far-away smile in the blue eyes simply 
 waiting, and conscious of no fear. It was 
 the same girl yet not the same girl. How 
 Miss Valjean looked at her how she could 
 bear the look without even flinching were 
 two things never to be explained. 
 
 " You are alone in the house ? " Miss Val- 
 jean asked at last. Her voice cracked a 
 little ; she was struggling for great calmness 
 at any cost. 
 
 " Yes to-night just as it happens,"
 
 272 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 was the absent reply. " Perhaps you will 
 come to my room ? " 
 
 She went quietly up. With a bursting 
 heart, a feeling akin to madness, Miss Valjean 
 followed. Her room ! His room ! 
 
 And there it was. Amber Lou held back 
 the door, and then drew forward a chair. 
 She did not see it. She halted as in a trance, 
 looking round. It was neat and comfortable 
 like any other room. A fire burned, and 
 a little copper kettle " sang " on the hob. 
 There were books upon the table that held 
 the shaded lamp. There was a white bed 
 partially curtained off in the corner. All 
 was ordinarily material, and yet and yet 
 the mystery of the man's sex and soul breathed 
 in this small space. There was a dual posses- 
 sion. Miss Valjean stood, the rigid fingers 
 clutching the ends of her cloak. 
 
 " Oh heaven ! " she said, twice, with a 
 little moan wrung out. " Oh heaven ! " 
 
 And then she knew that Amber Lou had 
 walked past her and sat down upon a stool, 
 looking into the fire her lips strangely set, 
 but her eyes still apparently smiling as at 
 something no one else could see. 
 
 " You vile thing ! " Miss Valj can's strain- 
 ing cry suddenly filled the room. " Stand 
 up ! If you are a woman I am not one ! " 
 
 With just a little tremble Amber Lou 
 looked round at her. The smile had gone.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 273 
 
 She leaned her head upon her hand. It was 
 done slowly. It all testified to the inward 
 ecstasy the complete absorption of her 
 mind that^left her impervious even to a blow. 
 
 " Stand up ! " Miss Valjean repeated, in 
 a manner not to be resisted. And she obeyed, 
 her hands folded together. " What what 
 is he to you ? " 
 
 " You seem to know," said the low, level 
 
 voice. 
 
 " Answer me ! " 
 
 " He's everything." 
 
 Miss Valjean took a step, bending her 
 body. 
 
 " He comes here he comes here every 
 night of his life. You deny that ? " 
 
 And the blue eyes looked at her, and away 
 again. 
 
 "No. I wish he could. It's his place 
 if he wants me." 
 
 " Wants you ? " was repeated, with slow 
 awe. " You can stand there and say this 
 to me ? " 
 
 " Yes ; because I knew what you had come 
 to say to me. And it's no use. Nothing can 
 alter it. If I could not, you cannot." 
 
 " Alter it ? You are only a child. You 
 have no right to to any man's love or pro- 
 tection. You have drawn him into this 
 shameful position to to ruin him." 
 
 " Ask him," Amber Lou said, her foot 
 
 s
 
 274 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 tapping a little. With just the same abstract 
 calm she looked around, and added : " You 
 can't ; he's not here, is he ? I'll tell you, 
 if you wish. He comes to me every day, if 
 only for a little while, and I hold him in my 
 arms, and he's happy, and that's all I care 
 for in the whole wide world. If he killed 
 me to-night I should still love him. So you 
 don't think it's any use trying to come be- 
 tween us ? " 
 
 It was horror that held Miss Valjean so 
 still. She had no answer ; none seemed 
 possible. In those few simple words the 
 girl had stripped away all the mystery ; yet, 
 in all her conceptions of the depths of human 
 passion none had ever seemed so deep and 
 vast as this. This frail slip of a girl held 
 him body and soul, and only lived from day 
 to day for the hour of his coming. And yet 
 the world around went on as though nothing 
 had happened. 
 
 Sweep from the polluted room, with one 
 swish of her skirts ? No, she would not 
 could not. She must look into this woman's 
 face yet a little longer : look until she saw 
 what there was in it that she herself did not 
 possess. The man had passed her by, and 
 given all his strength, all his devotion, all his 
 being, into the power of this girl. He had 
 held her, and kissed her, within those last 
 few minutes.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 275 
 
 Miss Valjean felt out for the chair, although 
 she had determined never to come into con- 
 tact with it. Afterwards she realized that 
 she must have been near a swoon, because 
 she found Amber Lou standing over her, and 
 her forehead being softly dabbed with a 
 damp handkerchief. Up into the turquoise, 
 serene eyes she stared. 
 
 " Better ? " Amber Lou asked. " I'll do 
 anything for you that you need, but you 
 mustn't try to make me out bad in his eyes. 
 I don't mind, but he would. You can't say 
 I have not thought it all out, and when you 
 talk of disgrace you only mean I am stand- 
 ing in the shoes some other woman ought to 
 wear. I cannot help that, can I ? All I 
 can tell you is, that you can't take him from 
 me at least, not unless I knew he wished 
 it." 
 
 " Not although you know you have ruined 
 him ? " came up faintly. " Yes ! " She 
 struggled to her feet. " Every kiss he has 
 given you is unholy, and he knows it well 
 although he cannot expect you to know it. 
 From from beginning to end, it is impure ! " 
 
 ' Then all the world's impure, at that 
 rate ? " 
 
 " Don't talk to me in that calm way ! 
 Don't come near me I want to respect my- 
 self ! You know just what I mean ; you 
 have mind enough of your own, and to spare !
 
 276 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Even if there were no wrong in such a life as 
 he is leading, you, as the woman, can think ! 
 What what if a child was born to you " 
 
 "I'd love it." Amber Lou put her hands 
 together tightly. " You don't understand 
 a bit. Anything of his I should love. All 
 you say to me makes no difference. You 
 don't you can't know what it is to begin 
 a new life like mine. If you did if you did, 
 you couldn't come to me and say such things. 
 They all sound so silly. I'm not a bit afraid 
 of any one or anything. I needn't say a word. 
 He'll put his arms round me and answer for 
 me. . . . It's all his. He took this room 
 for me, and bought everything you see except 
 the big furniture. He put that shelf up for 
 me with his own hands. He can do anything 
 he likes, because I only want him to be happy. 
 And I'm lonely, miserable, every moment 
 he is away from me ! '" she ended, with 
 almost a little wail. 
 
 It was utterly hopeless something not to 
 be grappled with. Slowly Miss Valj ean turned 
 for the door and turned for yet another 
 look. 
 
 " Enough ! " she whispered. " Now hear 
 me. However low you may have sunk, or 
 will sink, it is not the intention of his best 
 friends that he shall sink altogether too. 
 With you I have nothing more to do. I 
 have given you a name in my own mind that
 
 THE BORDERLAND 277 
 
 I shall not utter. I shall take the liberty of 
 waiting below, to inform the landlady of this 
 house who and what he is ; to tell her that 
 you are living here under a lie that you are 
 not man and wife." 
 
 " She knows," was the unmoved answer. 
 " You will only waste your time. What he 
 is to me, and what I am to him, I say, is 
 nothing to do with any one else in the world. 
 If you wait long enough he may be back 
 he will tell you for himself. I know he 
 would ! " 
 
 ' You know ? " It was maddening that 
 she could do little but echo those calm asser- 
 tions ; maddening to think that this girl 
 alone held the key to the man's fugitive 
 movements by day and night. " You know 
 nothing except what he chooses to tell you. 
 What do you imagine a man cares for any 
 woman who sells herself to him in the way 
 you have done ? In what one sense are you 
 fitted to be the companion of such a man as 
 he ? You ! I am asking you a question ! " 
 
 ' When you're quite happy you don't 
 stop to think," Amber Lou said simply. 
 Nothing, it seemed, could rend the robe of 
 shame that she wore as proudly as a bride 
 wears orange-blossom. Nothing could make 
 her falter. 
 
 " Happiness ? You call it that ? " Miss 
 Valjean had taken a step back into the room.
 
 278 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " You are either a cunning woman or a fool ; 
 but at least you know, as every woman knows, 
 that Nature made man the hunter and woman 
 the hunted in this life. It was for you to hold 
 him at his distance, for the sake of his future 
 career, if nothing more. It was " 
 
 " One moment," Amber Lou put in, with 
 just a touch of the old quiet scorn. " I have 
 thought of that, all along. I could have been 
 his wife at this minute, but I wouldn't. I 
 don't know why I should tell you, but it is so. 
 I'll never tie him down to anything, to spoil 
 his chances you needn't fear that so much. 
 You can see there's a change in me, can't 
 you ? He's proud of that. But that's not 
 to say that some day he won't wake up and 
 look back, is it ? And and if I leave him 
 quite free to marry, I can't do more, can I ? " 
 
 " Yes ! You can leave him free now 
 to-night ! Shall I tell you something ? It 
 is only an hour since I heard him say that he 
 had, awakened, and yet was fettered. What 
 did he mean ? That by his own folly he had 
 put a halter about his neck, and that he is 
 too weak to clear himself. It is for you to 
 say the word, and let him go let him come 
 back to his right place in the world ! " 
 
 " And if I did, would he be just the same 
 to Miss Valjean as if nothing had happened ? " 
 Amber Lou asked absently. " Or would 
 you think him inst as bad as you think me ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 279 
 
 " That is not the question." She restrained 
 a trembling eagerness. " I refuse to discuss 
 the relations between you, which nothing you 
 say can justify " 
 
 " That's where you're wrong," she inter- 
 polated with a grave assurance. " Love 
 justifies him coming here to me as often as he 
 likes. If not he would keep as far away as 
 he could. You don't know him in the 
 least." 
 
 Gasp after gasp left Miss Valj can's pale 
 lips. These were the words he had spoken 
 himself, and Amber Lou had learned them 
 by heart, and based all her serene dignity 
 upon them. 
 
 " We'll call it, then, his indiscretion," she 
 said, when she could, bowing her head to the 
 superior faith. " I, perhaps, have an alto- 
 gether wrong idea as to what his professed 
 religion says upon the subject. I think we 
 have said enough. You have made it very 
 clear to me what the attraction is for him 
 here. You can tell him that I came to- 
 night " 
 
 " I shan't, Miss Valjean." She was look- 
 ing down at her little " singing " kettle. " I 
 shall not say one word to upset him. He 
 knows just what he is doing. And perhaps 
 perhaps it might surprise you to know that 
 he has knelt by that bed and prayed more 
 than once. And he meant what he said.
 
 280 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 He's a better man than you or I will ever be 
 as women ! " 
 
 " Where is he now, may I ask ? " Miss Val- 
 jean said, in a voice almost soundless. The 
 long pause had intervened. 
 
 " Yes, I can tell you that. He has gone 
 with food-and-shelter tickets for the men 
 and women on the Embankment all night. 
 They give them two ounces of margarine, 
 half a pound of bread, and a bed for the 
 night. He says it breaks his heart to see 
 them. That's part of his winter work you 
 know, of course. You know far more about 
 him than I do, come to that except that 
 every word you say against him will only 
 make me think the more of him. It's just 
 
 the same, you know " she rose slowly 
 
 from the stool, with the tranquillity and pose 
 of a born tragedienne " as if you came here 
 to a wife and tried to take her husband from 
 her. Just the same. And that's the thing 
 I should have thought any woman might 
 feel shame for ! " 
 
 " You took him from me." Out it quivered. 
 Her clenched hands came together ; the 
 cloak fell from her shoulders in a heap un- 
 heeded. " You took him from me ! . . . 
 Yes, you may stare you can do nothing 
 else you have no heart in you. From me ! " 
 
 " I'm sorry." Amber Lou's lips set upon 
 those two hushed words. That was all.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 281 
 
 " Sorry ? Don't be ! Don't think I mourn 
 on my own account ; don't think I came for 
 that. I mourn to think that such a man 
 he is good ! should have sacrificed himself 
 and his splendid future completely upon 
 upon you ! " 
 
 " Has he done that ? " the other asked 
 with lips gone dry. For one moment that 
 last moment Miss Valj can's emotion had 
 lifted her to the height of a woman inspired. 
 
 " You know ! Does his face never tell you 
 that ? Do you never see the trouble in his 
 eyes ? Yes, you do ! In passion for you, 
 he dare not tell you he is ruined that within 
 a few days from now the Christian Brother- 
 hood will cast him out from their ranks as a 
 traitor. Then, when he walks the streets, 
 he may come to his senses. And you could 
 have saved him ; you could have proved 
 what you call your love. You could have 
 taken yourself out of his life for a while " 
 
 " I couldn't," Amber Lou said, with a 
 queer sob, her blue eyes dilated. " There's 
 no place in London to-night where he wouldn't 
 find me ! " And Miss Valjean crept close. 
 
 ' There is ! " she whispered. " There is ! 
 . . . Give him only one month no more 
 and he will be thanking God that he was 
 saved on the very brink of ruin. Saved by 
 you ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ONE night, when an icy wind hummed 
 along the streets and filled with bitter- 
 ness all those who walked London pavements 
 with starved stares and empty pockets, John 
 Laverock came out into Hoxton Street. 
 
 It burst upon his dull, blank eyes like a 
 revelation. He had skirted the long thorough- 
 fare in a dreamlike way often of late, but a 
 vague horror and grief was now wrapped for 
 him about its mere name. Near a month 
 had gone since he had actually set foot in the 
 place. 
 
 It was Saturday night. He had turned, 
 all unknowingly, down one of the quieter 
 turnings from the Cityward end of Kingsland 
 Road, and there, running before him with all 
 the blaze and clamour of a fair, was Hoxton 
 again. Nothing was changed save himself. 
 All was the same if he could bring himself 
 to realize it all anew. 
 
 The same hatless women hurried past with 
 tightly-drawn shawls, dragging shivering chil- 
 dren, and talking in the foul, meaningless 
 manner that was for them the King's English. 
 
 282
 
 THE BORDERLAND 283 
 
 The ever-swinging public-house doors gave 
 out a strident babble of noise : the men had 
 taken their money, and were spending it in 
 the only way known to them. Those in 
 charge of the innumerable naphtha-lit stalls 
 roared out invitations to purchase, justified 
 by the solid fact that Hoxton can, and does, 
 sell almost every known commodity at a price 
 that strangles competition, and yet with a 
 profit known only to itself. 
 
 "Buy the lot! Who'll buy the lot? 
 Coin' on yer honeymoon ter-morrow, are 
 yer ? Then here's yer chance. We'll go 
 together ! " 
 
 " No larks, gels ! Take this lump o' skate 
 home to the old man, and he won't know 
 hisself. He'll gnaw yer neck." 
 
 " Now, then ! who says a humbrella for 
 Chris'mus ? Look at it. None o' yer nine- 
 penny cotton pray-for-rain about that. All 
 silk from the genuine worm, as used by the 
 Shah and Shah-ess ; and they oughter know ; 
 they live on blood-worm and lemon kali ! 
 Two bob one and three there, take it, 
 eight pence ! Perish me pink, I can't sell 
 'em at that ! Well, go on, have yer own way. 
 If I die for it, it shall go to-night for thank 
 you, mum, it's yours elevenpence ! " (Broad 
 grins. A woman had stretched out with her 
 shilling a thought too soon.) 
 
 " All 'ot ! AlTot ! . . . . Eight a punny,
 
 284 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 them oranges like wine ! . . . . Here's 
 mutton for yer three a pound. Go south 
 down the road Southdown ; see ? and 
 you'll pay ninepence. Sold to a lady with 
 rings on her fingers and bells your change, 
 mum ! . . . . Here ! Screw on this ! Ever 
 seen a bit o' linoleum to touch that ? Why, 
 the Czar o' Russia had the feller piece to it 
 and wired for more. Last time four and 
 six ! You won't ? No, I'm damned if you 
 shall, any of yer. Pack it away, Bill. They 
 ain't buyin' ; they're out pickin' pockets ! " 
 
 He was impelled on down the stall-lined 
 avenue, sickened by the clamour, and yet 
 trying hard to get his old grip upon enthu- 
 siasm and hope. Now there was a scuffling 
 and shouting just behind him, and he retreated 
 to let a small, jeering crowd pour by. At 
 the head, half savage, half leering in apprecia- 
 tion, walked a man leading three or four dogs 
 of different sizes at the end of strings. All 
 had disappeared down one of those pro- 
 blematical side-streets before a passer-by's 
 remark had carried the truth to John Lave- 
 rock's brain. A reward would be offered for 
 those dogs to-morrow ; and it represented 
 a fair day's work. 
 
 Hoxton on a Saturday night is especially 
 rich in surprises and contrast shocks for all 
 except those to whom it is the beginning and 
 end of existence. The saddest, maddest,
 
 THE BORDERLAND 285 
 
 merriest street conceivable. Starkest poverty 
 moves in and out of plenty in and out, like 
 a procession of skeletons winding among the 
 laden tables of a banqueting-hall. Jewelled 
 fingers wrap up oddments of meat for pur- 
 chasers whose bones seem scarcely to hang 
 together beneath a few rags of raiment. 
 There is no thought for to-morrow for 
 many a to-morrow has no meaning, or never 
 dawns. The shifting crowd pours in and 
 out of the rookeries lining the main thorough- 
 fare : rookeries teeming with drunken 
 laughter, dreadful silences, screaming infants, 
 altercations, blows and curses vice and 
 poverty herded into one small area that seems 
 scarcely able to contain it. And nobody 
 cares nobody save those few pitying, earnest 
 souls who labour night and day to pour a 
 little oil on the turbulent waters, and of whose 
 Titanic efforts so little is heard. Private 
 effort and self-sacrifice can never purge the 
 Hoxtons of England ; and public determina- 
 tion is not to be aroused by mere statistics 
 and passing impressions. 
 
 Yet Hoxton enjoys itself surpassingly in 
 its own way. John Laverock found his way 
 barred by another crowd in the centre of the 
 road the sidewalks being quite impassable. 
 The piper again ! 
 
 A piano-organ, beloved of Hoxton, had 
 drawn up, and the handle was revolving at
 
 286 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 a great rate. The strains of " Killarney " 
 percolated through the din ; and in an instant 
 the army of barefooted rats had gathered as 
 from nowhere, " dancing " with grave solemn- 
 ity in serried rows. Troops of girls in flat straw 
 hats, their arms linked, formed circles and vied 
 in attempts to exhibit the quality or absence 
 of their underclothing, amid gusts of laughter. 
 The tune flashed into a wild polka, and thence 
 into the haunting melody of " A few more years 
 shall roll ; " and the " dancing " and laughter 
 went on. One half -tipsy girl made a clutch 
 at John Laverock's arm and swung him down 
 from the kerb. He shook himself free with 
 a bitter word that he regretted in the next 
 instant and forged his way on through the 
 crowd. 
 
 There was no " heart " in his intentions 
 to-night. It was a mere mechanical re- 
 connoitre a reluctant fascination a compel- 
 ling of himself to look upon Hoxton once 
 more in all its sordid glory. From time to 
 time he found himself halting to look dully 
 round at certain corners, as for a possible 
 glimpse of Cobra or Ben Fisher. But they 
 were not to be seen : that particular phase 
 of the Hoxton bioscope seemed to have faded 
 out. Of all the familiar types only one passed 
 him to-night the shuffling old Chinaman, 
 who stood and nodded at him with cunning 
 stupidity. That past strange month seemed
 
 THE BORDERLAND 287 
 
 to be lengthening into a year. One more 
 queer sensation filtered through his dreamlike 
 haze. Perhaps Phillimore Street itself had 
 undergone a change. Perhaps his unques- 
 tioned house-to-house influence there had 
 been utterly obliterated. 
 
 With the effort of his lifetime, as it seemed, 
 he turned into the wind-swept street. The 
 lamps were flickering and throwing great 
 shadows. Either actually, or only in his 
 brain, there certainly was a comparative 
 silence ; and the pavements seemed almost 
 bare of their usual cargo of bickering children. 
 It was at old Wisbey's, as a matter of recur- 
 ring habit, that he paused first. He looked 
 down over the broken railing, and there in 
 the area room, between two bits of burning 
 candle, the chips of leather strewn all around 
 him, sat old Wisbey, as though he had never 
 moved from that position. He was smoking 
 a clay pipe, and he glared back stonily as 
 without recognition. 
 
 " How are you, Wisbey ? " John Laverock 
 called down quietly. " How's business with 
 you ? " 
 
 Slowly old Wisbey took the pipe from his 
 toothless gums, and pointed it. 
 
 ' What do you know about bis'ness ? " he 
 demanded shrilly. " When did you ever do 
 any ? When you want to know, come and 
 try a bit, and see."
 
 288 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Oh, come ! " said the other soothingly. 
 " You and I " 
 
 " I don't want to come ! " he called out, 
 savagely vague. Clearly it was one of his 
 truculent nights. " It's the likes of you that 
 talk and don't act. Next time you want 
 Wisbey you'll ring the bell at the work' us 
 yard." 
 
 " What, are things as bad as that ? " 
 
 " Bad as that ? " He mimicked the words 
 mockingly. " If I ain't worth a hunderd o' 
 coal at Chris' mus I ain't worth a year's 
 gammon and gab from such as you ! That's 
 me." 
 
 And then John Laverock understood. Old 
 Wisbey, for some reason, doubtless sound, was 
 not a recipient of one of the limited number 
 of sacks of fuel distributed at Yuletide. 
 
 " I'm sorry," was all he could say. " It 
 is so hard for them to pick and choose " 
 
 " Ay ! 'Specially for them that'll have 
 fires goin' in every room theirselves, and 
 turkeys, and what not. I know 'em. Don't 
 you worry ! " 
 
 " Wait a day or so, and I'll see what I can 
 do for you." A promise he had had to repeat 
 quite a dozen times that week. 
 
 " Don't want it," old Wisbey snarled, 
 getting to his feet. " I wouldn't have it if 
 you chucked it down the airy no ! You 
 get home to your quails on toast you ain't
 
 THE BORDERLAND 289 
 
 wanted down here. Go on ! it's about time 
 for you to have appendicitis ! " 
 
 Made to smile, John Laverock wished him 
 good-night and walked quickly away from 
 a perverse fusillade of curses to halt abruptly 
 at the next gateway but one. Sal Dowson 
 and her baby ! Almost he had allowed 
 himself to forget the existence of Sal Dowson. 
 The twinge of conscience took him up the 
 steps at once. He had generally sustained 
 a rebuff at this house, but his interest in Sal 
 Dowson's fatherless baby had nevertheless 
 been keen from the outset. He knocked an 
 anxious rat-tat. 
 
 " How are you all ? " he asked warmly, 
 as Sal's hard-featured landlady at last ap- 
 peared. " And how's Sal, and the little one ? 
 Shall I come in for a minute ? " 
 
 She stood peering, drawing the wisps of 
 loose hair back from her face. For an instant 
 she had seemed about to bang the door as an 
 answer. 
 
 " Oh, it's you," she said lifelessly. " Lor' 
 lumme, ain't you heard, sir ? You're all 
 behind the times, you are, and no mistake." 
 
 " Don't say that ! Is she " He had 
 
 a vague misgiving ; but he was not prepared 
 for the sense of drear hopelessness which 
 seemed to pervade all life ahead in that 
 next moment. The landlady had given a 
 short laugh.
 
 290 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Oh, it ain't that. She won't have many 
 more chances to fly to drink, I'm thinkin'. 
 She's done the kid in." 
 
 He stood like a figure of stone, staring. 
 Gratified by the effect produced, she emerged 
 a little farther, dabbed her eyes, and pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 " Yes, you're all behind, sir. Course, you 
 know, its father a butcher's man up the 
 road was knocked down to pay two-and- 
 six a week for its keep. And, of course, he's 
 never paid a farthin' from that day to this. 
 They never do ; they hop into the next neigh- 
 bourhood. One thing and another, and the 
 drink as well, it must ha' got on her mind, 
 pore soul. She dropped it out o' misery 
 over the canal bridge one night why, it was 
 the Thursday before last, wasn't it, Mrs. 
 Cropley ? " 
 
 ' Thursday 'fore last," confirmed Mrs. 
 Cropley with cheerful decision from the stairs. 
 " The inquest was on Sarraday. Course, 
 she was screamin' for a look at the pore mite 
 then." 
 
 " Dead ? " his hollow voice could just 
 sound. 
 
 " Dead ! Not harf . And the best thing for 
 it, too. I should ha' put her away myself 
 if it had gone on much longer. Why, the 
 kid laid up there days at a time without a 
 morsel of any thin'." Mrs. Cropley folded
 
 THE BORDERLAND 291 
 
 her arms and came forward for a look at the 
 glow over Hoxton Street. " It looked lovely, 
 didn't it, with all them flowers round it. 
 Eight months old, sir, come January. It's 
 the father that ought to swing, not the mother; 
 but they never do. The law ain't made for 
 wimmen ; you can't make men know what 
 wimmen have to go through." 
 
 " Will she hang ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Not she ! " replied Mrs. Cropley. " She's 
 up for the Sessions I dunno where they took 
 her at the finish but the p'lice-court mis- 
 sionary bloke's got somethin' to say, I've 
 heard. It was like this. Here was the bridge, 
 as you might say, at your elbow, and she 
 hung the kid over the parrypit jist like this 
 so they tell me, over a minnit before she 
 let go ; and then " 
 
 " Don't ! " With a sudden uncontrollable 
 shudder the man turned and stumbled down 
 the steps. He had paid his last call at that 
 house. 
 
 The pavements were heaving ; the icy wind 
 seemed to be a cold hand closing over his 
 heart. Only the strongest effort at self- 
 repression enabled him to make that next 
 pause at Mrs. Mucklehorn's, on the opposite 
 side. He wished merely, he told himself, to 
 glean a little information as to the last-known 
 movements of Ben Fisher. He shrank in- 
 stinctively from calling upon little Mrs. Fisher
 
 292 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 herself a patient, long-suffering little slave 
 who merited a better fate than God had 
 meted out to her. Besides, he remembered, 
 she was seldom at home ; whereas it was 
 Mrs. Mucklehorn's complacent boast that she 
 never stepped out of the bloomin' house from 
 one month's end to another. 
 
 In other circumstances it would have struck 
 him, as she waddled along the lower passage, 
 that Mrs. Mucklehorn might soon have a 
 difficulty in doing so, if she had so wished. 
 Her vast shoulders and depth of bosom 
 partially exposed to permit her to breathe 
 were truly impressive. 
 
 " Gettin' a size, ain't I ? " she observed, 
 noting his involuntary glance. " Muckle- 
 horn says I get out o' bed ton by ton ; and he 
 ain't far out. And how ha' you been all this 
 long time, Mr. Laverock ? I should say 
 you've lost flesh, and a middlin' good bit, 
 too. My word ! " 
 
 " Yes," he admitted. He had grown accus- 
 tomed to the candid allusions of Hoxton as to 
 his personal appearance. " It upset me a 
 little to hear of Sal Dowson's sad ending. 
 But I really called to know if you could tell 
 me anything of Mrs. Fisher and her husband ? " 
 
 " Oh, ah ! Herharf o' the house has been 
 empty this fortnit." 
 
 "Empty?" 
 
 " Didn't you know ? I thought you'd
 
 THE BORDERLAND 293 
 
 been knockin' there. Yes, Ben Fisher and 
 his missis, you mean." She looked at him ; 
 and he knew now, what he had suspected 
 before, that Phillimore Street had a fairly 
 comprehensive idea of the part Ben Fisher 
 had played. "Well, yes, I'm sorry for that 
 woman," she confessed. " She can't settle 
 down anywhere for six months at a stretch, 
 and loses all her jobs every time. That dirty 
 swine of a husband of hers pah ! I'd limb 
 him alive if ,he was mine. A man that lived 
 on my earnings 'ud find hisself under the tap, 
 sharp. So he is, come to that The Brewery 
 Tap down Kingsland. Yes ; him and that 
 Cobra King had been passin' their flash notes 
 for long enough, I've heard. Anyway, they've 
 cleared right out. And the woman had to 
 do the same. Catch me ! She left harf her 
 things behind in her hurry. The coppers 
 came down only an hour afterwards. You 
 won't see them no more down this way." 
 He stood ; stood so long thinking of it all 
 that he began to wonder why the world was 
 created. Then he remembered that Hoxton 
 this Borderland of lost souls and human 
 wreckage was man's creation alone ; toler- 
 ated, they assured him, because the human 
 wreckage must be swept into and confined 
 within certain circumscribed areas. A healthy 
 normal man would quickly die in one of the 
 Hoxton rookeries, he was assured ; but the
 
 294 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 true product of the Borderland, supposing 
 that he reached adult age by an accident, 
 could thrive there. 
 
 He felt in his pockets, found some coins 
 for Mrs. Mucklehorn's children, and turned to 
 go. He had a curious conviction that he 
 should not pass down Phillimore Street again. 
 And then, at the top of the steps, he swerved 
 round, his face a degree paler. And it was 
 coincidental that Mrs. Mucklehorn had waited. 
 
 " You you have not seen or heard any- 
 thing lately of of Lou Bohannan ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I've not/' she said. " Have 
 you ? " 
 
 It was never answered. He had given a 
 choke, and was gone. Before her door 
 closed, his fast strides had put Phillimore 
 Street behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HE reached his rooms again shortly after 
 nine oclock. 
 
 He walked to and fro between the folding 
 doors to and fro. At one time these apart- 
 ments of his had seemed tolerably comfort- 
 able. Now now there was an insupportable 
 air of loneliness, an atmosphere of haunting 
 memories, about them. His supper was set, 
 but he could not touch it. He was at tense 
 war with his inner self, and knew not how it 
 could end ; and the protracted struggle was 
 telling upon him physically and mentally. 
 He went to the glass doors and drew the blind 
 aside with shaking fingers, and looked out 
 over London and across to the hidden street 
 of houses in one of which a listening slip of a 
 girl had sat and waited and] nursed her 
 blind absorbing belief in his greatness, his 
 tenderness, his faith. 
 
 "It is God's doing ! " he said, with catch 
 after catch of his breath. " But I cannot 
 bear it ; I cannot live without her. What- 
 ever happens, God must judge me according 
 to my strength and my motives ! " 
 
 295
 
 296 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 The postman came up the path. He drew 
 back sharply, his ears set. Rat-tat ! 
 
 " For you, Mr. Laverock," came Mrs. 
 Blinco's voice, in mingled resentment and 
 resignation. She had taken a careful survey 
 of the envelope, he knew. She could not help 
 doing that. 
 
 " Thank you ! " 
 
 He sprang to the door, to take it from her. 
 One glance, and the thick beat of his pulse 
 died down, and the letter was pocketed. It 
 was from Louis Valjean ; and of late he had 
 felt a conscious fear and reluctance in opening 
 the letters from his old friend. And the sight 
 of the handwriting had made him think 
 of something else. He gave a quiet little 
 cough, helped by the fact that Mrs. Blinco 
 had lingered. 
 
 " By the bye, Mrs. Blinco, I ought to have 
 told you that I shall be saying good-bye to you 
 in a fortnight with the New Year, that is. 
 
 And perhaps I may take this opportunity 
 j. 
 
 " Don't ! Pray don't mention anything of 
 that," she put in, with a frigidity which 
 experience told him was the forerunner of a 
 sobbing wonder as to why she had ever been 
 born. " You're going. That's enough. I 
 can bear anything now they can burn the 
 house down over my head. In fact, it will 
 come to that, I know for the insurance
 
 THE BORDERLAND 297 
 
 money. Blinco cannot be expected to care 
 so long as he has a bed to lie in. Oh, I ought 
 to have killed him with kindness, I know ; I 
 ought to clean his boots for him, to keep him 
 in a good humour yes ! Don't trouble, 
 Mr. Laverock don't trouble ! You may 
 hear I'm gone for good, but that's nothing ; 
 the rates and taxes go on for ever, like fiends 
 of husbands." 
 
 " He is not a fiend ; I can't let you call 
 him that," he said, with warmth. He had 
 followed her to the kitchen, wishful to soften 
 the blow as far as lay in his power. " In 
 fact, I should like to say before I go that I 
 shall always believe Mr. Blinco is simply one 
 of the men whom whom you require to 
 know how to manage. But] there, we won't 
 talk of that. You knew, of course, that my 
 term in London was only " 
 
 (< I did not. I did not," she repeated, 
 tearfully distant. " I was told nothing that 
 I recollect. I knew, of course, that I could 
 not please you. I saw, of course, there was a 
 decided change, after your illness you had 
 taken to late hours, and staying out with 
 ' friends,' and all that sort of thing natural 
 enough, I suppose, in men who have nobody's 
 feelings but their own to consider. Oh, if I 
 were only a man ! " She rose, and banged 
 her chair back. " I'd I'd revive the lash 
 and pickle for some of these bipeds who go to
 
 298 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 business from nine till five, and then go out 
 again in a huff for the evening because their 
 wives are not dressed-up and smiling on 
 thirty shillings a week. I would, heaven 
 help me ! It's not so much what they spend, if 
 they earn it; but did you ever know a man who, 
 calling his drinking and smoking a legitimate 
 pleasure, ever gave his wife an equal amount 
 to spend per night for her pleasure ? Never ! 
 The selfishness of men ! " 
 
 "He is not at home ? " John Laverock 
 ventured hesitatingly. 
 
 " At home ? Can you see him sitting in 
 that chair ? I can't ! I can sit here and 
 scheme how to save money while he wastes 
 it perhaps on other men's wives for all I 
 know.' 
 
 " Oh, no no no ! " 
 
 " No ? That's what you say, Mr. Laver- 
 rock. What you think, is another matter. 
 No man in the world could ever be trusted out 
 of sight with a sovereign in his pocket. They 
 fly to the wrong thing just as a wasp goes to 
 the jam jar. There is not such a thing as a 
 straightforward man. Don't you think we 
 women don't know ? Only we have to put 
 up with it. And thirty years of putting up 
 with it is nearly enough nearly enough ! " 
 
 She had by no means exhausted her theme. 
 She paused only because her listener, standing 
 there so stiff of limb and fixed of face, had
 
 THE BORDERLAND 299 
 
 abruptly subsided into a chair, slid his arms 
 over the table, and dropped his head sideways 
 on to them. She half rose. It was as if a 
 see-saw had reversed its balance. 
 
 " Oh, I didn't don't think I was referring 
 to you in any way, Mr. Laverock," she said, 
 almost softly. " There is the exception, 
 of course, to even that iron rule. And I will 
 say that of all the gentlemen " 
 
 Even that word failed to touch him. 
 Craning a little nearer, struck by the white- 
 ness of his face and hands, she found herself 
 looking into wide-open eyes that did not see 
 her. She j umped back with a scared whimper. 
 Presently, as she went to cry out, his hand 
 rose a little and fell again, as in a sign to her 
 for silence. 
 
 For a minute or so it held. Then his glassy 
 eyes closed slowly ; and that allowed her to 
 act. The cruet was at her back. Regardless 
 for once of waste, she lifted him and swamped 
 his brows with the table vinegar. If it 
 ran down beneath his collar in little rivulets 
 its efficacy was unquestionable. It induced 
 shiver after shiver. A minute more, and he 
 could sit unsupported, one hand to his fore- 
 head and one clutchingly upon her arm. 
 Unnervingly strange he still looked ; but he 
 was in his right mind again. 
 
 " Forgive me," he muttered thickly. 
 " Where am I ? Forgive me 1 "
 
 300 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " Forgive you ! " she breathed back. " I 
 don't like it at all. That mustn't happen 
 again. I knew very well you had some 
 trouble or other on your mind ; but you can't 
 warn a man. Was was it a sudden pain, or 
 what ? " 
 
 " No no ! I'm all right," he said, breath- 
 ing fast. As the pallor left his face, the sweat 
 had begun to bead out upon it. The end of 
 her apron could hardly keep pace with this 
 secondary symptom. " I don't know what 
 happened. Don't cry ! " 
 
 " I'm not going to." She had reached for 
 the kettle, and was bathing his face with clean 
 water by this time. "I'm going to get you 
 into bed, and then I'm going to knock for 
 that doctor, late as it is. As I said and he 
 said you deserved something for cutting 
 that illness as short as you did. Straight to 
 bed this way ! " 
 
 " No no ; nothing of the sort," he said. 
 He had got to his feet. " Give me a minute 
 stand still. ... I am going out again I 
 must. Only for a little while because I 
 must. The cold air the air will do me good." 
 
 " Or it will finish you," she pronounced 
 solemnly, like an Amen. "Go on ; you 
 must do as you will you're a man ! J) 
 
 He went unsteadily back down the passage. 
 She stood, her breath suspended, waiting for 
 him to collapse ; but he found his hat, found
 
 THE BORDERLAND 301 
 
 the lock, and was actually gone. With a sigh 
 pregnant enough, prolonged enough, to ex- 
 pand a small balloon, Mrs. Blinco turned to 
 grasp that it had really happened and that 
 nothing had been said about the vinegar. 
 
 The cold air had done wonders. Reaching 
 the street-end, John Laverock was almost 
 himself again. Only a chill fear like that 
 of a man who has received an anonymous 
 menace from some enemy was left ; but 
 that became smaller and smaller in contrast to 
 his returning realization of the vast, nameless 
 dread that had held him in bondage previously. 
 
 Now he had reached the small house with 
 the green balcony, side-walk and quaint 
 angles. For some time he stood by the 
 lamp, gazing up at that first-floor window. 
 Then, slowly, almost reverently, he went for- 
 ward and knocked at the door. It opened. 
 A woman stood and looked up into his ques- 
 tioning face. 
 
 " I wondered," she said at last, just above 
 her breath. " No, never a word. Not a sign 
 not a clue of any kind." 
 
 " And it's the tenth day the tenth night," 
 he said, almost piteously. He had turned 
 his face, to hide it. 
 
 " Yes ; the tenth night," she whispered. 
 What she did not understand, she could feel, 
 it seemed so quietly she stood, with her 
 hands clasped.
 
 302 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 " I must bear it," he said, with sudden 
 husky resoluteness that made her start. 
 
 " Yes, bear it if you only can," she whis- 
 pered. " Perhaps it was all for the best in 
 some mysterious way hard as that seems to 
 say. Poor child ! " 
 
 " It is clear. She meant to go, and to 
 leave no trace." He lingered. He seemed 
 to find his ray of comfort in her hushed atti- 
 tude. " She had said no word to you, and 
 no one had been here to see her no one 
 whom she might have known." 
 
 " No one, as far as I can tell. And she 
 had never left the house at night before that. 
 Just that one evening I happened to be out, 
 and her light was burning, as I say, when I 
 came back soon after ten. Only half an 
 hour afterwards, I heard the front door click ; 
 and that was the last I have seen or heard of 
 her. But, perhaps " 
 
 " No no," he said heavily. " She has 
 gone ; and I must must leave her in the Al- 
 mighty's keeping. And and what it means 
 for me, I have yet to discover." 
 
 Another silence. From time to time she 
 stole a glance up at his face, and away again. 
 It was all beyond her all but the palpable 
 fact that the man's teeth gave a little 
 series of clicks now and again as with 
 cold. 
 
 " You could not," she dared, at length,
 
 THE BORDERLAND 303 
 
 "you would not care to make inquiries 
 through the police ? " 
 
 " I could not no ! If if she went like 
 that, of her own accord, I could not hope 
 
 to " He paused ; then dashed a hand 
 
 to his eyes, as to sweep away a mist that 
 shamed the traditions of his sex. He was 
 going. "If I do not see you before, I wish 
 you and yours a very, very happy Christmas ! " 
 
 " The same to you, sir," she called involun- 
 tarily, in a choking voice. " I mean, if we 
 know in our hearts all is right you know 
 what I mean ! " 
 
 And the small dagger of hall-light vanished 
 abruptly. She had gone in. She had nothing 
 to tell him ; and both secretly realized that 
 there would never be anything to telljiim.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 SLOWLY the drab, half-lit, longest-seeming 
 days in the year ticked by over London. 
 
 It was six o'clock on Christmas Eve. 
 Not the Eve of the Christmas cards and 
 children's dreams. London lay under a 
 mysterious pall of dun-grey, that deadened 
 sound and coated the streets with a slime 
 over which horses passed with timid, sliding 
 feet. The heavens, to which men's eyes 
 or thoughts turn involuntarily on Christmas 
 Eve, were shut out ; but the indefinable, 
 inseparable thrill the sensation of tension 
 waiting to snap with a signal-burst of voices 
 from on high tingled in the air everywhere. 
 To stand at any street corner with closed eyes 
 was like pausing to listen to the bated mur- 
 murings of a great, distant multitude waiting 
 for something to happen. 
 
 Even John Laverock could feel it. This 
 was precisely his mental attitude the sense 
 of standing apart and realizing vaguely how 
 fast, and ever increasingly fast, the pulse of 
 London beat to-night. For he had seemed 
 to move all that week like a man in a phantom 
 
 304
 
 THE BORDERLAND 305 
 
 city, unaware of any impulse or striving to 
 break free of the spell, following his pre- 
 scribed duties automatically. He had missed 
 this year completely the precious spirit of 
 Christmas-tide ; but set against that fact 
 was the merciful lethargy which obscured 
 full realization. Amber Lou was taken from 
 him but only in the flesh. She moved with 
 him, breathed with him, watched while he 
 slept. He had still the unshakable, deep- 
 down conviction that some divine process 
 was silently at work for him and for 
 her. 
 
 He was standing in the room which Mrs. 
 Smith called her kitchen in Laburnum 
 Street, Haggerston. It did duty for bed- 
 room as well ; and in odour and general 
 appearance suggested that cattle had had at 
 least temporary possession here. His tall 
 figure reached almost to the black ceiling, 
 and the lamplight showed him vermin calmly 
 retracing their tracks on the walls. Mrs. 
 Smith had " let everything go." She had, 
 indeed, wiped a chair, with the remark that 
 she thought it would " hold up a little longer "; 
 but he had preferred to stand, even at the 
 risk of wounding what susceptibilities were 
 left to her. 
 
 " Don't be flurried, please," he said, in the 
 subdued, sunken voice that was becoming 
 habitual with him now. "I am no one 
 
 u
 
 306 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 or, at least, I am some one who knows and 
 understands." 
 
 " Ah ! " A woman who was past weeping 
 for herself /she sat with her faded eyes watching 
 the empty grate, her head now and then 
 shaking as in a kind of palsy. " You wish, 
 I know, you could carry the picture you've 
 seen here and pack it down in front o' the 
 West-End, and make 'em see that, while they 
 work so hard to spend their money, hundreds 
 here are on'y waitin' for Gawd to take 'em 
 home. As I heard the minister say the other 
 day, happy are the poor who die early in 
 London ! Yes ; it's easy to be good, and 
 hold up your head, when you've got somethin' 
 to live for." 
 
 " Must you think that ? " he asked, almost 
 as lifelessly. He had put down several small 
 packets on the table, and was wondering 
 abstractedly what had become of all her 
 children. " I am afraid it is not so, Mrs. 
 Smith. Good houses, good wages, good condi- 
 tions of life do not bring men nearer to God. 
 The West-End of London has all these things, 
 I know ; but it is not heaven there it is 
 perhaps nearer hell than the slums." 
 
 " But why why should the woman born 
 in Kensington have all she wants in life, 
 while the woman born in Haggerston starves 
 and weeps her few years away ? Where's 
 God to allow it ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 307 
 
 " Hush hush. I cannot answer that. 
 No man can." 
 
 " I can't stop, Mr. Laverock ! " She sud- 
 denly swayed up, as though remembering 
 " There's my Ezra I must think of him 
 to-night, if ever." And she caught up her 
 rag of a black shawl. 
 
 " Ezra yes ! Where is he ? I have missed 
 him for weeks. I brought him this tobacco." 
 
 " Heaven knows," she wailed. " I dunno 
 what's come over him lately. At least, I do ! 
 He ain't been nigh home all day again and 
 there's his tray over there. He's took nothin' 
 for days. And there's hardly a bit o' boot 
 to his feet. Since he got so thick with that 
 Black Sam it's turned his weak brain. And 
 if he goes marchin' with 'em to-night, as he 
 will, there's no sayin'. They're so many 
 mad wolves by now. He's been trod on twice 
 this week in the scuffles. If Black Sam gets 
 'em to the Palace to-night, as he says he will, 
 there'll be hell to pay." 
 
 " The Palace ? " he repeated. 
 
 " Ain't you heard, sir ? " Fastening her 
 " bonnet," she turned to him with a beautiful 
 touch of pride at her Ezra's share in the great 
 movement. " He says there'll be ten thou- 
 sand men, if one. If you'd have heard him 
 last night you'd ha* thought he was light- 
 headed. I hope I've kept some faith in 
 Providence," she added, untying and tying
 
 308 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 again the bonnet strings with fleshless fingers, 
 " but I can't get over that thought o' seein' 
 him fetched home once too often on a shutter. 
 You read the papers, sir, don't you ? " 
 
 His grey eyes had looked back at her quite 
 blankly. 
 
 " The papers ? " Now he recollected. 
 There had been rumours and rumblings in 
 the air for some time past : rumours that 
 London's army of famished and unemployed 
 had reached the end of its tether of endur- 
 ance. But until this moment it had had no 
 real significance for him. One man's trouble 
 blinds him to the troubles of all those around 
 him. " This is the night of their great 
 march ? " 
 
 " To-night's the night, sir. They're goin' 
 to see the Queen. And my Ezra's with 'em. 
 I sat up here all last night, listenin'. Seemed 
 all the time as if I could hear their feet 
 goin' and drums beatin' just as when my 
 husband was a soldier, and I went to see him 
 off. Yes, he served his time through two 
 wars, and he got two medals, but nothin' 
 else ; an' he lost the situation that might 
 have kept him a man. No one 'ud give him 
 a job or look at him the war that he helped 
 to win was all over and done with, you see. 
 And he went from bad to worse from that 
 time. He had two British flags tattooed on 
 his arm, and tried to get 'em out, so that he
 
 THE BORDERLAND 309 
 
 mightn't be found dead with 'em on him. 
 I've seen him jab a knife into 'em before now. 
 He said he'd get his own back on his feller 
 creatures, and he's doin' it. They feed him 
 in prison ; and they'll have to bury him and 
 me both. They didn't want us." 
 
 " Where is he now your husband ? " he 
 asked, in the pause. He himself seemed to 
 be listening while he talked always listening. 
 
 " I've got no husban'," she replied, taking 
 down her door key. " He's comin* out o' 
 'ospital next Tuesday if they let him. His 
 mates '11 meet him, and inside of an hour he'll 
 be shoutin' drunk and smash some one, and 
 they'll ' run him in ' again. That's all they 
 can do keep puttin' 'em in prison and lettin' 
 'em out. It don't stop the goin's-on a bit, 
 but it keeps a lot o' men in work buildin'. 
 I sold the last picture last week for eightpence. 
 Then I applied for parish relief. They came 
 down here an' told me I could go into the 
 infirmary if I wanted, but there was no money 
 to give away. I s'pose they wanted it all to 
 keep up the Empire and gold-laced uniforms, 
 as Black Sam says. I couldn't go into the 
 infirmary with seven children starvin' behind. 
 I oughtn't to have had any children, I 
 know ; it's not nateral ; but I had a husban' 
 who couldn't take that in. The Bishop his- 
 self says there's A'mighty's blessin' on a full 
 fam'ly ; and he ought to know. I must go,
 
 3io THE BORDERLAND 
 
 sir ; I want to get my Ezra out of it, if I 
 can. I've got the woman next door to mind 
 my little ones." And he stepped mechanic- 
 ally out into the street with her. " Yes, this 
 is Chris'mus Eve, sir. The night, many years 
 ago, down there in Wiltshire, when I used to 
 go with the other girls and stand outside the 
 Hall, and sing : 
 
 ' God bless the Squire and his relations, 
 And teach us all our proper stations/ 
 
 And if we sang as if we meant it, Squire 'ud 
 send his flunkey out with a bun and a' orange 
 for each. I don't think I could do it now. 
 No, I think I should fling 'em back in his face, 
 and ask him how he dares to sit in church 
 and read the Lessons, and send men to gaol 
 for snarin' one of his partridges his birds ! 
 and hoard up them thousands o' pounds while 
 he pays his labourers twelve shillin's a week, 
 and sacks 'em for not votin' for the right 
 party. But he's dead, and he can think it all 
 out while he burns. I used to shudder at them 
 anarchists, but I don't now. I should be one 
 myself if A'mighty hadn't put a timid heart 
 into me that couldn't stand blood. It's this 
 way I'm goin', sir ! " 
 
 Shocked and silenced, he kept pace with her, 
 as her shrunken little figure slipped fast along 
 the blackly-damp pavements. Where he was 
 going, and why he went, he did not know ;
 
 THE BORDERLAND 311 
 
 and he did not pause to ask. Down squalid 
 and echoing alleys all overhung and permeated 
 with the smell of gasworks, turgid canal water 
 and unclean humanity short cuts through 
 the most depressing, cramped and unwhole- 
 some district that even east London has to 
 show ; down stretches of main road, avenues 
 of shop-windows frosted and ablaze, and with 
 scarlet and white berries catching the eye 
 everywhere ; through more obscure, misery- 
 haunted areas where the very gas-light seemed 
 impoverished in quality and so on for what 
 seemed miles. 
 
 Then at last Ezra Smith's mother drew up, 
 and the man gripped her arm in a startled way. 
 
 " Where are we ? Are you sure you know ? 
 Are you sure he could find his way all this 
 distance blind ? " 
 
 " Every yard every day," she said, in the 
 same thin, calm voice. " Black Sam runs 
 before the p'lice. He'll snatch a meeting 
 in Stepney High Street at eight o'clock under 
 their very eyes, and another down Hoxton two 
 hours later. They're afraid of him now. 
 They've hunted a lamb and found him a 
 lion." 
 
 " Who is he ? I mean, what is he ? That 
 is the point." 
 
 " He was a packer, with eight children, 
 and a pound a week when in work." She 
 hurried on a little way, peering in all direc-
 
 312 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 tions. " They sold up his home to pay his 
 rent and taxes. And one day he marched 
 into the p'lice-court an' demanded that the 
 State should find him work or keep his f amly, 
 as he'd helped to keep the State. They threw 
 him out ; but he went again and again. And 
 that's how he made his name. And he says 
 if the people kept out o' the pubs for on'y a 
 month, an' stood square against the sweaters, 
 England 'ud have a right to call itself a 
 Christian country. It's him that's got on my 
 Ezra's brain. Ezra can't see he on'y hears 
 the talk, and draws the picturs in his own 
 mind." 
 
 They turned a corner ; and all was changed. 
 The mother of " Lamps Out " ran forward 
 with a little cry. Following her, John Lave- 
 rock found himself drawn into the outer fringe 
 of a crowd such as he had never seen before 
 not for size, but for silence. 
 
 It was massed by the light of carried lamps 
 under a triple span of high railway arches, 
 over which trains thundered now and then 
 and drowned the booming voice of the man 
 who was speaking. He was a mere speck of a 
 figure from this distance, and to get a foot 
 nearer was impossible ; but it was Black 
 Sam the man with the arresting eyes, the 
 thrilling movements of arm and head, the 
 organ-voice that went through the brain and 
 left there a memory not to be forgotten.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 313 
 
 " ... Is that the truth ? Don't answer 
 me ; silence '11 do, or the police '11 say we dis- 
 turbed the peace. The peace of what ? This 
 London, that doesn't want to know of us that 
 doesn't want a skeleton grinning past the 
 Christmas tree in its windows. What have 
 you got, on this Eve of the Day when Christ 
 was born to teach us how hard it is for a rich 
 man to enter His heaven ? Some of you 
 have had work nine months out of the twelve, 
 and now you're grumbling disgusting, dis- 
 contented beasts that you are ! Some of you 
 have been so blessed that you've got a bit of 
 beef or a sack of coal from the Church that 
 runs the world in Christ's name ; the Church 
 that has millions of money locked up in 
 landed estate and property and funds, and 
 that can afford to pay its bishops thousands 
 a year. Thousands ! to men who stand up 
 to set you and me the example of how to live 
 to the glory of God ! If God looks down on 
 London to-night there, I'll say no more of 
 that. You know the worth of religion now. 
 
 " Now ! We know our own minds at last 
 or most of us do. The world won't budge 
 for us ; we've seen that. We've marched 
 our feet off to Hyde Park and back, and we 
 can go on doing it. It's something for London 
 to look at, and for the papers to write about. 
 But we're going to do it once more, in our 
 own way this time, come what may. We
 
 314 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 may be beaten ; but one day one day we 
 shall win ! 
 
 " Can you hear me ? I read the paper 
 this morning read articles written by men 
 sitting in easy chairs in warm offices, with 
 cigarettes in their mouths. What did they 
 tell us ? They tell us of booming trade, of 
 growing contentment, of wonderful progress 
 all over the civilized world. It may be so ; 
 but, if so, you and I and thousands more 
 are the faggots that go to feed that furnace. 
 Nothing comes our way nothing save the 
 yearly certainty that we shall be out of 
 work sooner or later. But now I'll read 
 you something that was alongside those 
 articles : the words of a British statesman 
 at a meeting last night and British states- 
 men don't paint with red colours when white 
 will do. Remember, he is not talking to you 
 and me. He is addressing a wealthy Institu- 
 tion of scholars who deal only with facts. 
 
 " ' The truth must be told, however un- 
 pleasant. There is no doubt whatever that, 
 as the result of insanitary and over-crowded 
 dwellings, of meagre and artificially-preserved 
 and adulterated foods, and, above all, of 
 lack of employment, the condition of the 
 East and South of this city of London is 
 infinitely worse than it was twenty years 
 ago, when a similar investigation was made. 
 The average of health there is lower than
 
 THE BORDERLAND 315 
 
 it has ever been in modern times. There 
 is visible racial degeneration. The women 
 of the poorer classes are forced to work at 
 times when work is the ruin of maternity 
 and the death of the nation's best material. 
 Formerly we had only a winter industrial 
 trouble, which we tided over somehow by 
 the help of those abominable Mansion House 
 Funds ' mark that word on the lips of a 
 statesman ! ' To-day the distress goes on 
 throughout the whole year. Imperial apathy 
 is breeding sheer barbarism in the slums 
 that Borderland that widens and widens ; 
 and through that fact we shall fall as surely 
 as slothful Rome fell through the barbarians 
 of the North.' 
 
 " I mustn't speak for long, maties ! Time 
 is too precious. There are a dozen other 
 meetings being held at this moment, and 
 this banner I'm pointing at ought to be 
 at the head of ten thousand men, two abreast. 
 ' Life's Handicap,' it says. And it's to be 
 run off to-night, when all the money and 
 the glitter are about. And the course 
 from Whitechapel straight as a die to Buck- 
 ingham Palace. 
 
 ' We don't want anything more to do 
 with Prime Ministers. No ! we're going 
 straight to the Queen herself this time, just 
 as we are, without any leaders or programme. 
 This isn't a Lord Mayor's Show it's a show
 
 316 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 of starving human bodies ' beings erect 
 upon two legs, and bearing all the outward 
 semblance of men, and not of monsters ' 
 as you've heard it said. The police have 
 given us warning that we mustn't go beyond 
 the City boundary ; and we've answered 
 the police that we must, because there is no 
 other way of reaching her. 
 
 " The Queen ! She has done her bit for 
 the East End twice over, hasn't she ? Well, 
 we take the right to go and thank her for 
 ourselves, and she'll see us in the flesh as we 
 are, and perhaps we can make England realize 
 through her to-night that we really are 
 living units, and not the pariah dogs of 
 London. They tell me I don't see things in 
 their true light and proportion ; but I can 
 see all you standing before me this Christmas 
 Eve ; and you're the solidest fact in answer. 
 And if not, it's enough for me to see my own 
 children, and and sometimes to have to 
 turn and look away from them, in case I 
 might. . . . 
 
 " All together ! Buckingham Palace by 
 nine o'clock to-night ! The King and Queen 
 are there, we know. The Queen '11 come 
 out to look at us, if she knows we mean no 
 harm. Let her hear this ! one, two, three ! " 
 
 And a crackling roar went up that seemed 
 to rend the envelope of earth's air, and to 
 sweep John Laverock off his feet. The
 
 THE BORDERLAND 317 
 
 crowd faced about and poured past him like 
 a tide suddenly loosed. He had lost his 
 clutch upon the arm of Smith's mother ; 
 she had been carried away, a mere straw in 
 the eddy. Strong himself, he stood his 
 ground, buffeted this way and that, until he 
 could catch a glimpse of Black Sam again. 
 And there beside him, his blind face turned 
 up, shouting deliriously as long as his lungs 
 would hold out, was " Lamps Out " Smith of 
 Haggerston. 
 
 No more. When he had fought his way 
 to the wall of the last arch, they were gone, 
 banners and all. He stood a moment, over- 
 whelmed ; and then fought his way back 
 into the heart of the hurrying crowd of men.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 AT twenty minutes past eight that 
 Christmas Eve, when over London lay 
 a spreading dome of reflected light, and 
 laughter echoed from lip to lip in the crowded 
 streets, a sinister, disconsonant thing hap- 
 pened. A great drab snake began to wind 
 its way out from the East End. 
 
 Vehicles drew aside ; the crowds poured 
 to the kerbs for a sight. " Here they are 
 here they come ! " went up the whispers ; 
 and the snake was winding by. It was 
 composed of a mass of human units, who 
 claimed " the right to live." Just that 
 " the right to live." 
 
 They raised no shouts kept the same 
 silence ; most of them had their jaws con- 
 sciously, stubbornly, set as for an effort yet 
 to come. Their myriad feet upon the mud- 
 carpeted roadway made very little sound 
 an imaginative man might have closed his 
 eyes a moment and thought of the phantom 
 march past of the " Deathless Army." If 
 any man did, it was John Laverock, whose 
 soul, in travail for itself, could yet feel the 
 
 318
 
 THE BORDERLAND 319 
 
 nation's shame as typified by the thing 
 that crawled out of the East that night. 
 
 To see the Queen ! Or, at least, to reach 
 her Palace. On they tramped, as orderly, 
 as solemn, as much in earnest as children 
 " playing at soldiers." They meant no ill 
 to any one Black Sam had given it as 
 his last word at the start ; and there were 
 no collection boxes to-night. To see the 
 Queen herself that was all. 
 
 And at the head swayed that great crimson 
 sheet with the odd device : " Life's Handi- 
 cap ! Work first Justice second Content- 
 ment third." Sweating, darkly haggard, 
 grimly triumphant, Black Sam bore one of 
 the poles in a socket at his waist ; and close 
 at his side, clutching the leader's pocket 
 flap, stepping out as in a sort of suppressed 
 ecstasy, went " Lamps Out " Smith of Hagger- 
 ston. Every now and again the bigger man 
 parted his teeth to mutter inspiringly. 
 
 " Keep steady, lad ! you're well in it. 
 They won't stop us to-night. You'll look 
 straight up at her with them blind eyes. 
 Fall out for no one. You'll do it." 
 
 Tramp, tramp ! Left, right ; left, right ! 
 And now the thickening crowd on either 
 flank kept straining eyes ahead as if to see 
 an opposing snake advancing in the distance. 
 And soon an indefinite murmur was in the 
 air : " There they are ! " Black Sam heard
 
 320 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 it, and turned his head to look at the winding 
 length behind. 
 
 " Yes, there they are," he said. " And 
 here are we. They haven't got body and 
 soul at stake but we have. Straight on ! " 
 
 " Straight on ! " called " Lamps Out " 
 at the top of his husky voice. There was 
 nothing that he could see ; but maybe, 
 as John Laverock had often thought, he had 
 a sixth sense denied to the rest. He was 
 feeling like a soldier who had caught his first 
 real glimpse of the enemy. He stepped out 
 faster in his sodden, squelching travesties 
 of shoes. 
 
 There it was now, just ahead : a solid, 
 motionless black patch stretched across the 
 roadway by the Aldgate Pump. A triple 
 line of mounted police first, and behind them 
 a force on foot. . . . The City was barred 
 to-night to men who came not singly, but in 
 battalions. They could not reach the Palace 
 by that route which meant that they were 
 not to reach it by any known route. The 
 police had said so, and had given a good 
 reason ; and there should have been an end 
 of it, only Black Sam and a few others as 
 desperate had thought otherwise. And may- 
 be there is nothing quite so awe-inspiring, 
 potent and compelling as a massed force of 
 British police, horse and foot. 
 
 It kept still and dignified and compact.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 321 
 
 There was still a space of yards between, 
 when the neck of the snake betrayed a 
 wavering, disheartened movement. The 
 great banner swayed and rocked uncertainly 
 as Black Sam turned again with incredulous 
 scorn glittering in his black eyes. Now 
 seemed the tactful, supreme moment when 
 so much may hinge upon so little. A mounted 
 officer trotted a few calm paces, drew up, 
 and called out pacifically enough. 
 
 " Now, my good fellows, you had your 
 warning. What is it ? " 
 
 " Warning be damned. We're men, starv- 
 ing at Christmas ! " 
 
 " I can't help that. You've come so far. 
 Turn round and get home quietly, and let 
 us do the same ; that's all we want, I'm 
 sure. You can't march beyond this point. 
 Good-night, all ! " 
 
 Thick, dull silence. The watching crowd 
 held its breath. The great drab snake seemed 
 easing up for second thoughts all along the 
 line. Then a subtle congesting movement 
 stiffened it again. A hoarse, clarion voice 
 rang back from the head. 
 
 " On ! You're not afraid ? Now or 
 never ! " And " Lamps Out " Smith echoed 
 it deliriously. " Now or never ! " 
 
 The black patch ahead moved back a 
 little, and advanced again in a calm, com- 
 pact mass. The horses reared instinctively,
 
 322 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 as the contact point was reached ; women 
 screamed, men were shouting. The long 
 line was wavering again, and falling back in 
 disorder ingrained respect for, or fear of, 
 the Law. It re-formed and surged on afresh, 
 as Black Sam's booming, blasting voice rose 
 above all the din. 
 
 But slowly slowly back again it went, 
 the horses' great smooth flanks, turned side- 
 ways, forcing irresistibly ramparts of flesh 
 and bone while their riders looked down 
 impassively. It was all but over a battle 
 all but bloodlessly won and lost when Black 
 Sam's glaring eyes focussed a momentary 
 gap just ahead the way into the sacred 
 mile. His organ- voice swelled out in the 
 hopeless confusion. 
 
 " Not a man among us ? Not one ? One, 
 two, three '.first past the Pump show 'em 
 we mean it ! Forward ! " 
 
 The banner had fallen. He panted some- 
 thing to " Lamps Out " Smith who, kicked 
 and flung back a dozen times, had found 
 the flap of his coat again, and hung on. With 
 a crazy cheer " Lamps Out " let go, and 
 plunged ahead into what for him was a sea of 
 darkness. 
 
 On on, followed by a few, fighting like a 
 man possessed at arms he could not see, 
 shouting wildly : " We've done it ! This 
 way to the Queen ! " Yes, they had done
 
 THE BORDERLAND 323 
 
 it ; and for a thrilling moment the issue swung 
 in doubt, and plain courage might have turned 
 the scale and made history. But British 
 police seldom lose their heads in emergency, 
 knowing that ten organized men are superior 
 to fifty unorganized men. There was a 
 quick, revolving movement of the third 
 mounted line. The momentary gap was 
 closed up and obliterated; the few inside 
 were lost to sight. The drab snake was 
 being turned upon itself and driven back in 
 grim earnest. It became a rout, remorselessly 
 followed up by the mounted men and by the 
 pushing, shouting crowd. All was over. 
 
 And behind ? The gradual lull, and the 
 knot of foot constables bending to peer at a 
 huddled, stunted figure that had been trodden 
 into the mire by hoofs and feet, and carried 
 into a side street. Of all in that forlorn 
 charge he was the one remaining. Black 
 Sam had fought a way through, and escaped ; 
 others had been escorted to oblivion by 
 force. ' Lamps Out " Smith had simply 
 plunged on until knocked down. 
 
 They waited, chatting among themselves. 
 They had sent for an ambulance, but it had 
 gone in the wrong direction. Just before 
 it arrived there was a little commotion. 
 A man's unsteady voice it was John Lave- 
 rock's arose from the rear. 
 
 " Stand back, please ! Clear a way it's
 
 324 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 his mother ! " She had marched with 
 the snake, and he had found her and led her 
 to the spot. She tottered slowly forward, 
 and was allowed to kneel beside her boy. 
 She smoothed the wisps of muddy hair from 
 his face, and drew up his head to her flat 
 breast. She looked around at the uniformed 
 figures, and spoke without a tremor. 
 
 " Yes, sirs, he had a mother like your- 
 selves ! " She looked low into his face again, 
 and back at them. John Laverock had 
 one of her hands in his shaking grasp. " Not 
 your fault, sirs ; you couldn't help it. It's 
 all over now. He couldn't go that way to 
 see the Queen, as he thought ; and so and 
 so p'raps he's gone another way to see 
 the great Judge of us all. And you and I " 
 
 " No, no ! " John Laverock whispered, 
 plucking her shoulder. " He's not dead. 
 Don't say that. Look ! " 
 
 The ambulance had come up. It waited 
 a second. She had looked down into her 
 son's face again, and gave a queer little cry. 
 " Lamps Out's " fingers had wavered up 
 and felt for hers. He spoke, as to himself, 
 still in that ecstasy. " Fust past the Pump ! 
 I done it I done it ! " 
 
 " Home ! " the little woman said with 
 dignity, as she rose and drew her old shawl 
 around her. " Bring him home, please. 
 Straight home."
 
 THE BORDERLAND 325 
 
 Another uncertain pause. John Laverock 
 bent back for a brief whisper with the officer 
 in charge. There was no home, he had to 
 explain. The officer cleared his throat. 
 
 " That's all right," he said cheerfully. 
 " Blind, is he ? Then it's a stroke of luck, 
 perhaps. Come along, mother ! We're going 
 to see if the doctors can do something for 
 his eyes, all under one. I shouldn't be a 
 bit surprised. You don't want him blind 
 and lame, too." 
 
 She gave way mutely. John Laverock 
 holding her arm, the little procession wended 
 its way by back streets to the hospital. 
 And there they stripped the rags off " Lamps 
 Out," and stretched him upon a couch in 
 the " Accident " ward. Outside, in the 
 corridor, John Laverock and the mother stood 
 silent, waiting the verdict. It came within 
 an hour. 
 
 " Small bone broken now set. Fully con- 
 scious. No danger whatever. No apparent 
 possibility of restoration of sight." 
 
 Soon they were allowed through. " Lamps 
 Out " lay on a bed the like of which he had 
 never touched before, in a spotless ward 
 where grey-robed women flitted to and fro 
 as on feet of velvet. 
 
 " Better, boy ? " John Laverock softly 
 asked, touching his forehead. 
 
 " Better," was the sleepy answer. " Rum-
 
 326 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 bustical go, ain't it ? Shall miss my 'bacca 
 a bit." 
 
 A little later, John Laverock stooped for 
 what he felt might perchance be his last 
 look at " Lamps Out," pressed the hand of 
 the mother sitting there, and stole out. 
 
 And so ended the march of the men who 
 claimed " the right to live."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 " TUST in time. Some one to see you, 
 
 J Mr. Laverock," said Mrs. Blinco, in 
 tones hushed as with mystery that she had 
 waited to share. Besides, not many times 
 more would his key turn in that door. 
 
 " Some one ? " he repeated. At times, of 
 late, he seemed to have a difficulty in bringing 
 his mind round to grasp the merest common- 
 place. It was just after dusk. Nearly 
 another week had been notched. It wanted 
 but two days to the close of the happiest and 
 saddest year of his life. 
 
 '"Sh!" She nodded and pointed. "I 
 showed her in. Some young person. She 
 seemed so flurried and anxious I thought 
 there was no harm. I said you might be in 
 to tea at any moment." 
 
 For a moment his heart had taken a series 
 of sick leaps, but sank again. Mrs. Blinco's 
 brief description could not fit the one and only 
 woman who moved with him invisibly night 
 and day. She was always calm and calmest 
 in her ordeals. 
 
 He went in, closing the door at once in a 
 
 27
 
 328 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 way that moved Mrs. Blinco to an access of 
 disgust. A feminine figure stood nervously 
 near the window. He stumbled to turn up 
 the gas before he looked at her. Then he 
 saw. It was the tactful, smiling little maid 
 who, months ago, had so often answered his 
 knock at Miss Valj can's residence. One look 
 at her face, and he stood prepared. 
 
 " What is it, Mary ? " he asked quietly, 
 at once. 
 
 " I thought I thought you should know, 
 sir ! oh, I don't know what I thought ! I 
 took it upon myself to slip across. Mr. 
 Bede " 
 
 " No ! " He took a stride, with that half- 
 shout. 
 
 " Yes ! " She put up her hands, and burst 
 into a storm of tears that nothing could stop. 
 The man stood, trembling in every limb, 
 but unable to take any action. Minutes 
 had passed before his voice would sound. 
 
 " Tell me ! " And the streaming eyes 
 looked at him. 
 
 " He had a cough at at three o'clock, 
 and fell forward. It seemed the last. The 
 doctor came at half past, and I heard Miss 
 Valjean cry out. The doctor went out for a 
 minute, and I heard her ask him if there 
 was anything in the world that he wanted, 
 and he should have it. I couldn't hear, but 
 I think he said ' Louis.' She opened the
 
 THE BORDERLAND 329 
 
 door to call me, and I heard him whisper it 
 twice quite plain : ' Tell John ! Tell John ! ' 
 And she burst out crying like a mad thing, 
 and ran up to her room. She has been so 
 very strange lately ; she won't let me even 
 go upstairs, if she can help it, and is always 
 watching me about. I think I know, sir 
 I couldn't help knowing ! And when she 
 sent me with the telegram to fetch Mr. Louis, 
 and said not a word about you, I I thought 
 I must come straight to you, sir, whatever 
 happened. I must go ; perhaps I've done 
 wrong ! " 
 
 " No no ! " He struggled as against a 
 stupor. ' Three o'clock and now it is past 
 five. . . God bless you for telling me. I 
 could never have forgiven her nor myself. 
 I'll come ! I can act a lie if I must. Bede ! " 
 
 She flitted out, the man just behind her ; 
 and Mrs. Blinco drew back just in time. For 
 once Mrs. Blinco dared not speak, but what 
 it cost her to contain herself only she knew. 
 John Laverock stood holding the street door 
 ajar, like a man tensely counting the beats 
 of time as they passed. Then, of a sudden, 
 he banged the door without a word, and was 
 gone too. Mrs. Blinco' s reflections in the 
 kitchen, if silent, were tremendous. 
 
 Walking steadily, he reached the house. 
 With outward calm he touched the bell. 
 There was a pause as if Mary, the listening
 
 330 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 maid, had thrilled and hesitated to answer. 
 He rang again, and his gaze through the 
 glass panels showed him Miss Valjean coming 
 slowly down the stairs. Ere she reached 
 the foot Mary had run forward. He stepped 
 in, and stood, his hat - lifted. And back at 
 him the swollen eyes in Miss Valjean's face 
 stared as at a ghost. For a moment the 
 recollection of all else seemed to slip from 
 her, and in those eyes was almost a haunting 
 terror. 
 
 Then she had made her effort, and was 
 turning. Even at such a moment her lips 
 had set ; she was turning to go back with a 
 semblance of cold majesty that refused to 
 speak. But not before she had looked at 
 Mary's conscious face as pale as her own. 
 She knew. 
 
 They watched her. She had paused on 
 the first landing. She seemed to reach up 
 her arms as in an agony that longed to find 
 vent, but dared not. Then she had gone on 
 up toward her own room. She knew. 
 
 The way was clear. With a nod to the 
 troubled maid, he tip-toed up the stair in 
 turn. He would not knock. He stood out- 
 side the curtained door in silent prayer a 
 moment, and then turned the handle and 
 pushed so gently as to prevent the portiere 
 rings clashing. He was inside. 
 
 The lamp burned, its crimson shade tilted
 
 THE BORDERLAND 331 
 
 aside. A woman, who looked like a nurse, 
 stood there as though she had not stirred 
 for hours ; and the doctor sat grave and 
 still, his hand framing his chin. Both turned 
 silently to look at him, and then looked 
 back at the velvet-coated figure sunk in the 
 cushions. It just stirred the breast just 
 heaved in quick, never-ceasing, nearly sound- 
 less little gasps, like that of a cage-bird dying 
 upon its perch. He had not been moved 
 from his chair. 
 
 Fighting for self-control, the bubbles rising 
 in his throat, John Laverock put down his 
 hat and stole near, and stood with hands 
 folded before him, looking down. The doctor 
 glanced up at him, saw his twitching muscles, 
 and frowned a warning. It sufficed. He 
 became very still, with only a click of his 
 teeth now and then. 
 
 Bede's flowers, that were sent from the 
 church with a verse attached every morning, 
 stood on the table beside him. There x too, 
 was the jar of cigarette tobacco ; and one 
 half-consumed little white tube lay near by, 
 just as his grasp had relaxed upon it and let 
 it fall. A long time John Laverock looked 
 as with unseeing eyes at that little relic of the 
 man's comfort in life ; and then, half un- 
 knowingly, he slid out his hand and took 
 it. Almost simultaneously there was a partly 
 stifled little sound behind him ; and he
 
 332 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 knew that Alice Valjean had stolen in, and 
 stood there with a handkerchief to her lips, 
 and that she had seen. 
 
 After that, for a time, no one moved. The 
 thrown-back face with the half-parted lips 
 on the cushions seemed that of a man who, 
 while not asleep, yet saw something and 
 heard something in his detached state that 
 linked them through himself with the life 
 beyond. His great dark eyes were all but 
 closed. Now and then his delicate nostrils 
 quivered, and he seemed about to give one 
 long sigh and yield up the struggle to remain 
 with them a little longer. And then, as they 
 held their breath, the far-away sound beneath 
 his velvet jacket the sound as of wavelets 
 draining down a distant pebbly beach 
 became audible yet again. It was answered 
 by the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. 
 Round and round went the hands, till they 
 reached seven o'clock. Louis Valjean's train 
 was on the way, but it could not reach London 
 yet. 
 
 The nurse stirred, and looked inquiringly 
 at the doctor. He nodded. She dipped 
 a feather in something and put it to Bede's 
 lips. They moved in feeble response. His 
 glazed eyes unclosed a little ; he seemed to 
 feel faintly surprised. He was looking at 
 them, and yet as past them. The doctor 
 motioned to John Laverock.
 
 THE BORDERLAND 333 
 
 " Speak to him." 
 
 He could not. He bent. The bubble 
 swelled and broke in his throat again and 
 again. The panting went on, and Bede's 
 eyes were looking lovingly up into his ; but 
 the agony of the man who tried to call him 
 by name, and could not, for fear there should 
 come no response, was something that Bede 
 was not to know. John Laverock kissed the 
 passive, pure forehead, and was drawn 
 back by the doctor, who motioned to Miss 
 Valjean in turn. She came slowly forward 
 looked and drew up her hands to her breast. 
 What passed John Laverock did not know. 
 He had turned away. 
 
 Once more the feather was dipped, and put 
 to Bede's lips. The great dark eyes swung 
 round a little, still as in surprise at their 
 presence and their silence ; and then reclosed. 
 For near half an hour more the quick heaving 
 of his breast went on. And then the fingers 
 of one hand slowly spread themselves out. 
 The doctor stood up. 
 
 " Yes, he is going," he said, in a voice 
 that was hardly a voice. 
 
 No one moved. A moment more, and 
 Bede's lips parted wide. A long, thin, strain- 
 ing sound came from them like the strenuous 
 answer to a call. He looked out straight 
 before him, with a fixed, imploring look. 
 He saw John Laverock ; he gazed at him as
 
 334 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 at one he had known, and forgotten, and 
 suddenly remembered again. He put out 
 both his hands as to take something, and 
 John Laverock gripped them, and cried out 
 
 " Yes, yes, Bede I'll meet you and tell 
 you ! " And then 
 
 " 'Sh ! ... He is gone," the doctor said. 
 ***** 
 
 A little later, as John Laverock turned, 
 the door opened, and Louis Valjean stood 
 there. He had come just too late. The two 
 men gripped hands without a word. For 
 just a moment Louis looked into his friend's 
 eyes. And then John Laverock was passing 
 on down the stair. At the foot he drew back 
 to make way for the minister, who had been 
 away from home when summoned. Again 
 no word passed only the look. 
 
 A little later yet it might have been 
 half an hour as he knelt alone by the table 
 in the dark drawing-room, he felt his arm 
 touched. He looked up, in the awe as of a 
 wondrous dream. It was Miss Valjean. 
 
 The light from the hall shone upon her 
 rigid face. She was looking before her 
 not down at him with a look that he had 
 not seen on her face before. She spoke 
 in a slow voice, subdued with her grief, 
 heavy with suffering. 
 
 " What what was it that you may have 
 to tell my brother when you meet ? "
 
 THE BORDERLAND 335 
 
 He did not answer. He bent his head 
 again. In this hour, all the past was blotted 
 out by the shadow of death. 
 
 Her voice came again. 
 
 " Tell me as you would have told Bede. 
 . . . What was she to you that woman whom 
 you won and lost ? " 
 
 And he answered in the quietest of voices 
 " The light of my life the hope of the years 
 before me ! " 
 
 There was a long silence. Then she touched 
 his arm. " Come ! " she whispered. 
 
 He rose. He was following her up the 
 stair. He knew nothing but that something 
 in that word had told him he was on the 
 threshold of a revelation. 
 
 He followed her up the second flight, and 
 beyond that again to a little landing that 
 his feet had never touched until now. There 
 was a door a closed door. She stood 
 with her hand upon the panels. 
 
 " He would have wished it," she said 
 softly. " For your sake, as I thought, I 
 tried to part her from you. . . . God, through 
 my dead brother, commands me to give her 
 back to you." 
 
 The door swung open. With a cry the 
 man put out his arms. There was a little 
 answering cry a moment of agony and 
 hesitation and Amber Lou was between 
 them.
 
 336 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 The month had gone ; and Miss Valjean 
 was answered. 
 
 She closed the door upon them, and went 
 downstairs. The minister was just shaking 
 hands in good-bye with Louis Valjean in the 
 hall. She faced them, a finger to her lips. 
 
 " Not yet," she said. " I want you and 
 Louis too." And she drew them into the 
 dark drawing-room. And she stood there, 
 and told them, without one tremor ; and it 
 ended just as John Laverock's feet sounded 
 upon the stair above. "He is coming," she 
 whispered. " This is the hour of reparation. 
 Louis, stand by me, as witness. The banns 
 were read thrice ! ... John, call her 
 the woman you love. You were two. The 
 minister is here, waiting to make you One." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.
 
 A 000128266 4