SALLY

 
 Sally Temple 
 
 . CALIF. LIBRAH*. MB
 
 The Heart 
 
 of 
 
 Sally Temple 
 
 BSI 
 Rupert Sargent Holland 
 
 Author of 
 
 The Man in th Towr, 
 The Count at Harvard 
 
 New York 
 McBride, Nast <% Company 
 
 1913
 
 Copyright, 1913, by 
 McBniDE, NAST&CO. 
 
 Published, October, 1913
 
 TO 
 
 G. E. M. 
 
 Who Heard This Story 
 First in the White 
 
 Mountains 
 
 2130267
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEK PAGE 
 
 I TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL GARDENS 9 
 
 II THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR ... 29 
 
 III ROMSEY MEETS His WARD .... 49 
 
 IV THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME . . 64 
 
 V THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS ... 79 
 
 VI LORD VERNEY SHOWS His METTLE . 95 
 
 VII THE RESULTS OF AN INDISCRETION . Ill 
 
 VIII THE DRAGON PROVES His TITLE . . 123 
 
 IX THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY . . . 134 
 
 X OVERSEEN FROM AN ARBOR . . .146 
 
 XI THE ENCOUNTER AT THE INN . . . 155 
 
 XII THE WIND IN PUMP LANE . . . 165 
 
 XIII OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH . . . 176 
 
 XIV THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE . . 188 
 
 XV SALLY'S PROBLEM 205 
 
 XVI A LANDLORD VISITS His TENANTS . 216 
 
 XVII THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND . . . 228 
 
 XVIII GROTE GIVES CHASE 245 
 
 XIX A NIGHT'S EVENTS IN A GREAT HOUSE 257 
 
 XX THE DRAMA IN PUMP COURT . 271
 
 Sally Temple
 
 THE 
 HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 PART I 
 I 
 
 TUKTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL GARDENS 
 
 HPHE accident happened just outside Vauxhall 
 * Gardens late in the afternoon. The rear axle 
 broke, and let the coach down in the road with a pro- 
 digious thump. But the coachman knew his business, 
 and had his horses stopped within a dozen yards. It 
 was well he had, for the thump and the subsequent 
 bumping were enough to have shaken the nerves of a 
 stronger woman than Lady Pamela Tree, even had 
 she not been in such a novel situation. The lady gave 
 a shriek and shut her eyes. She did not have to 
 reach out to anyone for protection, inasmuch as 
 she was already in the arms of a young gentleman, 
 and seemed likely to cling there forever. 
 
 Even such a delicious burden, however, could not 
 
 make the gentleman forget that he was reclining on 
 
 9
 
 10 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 the flat of his back, with his feet sprawling in air. 
 "Be calm, my love!" he exclaimed; "all the danger's 
 past! Open your eyes a moment;" and therewith 
 he gently disengaged himself, and reaching his hand 
 to a strap that now hung above him he pulled himself 
 to his feet. He thrust the coach-door open. "Now, 
 dearest Pamela, your hand. It's only a broken axle, 
 and the horses are standing quite still." 
 
 The lady was very pale, but she contrived to reach 
 his hand, and then to step out of the down-set coach. 
 A crowd had meantime gathered round. Charles 
 Tree glanced them over, and then beckoned one for- 
 ward. "A crown if you'll fetch me another coach 
 here," said he to this one. And to the coachman he 
 added, "Get some of these lads to help you with the 
 wreckage." 
 
 With that he looked down at the Lady Pamela, 
 and straightway all thoughts of the broken carriage 
 flew from his mind. "Let us get through these people 
 to some retreat," he murmured, and pressed the hand 
 that rested on his arm a little closer to his side. 
 
 Being opposite the gate of Vauxhall Gardens, it 
 was very natural that Mr. Tree should lead his fair 
 companion within the hedges, and find a seat that was 
 not too small for two, nor yet large enough for three. 
 The seat was under a laburnum, and well withdrawn 
 from the mall where the gay people walked. Mr. 
 Tree seated the lady, and then, drawing a handker- 
 chief from his pocket, touched his face with it. The
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 11 
 
 afternoon was warm for early June. "Pam," said 
 he, "your eyes are like the sea when it's most blue 
 and tender. You are the sweetest woman in the 
 world!" 
 
 She lost her pallor in a sweeping blush, and the 
 eyes were hid for a moment under their lashes. 
 Charles Tree stood looking at the slender lady, 
 gowned in saffron, with a little chain of gold about 
 her throat. "And to think that I " said he, "rude, 
 rough I" 
 
 She reached her hand quickly toward him. "No, 
 Charles, no. Indeed I am no wonder! Only a very 
 simple girl who " 
 
 "Yes," said he, bending lower, "who " 
 
 "Sit down," said she, "while I finish." 
 
 He sat down; and she whispered the end of her 
 sentence to him. After that the two murmured and 
 were silent just as they had been in the coach before 
 that momentous axle took it in mind to break. 
 
 The Gardens had many eyes, and although the 
 laburnum was far from the mall, some of those eyes 
 were roving and inquisitive. Presently a young man, 
 walking between two others, stopped, and shot a 
 glance in that direction. Then he whistled. "Can 
 that be Charles Tree?" said he, nodding his head. 
 
 "In buff and blue?" asked one of the others. 
 
 "Sitting extremely close to the lovely female?" 
 inquired the third. "Egad, that's Charles's favorite 
 attitude nowadays."
 
 12 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "I'm no spoilsport," began the first, "but if it is 
 Charles " 
 
 "We certainly ought to know," finished the second. 
 
 "There's a path that will bring us not too close," 
 suggested the third, pointing with his tasseled walk- 
 ing-stick. 
 
 The three young blades walked down the path, 
 pretending to look anywhere except at the labur- 
 num. Presently one murmured, "It is Charles, the 
 rake!" "He has her hands in his!" muttered an- 
 other. The third at length broke the silence with a 
 whispered, "Damme, if it isn't Lady Pamela Vau- 
 clain!" 
 
 By now they had gone past the direct view of the 
 seat below the laburnum. "I think," said one of the 
 gentlemen, "since it is the Lady Pam, we ought to 
 give Charles a warning." 
 
 "But not surprise them too quickly," suggested 
 one of the other two. 
 
 "We might walk to the gate, turn about, and 
 come back whistling," proposed the third. 
 
 That they did; and therefore, shortly after, three 
 gentlemen of fashion reappeared on the path, walk- 
 ing arm in arm, and whistling loud enough to charm 
 all the thrushes in the Gardens. 
 
 The Lady Pamela heard them, and gave Charles 
 Tree a tiny push. Then he also heard them, and 
 turned his head in their direction. That was the
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 13 
 
 cue for the three conspirators, and they immediately 
 left their path and crossed over to the little bench. 
 
 The gentlemen swept their high-crowned hats 
 from their heads, and bent to their waists. Said the 
 first, "A rare pleasure indeed to find you here, Lady 
 Pamela, and my brave Charles Tree." 
 
 "Town has missed you sorely," said the second, 
 tapping his lacquered top-boots with his malacca 
 stick. 
 
 And the third: "We have no roses in London like 
 those at Cumnor Place." 
 
 Lady Pamela blushed, although she struggled not 
 to. "My Lord Dorset, Lord Verney, and Sir John 
 Gorham," said she, looking at each in turn, "you 
 took us quite by surprise, I do declare." 
 
 "And Charles," suggested Lord Verney, smiling 
 knowingly, "is cursing the luck that sent the three 
 of us this way." 
 
 That was, indeed, what Charles was doing ; but he 
 waved the base notion from him as politely as he 
 could. "My coach broke an axle," said he, "and we 
 stepped into the Gardens while they fetched another 
 for us." 
 
 "And chose a seat where you couldn't possibly see 
 any coach at all?" queried Sir John. "Come, 
 Charlie, it's best to speak the truth to such old 
 friends as we." 
 
 Mr. Tree looked at the lady, and instinctively her
 
 14 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 eyes turned to him. Thereupon his eyebrows rose in 
 a question. "Shall I tell the truth," he asked ; "the 
 whole truth?" 
 
 Lady Pamela, her interlocked hands lying on the 
 lap of her silken gown, suddenly fell to an intense 
 study of the tip of a beaded slipper that just stole 
 from under her skirt. She nodded her head ; and 
 then she blushed furiously. "No, Charles," she said 
 quickly. "Yes, Charles. Oh, dear me, use your own 
 best judgment, sir!" 
 
 She looked so adorable in this confusion that 
 Charles almost lost his tongue. But he made an ef- 
 fort, rose, and confronted the three men. "The 
 town would know by nightfall anyhow, and so I'll 
 give you old friends the start of it. The fact is that 
 Lady Pamela and I were wed at three o'clock this 
 afternoon." 
 
 The star-eyed, rose-flushed lady received a bow 
 from each of the gentlemen, and Charles Tree several 
 slaps on the back and hearty handshakes. Lord 
 Verney laughed. "And so the broken wedding-coach 
 brought you to Vauxhall Gardens instead of to the 
 Elysian Fields," he chuckled. 
 
 Sir John Gorham's eyes twinkled. "And we three 
 came over expressly to warn you that you might be 
 overseen !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "May not a man look at his own wife?" demanded 
 Charles, and suited the action to the words. But 
 Lady Pamela would not look at him; instead, her
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 15 
 
 eyes followed her slipper as it swung from under her 
 skirt. 
 
 The rubicund Earl of Dorset, moon-faced and 
 round-eyed, as if to relieve the situation, changed the 
 subject. "So you overcame the dragon at last, did 
 you?" said he. "I had my doubts of his consenting. 
 Rumor said he couldn't swallow your mother's son, 
 Charlie. 'Better my cousin Pamela was a lady nun 
 that Lady Pamela Tree !' was the message I heard 
 he sent home from abroad." 
 
 "So he did say," agreed Tree, frowning. "He 
 hates my family, though he doesn't know anything 
 about me." 
 
 "But he did consent to the wedding at last, eh?" 
 questioned Gorham. 
 
 The bridegroom shook his head. "No, Jack, he 
 hasn't. I don't believe he ever would. What he did 
 was to send word that he was coming back to Cumnor 
 from Italy at once. And as we were both afraid of 
 what he might do when he got here, we determined 
 to wed at once." 
 
 "Is the Lady Pamela of age?" asked Gorham. 
 
 "Not for a fortnight yet, 'Jack. That was a 
 stumbling-block; but I found a complaisant vicar. 
 To make the matter absolutely formal, we'll be wed 
 again on Pamela's birthday. But we didn't dare 
 wait, with him almost here." 
 
 The lady looked up at the men beseechingly. 
 "They say he's terribly savage, and much more
 
 Italian than English," she put in hurriedly. "He 
 might have locked me up, or sent me to a convent; 
 and I've no liking for solitude, and not much taste 
 for religion, I'm afraid." 
 
 "And a real taste for Charlie Tree?" suggested 
 Sir John. "Indeed, if I'd been in your place I'd have 
 felt exactly the same." 
 
 Lord Verney, lank and dark, his hands behind him, 
 and twirling his stick like the arms of a windmill, 
 gazed at the bride and groom. "That all sounds 
 very well," said he, banteringly, "but when the 
 dragon does come home, what if he gobbles you up, 
 makes a meal of you, takes the law to you for flout- 
 ing him so, and shears the lady of her golden fleece 
 of lands and holdings? It's no light matter to make 
 a dragon angry." He shook his head at the pair. 
 
 "That's what the solicitors hinted," agreed Tree. 
 "If they had a month they might secure some of 
 Lady Pam's property for her, they said; or if only 
 three weeks they might get something; but when we 
 thought how he might be here any day we didn't 
 dare take the risk of waiting even that long." 
 
 "If only," said Lady Pamela, clasping her hands 
 and gazing at Sir John Gorham as if she thought 
 him the wisest of the three, **we could gain a little 
 time ! If we knew what he was really like, we might 
 win him over. But when he comes to Surrey, and finds 
 me gone, and into the bargain wed to Charles "
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 17 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders and shook her pretty 
 head distressfully. 
 
 Lord Dorset, whose tongue was as frank as his 
 round face, laughed freely. "He'll be as mad as a 
 bull at a baiting," he declared. 
 
 The shrewd Sir John was pulling his chin. "And 
 the black Marquis of Romsey is no child's bogie- 
 man," said he. 
 
 "But she's mine by Mother Church now!" ex- 
 claimed Charles Tree. "I only did what any lover 
 would do !" 
 
 "Doubtless, Charlie," said Sir John, nodding. 
 "But you're both in a pretty pickle nevertheless." 
 He frowned, and drew a pattern on the walk with 
 his stick. "See," said he, "the Marquis of Romsey 
 comes home from abroad and goes to Cumnor. He 
 finds his fair cousin and ward has fled and married. 
 Such a paragon of a cousin! Such a rascal of a 
 husband! lie sets to work to make an example of 
 her, and within the fortnight lays hands on her 
 estate to pay her for flouting him. There's no know- 
 ing what he might do to her for the clandestine wed- 
 ding. It looks to me as if all the law would stand 
 on his side." 
 
 "And all because I wasn't born two weeks earlier !" 
 said Lady Pamela. "How preposterous! The man 
 hasn't seen me since I was in a cradle. Why, he 
 doesn't know if I'm blonde or dark."
 
 18 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "The more distraught he'll be," declared the gal- 
 lant Verney, "when he sees what he's lost." 
 
 "Has not seen you?" repeated Sir John slowly. 
 "Then if it's only a little time you want, why not 
 oh, that's a splendid thought!" He chuckled de- 
 lightedly, and thumped his stick on the ground. 
 "Why not have another Lady Pam to greet him? 
 That'll deceive him for a fortnight, or perhaps a 
 month, and in that time you can put the business 
 right!" 
 
 They all stared at Sir John, thinking that he was 
 chaffing ; but his face was serious. 
 
 "But if Romsey found that out wouldn't he be ten 
 time madder than ever, Jack?" expostulated the Earl 
 of Dorset, his eyes very round. 
 
 "Still, it's a gambler's chance; and the stakes are 
 high, and worth winning." 
 
 "It's a wild scheme," murmured Verney, looking 
 as if he rather liked the idea. 
 
 "So was the wedding in this fashion," said Sir 
 John. "What do you say, Charles? Will you try 
 the game?" 
 
 Mr. Tree was much put about. "It's a mad 
 plan. . . . Yet a little time would save the situa- 
 tion. . . . If he found it out the business would 
 be worse than ever. Yet it might work " 
 
 Here Lady Pamela broke in. "But, gentlemen, 
 where is such another woman ?" 
 
 That brought them up with a halt. "Aye,
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 19 
 
 Jack," said Verney, quickly, as if the idea had oc- 
 curred to him at the same moment, "where is she?" 
 "Catch her first, Jack," said the slower Dorset. 
 Tree shook his head dubiously. "Where could we 
 find a second Lady Pamela?" he queried. 
 
 Sir John admitted that they had set him the very 
 devil of a problem. The woman must be young and 
 pleasing, able to dissemble, and of sufficiently good 
 address to hold a man's attention. She must have 
 courage, since it was well known that the Marquis 
 was a very strange, not to say a very savage, man. 
 So Sir John reflected aloud, while the lady nodded 
 acquiescence, and the three men pretended to be help- 
 ing him to think. 
 
 "I fear me," said Sir John at last, "there is no 
 such woman." He cast his gaze skyward, he took a 
 few strides up and down the grass, and he looked 
 across at the mall. Suddenly he stopped pacing, 
 and struck his walking-stick a dramatic thump on 
 the ground. "I have the woman, lads, the very girl 
 in a million! Who but Sally Temple? Who but 
 Sally ? And see, there she is !" 
 
 They all followed his glance to the mall. A young 
 woman was walking down it, a man by her side. The 
 young woman appeared to be laughing. 
 
 "Wait here," said Sir John, "while I fetch her;" 
 and straightway he darted across the grass to the 
 promenade. 
 
 The young woman in the cherry gown and the
 
 20 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 broad straw hat tied with cherry ribbons was laugh- 
 ing at her companion when Sir John arrived. "Oh, 
 Sally," said the latter, excitedly, "you come in the 
 nick of time!" He stood before her, barring the 
 way, his cone-shaped hat at his hip. 
 
 The girl stopped, her right hand caught to her 
 breast. "Oh, la, how you startled me! Why, it's 
 Sir John Gorham!" 
 
 "Jack, Sally, Jack!" 
 
 "Faith, Jack, then." The girl's eyes shot him a 
 mischievous, mocking glance. " 'Tis so long since we 
 met I was not sure." 
 
 "I've been in the country, Sally. It seems an 
 age!" 
 
 She threw up her hands in mock despair. "Why 
 folk seek the country when there's town is beyond my 
 thinking! I misdoubt, Sir John, if you've met Mr. 
 Willis of Drury Lane Theatre?" 
 
 The two men bowed; and Sir John turned again 
 to Sally. "I've a favor to beg," said he. "Lady 
 Pamela Tree, who's sitting under that laburnum 
 yonder, has heard of Mistress Sally Temple's acting, 
 and has asked me to present her. Will Mr. Willis 
 surrender you to me ?" 
 
 "Will you, George?" asked the girl. She nodded, 
 as if replying for him. "Of course you will. It was 
 a perfect stroll, and I did enjoy it. If I do Sir John 
 this favor, he shall take me home. Get me another
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 21 
 
 part at the Lane as soon as you can ; I've no need of 
 resting any longer." 
 
 She judged rightly that Mr. Willis, as a fellow 
 player, and fully cognizant of the importance of a 
 wide acquaintance for a budding actress, would not 
 take offense at this dismissal. "If I had the say 
 you'd play every night," said he ; and, with a bow to 
 her and one to Sir John, he took himself away. 
 
 "A dear fellow," exclaimed Sally, "and such a 
 romantic air as he can manage ! On my word, Jack, 
 Willis will be a star himself some day." 
 
 "There can be only one star in our sky you, 
 Sally," said Sir John, and putting his arm at her 
 disposal, he bore her across the grass to the watch- 
 ing group. 
 
 Lady Pamela, viewing the actress from a rather 
 critical standard, yet found her very blooming. She 
 recognized a formidable rival even to her own love- 
 liness, and judged that the young woman had good 
 sense as well as looks. 
 
 "Lady Pamela Tree, Mr. Charles Tree, Mistress 
 Temple," announced Sir John. The bride smiled a 
 welcome, Mr. Tree bowed, and the other two men, 
 each of whom was already numbered among Sally's 
 victims, bent over her little mittened hand. 
 
 Sally made a curtsey, smiling back at Lady Pa- 
 mela, and nodded, her eyes lit with laughter, at each 
 of the three men.
 
 22 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Come sit with me," invited the lady. 
 
 Sally did as she was bid, wondering what particu- 
 lar mischief might be afoot. Something amusing 
 was in the air she had felt as soon as she had seen 
 Sir John Gorham's mates. 
 
 "Matters are in a muddle," said Sir John, poking 
 the point of his walking-stick into the soft turf, and 
 leaning on it while he looked at Sally. "We thought 
 perhaps you would help us out. This is how they 
 stand." Quickly he sketched the situation to her: 
 Lady Pamela, the cousin and ward of the Marquis of 
 Romsey, who had lived in Italy almost ever since she 
 was born ; Lady Pamela marrying Charles Tree, 
 whom Lord Romsey hated because of an ancient 
 falling out between the two men's fathers ; the Mar- 
 quis's arrival almost immediately, a few days before 
 the Lady's coming of age, and the great need of 
 keeping him in ignorance of the wedding for a fort- 
 night at least. Then Sir John let fall his bomb. 
 "And we all want you to be the unwed Lady Pamela 
 at Cumnor Castle, and so gain the time we need." 
 
 Sally let the words sink in. Then she laughed as 
 she looked at each of the men in turn, and finally at 
 the woman who sat beside her. "Is he mad?" she 
 asked; "or do you all want to play some prank on 
 me?" 
 
 "No, no," answered Lady Pamela, "we're most 
 
 serious. 
 tt 
 
 No one could play the part as you could," urged
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 23 
 
 Sir John. "You play the Lady of Cumnor for a 
 month, and I'll see you're as well paid for each per- 
 formance as the star at Drury Lane. And if you'll 
 do us the favor of trying it there's a necklet of 
 pearls shall be my small gift for your kindness, 
 Sally." 
 
 "And a ruby ring from me," said the Earl of 
 Dorset, not to be outdone. 
 
 "And a girdle to match your hair," added the ro- 
 mantic Verney, "if such is to be found." 
 
 Charles Tree bent forward pleadingly. "If you'll 
 do it," said he, "you'll be helping my wife and me 
 from a very bad predicament." 
 
 Sally's cheeks were red as roses, and her eyes 
 danced as she surveyed them all. "Why, you're as 
 mad as March hares," said she. "I never heard tell 
 of a plot so ridiculous!" She drew out that last 
 word to an amazing length. 
 
 Sir John looked somewhat abashed, but he stood 
 to his guns. "Even ogres don't eat women nowa- 
 days," said he, stoutly. 
 
 "I don't believe Romsey's half so black as he's 
 painted," observed the mild-voiced Earl. 
 
 "He cares little for your sex, I understand," con- 
 tributed Charles Tree, "so, after you'd greeted him 
 you could let him quite alone." 
 
 Lady Pamela's hand touched that of Sally. "But 
 I shouldn't like you to run any peril on my score," 
 said she.
 
 24 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Peril?" echoed Sally. "And, pray who is this 
 man-monster, then?" 
 
 Mr. Tree took it upon himself to answer. "Rom- 
 sey's lived abroad so long none of us know him. By 
 my lady's pardon, the men of his house have a name 
 for wildness. This one had an Italian mother, and 
 he has chosen to stay in Italy, some say because the 
 wild life there suited him better than our English 
 ways." 
 
 Lady Pamela added, "He should be something 
 over thirty, unwed, dark and tall." 
 
 "Just my notion of an Italian brigand," observed 
 the stout little Earl. "A most uncomfortable sort 
 of man to have in London." 
 
 Mistress Temple looked at them reprovingly, the 
 lines of her pretty mouth drawn into a pout. "And 
 you would have me live alone in the house with such 
 a monster?" she said. "Why, I thought you had 
 more feeling for me, Sir John. A poor, simple 
 creature such as I." 
 
 Sir John appeared embarrassed. "Egad, perhaps 
 I was wrong to suggest it," he admitted. "But the 
 plan did seem to me the one way out of the muddle. 
 I forgot Romsey was so black a creature." 
 
 Sally's eyes, veiled by long lashes, studied her lap. 
 "You would like to cage a poor girl with a fire-eating 
 monster out of Italy, a girl who's only known the 
 simple folk of Cheapside and the elegant gentlemen 
 of St. James's."
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 25 
 
 "On my word," broke in Verney, "it's a shame !" 
 
 She did not heed him. "You'd match the wits of 
 such a one," she went on, "who's hard put to it to 
 hold her own against such elegant gentlemen, against 
 the malice of a brigand from Italy, and not from 
 Vauxhall Gardens, your dour Marquis of Romsey, 
 your dare-devil man !" 
 
 "I crave your pardon," cried Sir John, now very 
 apologetic. 
 
 Sally lifted her head, her crown of red-gold hair 
 showing beneath her straw hat. Her eyes were 
 swimming-bright, and her lips curled scornfully. 
 "Very good, my masters !" said she. "I'll take your 
 offers, a necklet of pearls, a ruby ring, a golden 
 girdle, and the pay of a star at Drury Lane for my 
 acting. I'll be ward and cousin to your Marquis. 
 And I'll show you that Sally Temple, if she does 
 come from Pump Lane, isn't afraid of any man 
 alive!" 
 
 Silence followed this outburst, while Sally regarded 
 each of the men defiantly. Lady Pamela, whom she 
 seemed almost to ignore, had instinctively drawn 
 away a little. 
 
 The Earl of Dorset, his round face filled with the 
 frankest admiration, was the first to speak. "And 
 you can do it, Mistress Temple," he declared. "You'll 
 so bewitch Romsey that he won't have time to think 
 of this or that or t'other. Oh, I know, I know !" 
 
 Lord Verney sighed. "I wish I were to live in
 
 26 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Cumnor in the Marquis's place!" said he, casting 
 regretful eyes at Sally. 
 
 Sir John, however, shrewder than the rest, was 
 frowning and rubbing his cheek. "Be gentle with 
 him, Sally," he entreated. "Let sleeping dogs lie. 
 It's ill to rouse an unknown man too far." 
 
 The mocking lights in the girl's eyes changed 
 to an injured glance. "You think me apt to be 
 rude and forward, Sir John?" At the moment she 
 was the very picture of simplicity, so naive and 
 ingenuous that Lady Pamela pressed her hand. "Are 
 you very sure," said the lady, "that you want to 
 do this?" 
 
 Sally smiled at her. "I think it will be delicious. 
 I'll play the part better than any I've done at Drury 
 Lane. Don't be concerned for me, my lady." 
 
 With that she rose. "Sir John will see to the 
 business. He's my new manager," she continued. 
 She shook her head at the three cronies. "Ogres 
 don't eat women nowadays, you know," said she, "and 
 Little Red-Riding Hoods don't come from London 
 Town." 
 
 "I'll attend to all the business," said Sir John, 
 "and call at Charles Tree's to-morrow noon for a note 
 from his lady to the housekeeper at Cumnor." He 
 offered his arm to Sally. 
 
 The girl nodded to Lady Pamela and the three 
 men, and, taking Sir John's arm, bore away, as 
 graceful as a sloop upon a summer sea.
 
 TURTLE-DOVES IN VAUXHALL 27 
 
 The three men watched her, until the lady gently 
 pulled at Mr. Tree's sleeve. "The coach must be 
 waiting by now, Charles," she suggested. 
 
 The girl and the gallant swept through the gate 
 of the Gardens. "Are you angry with me, Sally?" 
 asked Sir John. 
 
 "Why, Jack, why should I be angry? Haven't you 
 helped me to a star part?" 
 
 "I don't know why. But from what you said about 
 elegant gentlemen, looking at me, and the way you 
 said it " 
 
 She glanced at him, and smiled. The cherries on 
 her straw hat bobbed. "So that's it, eh, Jack? Oh, 
 dear me ! Some day, when we've nothing better to do, 
 I'll teach you the first letters of the sex's alphabet, 
 when a girl's in earnest, when she's not, and so forth. 
 It's something you should know." 
 
 "I wish I could teach you something, Sally," said 
 he. "Can't you look a little more kindly on poor me?" 
 
 "And do lovers send their ladies into danger?" she 
 asked mischievously. 
 
 "I wish I hadn't suggested it," he said. "I don't 
 want you to be under the same roof with that man. 
 Let's tell them you won't do it." 
 
 "And spoil their honeymoon and my lark!" she 
 protested. "I thought there was more sport in you, 
 Jack." 
 
 "Where you're concerned I'm like water," said he. 
 
 "Then I must be adamant for the two of us," she
 
 28 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 retorted, laughing. "Come, Jack, smile. It'll be a 
 merry game, and I'm eager for it!" 
 
 Sir John was forced to put up with that conclusion, 
 and in the sunshine of Sally's charming company such 
 misgivings as had occurred to him quickly winged 
 away.
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 
 
 dwellers in Pump Lane were largely out-of- 
 doors when Sir John Gorham brought Sally 
 home. Children played in the street, men sat in the 
 doorways of their dwellings, women leaned from win- 
 dows to secure better views, and sweethearts whis- 
 pered and laughed and looked unutterable things 
 without regard for any audience. Taken all in all, 
 the Lane, from its upper end in the high street to 
 its lower end in Pump Court, was very much like any 
 other slice of the world. There were publicans and 
 Pharisees, philosophers and fauns, Dame Grundys, 
 and a Columbine or two. Yet, as a whole, the Lane 
 thought well of Sally Temple. It should have, in all 
 conscience, for Sally always thought most highly 
 of it. 
 
 There were women, to be sure, who murmured that 
 Sally was no better than she should be, not so good 
 perhaps. But that opinion was probably due to her 
 hair, that shone like gold and caught men's eyes like 
 gold when she walked in the Lane uncovered, her eyes 
 
 that danced when she was merry, and were always 
 
 29
 
 30 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 filled with light, her fair smooth skin, and her lips 
 that loved to smile. More than that, she was of 
 slender, supple figure, had an instinctive knack for 
 dressing, and was an actress, when comedies were 
 playing, at Drury Lane. Yet more, Sally was un- 
 derstood to be popular with certain gentlemen who 
 hailed from St. James's, and to have made excursions 
 into that frivolous world that lay in the west of Lon- 
 don. Therefore some shook their heads and whis- 
 pered that it was easier for any other woman in the 
 Lane to reach Heaven than for Sally Temple. 
 
 Sir John Gorham and Sally descended from the 
 coach in the high street, and turned into the narrower 
 thoroughfare. The gentleman walked by the young 
 woman's side, not as other young men walked, hig- 
 glety-pigglety as it were, but with an air that was 
 at once deferential and protecting. More heads 
 appeared at windows, and a number of doorways 
 stopped their chatter. A gentleman was seeing Sally 
 home, a gentleman who wore a great silk stock about 
 his throat, and a claret-colored coat with yellow Hes- 
 sians, and who spoke and laughed not loudly, but in 
 a genteel way. 
 
 "Poor Sally," said Mistress Kilgore to her hus- 
 band, "she'll be scorching her pretty fingers, or I 
 much misdoubt!" But the worthy carpenter shook 
 his head dubiously. "I'll back Sally to scorch the 
 gentleman's first," said he. 
 
 They came to the little door of Sally's home, and
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 31 
 
 Sir John took off his hat. "It's settled then," said 
 he. "Day after to-morrow I come for you at ten 
 with my chariot and take you down to Cumnor. Lady 
 Pam is about your height, and she left great chests 
 of clothes behind her. Buy what you need to- 
 morrow." Here he pressed some gold pieces into her 
 hand so deftly that Mistress Kilgore, although she 
 lived directly across the way, thought he was only 
 bidding Sally an affectionate farewell. 
 
 For one moment Sally weakened. "Can I really 
 do it, Jack?" she asked. "Can I really play such a 
 lady?" 
 
 "Can you? Could you fail in anything? There's 
 not a lady in London wouldn't barter her graces for 
 your beauty, Sally." 
 
 She interrupted his ardor. "I'm only a passable 
 actress after all, Jack." She looked at him very 
 straight. "You see I am town born and bred. I love 
 these streets, and the crowds of people in them. I'm 
 afraid I'll be lonely in the country, with nobody to 
 keep me company. A lady can't consort with milk- 
 maids, can she?" 
 
 Sir John saw his chance, and jumped at it. "Then, 
 Sally, I'll go down to Surrey too. I'll keep watch, 
 and see you whenever I can. Maybe Romsey won't 
 forbid me his house as he did Charles. If he doesn't 
 I'll keep you company." 
 
 "That would be a great comfort. Don't forget, 
 Jack. Good-night."
 
 32 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Good-night, my lady." Sir John bent and kissed 
 her mittened hand. Then the gentleman returned 
 down the Lane, the cynosure of all eyes. 
 
 Sally unlocked her door, crossed a tiny hall, and 
 entered the low-ceilinged and small-windowed room 
 that fronted on the street. By what light filtered 
 through the little panes a man was reading a book. 
 He was young; but his face was pale and careworn. 
 Long black hair was brushed away from a broad 
 brow, and his eyes, large and dark, shone as he looked 
 up at Sally. At the back of the room, by an open 
 window that gave on to an infinitesimal court, sat a 
 woman drinking a cup of tea. 
 
 Sally's straw hat, with the cherries on it, was flung 
 upon a settle. "Such a day !" she exclaimed, "such a 
 day! And you there, Kate, with your dish o' tea 
 just as usual." 
 
 "You're late to sup, Sally," said the woman. "We 
 waited until sundown." 
 
 "Dearie me, I wish we supped when the gentry do. 
 It's the sweetest hour of the day to be abroad. I've 
 been to Vauxhall Gardens. No, never you mind, Kate, 
 I can get what I want myself." 
 
 So she did, frying a slice of ham over the glowing 
 embers on the hearth, dishing out vegetables from the 
 pot on the hook, and pouring a cup of tea. As she sat 
 at the table she talked. "I went out to Vauxhall with 
 George Willis. He tells me there'll soon be a new 
 piece at Drury Lane, and he'll try to get me a good
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 33 
 
 place in it. He's so devoted. We had cherry tarts 
 and little round French cakes. You should have seen 
 the roses, Kate! And oh, Gilly, he pointed me out a 
 French poet there. I've forgot the name, but Willis 
 says he's quite the fashion." 
 
 "It wasn't Willis brought you home," said Gilbert 
 Stanes. 
 
 "So you were watching, then ? I thought you'd no 
 eyes for what went by in the Lane." 
 
 "This was a gentleman." 
 
 "Yes, so he was. He carried me off from Willis, 
 and he brought me home. Did you notice his manner 
 of bowing, Gilly, dear?" Sally rose from the table, 
 and pretended to sweep a hat from her head as she 
 bent to the waist. "It was Sir John Gorham. He's 
 a merry gentleman and thinks himself very wise ; and 
 when he purses his lips so, and wrinkles up his eyes 
 so, and says 'I must consider,' why, other folks think 
 him wise too. But often I have to laugh at him." 
 
 "Men aren't always so simple as you think them, 
 Sally," said Gilbert, glancing through the window, 
 "and these gentlemen have little to do but plan how 
 to flatter women." 
 
 "There now, listen to my nephew ! Gilly, don't you 
 think I'm a match for any of them?" 
 
 Gilbert regarded his pretty young aunt with 
 gravity. "You are to-day, Sally," said he, "but some 
 day one of them might mean mc?e to you, and then 
 you'll not be so well protected."
 
 34 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Sally blushed. "Oh, it will never be one of these 
 gentlemen! They may have my smiles, that's an 
 actress's wares, but my heart oh, la, that's quite a 
 different matter !" 
 
 Thereupon she turned to the table and soon had 
 it cleared, and the supper dishes washed and put 
 away. Kate, her older sister, a woman gifted with a 
 tongue of silence, finished her tea, and went above- 
 stairs to her own chamber. 
 
 The room was now so dark that Gilbert could no 
 longer see to read, and shut the book on his knees. 
 His reflective eyes seemed to be studying the Lane. 
 Meantime Sally was busy with a dozen small domestic 
 tasks, seeing to the fire on the hearth, putting away 
 her cherry hat, ordering the household for the night. 
 Presently she stopped in front of a small mirror that 
 hung near the rear window. There was just enough 
 twilight for her to see herself. She put up her 
 hands to her hair, loosened it, drew the long strands 
 through her fingers, and then wound it in a new 
 pattern. 
 
 There were two windows looking into the Lane, and 
 when Sally had finished with the mirror, she placed a 
 high-backed chair by the casement opposite Gilbert's, 
 and sat down. She glanced at the young man's face, 
 seeming to consider some project. Although he was 
 the son of her sister Kate, he was Sally's own age, 
 and they were confidants. In addition, he was the 
 only man in the household.
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 35 
 
 "I'm going to talk a matter over with you, Gilly," 
 she said, after a pause, "because I can trust you as I 
 would myself. So you think I take too much hazard, 
 do you?" 
 
 "I know you are very pretty, and I know that men 
 are always hunting beauty." 
 
 "That has the smack of your books to it, Gilly. 
 We must all take some chances. Are you really 
 afraid for me?" 
 
 "Should I be sitting quiet if I were, Sally?" 
 
 Her eyes shone. "Thinking of you has helped me 
 a great deal before this. And now promise that you 
 won't tell what I'm about to do." 
 
 He nodded his head. "If you want me to," he 
 agreed. 
 
 Sally looked through the window. She could see 
 Mistress Kilgore, across the way, talking at her door 
 to a tall, sturdy youth. "There's Elihu Knott," said 
 Sally. "Remember how we all used to play in the 
 Lane together? When I meet Elihu now he acts as if 
 he were affrighted of me. Gilly, I don't know how to 
 begin. It's a most surprising story. I'm going into 
 the country for a month or so, to take the place of 
 Lady Pamela Vauclain at Cumnor Castle. What do 
 you say to that?" 
 
 "I don't understand." 
 
 "Lady Pamela Vauclain has run away, and mar- 
 ried Mr. Charles- Tree. Her guardian-cousin, the 
 Marquis of Romsey, who hasn't seen her since she was
 
 a babe, hates Mr. Tree, and forbade her to wed him. 
 The Marquis is coming home from Italy, and Mr. 
 Tree and his bride want to gain a little time to pro- 
 tect some property and set matters straight. They 
 want to have a Lady Pamela to welcome him ; and I'm 
 to be the lady." 
 
 Gilbert stared at his aunt through the dusk. 
 "They must be mad, Sally! What could a girl of 
 Pump Lane do with such gentry?" 
 
 "I'm to be well paid, Gilly, dear." 
 
 "But the risk, Sally! Think of that, when this 
 Marquis finds you out ! He might have you sent to 
 gaol, or worse, for such a trick as that." 
 
 "No, I think not, Gilly. He would keep it secret. 
 At first I thought as you did, when they spoke of it 
 until, well, until four gentlemen and a lady considered 
 I couldn't do it, couldn't play the part of such a 
 lady, wouldn't dare to front such a man. Then I felt 
 I had to do it, Gilly, I had to do it ! It wasn't in me 
 to let them flout me so !" 
 
 Gilbert's face was more concerned than ever. "Oh, 
 Sally, I'm terrible afraid of what may happen to 
 you." 
 
 "I'm not," she answered stoutly. "When you think 
 of it seriously it's no more of a risk than any woman's 
 life at any playhouse. The Lady Pamela is a soft, 
 gentle creature. No one would think of harming her ; 
 nor would they me." 
 
 "These nobles are wayward men, not like us simple
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 37 
 
 folk. I'm afraid of them, and hate them. What is 
 this Marquis like?" 
 
 Sally hesitated. She looked through the window 
 reflectively, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "He's 
 been in Italy so long that they know very little of 
 him," she answered vaguely. 
 
 Gilbert twisted his book about in his hands. He 
 had something of his mother's gift of silence, which 
 made his words the more weighty when he spoke. "I 
 don't know much of the world, it's true," said he, "a 
 clerk who spends the daytime over figures. But I 
 know the gulf between Pump Lane and St. James's. 
 You're a dear woman to us here, but there you're only 
 a plaything, something to be toyed with, and thrown 
 away at last. There are a dozen men here who want 
 to wed you, Sally honest men who work. There's 
 Rob Sloane, the draper's clerk, and Stephen Tarn- 
 worth. He may be apothecary himself some day. 
 God knows I don't want you married yet, but I'd 
 rather you were than take such a risk as you run." 
 
 "They are good men, Gilly, both Stephen and Rob ; 
 though none sc good as you. But I can't take up 
 with one of them, and live peaceful-like to-day nor to- 
 morrow. I must have more, Gilly ; I must see some- 
 thing more first. If I were tired or lonely I'd be 
 glad of such a one to lean on ; but I'm not. I'm young 
 and strong, and I've an appetite. Oh, Gilly, it would 
 be tragic to have such an appetite and starve with it !" 
 
 "The first tragedy was when Eve ate the apple."
 
 38 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "I wonder? I should have done the same as she, 
 willy-nilly." Sally drew her chair nearer to Gilbert's, 
 so near that she could put her hands on the book in 
 his lap. Her eyes danced. "I like you serious, dear. 
 It's a man's part to be so; but it's the dregs in the 
 cup for a woman, after all the wine's drunk." 
 
 He gazed at her lovely face so near him, and he 
 understood quite easily how it was she felt. His eyes, 
 like those of a dumb, patient animal, were very ten- 
 der. "I'm no priest, and even a crippled clerk can 
 have his longings. You were made to live, Sally, and 
 I can only pray God you come through it safely." 
 
 So they sat for a moment. Then Sally rose, went 
 to the dresser, and lighted a candle. "I shall tell 
 Kate," she said, "that I've got a part to play for a 
 short time in the provinces. Only you know where 
 I'm really going. When I come back I'll have fine 
 tales to tell you of my lady." 
 
 "Cumnor's in Surrey, isn't it?" said Gilbert. "If 
 you need help send for me, Sally. I'll make them 
 treat you fair." 
 
 "Indeed, and I know you will." 
 
 Gilbert picked up the crutch that lay by his chair, 
 for he was lame, got to his feet, and carried his book 
 to a shelf beside the door. "It will be lonely here for 
 a month," said he. 
 
 Sally put her hands on his shoulders as she kissed 
 him. "The Lord keep you. I'll say that every even- 
 ing. Good-night, dear."
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 39 
 
 With that she turned away, and went upstairs to 
 bed. 
 
 Night settled over Pump Lane, and as it grew too 
 dark to watch events from doorsteps and from win- 
 dows the people went to bed, having no longer light 
 enough to read the only book most of them knew. 
 Rushlights flickered a little time and went out. Soon 
 only the Bear and Staff in the court at the end of the 
 Lane was alight, and the taproom there the only oasis 
 in a desert of sleep. 
 
 In the west of London the Duchess of Devonshire 
 gave a rout. While Pump Lane slumbered St. 
 James's danced the quadrille, gambled at ecarte, 
 laughed and flirted and supped. There went Sir John 
 Gorham, Lord Verney, and the Earl of Dorset, and 
 there the three met in a corner of the great gold 
 dining-room and had their gossip over a bowl of 
 punch. But they held their tongues discreetly when 
 others drew near, and were silence itself so far as the 
 ending of the episode in Vauxhall Gardens was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 Meantime the real Lady Pamela and her Charles 
 Tree had driven out of London to a little house at 
 Kew that belonged to the bridegroom, and had con- 
 trived to forget that there were other people in the 
 world than their two selves. 
 
 Far earlier than the ladies of Her Grace of Devon- 
 shire's rout rose Sally Temple the next morning. She 
 threw wide her window and looked into the Lane. But
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 the Lane was up before her, and had, in fact, been 
 stirring ever since dawn. Over the way William 
 Kilgore was starting for his day's work on the river, 
 and his good wife, skirts pinned above her ankles, was 
 sweeping the dust of her front room into the street. 
 
 Sally set about her toilet. Although her wardrobe 
 was small, it was choice. She had more taste than 
 most of London's great ladies, and though she could 
 not resist fixing one small black star beside the dimple 
 that hovered in her cheek, she was content with one, 
 and did not set a constellation as many ladies would. 
 Her color was too fresh to toy with art, her own 
 fingers tended her long locks as well as a hairdresser, 
 her gown drew attention to her grace of figure rather 
 than to itself. As she dressed she smiled and hummed 
 a little tune. This day would she go forth and buy a 
 few things for the Lady Pamela Vauclain. 
 
 When she went downstairs Gilbert was already 
 gone to the ofBce in Cheapside where he clerked all 
 day. Kate was at the table ; good, patient Kate, who 
 had taken Sally into her widow's home when she was 
 a child, and who looked upon her as a creature of far 
 rarer value than herself. There were neighbors who 
 said the widow Stanes had spoiled her sister. If she 
 had she had found pleasure in it, and pleasure was 
 not a thing to be declined. She gave Sally good- 
 morning with a smile, and helped to serve her. "Gilly 
 left a message for you," said she. "He said if you 
 were going out of London to act you might need a
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 
 
 little money, and he'd a sovereign for you in his box 
 upstairs." 
 
 "Good old Gilly ! I am going out of London for a 
 little time, but the manager gave me some money. 
 That's part of the agreement, Kate." Sally blew the 
 notion lightly away as if of small moment. 
 
 Later Sally went forth, Sir John Gorham's gold in 
 the bag at her wrist. She traveled into the confines 
 of that magic land where ladies bought their plu- 
 mage, and she bargained shrewdly. It was a rare ex- 
 pedition, and one to be fully enjoyed. With the 
 satisfaction of a huntsman after a keen day's sport 
 she returned, and there she found a note waiting for 
 her. The envelope was lavender, and it was sealed with 
 a great red wafer. Sally retired to her room and 
 opened it. "To Mistress Sally Temple," she read ; "I 
 think it likely you will miss society at Cumnor. You 
 being used to town and its pleasures would be lonely in 
 the empty country. I have a female relative who 
 lives in Surrey, and I shall go down there now so 
 that I may be near you. Do not fear. I will be 
 within reach, and together we can keep dullness off. 
 Will you not be kinder to me in the country? At 
 least give me the chance to plead the cause I have 
 so much at heart. You are the very paragon of 
 lovely woman! From your unhappy servant, Ver- 
 ney." 
 
 Sally laughed. Then she read over the note in the 
 romantic, high-flown manner in which she pictured
 
 42 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Lord Verney as reciting it. *You are the very para- 
 gon of lovely woman !" she repeated. "So, I'll have 
 two strings to my bow! Faith, and I'll have some 
 pleasure with the two." 
 
 Then she fell to work lifting the laces and silks, the 
 kerchiefs and the stockings from the bundles she had 
 brought home. Presently she packed two boxes with 
 her goods, ready for the journey on the morrow. 
 
 Late that afternoon a stout young man to whom a 
 journey to Pump Lane always seemed as strange an 
 experience as travels to the Indies, lifted the knocker 
 that hung on the Stanes* door, and rapped. He 
 always had the feeling that some hobgoblin might 
 leap out at him, and so his relief was scarcely to be 
 concealed when he found the door opened by the very 
 person he sought. 
 
 The Earl of Dorset's face had been likened, by one 
 of his many friends, to that of a good-natured, ruddy 
 owl. He looked not unlike that now, as his eyes 
 blinked before the sudden appearance of Sally. 
 "Lord love us!" exclaimed she. "Who would have 
 thought to find your lordship standing there? And 
 such a feeble knocking! Indeed I thought likely it 
 was old Adam come to beg for alms." 
 
 The Earl, though by no means brilliant, saw an 
 opening for him. "It is Adam begging for alms," 
 said he. "One of those smiles that dazzle us poor 
 men so." 
 
 "And would you be content with that, my lord?"
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 43 
 
 Sally had to smile at him. "Then this young Adam 
 is easier satisfied than the old one we hear tell of." 
 
 "A beggar must start meekly," said he. "I have 
 had you in mind all day. I can't forget how you 
 looked at me in the Gardens, how your eyes shone 
 
 "Gome indoors, my lord. The Lane isn't used to 
 such gestures." 
 
 The Earl stepped into the living-room, but would 
 not sit, though Sally placed a chair for him. He felt 
 more at ease standing up, where his thoughts and 
 gestures were not cramped by the indolence of a 
 chair. 
 
 "You were saying that my eyes shone," prompted 
 Sally, mischievously. 
 
 "Egad, and so they did ! I never admired a woman 
 half so much. You could have done what you would 
 with the three of us, and with Charles Tree too, I 
 daresay. Do you hold to the plan on second 
 thoughts?" 
 
 "Fie, my lord, did you think I would flinch?" 
 
 The Earl flushed apologetically, and stepped 
 nearer. His voice dropped, and his eyes grew very 
 eager. 
 
 ''This is the matter, dear lady. You are used to 
 town, to the theatre, to supping, to the Gardens, to 
 Kew, and all the joys of London. In the country it 
 will be lonely. I know how it is ; I go there at times 
 myself. It can be borne when there's hunting, but 
 in the summer" he gestured disapproval "nothing
 
 44 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 but flowers, and birds, a solitary canter, a stroll 
 across the fields." 
 
 "And the milkmaids ?" asked Sally. 
 
 "Dash the milkmaids ! Country women always have 
 big hands." 
 
 "La, what a pity !" said Sally, lifting her fingers to 
 catch a lock of her hair. 
 
 "Nothing but out-of-doors, and a deuce too much 
 of that ! You would perish at Cumnor by yourself." 
 
 "You forget Lord Romsey." 
 
 "He!" The young man dismissed him with an- 
 other gesture. "Most likely he'll live in the stables 
 with the grooms." The Earl came still nearer. "I've 
 a place not very far from Cumnor, Holker Hall. I'm 
 going down day after to-morrow. Perhaps the time 
 won't pass so heavily if we're together, perhaps you'll 
 listen to me there." 
 
 "But the town is at its height, my lord, and you 
 were never a hermit." 
 
 "I never had such a desire for loneliness before." 
 
 Dared by her shining eyes, the little Earl rose to a 
 flight of eloquence. "Oh, Sally, I wish this were 
 one of those Surrey lanes!" he exclaimed, and held 
 out his arms beseechingly. 
 
 Sally drew back a step. "Don't ride too fast, 
 my lord," she cautioned. "Remember I'm the Lady 
 Pamela Vauclain, with a dragon to guard me." 
 
 "I shall disregard him." 
 
 Sally turned away and looked through the window.
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 45 
 
 "Men are such kittle-cattle, such weather-vanes," said 
 she. "Only a fortnight since I heard it rumored you 
 were to wed ' 
 
 "A base slander," protested the Earl. 
 
 Sally laughed. "The wind blows north, blows east, 
 blows south. Well, sir, we shall see. If you go into 
 the country, it is yourself decides. Don't tax me 
 with it, pray." 
 
 "It's all of my own planning." Thereupon some- 
 thing of his habitual caution returned to the Earl. 
 He knew that he should have a month with his 
 charmer in more propitious places than Pump Lane. 
 Some members of her family might appear at any 
 moment, and he had no wish to encounter them. "It's 
 agreed then. We'll meet again shortly," said he, 
 "and under happy stars." 
 
 Sally's head bent demurely. "As you will," she 
 answered. 
 
 She followed him to the door, and shut it after him. 
 Then she ran to the window and watched him march 
 down the Lane, as proud a cock of the walk as one 
 could wish. 
 
 "Three strings to my bow," she murmured when 
 he had disappeared, "Sir John, thinking himself very 
 shrewd and cunning; this little Earl, simple as a 
 school-boy, and my Lord Verney, strutting, flaming, 
 hot-headed. With the three I shouldn't be lonely in 
 the country. Heigh-ho ! and each thinks he can marry 
 me if he gets me alone there."
 
 46 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 When Gilbert came home Sally was there to greet 
 him, and she spent the short evening talking to him 
 and Kate. She was up betimes next morning to bid 
 him farewell, and she whispered in his ear as he left, 
 "Don't be afraid for me, Gilly. I'll be back here with 
 you before the moon's new again." 
 
 It was a radiant young woman who awaited Sir 
 John at ten o'clock. The Lady Pamela at Kew would 
 not have been disappointed in her substitute, but 
 might have envied Sally's face and dress. "Lovely 
 beyond compare!" exclaimed Sir John. "Oh, would 
 I were a poet!" "Poets must be busy with their 
 pens," objected Sally. "True," said he, "and my 
 eyes have better use than drawing pothooks." 
 
 Sir John bade his servant convey Sally's boxes to 
 the chariot that waited in the high street. Meantime 
 Sally tied the strings of her cherry bonnet in a bow 
 beneath her chin. To do that she had to look down, 
 and Sir John, seeing they were alone, tried to kiss 
 her. Her right hand stopped him short. "Fie, Sir 
 John, is it so you'd treat the Lady Pamela Vauclain?" 
 
 "But Sally" he protested. 
 
 "There is no Sally now," said she severely. "And if 
 any foolish Jack comes this way looking for kisses 
 he'll be straight sent about his business. Kisses are 
 for milkmaids." And no patrician lady could have 
 held him off with more disdain. 
 
 "Milkmaids! My word! I swear that several 
 ladies"
 
 THE LADY GOES TO CUMNOR 47 
 
 "No, Sir John. You may swear you have kissed 
 all the Duchesses in the kingdom, but you may not 
 treat the Lady Pamela so." Then, at sight of his 
 discomfited face, she relented. "The Lady Pamela, 
 Jack, is a quiet, cloistered girl. If I'm to play the 
 part I must step carefully. You must see that for 
 yourself." 
 
 The servant reported the boxes securely bestowed, 
 and Sir John escorted his lady down the Lane. In 
 the high street stood the chariot, a groom holding 
 two sleek bays. Sir John handed the lady up, and 
 climbed beside her. The groom sprang to his seat in 
 the rumble. 
 
 Sir John was a noted whip, ancfn'e sent his bays 
 through the crowded streets of lower London with 
 high-bred disregard. Over the Thames they sped, 
 and struck into the great road leading south. 
 
 The day was superfine, and the country sweet with 
 June. Two hours' drive frgom London they stopped 
 at the Lavender Bush, and there had luncheon in a 
 private room. Then on southward through Surrey 
 until the sun was sinking in the west, and the meadows 
 were softening with the creeping shadows. 
 
 At last they sighted Cumnor, on a rise of ground. 
 Its Tudor walls stood high, looking far over the 
 circling park. Sir John turned at the gates, and 
 drove upward. Presently he was handing Sally to 
 the stepping-stone. 
 
 Doubtless she was frightened at the prospect ; she
 
 48 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 a girl of Pump Lane to be the chatelaine of such 
 a mansion. But she did not show it, and laughed 
 lightly as Sir John said, "Here you are at last, safely 
 home again." 
 
 He had, as he had promised, seen to everything. 
 He had letters to the housekeeper and steward, signed 
 by the lady at Kew, and sealed with her signet. These 
 bade them regard the newcomer as Lady Pamela 
 Vauclain herself. Better than this, he had gold, and 
 with it he speedily contrived to change the vision of 
 every inmate of the house, of every dependent of 
 Cumnor, so that they saw in Sally the only lady they 
 had ever known. Thus it came about that they all 
 were ready to declare that their Lady Pamela had 
 never left Cumnor, but was dutifully awaiting the 
 arrival of her guardian from oversea. 
 
 Sally went to bed a little frightened, though she 
 told herself a hundred times that she had nothing 
 to fear. Virtue, attended by beauty and wit, was 
 surely amply guarded.
 
 in 
 
 BOMSEY MEETS HIS WARD 
 
 T TP rose the sun, and not long after, the new chate- 
 ^-' laine of Cumnor wakened. From the high view- 
 point of her bed she surveyed the room, a much larger 
 and more elegantly furnished apartment than she had 
 owned in Pump Lane. Three windows, placed closely 
 together across from the bed, gave a large picture 
 of trees, colored with the brilliant lights of early 
 morning. And through an open casement came the 
 song of a lark. Or was it a cuckoo? Or perhaps a 
 thrush? Lady Pamela had no idea ; but she was glad 
 to hear it, for company's sake. 
 
 Against the walls of the room stood two ward- 
 robes and two chests of drawers, each of them big 
 enough to have been used as a fortress. Sally 
 doubled her right arm under her head so that she 
 might view them better. But the prospect was too 
 tantalizing. Soon she had slipped out of bed, thrust 
 her feet into slippers and her arms into a wadded silk 
 dressing-gown, and was headed on a tour of explora- 
 tion. 
 
 Picture Cortez coming upon an Aztec treasure- 
 49
 
 50 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 house lined with pearls and emeralds, amethysts and 
 opals, and a score of other dazzling gems. Then you 
 may understand a little of this lady's feelings as she 
 opened the wardrobes and pulled out the drawers of 
 chests. She had a passion for fine raiment, and she 
 had lived in Pump Lane all her life. She touched one 
 garment after another, gossamer things of silk and 
 lace and rare linen, and she thought how this would 
 become her and how she would feel in that. For fully 
 half an hour she tasted raiment like an epicure, and 
 then she moved on to the dressing-table, laden with 
 its armory for my lady's toilet, and to the cabinet 
 that held rings and necklaces, jewels for the hair and 
 girdles for the waist. She who was now Lady Pamela 
 Tree had fled on the impulse of the moment, trusting 
 to her lover to find her beautiful without the treasures 
 that she left behind. The newcomer, fastening a neck- 
 let of gold about her throat as she stood before a 
 mirror, wondered how the lady could have done it. 
 
 Her tour brought her to the three close-set win- 
 dows, built into a thickness of the walls, beneath 
 which stretched a cushioned seat. Sally knelt on this, 
 and looked out. Below was a stone terrace, and be- 
 yond that a lawn, smooth as a green carpet. Her 
 rooms were in the right wing, and to the left she saw 
 the great avenue lined with beeches by which they had 
 driven to Cumnor the night before. She caught 
 glimpses of other lawns, broken with shrubbery, and
 
 51 
 
 far to the right, beyond a hawthorn hedge, she spied 
 the corner of a flower-garden. 
 
 It was quite a different view from the one she had 
 from her window in Pump Lane. At first she liked 
 it, letting her eyes move from the colors of the lawn 
 to the trees and from the trees to the flowers. Then 
 she wondered how she could endure having no one to 
 watch and speculate upon. She would surely weary 
 of hearing the larks in the morning, and gathering 
 roses in the forenoon, and strolling on the lawns the 
 rest of the day. She yawned, and thereupon she re- 
 crossed the room, shook off slippers and gown, and 
 jumped back into bed. 
 
 She was dozing, when a light tap at the door waked 
 her again. At her answer the door opened, and a 
 woman, with a tray in her hand, entered. 
 
 "Good-morning, my lady, I hope you rested well," 
 was the maid's greeting. 
 
 "What o'clock is it?" 
 
 "Eight, Lady Pamela. Will you have your choco- 
 late now?" 
 
 The lady sat up, and thrust a pillow behind her 
 back. "Of course I'll have my chocolate. Let me 
 see. You're " 
 
 "Rachel, my lady ; Rachel Trumpet." 
 
 "Fetch me the tray, Rachel. But I've slept so 
 well, and had such a scant bite last night, that I'm 
 nearly famished. Are there herrings in the larder?"
 
 52 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Rachel looked doubtful. "There's fresh sole," said 
 she. 
 
 "Very good, sole, and three or four strips of 
 bacon, and some toast, and " the lady considered, 
 "and, Rachel, a little dish of sweets besides." 
 
 Rachel bobbed a curtsey, and hurried away. 
 
 Lady Pamela had a surprisingly good appetite 
 that morning. Rachel, an observant, experienced 
 tiring-maid of twenty years' service with gentility, 
 could not recall ever having seen a lady so hungry. 
 Nor a lady so vividly interested in her toilet. Her 
 former mistress had sipped her morning chocolate 
 almost negligently, and chosen her apparel quickly, 
 but this one breakfasted with relish, and threw her- 
 self into the matter of attire with ardor. The result 
 justified her, Rachel had to admit. As Lady Pamela 
 stood completed, one arm raised to make certain of 
 the security of her crown of red-gold hair, Rachel, on 
 her knees, where she had beerf fixing the catch of a 
 slipper-buckle, looked up at her. "I ask your par- 
 don, my ladyi but I never saw another as could wear 
 such a yellow. But you might wear any color in the 
 rainbow." She stood up, admiration writ large in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "You think so?" Lady Pamela could scarcely re- 
 frain from bestowing a kiss on her maid. "Well, it's 
 a pleasure just to please your eyes, though there be 
 no men folk within twenty miles." 
 
 "His lordship is expected any time now," observed
 
 ROMSEY MEETS HIS WARD 53 
 
 Rachel. "Gregory says he may be here this very 
 day." 
 
 "His lordship?" Lady Pamela shrugged her 
 shoulders, and turned to the dressing-table. "I meant 
 young men with eyes to their heads. Doubtless his 
 lordship would prefer a monastery." 
 
 "Gregory says the Marquis will likely be the 
 strangest nobleman in England," said Rachel, as she 
 picked up the garments Lady Pamela had rejected. 
 "He says but there, I might offend my lady's ears." 
 
 Instantly the lady showed her curiosity. "Don't 
 mind my feelings, Rachel. What did Gregory say?" 
 
 The maid put the clothes on a chair, and stood, 
 her arms akimbo, looking at her mistress, while her 
 round eyes and heightened color bore witness to her 
 great interest in the subject. 
 
 "He says the Marquis has killed a dozen men in 
 duels, that there's no one in Italy can better him in 
 rapier-play, drunk or sober." 
 
 "Well, that's not so evil," said the lady. 
 
 "And that on a wager he broke into a nunnery, 
 and carried off the handsomest woman, and enter- 
 tained her at his castle for a week." 
 
 "And did she go back to the nunnery afterwards ?" 
 
 "Gregory says she went to the court at Rome, and 
 married a Prince." 
 
 "Then he did her a kindness," said Lady Pamela. 
 "Come, Rachel, he's not so bad." 
 
 "But Gregory says the Marquis wouldn't be
 
 54, THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 brooked at all. If any man thwarted him the Mar- 
 quis fought him, and if any woman, whether she were 
 a Princess or a peasant, caught his eye, he hunted 
 her. There was a goldsmith's daughter who was 
 queen of the carnival at Florence. The Marquis saw 
 her, and that night took her away with him oh, it's 
 a shocking story !" Rachel blushed. 
 
 "Shocking indeed!" said her mistress. "Does 
 Gregory think the Marquis will fill Cumnor with 
 ladies, and kill off all the men-folk?" 
 
 "Oh, Lady Pamela !" exclaimed Rachel. "If half 
 the stories are true he must be a monster." 
 
 "No doubt he is. However, neither you nor I were 
 brought up in a convent, Rachel." Lady Pamela 
 went to the window and looked out at the lawn. 
 "Where are his rooms in Cumnor?" 
 
 "In the east wing, my lady, the old part. It's a 
 good walk from here." 
 
 "So much the better." The lady shrugged her 
 shoulders. "I mean to forget all about him. Men 
 are only dangerous when we think too much of them." 
 
 Lady Pamela spent the morning in learning some- 
 thing about Cumnor. She cared nothing for its his- 
 tory, which was long and varied, the castle having a 
 Norman keep at one end of its Tudor walls. She 
 looked through her own apartments ; the sitting- 
 room, with its fine view to the west; the cabinet, or 
 writing room, with a few shelves of books ; the gallery, 
 where a lady might walk in inclement weather. Then
 
 ROMSEY MEETS HIS WARD 55 
 
 she proceeded to the main portion, the great hall, 
 semi-barbaric in dimensions, with its hearth, large 
 enough for three to sit abreast on either side; the 
 dining-room, paneled in oak, with a small musicians' 
 gallery at the farther end ; the armory, its walls hid- 
 den under shields and weapons of every age in Eng- 
 land's history; the portrait gallery, hung with 
 canvases of marquises and marchionesses of Romsey, 
 the subjects of Van Dyke, and Lely, and Kneller, and 
 finally the chapel, built when there had been a Bishop 
 of the Roman Church numbered in the family, but 
 now relegated to an occasional service by the village 
 curate. 
 
 Lady Pamela passed through these glories almost 
 heedlessly. What had she, a child of to-day, to do 
 with the monuments of yesterday? Why should she 
 stop before a lean-faced gentleman with a hook nose, 
 a hawk eye, and a scar on his right cheek, because he 
 was painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller, or even, for- 
 sooth, because he had won the name of "Butcher 
 of Romsey" in Ireland in the days when William 
 reigned? She did not stop until she reached the oak 
 door that led from the great hall to the apartments 
 in the eastern wing. There she faced about and 
 hurried over the rugs to the entrance, and betook 
 herself out of doors. 
 
 Cumnor's head-gardener found the new Lady 
 Pamela eager to learn about flowers. It was sur- 
 prising, he thought, considering how much the lady
 
 56 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 evidently loved them, how little she knew of them. 
 But he judged that she would quickly learn. She 
 picked two large yellow rosebuds for her gown, and 
 she asked him to send as many like them as he could 
 spare to her chamber every morning. 
 
 The groom of the stables was amazed to see Lady 
 Pamela bearing down upon his precincts. He shared 
 the feelings of the gardener. Her ladyship knew 
 very little of horses, but it seemed she loved them. 
 She praised their color and their sleekness, overlook- 
 ing his professional comments. Then she went on to 
 the kennels, and there she reveled, for she had known 
 almost all breeds of dogs in Pump Lane. 
 
 The admirable Gregory, who waited on her lady- 
 ship at dinner, found his mistress most inquisitive. 
 She wanted to know about all the families in the 
 neighborhood, about the curate, if he were young and 
 good-looking, about the village, about the servants, 
 even about himself. Yet she did full justice to the 
 cooking. "My compliments to cook," she said as she 
 finished, "and tell her I've never known tripe to taste 
 so fine. I'll have to take a lesson from her some day." 
 All which Gregory later reported to the servants' 
 hall, adding materially to the stock of information 
 Rachel had earlier provided. 
 
 The afternoon was sultry, and Lady Pamela spent 
 it on the terrace, trying to beguile herself with a bit 
 of embroidery. But she had never been very fond of 
 the needle, using it only when she was obliged to, and
 
 ROMSEY MEETS HIS WARD 57 
 
 soon she was yawning, and then nodding, and in be- 
 tween times yearning for town and her own kind. 
 Presently she went up to her rooms and planned an- 
 other toilette. She was not to be defrauded of this 
 pleasure, even if there were no one to see her. This 
 time she chose white, without any ornaments except 
 one of the yellow rosebuds fastened at her breast. So, 
 later, she had supper, and then sat in a chair at a 
 window of the great hall, watching the stars being 
 lighted in the darkening sky, and thinking what a 
 poor exchange they were for the houses over the way. 
 
 It was full night when Lady Pamela heard the 
 sound of wheels on the driveway outside. She peered 
 a little closer through the window, but the starlight 
 only showed her a heavy chaise and two horses. Then 
 she heard steps, and shortly after the door of the 
 hall, which had been left slightly open, swung wide. 
 A man came into the hall, or rather strode in, for he 
 had all the assurance of an owner. 
 
 Lady Pamela's gown rustled as she turned in her 
 chair, and instantly the stranger's eyes were bent 
 upon her. He appeared to her to be very tall, al- 
 though a slenderness of body might have had some- 
 thing to do with that impression. In spite of the 
 June air he wore a cloak, of dull brown, over his dark 
 clothes, and a broad-brimmed, russet-colored hat. 
 When he removed the latter, Lady Pamela saw a 
 face of Southern coloring, deep-set eyes, and black 
 hair that was not dressed according to the fashion.
 
 58 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Who are you?" the man asked in a voice that, 
 although low-pitched, seemed to carry a great dis- 
 tance. 
 
 She almost answered "Sally Temple;" but con- 
 trived to murmur, "Pamela Vauclain." 
 
 "My cousin, then," stated the stranger abruptly; 
 and he stepped to her chair, lifted her right hand, and 
 touched it with his cold lips. "I'm Romsey. And 
 I'm glad to see you, Pamela; though there's little 
 else I'm glad of in this foggy country." He turned 
 away, and flung his hat and cloak on a chair. 
 "Hola!" he shouted. "Service here, lights, fire, 
 coals !" 
 
 His voice echoed in the great hall, and almost im- 
 mediately the servants came running. One touched a 
 lighted taper to the candles in their sconces on the 
 walls, another fired the hearth logs, a third closed the 
 great hall door, a fourth picked up the nobleman's 
 hat and cloak, and Gregory, the major-domo, stood 
 before the new arrival and asked what his lordship 
 would have for supper. 
 
 "I've supped," said Romsey, "and I've drunk suf- 
 ficient of your reeking English claret. Fetch me port 
 wine to that seat by the fire." 
 
 The servants scattered, and Romsey walked over 
 to the arm-chair he had chosen. The hall was well 
 lighted now, and the lady could see why men called the 
 Marquis black. His hair was raven, his complexion 
 dark, he wore a black moustache on his upper lip, a
 
 ROMSEY MEETS HIS WARD 59 
 
 little tuft of black in the center of his lower lip, and, 
 save for his neckerchief, all his costume was somber. 
 
 He sat down with his back half toward her, and his 
 profile, angular, and positive in outline, was hers to 
 scan. That was all he seemed likely to give her, for 
 after Gregory had brought the port wine and set it 
 on a table by the arm-chair, the Marquis sat silent 
 while he drank three glasses. She found herself 
 growing almost afraid to have him speak. 
 
 Presently, without turning his head, he swung out 
 his arm, as if he knew she must be watching for his 
 orders. "Come over here," he said, "and sit on that 
 stool where I can look at you." 
 
 The girl was not used to commands, except such as 
 she heard at Drury Lane Theatre, and there they 
 were given for the good of a common cause. She 
 hesitated; but eventually she went over to the stool 
 between Romsey and the hearth, and sat down. 
 
 She took the yellow rosebud from her gown and 
 began playing with it. Meantime she knew the man's 
 eyes were resting on her, and she felt the blood sweep 
 into her face. She pulled a petal from the rose and 
 dropped it on the floor, then another ; then she looked 
 up at him. The black depths of his eyes seemed to 
 glow at her. 
 
 "You're the first good-looking thing I've seen in 
 England," he stated. He did not smile, and she, 
 with a sudden quickening of breath, looked down at 
 the rosebud again. "In Italy women wear their hair
 
 60 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 bound tight. I like your way better. You must be 
 twenty years old?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered truthfully. 
 
 Then for some time one petal after another fell to 
 the floor while he was silent. 
 
 "What do you know of me, cousin?" he asked 
 presently. 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "And you care less?" 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 "Why should you care?" he considered aloud. "A 
 man who is only a name here, who prefers Italy to 
 England, who has very little regard for his own 
 order, or for the matter of that, for anyone or any- 
 thing." 
 
 "You must be very melancholy, my lord;" she 
 glanced up at him ; "unless you care for people." 
 
 He might not have heard her, to judge from his 
 look, although his eyes were bent upon her. "You 
 are religiously inclined, cousin?" he asked after a 
 pause. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Women are either religious, or made to plague 
 men," he declared. 
 
 "I am neither," she answered. 
 
 "What of Charles Tree? He hasn't been men- 
 tioned in your letters lately." 
 
 The girl smiled at the fire. "We meet very rarely 
 nowadays," said she.
 
 ROMSEY MEETS HIS WARD 61 
 
 The stillness grew oppressive. Pamela kept her 
 eyes on the fire, a spell seeming to have settled on her. 
 She wanted to move, to get up from the stool, which 
 was uncomfortable, and find another seat. But she 
 felt as if she were bound where she was, dominated by 
 something in this brooding man, who was so different 
 from any she had known. 
 
 A log broke, and, as if respited by the sudden 
 sound, she turned her head toward the Marquis. He 
 was not looking at her. Chin on hand, he was staring 
 into the fire. She imagined that there were fitful 
 devils in his dark eyes. 
 
 "At Raconti in Tuscany I saw few women," he 
 said, half to himself, half to her. "I had my fill of 
 them when I went to the Grand Duke's court at Flor- 
 ence one month in the year. I hunted in the moun- 
 tains, bears and boars and such; not the pheasants 
 these fine English shoot." 
 
 "You should go to town, my lord. You can find 
 plenty of sport of every kind there," she said, think- 
 ing to rally him. 
 
 "Town? London? A place of smug-faced hypo- 
 crites and pirouetting fools ! What would I do with 
 such people?" 
 
 "You could choose a wife there." 
 
 He looked at her, and for the first time his lips 
 parted in a smile. "A wife? And so have a woman 
 always by me! No, cousin, I am likely to find my 
 one ward here quite enough."
 
 62 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 She jumped up from the stool, her face suddenly 
 hot with anger. "You'll not find me in the way, I 
 can assure you of that !" she cried. "You need never 
 know there's a woman near you. Live any way you 
 please." 
 
 His eyes lighted, though he did not move from his 
 half-reclining posture. "On my word, Pamela, you 
 have some spirit! You're better-looking mad than 
 quiet." 
 
 She stood straight, though his words and manner 
 made her quiver. "In England women are more than 
 men's playthings," she said hotly. 
 
 "Ah, that's the trouble with England." He 
 laughed, a trifle scornfully. "But no man of my 
 family ever agreed with your view." 
 
 "Then it's high time some one forced it on you." 
 
 His eyes, really gleaming now, took in her hostile 
 attitude and face. "I was right. I like you better 
 angry," he declared. 
 
 His absolute insolence maddened her. "And I do 
 not like you in any way!" said she. "You are cold 
 and bitter and selfish. You make me think of a miser 
 fingering his gold. You would do better to stay 
 abroad." 
 
 The firelight shone behind her, setting off her white 
 gown, her flushed cheeks, her angry eyes, her glowing 
 hair. The Marquis stirred in his chair, sat up 
 straighter, and then got to his feet. He stood before 
 her, seeming to tower above her menacingly.
 
 ROMSEY MEETS HIS WARD 63 
 
 "Tell me that you hate me," he commanded, his 
 voice low and clear. 
 
 She knew that some evil thought was in him; she 
 knew that he was both daring and threatening her; 
 but she could no longer hold herself in check. Look- 
 ing him fairly in the face she answered, "Very well. 
 I do hate you, then !" 
 
 Instantly he caught her hands, and in spite of her 
 struggles, drew her close to him. "This is a real 
 welcome home!" he cried, and kissed her lips. 
 
 She tore herself free and sprang back, her face, 
 that had been afire, now white with anger. "Coward !" 
 she cried. "To take me all alone !" 
 
 He was calm again, except for the gleam in his 
 eyes. "I give you warning, Pamela. Hadn't you 
 better leave me while there's time?" 
 
 She stood her ground an instant, quivering with 
 rage. "They told ill tales about you," she said, "and 
 I thought them merely gossip. Now I do believe 
 them, all of them ! You are a monster. But I'd have 
 you know that I'm not one of your Italian dolls, but 
 an English woman. I can take care of myself !" Her 
 eyes met his evenly for a moment. Then she turned, 
 and walking to the door of the west wing, opened it, 
 and hurrying through shut it behind her. She stood 
 back of it, unnerved with her anger. After a moment 
 the stillness calmed her, and she went up the stairs to 
 her own rooms, defiance of Cumnor and its master in 
 her face.
 
 IV 
 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 
 
 '""T'HE Lady Pamela from Pump Lane was unques- 
 1 tionably high-spirited and brave, or she would 
 never have agreed to go to Cumnor. Moreover, quite 
 a portion of her time since she had turned sixteen had 
 been devoted to putting young men in their proper 
 places, for young men were by nature presuming, 
 though rather less so in Cheapside than in St. 
 James's, and she had very early acquired the art of 
 repulsing them without wounding their vanity too 
 greatly. She was, perhaps, as talented an artist at 
 this game of fence as she was an actress. She 
 realized at once, however, that this new man from 
 Italy was quite different from any she had known 
 before. 
 
 It would not be hard to state her opinion of Rich- 
 ard Tressillian Vauclain, fifth Marquis of Romsey. 
 She judged that his heart and soul were as black as 
 his hair and eyes. She had not the slightest doubt 
 that he had used men and women for his own evil ends 
 in that savage Italy of his. There had been nothing 
 
 tentative in his grasp of her hands, nothing concilia- 
 
 64 

 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 65 
 
 tory in his eyes. It had mattered nothing to him that 
 she was his ward and cousin, nothing that he was an 
 English nobleman and this the civilized year of 1770. 
 He was a law to himself, and such autocrats had 
 hitherto been beyond her ken. 
 
 The lady from Pump Lane, her eyes unusually 
 bright with anger, got herself to bed, but not to sleep. 
 She had a sudden intense longing for home, for the 
 certainty that faithful Kate and watchful Gilly were 
 under the same roof with her, that simple, com- 
 mon folk were asleep in houses next her own and 
 across the way. She trusted town as she distrusted 
 the country. She felt that perhaps she had put her- 
 self into perils she did not understand, and it took 
 all her pride to keep her from planning to escape 
 from them as quickly as she could. 
 
 The sun returned to Surrey, and at last awakened 
 the new lady, who had slept in spite of herself. The 
 great four-post bed was very soft, and a breeze flut- 
 tered the curtains at the windows. She felt rested 
 and strong. She found that she could even smile at 
 the thought of what had happened in the hall the 
 night before. The Marquis might be very tall and 
 dark, very evil-hearted, but he was only a man, and 
 she had never feared a man yet. Besides, she was his 
 cousin, and a lady, and it was clear that all she had 
 to do was to keep him at a proper distance. Spirited 
 as ever, she pulled the bell-rope beside the bed for 
 Rachel, and prepared to indulge her taste in dress. 

 
 66 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 She kept to herself all morning, and dined in her 
 sitting-room. She decided that Lord Romsey could 
 live in his wing of Cumnor, and she in hers. He might 
 busy himself with his own affairs, might shoot the 
 small game that he so much despised, and ride the 
 wildest horse in the stables and break his neck. She 
 pictured him brought in thus, and how she would tend 
 him, and the thought fetched a smile to her lips. She 
 looked down admiringly at her taffeta gown, em- 
 broidered with tiny rosebuds, and fingered the chain 
 of seed-pearls she had woven into her hair. Such a 
 beautiful costume would give even a timid woman 
 courage, she considered, and she thought she would 
 like to see him dare to touch her now. 
 
 In the late afternoon she went down to the terrace, 
 and was sunning herself there, when Romsey appeared 
 from the kennels. She did not waver, but turned her 
 eyes indolently toward him, drooping the lids a little. 
 She noted that he bore himself well, and that his 
 glance at her was quick and straight. 
 
 "You rested well, cousin?" he asked. "You must 
 have, to judge by your looks." 
 
 "I always sleep well," she answered calmly. 
 
 "And didn't need your guardian in the house to 
 make you feel more secure?" he suggested. 
 
 She shook her head as if she had no interest in the 
 notion. "You find Cumnor in good order?" she in- 
 quired, in turn. 
 
 "Enough so ; if you mean sleek and fat. I find it
 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 67 
 
 like all England, a great country fair, stupid, slow, 
 the cattle overfed, the tenants lazy." 
 
 "And you'll stir them up?" 
 
 "I'd like to make them sweat." 
 
 "How glad they'll be to have you back, my lord." 
 
 "Call me Richard, cousin." 
 
 The lady raised her fan to hide a yawn. "What 
 spirit you have, to be sure, sir ! We should all enjoy 
 watching your performance." 
 
 Romsey stood looking at her broodingly. In a 
 crowd one would have noted his face in a thousand. 
 You might have gone through the Van Dykes, the 
 Lelys and the Knellers in the great gallery, and 
 found a little of him here and a little there, but 
 nothing that approached a counterpart. His olive 
 skin, that at night made him look so dark, was in- 
 herited from his mother, and was most un-English. 
 His face was both commanding and passionate, as if 
 he had been spoiled by his own will in youth, and had 
 later vainly tried to curb his nature. His deep, 
 searching eyes, and determined mouth gave evidence 
 of this, and might have caused one familiar with his 
 history to remember that occasionally the tyrants of 
 Italian cities had taken to the hermit's life in the 
 desert and a shirt of hair. 
 
 The girl began to hum a little tune. She was evi- 
 dently as placid as the golden afternoon, and showing 
 that nothing could disturb her deep content in 
 Cumnor.
 
 68 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Romsey stepped to a wooden bench that stood by a 
 path near the terrace, wrenched it from its foothold 
 in the earth, and set it down close to his ward. He 
 took his seat there. "Do you know," said he abruptly, 
 "that we two are the only ones of the clan in Eng- 
 land? That should draw us together." 
 
 "It's a loose bond, my lord." 
 
 "Richard," he corrected her. 
 
 "Since you seem to set such store on the name 
 Richard," she said, as if flinging him a farthing. 
 
 "Egad, you do seem to hate me ! Yet I came here 
 on purpose to be a guardian and master to you." 
 
 Lady Pamela laughed, not unkindly, but with great 
 amusement. "Girls are so fond of masters. In town 
 it's said that's the cause they marry." She looked at 
 him critically. "You should go up to London, Rich- 
 ard ; take a whip, and choose a slave or two. There's 
 many women would like it." 
 
 "I take it, Pamela," he went on, unminding her 
 irony, "that you're wiser than you look. In Italy it's 
 the other way about. But you pretend to know your 
 London, and something of men and women. How did 
 you come by it?" 
 
 "Oh, I've had a little experience." 
 
 "You've been to town?" 
 
 She nodded over her fan. 
 
 "With whom?" 
 
 "I went on a visit to the Bishop's daughter." 
 
 "You've been to routs and drums?"
 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 69 
 
 "A few of them. I love to dance." 
 
 "You've known men in love? Besides Charles 
 Tree?" 
 
 Again she nodded. "So they said. But to tell you 
 truly, they do it better on the stage." 
 
 "You've been to the play, then?" 
 
 "Why, so I have. To Drury Lane. Oh, how I love 
 play-acting !" 
 
 "So, while I thought of you as a country mouse 
 you were really a woman of fashion ! Half the people 
 in town know Lady Pamela Vauclain?" 
 
 "Half the fashion know me. I'm told I've been 
 toasted once or twice at Brooks's." She turned, and 
 flashed a smile upon him. "Do you blame them so 
 monstrous much, Richard?" 
 
 "Egad, no!" he exclaimed, the faintest twinkle in 
 his eyes. "For an English woman no, I don't blame 
 them much." 
 
 She saw her advantage ; but she checked her hand. 
 "You're not so very gallant, Richard, are you?" she 
 said, turning away. "But it's scarcely necessary 
 between cousins." 
 
 The Marquis sat back on his bench, frowning. He 
 was beginning to understand why it was that Eng- 
 lishmen were reputed to have so much trouble in 
 managing their households. 
 
 "You speak the truth in that," he declared ; and the 
 girl recognized again the low clearness of his voice 
 as she had heard it the night before. "We are
 
 70 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 cousins, and I am some ten years your elder. There 
 should be no disputes between us." 
 
 She quite forgot her calm manner, and clapped her 
 hands impatiently. "Good lack, you talk as if I were 
 the scullery-maid!" 
 
 Romsey's attention, however, was at that moment 
 diverted down the driveway to the avenue of beeches. 
 "Who comes here?" he exclaimed. "The fat Wife of 
 Bath, clad in breeches, and astride her palf ry !" 
 
 Lady Pamela looked. There was a horseman in 
 the avenue sure enough, and he sat rather heavily in 
 his saddle, and appeared fatter than was becoming in 
 a rider. His horse, also, was certainly no Barbary 
 steed, 
 
 "It's the Earl of Dorset," she explained, "a neigh- 
 bor, and a very pleasant gentleman." 
 
 "What, not the stout Wife of Bath? An Earl! 
 Oh, fat and sluggish country !" 
 
 "Not so loud, if you please," she begged ; and then 
 added, "He looks much better on his own feet." 
 
 The noble Earl, quite unconscious of their com- 
 ments, was beaming as he rode up. He swept off his 
 hat, and as soon as he reached the steps that led to 
 the terrace, swung himself down to the ground. His 
 horse, a well-trained beast, stood stock-still. 
 
 Lady Pamela rose, smiling a welcome at the young 
 man as he approached her. "I was sure," she said, 
 "that you would be among the first to welcome my 
 cousin when he came home." Standing half-way be-
 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 71 
 
 tween the two, she waved the men together with a 
 flourish of her fan. "Cousin Richard, my friend the 
 Earl of Dorset." 
 
 The stout guest blinked his owlish eyes, and nodded 
 cheerily. "I bid you welcome home, Lord Romsey," 
 said he, politely. 
 
 The Marquis stood with h'is arms folded, and tipped 
 his head a trifle as if his neck was very stiff. 
 
 Lady Pamela went to the hall door and called a 
 servant. When the footman answered; "A chair for 
 this gentleman," said she, "and take his horse to the 
 stable." 
 
 The little Earl, refreshed by a sight of the lady 
 he sought, and therefore disposed to be pleased with 
 everything, sat down near his hostess. Romsey, his 
 manner utterly indifferent, lounged on his bench. 
 Lady Pamela opened her fan again, and looked en- 
 gagingly at the shorter man. "The last time we met 
 I remember you spoke of turning hermit in the 
 country." 
 
 "So I did ; I remember, so I did," he agreed eagerly. 
 
 "Hermits are commonly supposed to fast," put in 
 Romsey. 
 
 The Earl blinked. 
 
 "Why, the saints are all rosy, comely men in the 
 pictures," said the girl, quickly. 
 
 The comedy of three proceeded, played in this 
 manner : Pamela, like a skilful angler, would dangle 
 a question like bait before the Earl; he, eager to
 
 72 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 shine, would bite, making some fond and fatuous re- 
 mark; Romsey would straightway spear him merci- 
 lessly, and the lady would have to disengage the barb 
 as tactfully as she could. Time and again the Earl 
 flushed, and blinked rapidly at some attack of the 
 man from Italy, and each time Pamela caught his 
 eye and soothed his anger with a sympathetic smile. 
 "We must ride together some morning," she said to 
 the Earl. "What, on two mincing palfreys like that 
 piebald one!" Romsey exclaimed. The Earl glow- 
 ered. "Why, if our Cumnor stables can't provide me 
 a proper beast, Pd be glad to beg the loan of a mare 
 from Lord Dorset," the girl responded promptly. 
 
 "I have a whole stable at your service," said the 
 Earl, mollified again. 
 
 When, however, Pamela and the Earl fell to talking 
 of people in London the Marquis drew into his shell. 
 The girl gradually turned her shoulder more and 
 more positively upon him, and shut him out of their 
 conversation. Once, glancing sideways in his direc- 
 tion, she said, "This must weary you, cousin; pray 
 don't stay here if it does. Lord Dorset and I can 
 entertain each other." 
 
 "I'm much enlightened," he answered shortly; but 
 as if to belie his words he crossed his long legs impa- 
 tiently, and scowled at the distant trees. 
 
 Romsey was still brooding when the Earl rose, as 
 if intending to take his leave. "Surely you will stay 
 to sup with us?" Pamela said invitingly. The Earl
 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 73 
 
 looked at the other man. "It would be a pleasure to 
 have you," urged the girl. "Indeed," began the 
 guest, and hesitated, divided between desire and ap- 
 prehension of his host. Plainly he did not foresee very 
 enjoyable entertainment at a table headed by the 
 Marquis. "If Lord Romsey ' 
 
 The Marquis appeared to be quite absorbed, now 
 gazing at the sky. 
 
 "He wishes you to stay," said Pamela, forced to 
 speak for him. "Don't you, cousin?" she added, 
 turning on him. 
 
 "You take the words from my mouth," he answered, 
 leaving his meaning vague. 
 
 Pamela snapped her little ivory fan shut. "Bid 
 our guest stay, my lord," she commanded. "You 
 know you'll be glad of his society." She rapped the 
 fan impatiently against the back of her hand. 
 
 Romsey looked up, and their eyes met. For the 
 first time his glance was defensive, and seemed to 
 take account of the will in hers. As if he were caught 
 at some disadvantage seated, he stood up quickly. 
 But she stuck to her ground, facing him, with her 
 hands tightly closed. "You will bid him stay," she 
 repeated. 
 
 "I bid you stay," he said, the flicker of a smile in 
 his eyes. 
 
 The girl actually laughed with pleasure, resting 
 her left hand on the back of her chair. "There's such 
 a difference between your Italian and our English
 
 74 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 ways," she said with animation. "Come indoors, Lord 
 Dorset." 
 
 The Earl accompanied her across the terrace, not 
 altogether satisfied. In the hall Pamela happened to 
 drop her fan, and he picked it up. "Why, it's 
 cracked," he said, examining it, "the ivory's split 
 apart." She laughed again as she took it from him. 
 "So it is, poor thing. I must have snapped it in my 
 fingers." She did not want to tell him that she had 
 broken it when she crossed wills with Romsey. 
 
 The supper party of three was a lively affair that 
 night. To begin with, Pamela had a chance to make 
 another toilette, and she appeared ultimately in a 
 white-and-silver gown, her hair dressed in a manner 
 she had contrived in Pump Lane, but had never dared 
 to wear there, in a soft wave, low across her forehead. 
 A small black star set off the cream of her com- 
 plexion, and nothing could have been more radiant 
 than her eyes, which put all other lights in the dining- 
 room to shame. 
 
 The Earl, gradually reassured as he weathered 
 Romsey's temper, and thinking that the latter had now 
 been set in his proper place, was ravished by his first 
 sight of the charming lady and felt certain that the 
 world held no beauty comparable to hers. With his 
 first glass of the famous Cumnor Burgundy he re- 
 solved to besiege her as persistently as the Greeks 
 beset the walls of Troy, with his second glass he was 
 chuckling to think how the Pump Lane lassie was
 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 75 
 
 hoodwinking this uncouth Marquis, and at the third 
 he began to laugh at the march he had stolen on Lord 
 Verney and Sir John Gorham. Meanwhile Pamela 
 fed him attention and compliments as a mistress might 
 offer choice morsels to a pet dog. 
 
 The Marquis sat in his high-backed chair, and kept 
 Gregory busy filling his glass of wine. His eyes were 
 almost constantly upon his ward across the table, 
 and gradually some of her sparkle seemed to steal into 
 his somberness. When the supper was half over he 
 began to talk, and although Pamela had intended to 
 control the situation, she found herself obliged to 
 drop the reins into his hands. His fingers twisted the 
 long stem of his wine-glass, as he told them tales of 
 Italy. Wild, improbable tales they were, but they 
 became truthful by his manner of telling them ; stories 
 of lurid passion in lonely castles, of women's perfidy 
 and men's revenge, of horrors done in dungeons, and 
 of villainies that stalked the hills and plains. He 
 himself had fought condottierl chiefs, he had ridden 
 through Pescara when the bells were mute, and fear 
 of the black-pox written on every face ; he had sat 
 across the table from Urbino's Duke when the latter 
 dropped poison from his ring into the wine-glass of 
 his Cardinal guest. "He twisted his glass so as 
 I do now," said Romsey, "and his eyes traveled around 
 the table until they came to the Cardinal's face, and 
 then he raised his own glass, and smffed over it as the 
 Cardinal drank."
 
 76 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 The little Earl, less rosy than usual, choked over 
 a sip of the Burgundy, and tried vainly to smile. 
 Pamela never moved; her eyes were intent on Rom- 
 sey's face 
 
 "Quick poison it was," said Romsey, as if enjoying 
 the thought. "Urbino knew his trade. But he for- 
 got, and forgave his wife afterwards. Half a year 
 later he repented of it." 
 
 "You mean " murmured Pamela. 
 
 "I mean the man who forgives is a fool. Urbino 
 died because of his charity." 
 
 "What horrors!" exclaimed Pamela. "Are such 
 things really true?" 
 
 Romsey's lips broke into a smile. "I have no skill 
 at inventing stories. What I say is so." 
 
 His tales lost nothing by his manner of telling 
 them, which was full of dramatic pauses and half- 
 veiled innuendos. Perhaps his audience's attention 
 urged him on. The Earl, his face now looking al- 
 most pale in the candleshine, sunk back in his chair, 
 had the air of being ready to start to his feet should 
 anyone speak suddenly behind him. Pamela's eyes 
 bore witness to a wide range of emotions, amaze- 
 ment, incredulity, appreciation of Romsey's dramatic 
 power, and an intense interest in all that he had to 
 say. 
 
 Romsey stopped abruptly, seeming to imply that 
 although he hadfcot by any means come to the end 
 of his histories, he had told enough for them to hear.
 
 THE MASTERFUL MAN AT HOME 77 
 
 Pamela rose quickly to break the spell he had cast 
 upon them. "We need a little cooler air," she said; 
 and led the way through the hall to the terrace. 
 
 The night was deep with stars. A breeze from the 
 west soothed their warm faces. The Earl, impressed 
 by Romsey's stories, and feeling unnaturally subdued, 
 realizing also that he would have little chance to 
 besiege the lady that evening, said good-night, and 
 calling for his horse, rode away. 
 
 When he had gone the girl from Pump Lane raised 
 her arms, and drew in a deep breath. She was think- 
 ing of Gilbert Stanes, and of the great distance that 
 lay between his little sitting-room and this vast park 
 of Cumnor. 
 
 When she turned she found Romsey standing near 
 her. He was staring at a star that hung just above 
 the tallest beech, and a certain moodiness in his face 
 caught her attention. 
 
 "You haven't known many happy people, have 
 you?" she said, on impulse. 
 
 "Happy people?" he echoed questioningly ; and 
 looked at her. "Who are happy?" 
 
 "I never thought much about it before," she an- 
 swered, "but I suppose those who care for other 
 people. Those men and women you knew in Italy 
 were always nursing their own passions, and the 
 Church people their own souls." 
 
 "And what else could they 
 
 "Care about other people."
 
 78 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 He was still gazing at her. "Are there such people 
 anywhere?" he asked. 
 
 Again she spoke on impulse. "I know one or two. 
 Oh, far from here, very far from us." 
 
 He stared a moment. "Yes, I believe there are 
 such people," he said. "I've seen them in the crowded 
 streets of towns. But they're not of our race, 
 Pamela." 
 
 She looked again at the star-strewn sky, and pres- 
 ently she sighed. "It's hard to be like them," she 
 murmured. "It's so much easier to want things for 
 oneself." 
 
 "And take what you want," he said brusquely. 
 "Seize it before it slips away." 
 
 The words slid by her, as she communed with her 
 thoughts. After a while she turned. "Good-night. 
 I hope no ghosts will spoil your sleep." 
 
 He looked cold and distant. "I'm used to dealing 
 with ghosts," he returned shortly. 
 
 In the shelter of her own room Pamela sank on the 
 seat beneath the windows. She was homesick for her 
 own people, for those who loved each other, and found 
 contentment in that, having no knowledge of the 
 evil passions that had loomed so large in the stories 
 Romsey had told them at the supper-table.
 
 ra 
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 
 
 I ORD ROMSEY'S blackness was occasionally 
 ** streaked with a shade or two of gray as when 
 he had stood under the stars and listened to Pamela's 
 comments but for the most part it was of a consis- 
 tent color. He was as imperious as any Roman Em- 
 peror. Gilbert Stanes had once told his young aunt 
 the story of King Canute's forbidding the waves to 
 advance, and she had dared to doubt it. But as she 
 grew more familiar with the Marquis of Romsey she 
 relinquished her doubt in that story. There were 
 such men to be found. Romsey was such a man ; she 
 had no doubt but that from his rock of Cumnor he 
 would have the audacity if the notion had pleased 
 him to forbid the fields of grain to ripen, or the 
 orchards to bear fruit. 
 
 The girl concluded that the man lived in a cloak, 
 with the collar usually standing. He was generally 
 aloof and remote, rarely condescending to meet other 
 people on their own grounds, or even on a neutral 
 field, but surveying them from the Heights of his 
 
 superiority. If he ever realized that others differed 
 
 79
 
 80 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 from his views, he would not admit the justice of their 
 divergence. It seemed as if he had modeled himself 
 on the pattern of a tyrant, having apparently studied 
 all types of men, and decided that the part of tyrant 
 suited him best. 
 
 Occasionally he flung the folds of his cloak behind 
 him and stood forth. Then there was intense purpose 
 in his eyes and face. At such times the girl from 
 Pump Lane realized that he was startlingly human, 
 but in a manner she did not understand. These 
 glimpses, however, convinced her that under the sur- 
 face he was indeed like those avid, passionate crea- 
 tures he had lived among in Italy, who tore at their 
 joy, howled at the wind, seized at delight as it fled 
 before them, fearful lest it should leave them with 
 empty hands. The thought of such people disturbed 
 her, in spite of her homely breeding and native sense, 
 and she tried to put it from her mind. But her con- 
 victions were right, for Romsey had lived entirely for 
 pleasure, like the men and women he had been thrown 
 among. 
 
 The girl contrived to see him only infrequently, 
 and busied herself in the gardens, in walks through 
 the park, and in learning what she could concerning 
 the ordering of the household from the housekeeper. 
 Many a time she asked Rachel to stay in her sitting- 
 room, and chatted with her of small matters. She 
 made friends with the lodge-keeper's children, and 
 played with them for long hours in the sun. Through
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 81 
 
 them she learned something of the tenants, and went 
 to see those who were ill. But as each day passed 
 she found the role of a great lady grow more lonely, 
 and longed more for the bustle of life in Cheapside. 
 
 Romsey, however, soon began to insist on seeing 
 something of her. When she had taken her meals in 
 her rooms for three days he sent word by Gregory 
 that he wished her presence in the dining-hall, and 
 though she rebelled at the message she decided it 
 would be wisest not to refuse him. Sometimes he met 
 her on her walks, sometimes in the gardens, and she 
 had the feeling that he was going out of his way to 
 find her. Usually when they met he treated her in the 
 same manner, was arrogant and imperious, sarcastic, 
 sharp-tongued, as if he were testing her, and only 
 very infrequently agreed with her. What she liked 
 he usually seemed to despise. He called the Earl of 
 Dorset "that pink-faced fool," and asked if all the 
 gentlemen in London had mushrooms for brains. 
 When she made some defense of her friend, he smiled. 
 "Come, Pamela, admit that the men are a sorry lot 
 in England," he said. "You cannot grow good fruit 
 from a worn-out tree." 
 
 She tossed her head indignantly. "There are Eng- 
 lishmen who would challenge you for that." 
 
 His smile broadened. "Not the men ; the English 
 women might, Pam. The men would prefer to talk." 
 
 They were in the garden at the time; and just at 
 that point Sir John Gorham rode up, and reined in
 
 82 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 on the other side of the wall that sheltered the holly- 
 hocks and larkspurs. Pamela gave a sigh of relief, 
 for Sir John seemed to bring a breath of London to 
 her. 
 
 "Why, it's Lord Fantastico himself!" exclaimed 
 Romsey, seeing the newcomer. 
 
 Pamela, her pretty face all smiles, stood on tiptoe, 
 and waved a hand to Sir John. He rose in his stir- 
 rups, for the wall was high. "Good-morning, my 
 lady," said he, gaily, "and the same to you, Lord 
 Romsey, for I'm sure you must be he." 
 
 Stooping, Pamela broke a red rose, and flung it 
 over the wall, and Sir John, at the peril of his neck, 
 reached, and caught it. 
 
 "Child's play," muttered Romsey. 
 
 "Let the children play, then!" she threw at him 
 over her shoulder. 
 
 As eagerly as a school-girl on a holiday, she ran 
 around the garden wall, and holding out her hands 
 to Sir John, "Jack, will you take me riding?" she 
 begged. 
 
 "Will I ?" he cried delightedly, and added in a lower 
 voice, "How goes it, Lady Pam?" 
 
 She shook her head, murmuring, "Monstrous bad !" 
 
 Sir John slid from his saddle. "Leave him to me," 
 he whispered, "I'll handle him properly. And first 
 let me stable my nag." 
 
 Pamela and Sir John, leading his horse, walked to 
 the stables, deserting Romsey in the garden.
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 83 
 
 "Oh, Jack," cried Pamela, "it's such a lovely place, 
 with such perfect flowers, and such 'a quantity of 
 sweet gowns and trinkets in my rooms ; and yet I am 
 miserable !" 
 
 "I'll right that !" said the confident gallant. "I'll 
 show the monster his place." 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad you came !" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Then you do like me a little?" 
 
 "I like you oceans-full," she said, beaming. 
 
 Sir John gave his horse to a groom, and they 
 walked back to the house. On the way he stopped, as 
 if remembering something. "See ; here's my gift," he 
 said, and took from an inside pocket a satin case, and 
 put it in Pamela's hands. 
 
 With sparkling eyes she opened the little box, and 
 found a necklet of pearls. "Oh, you dear Jack!" 
 she cried ; "what a beauty ! But they're far too fine 
 for me !" 
 
 "Nothing's too fine that will soften the heart of 
 beauty. I hope they'll plead for me." 
 
 "Indeed, and they are eloquent," she said, dangling 
 the chain on her hand. 
 
 Sir John was not like the Earl of Dorset, and so, 
 when he returned to the lawn, and found Romsey 
 standing there, like a stranded ship on the rocks, he 
 valiantly prepared to disarm him. "Egad, sir, and 
 I'm glad to set eyes on you!" he said, heartily. 
 "They've talked so much of you in London that you're 
 grown into the eighth wonder of the world."
 
 84 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Romsey frowned. "You have the advantage of 
 me. I've not heard talk of you." 
 
 "No, I'm a modest person. John Gorham is my 
 name, and I have the honor of being an old friend of 
 Lady Pam." He struck his boot with his riding- 
 crop. "My word, you almost made me forget my 
 bit of scandal; one of the choicest, too! The 
 Countess of Kew has run away with Hawkins, the 
 prize-fighter !" 
 
 "What did I say?" growled Romsey, looking at 
 Pamela. "The gentlemen of England are all sheep." 
 
 "Did you say that?" cried Sir John, apparently 
 very much delighted. "I quite agree with you, my 
 lord. They are all sheep, or goats. Now, Hawkins 
 is a fine red-blooded rascal ! I saw him whip the Manx 
 Giant. There was a battle! One eye closed, nose 
 broken, hammered to a jelly " 
 
 "Oh, stop, Jack, stop !" cried the girl. 
 
 "How you would have enjoyed it, Romsey!" said 
 Sir John, stepping nearer to him, and smiling 
 broadly. "I see we're much alike. Blood and brawn ! 
 No small-sword work, no wrestling on the green ; beef 
 and muscle and bone till one or the other cracks!" 
 And he struck the Marquis a clap on the shoulder. 
 
 "How, sir!" exclaimed Romsey, as if he did not 
 relish the other's words or actions. 
 
 "Call me Jack. I bow to the Countess of Kew and 
 her battling Hawkins. It's not a scandal, it's an epic 
 poem! Will dinner soon be ready, Pam? I have an
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 85 
 
 appetite like that rogue they act at Drury Lane; 
 what's his name? Brave Jack Falstaff !" 
 
 Sir John fairly swept the other two along with 
 his tempest of good humor, and landed them all in 
 their seats at the dinner-table. 
 
 All through dinner he held the upper hand. When 
 Romsey told of some adventure in Italy Sir John had 
 a wilder tale of distant Scotland, Cornwall, or Wales. 
 When Romsey scoffed at anything English Sir John 
 scoffed twice as volubly and many times more loudly. 
 To Pamela, who knew Sir John as a man famed for 
 his suavity and even-temper, the spectacle was de- 
 licious. To her delight she saw Romsey congeal, 
 beaten at his own tricks, and finally sit distant and 
 silent, disdain on his lips and in his eyes. 
 
 Where the simple Earl of Dorset had been crushed 
 at table Sir John rose supreme. The hock from 
 Cumnor's cellars was no more translucent than his 
 wit. He told gossip of London with all the skill of 
 "The Tatler." He even spoke of Charles Tree, who, 
 he said, was reported to be in Paris, gaming away his 
 patrimony to solace him for a recent loss in love. 
 With an innocent face he asked Romsey if he had 
 heard of the actress, Sally Temple, and without wait- 
 ing for his answer, extolled her as the prettiest 
 woman in town. "And it's a fact," he added, "that 
 she is as good as she is beautiful. Wouldn't you 
 like to see her, my lord ?" 
 
 Here Pamela interrupted. "It isn't seemly I
 
 86 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 should hear you discuss such matters," said she. 
 "Why should my cousin care about Sally Temple?" 
 
 "I'll warrant she's no worse than many a lady," 
 said Romsey, coldly. "I've found that there's more 
 virtue at present among the people than among the 
 peerage." 
 
 Sir John burst out laughing. Lady Pamela, some- 
 what flushed, looked at Romsey inquiringly. 
 
 "But even a peasant wife I'd keep under lock and 
 key," added the latter, dourly. 
 
 "Oh, my lord, how you will spoil everything !" cried 
 Pamela, disconcerted. 
 
 Again Sir John laughed. The girl shot an angry 
 glance at him ; but immediately, as if she found it 
 hard to stay angry, she laughed too. "I'll go and 
 dress," said she. "Then, Sir John, you shall take me 
 riding, and for punishment I'll make you tell me all 
 you know about this Sally Temple." 
 
 The new lady of Cumnor dressed in a very be- 
 coming habit she found in one of her wardrobes, and 
 fairly danced to the stables. Sir John, with the aid 
 of the head-groom, had picked out a mare that she 
 could safely ride. She had no fear, and under her 
 companion's watchful eye, cantered by his side down 
 the avenue of beeches into the highroad. Her eyes 
 shone, and she declared that she loved the motion, 
 and added that she was really happy for the first time 
 since she had left Pump Lane. "The country has 
 some advantages, Jack," she said, "when the dragon's
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 87 
 
 not about. You handled him very well. I could 
 scarcely keep from laughing at you." 
 
 "I cracked the whip louder than he did," agreed 
 Sir John, pleased at his own shrewdness. He looked 
 at the charming face and figure so near him, and his 
 eyes shone. "Won't you marry me, Sally, dear ?" he 
 begged. "Then you needn't fear any dragons, here 
 or at Drury Lane. Your path shall be strewn with 
 roses, and I, the happiest man in all the world, will 
 be always at your feet. Say yes, Sally." 
 
 She stroked her mare's glossy neck. "It's too fine 
 a day to talk of such serious matters," she protested. 
 
 "The day will be finer yet if you say yes." 
 
 "I'm almost afraid of a lover who talks so well." 
 
 "My heart is stammering, if my words don't," he 
 said. 
 
 "You must give me more time, Jack," she an- 
 swered. "And I'm not so good a horsewoman that 
 I can think of two things at once." 
 
 She put her mare ahead of him, and kept in front, 
 graceful as a swallow. 
 
 When they slowed down to a walk, the girl chat- 
 tered about the trees and the open meadows, but Sir 
 John would bring the talk back to his love for her. 
 He used his shrewdest arguments, he flattered and 
 cajoled, he pointed out how happy Charles Tree and 
 his bride had been. 
 
 "But they've not been married a week yet, Jack," 
 she said. "They're still on their honeymoon."
 
 88 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Ours would last forever," he declared with pas- 
 sion. 
 
 She gave him a sidelong glance. "And yet you 
 claim to know the world," she said. "Didn't the 
 Countess of Kew run away with Hawkins, the prize- 
 fighter?" 
 
 "Her husband was a dullard." 
 
 "Perhaps but she didn't know her own heart 
 when she married him. The other man stole it from 
 her. That's the way with us women. We have to 
 follow our hearts." 
 
 "And can't I find yours?" 
 
 "It's here," she said, motioning toward her breast. 
 
 "And it's free to all?" he asked. 
 
 "Free to all," she echoed; and again rode away 
 from him. 
 
 He shook off his seriousness for the time, and was 
 his usual amusing self. The girl was very happy, 
 and not even the water at the ford in the river where 
 they let their horses drink, laughed so lightly as 
 she. But when the sun began to sink, she turned. 
 "I must be riding back to Cumnor now," she said. 
 
 "There'll be a moon in a little time," he urged. 
 
 She shook her head. "If I were only Sally I might 
 ride by moonshine, but the Lady Pamela must be 
 discreet. Besides, there's no telling how stiff I'll be 
 by morning." 
 
 So they rode back, Sir John revolving schemes by 
 which he might win so much beauty, the girl as care-
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 89 
 
 free as the wind. The sight of Cumnor, however, 
 reminded her of its owner; and she frowned. 
 
 Sir John noticed it. "Say yes to me, Sally, and 
 we needn't go back." 
 
 "No; I must play the piece through," she de- 
 clared. "That's an actress's lot." 
 
 They rode to the terrace, and Sir John lifted her 
 from her saddle, and saw a groom take her horse. 
 Then he rode away thoughtfully ; and she went in at 
 the great door of the hall. 
 
 But she had plenty of nerve, and she hummed a 
 tune to herself as she went through the halls and up 
 the stairs to her rooms. She knew that the Marquis 
 expected her to sup with him, and she had Rachel 
 dress her with great care. She bound her hair with 
 a silken fillet, and fastened Sir John's string of 
 pearls about her throat. 
 
 The dining-hall was lit with candles, which routed 
 the twilight that tried to force an entrance through 
 the mullioned windows. Romsey was there before 
 her, standing in front of the chimney-piece. He bent 
 his head in welcome to her, and she noticed that in- 
 stead of his dark clothes his coat to-night was claret- 
 colored, picked out with gold thread. 
 
 Their eyes met now and then across the table, but 
 her smiles and words met such slight response that 
 she resigned herself to silence. Gradually something 
 of the old feeling of suspense that she had felt at 
 their first meeting settled on her.
 
 90 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Presently Romsey pushed his plate away, touched 
 his napkin to his lips, and looked directly at her. 
 "While you were riding a man came here to see you," 
 he said, "tricked out in all the colors of the rainbow. 
 I was in the hall, and he told me his name, and asked 
 to see you. He said he was Lord Verney, and had 
 come to stay a fortnight in the country. Then he 
 fell to prating of people in London like a court 
 chamberlain." 
 
 "He's an old friend of mine," Pamela explained. 
 
 "So he said," agreed Romsey. "I disposed of him 
 as quickly as I could, for I have no stomach for these 
 peacock men." 
 
 Stung by his words and manner, Pamela rose from 
 the table, and went into the great hall. She sat down 
 by a front window. Thither, after a few moments, 
 Romsey followed her. She knew he was standing 
 near her, but she did not turn her eyes from the 
 view through the window. 
 
 "So, cousin," he began abruptly, "we have three 
 fine English gallants courting you. The red-cheeked 
 Wife of Bath, Sir Fantastico Gorham, and this 
 strutting Lord High Chamberlain. Each of them, 
 I take it, is eager to wed my ward and cousin. Verily 
 you have the knack of catching men." 
 
 She seemed to be paying no attention to him, far 
 more interested in the park than in his words. 
 
 "And which of the three do you favor, the Wife,
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 91 
 
 the Fop, or the Chamberlain? Flesh, or fashion, or 
 folly?" 
 
 "You're unjust to them," she protested suddenly. 
 
 "So? Perhaps your mind isn't made up yet. But 
 to which of the three do you most incline?" 
 
 She turned directly toward him. "How should I 
 know? No one has won me yet." 
 
 His black eyes gleamed. "Then I was right, and 
 Englishmen are fools!" he exclaimed. "They shan't 
 have another chance. I'll decide for you! I want 
 to marry you myself, Pamela. You're the one woman 
 I could want for wife." 
 
 She shrank away a little, and caught her hands in 
 her lap. "Oh no, my lord, oh no ; that couldn't be !" 
 
 He stepped so close that he stood just above her, 
 towering as he had on that first night. His voice was 
 low and clear. "But it shall be, Pamela ; it shall be ! 
 Don't be afraid of me. None of these others could 
 love you as I do." 
 
 "No, no!" she repeated, shaking her head. "I 
 couldn't marry you." 
 
 The Marquis of Romsey was not used to being 
 baffled, and he had evidently set his heart on having 
 her for his wife. His quick decision did not surprise 
 himself, for he frequently took swift and permanent 
 impressions; but he concluded that perhaps he had 
 startled the girl before him. 
 
 "It may be I'm too sudden, Pamela ; but look how
 
 92 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 it is with me. The women I've known before have 
 been toys of the moment, such as hold a man by the 
 lure of a dimple or some trick of the eyes ; they come 
 and go when we want to be amused, like music or the 
 gaming-table. But you are a woman no man once 
 seeing could ever forget, as far above these others 
 as the stars above mere candles. This is the truth 
 I speak." 
 
 His words ran straight, but were spoken with 
 passionate eagerness that shook her. She tightened 
 the grip of her fingers, and bent her head, so that he 
 might not force her to look at him. "No, my lord 
 no, no it can't be for I don't love you not in 
 the least," she murmured hurriedly. 
 
 "Not now, perhaps," he said ; "I could hardly 
 think that. But wed me, and the rest will come. It 
 should be that way, Pamela. Give yourself to me, 
 and your love will follow mine." 
 
 Her manner and voice grew beseeching. '''Be 
 gentle with me," she begged. "I'm only a girl ; and 
 taken quite unawares. I scarcely know you; and 
 all I can tell now is that I've no such feeling for 
 you." 
 
 "You want more time ?" he demanded. 
 
 "Yes;" she hesitated; "but I think I'm quite 
 sure it would make no difference. We go separate 
 ways." 
 
 Romsey was a very proud man, and had all the 
 ignorance of pride. He saw a pliant girl, and he
 
 THE LADY HEARS COMMANDS 93 
 
 felt that she was pitting her will against his. After 
 all, he was the head of their house, and she was his 
 ward and cousin. "You shall marry me," he declared 
 positively, "and that will put an end to our argu- 
 ment. A man must rule his own house, and a woman 
 must sink her wishes to his. I will have you for wife, 
 Pamela, as surely as I stand here. Grow used to that 
 thought as quick as possible." 
 
 "It's only a waste of time, thinking of it," she 
 answered. 
 
 "Then waste the time!" he ordered. "And if any 
 of those three who flutter round you or any others 
 come here again, I shall send them packing, pitch 
 them out as I would a thieving knave." 
 
 She dared to look at his bitter, arrogant face, and 
 suddenly a fighting spirit equal to his rose in her. 
 "I've never seen so mad a man," she said, "nor one 
 so cold and hard. You ask for love with a club in 
 your hand. That's how men win hate ; and that's all 
 I have to give you, hate and scorn and contempt." 
 
 "You say that, do you?" he answered, his anger 
 rising in a cloud in his face. "Then I'll be a tyrant 
 in my house. Go to your rooms and stay there, till 
 you come to a different mind. I have mastered men 
 before this; don't think that I can't rule a simple 
 woman." 
 
 The girl's heart beat in her ears, and devils seemed 
 loosened within her. Her nails dug into the flesh of 
 her palms. But she contrived to laugh a little
 
 94 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 rippling note that was maddening in its scorn. 
 "Tyrant?" she cried. "You seem more like a play- 
 actor to me!" 
 
 He did not deign to answer, but stood aside, look- 
 ing toward the door to the west wing. 
 
 She would have liked to pull the roof of Cumnor 
 down upon him; but instead she had to rise, cross 
 the hall, and go through the door he indicated. But 
 the scorn she had put into that word "play-actor" 
 hung in the air, and she felt that it would echo in his 
 ears for some time as her answer to his attempt at 
 tyranny.
 
 VI 
 
 LORD VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE. 
 
 RACHEL was used to her lady lying late in bed, 
 but when the clock stood at ten she made bold to 
 tiptoe into the room. A glance sufficed to show her 
 that her mistress was staring at the canopy. Rachel, 
 with a deprecatory cough, made her presence known ; 
 and the lady turned her head ever so little. "Well?" 
 she demanded querulously. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my lady," said Rachel, "but 
 I feared you might be ill." 
 
 "So I am." 
 
 Rachel's face showed the greatest concern as she 
 hurried to the bed. "Where is the pain, my lady? 
 We have physick and simples of all kinds. Perhaps 
 a powder " 
 
 The lady rested her head on her arm, and turned 
 her face fully toward the maid. Her hair made a 
 wonderful cushion on the pillow. "No physick 
 would ease me, Rachel. I'm ill of spirit not of 
 body. I'm in doubt what to do. Have you ever 
 hated any one, Rachel? Hated them enough to cry 
 for it?"
 
 96 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Rachel considered. "No, I think not, my lady," 
 she answered categorically. 
 
 Her mistress let her hand fall on the coverlet, a 
 tenacious little fist. "I've been lying here for hours, 
 staring at nothing, and hating some one worse and 
 worse." 
 
 "Who can it be, my lady?" 
 
 "A man." 
 
 Rachel echoed the word incredulously. 
 
 "Yes, a man; a cold, cruel creature, unmannered, 
 bitter-tongued, evil-eyed ; a hateful man !" The lady 
 drew herself up on her elbow. "A very ogre, 
 Rachel!" 
 
 "The good saints save us !" exclaimed the startled 
 maid. 
 
 "Yes, so I say. Save us from looking on his hard 
 face again !" 
 
 "What would he do to you?" asked Rachel, full of 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Marry me; marry me out of hand, as a groom 
 would bridle a horse." 
 
 The maid considered that, her head tipped a little 
 to one side. "Indeed, and it's not an unnatural wish, 
 perhaps," she concluded. 
 
 The lady blushed, and sat upright. "You would 
 cozen me, Rachel. No, it's not the man's eyes I find 
 fault with. I suppose they must serve him for look- 
 ing. It's the black heart behind the eyes." She drew 
 her knees up under the coverlet, and, chin in her
 
 VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE 97 
 
 palms, rested her elbows on the height. "Have you 
 ever been in love, Rachel?" 
 
 "Oh, my lady " 
 
 "It's not an indelicate matter, foolish. It's the 
 common lot. But I have never felt it, somehow. 
 There is no one man I would dress to please above all 
 others." Here she smiled. "No, I think of them all 
 when I dress." She glanced at the maid. "Am I 
 too forward, Rachel? Do I talk unmaidenlike? Set 
 it down then because I am unhappy. A girl must 
 find her entertainment somehow." 
 
 With that she surrendered herself into Rachel's 
 care, and for a half-hour the maid was very busy. 
 Again the wonderful chests and wardrobes were ran- 
 sacked, and stockings and slippers cast about until 
 shades that suited the chosen gown were found. 
 Pamela did her own hair loosely about her head. 
 "There's nothing so fetching as simplicity," she ob- 
 served, as she sat before the mirror, "but it's so 
 monstrous difficult to come by." 
 
 She was satisfied at last; and then she remembered 
 something the toilet had driven from her mind. "But 
 I'm a prisoner, Rachel!" she exclaimed. "My lord 
 and I had hot words last night, and he bade me keep 
 to my rooms. The hateful creature! I was not to 
 stir beyond them " she hesitated a moment, "and I 
 don't believe I'd better." 
 
 The maid was busy putting the room to rights. 
 "Never mind that," said Pamela. "Get me some
 
 food. I'm famished." She spoke so positively that 
 Rachel bounced out of the room in a hurry. 
 
 When she had finished breakfast Pamela sat down 
 at the wide casement window. She was homesick, 
 and would have given all the broad lawns, glowing 
 flower-beds and great trees in the world for a sight 
 of the shabby houses in Pump Lane. There was 
 nothing for her to do, and she would not sew or read. 
 Twice she decided to leave her rooms, and twice 
 stopped with her hand on the door that led into the 
 hallway. She did not want to meet the Marquis, 
 since she felt quite certain that he intended to see 
 that he was obeyed. 
 
 Presently, in the writing-room, she sat down at the 
 little table and pulled paper and quill pen toward 
 her. With much difficulty she wrote, "Dearest Gilly : 
 I miss you and Kate very much. This place is very 
 lonely, there is so much space, and no noises. The 
 Marquis has come back. I hate him. He does not 
 like people, nor anything but his own way. He is a 
 monster. I'll stay in my rooms until the time is 
 gone. I wish I were back in the Lane. Your loving 
 Sally." 
 
 She dried the writing with sand, and read it over. 
 Then she considered whether she should send it, 
 meantime gazing out through the window. It would 
 be next to impossible for her to find a messenger to 
 take a letter to London, and should the note reach 
 Gilbert it would only make him more uneasy than
 
 VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE 99 
 
 ever for her. Finally she tore the writing into little 
 bits, and threw them on the floor. 
 
 The day seemed very long to Pamela. Rachel 
 brought in a great basket of flowers, and her mis- 
 tress put them in vases about her rooms. At mid- 
 afternoon she lunched on nectarines and cakes. But 
 when the shadows began to lengthen out-of-doors 
 she could stand the inactivity no longer. She con- 
 sidered what she might do, and then sat down at the 
 table, and wrote to Lord Verney. "The black man 
 will not let me out of my rooms in the west wing. Do 
 something for me." She signed it with an S. Then 
 she sealed the note, and bade Rachel give it privately 
 to one of the grooms, with directions as to how he 
 might learn in the village where the gentleman ad- 
 dressed was to be found. 
 
 The lovely, lonely summer night drew on, and the 
 girl sat at her window like a prisoned bird. Every 
 now and then she thought of Romsey, and wondered 
 what he was doing, but she caught no sight of him 
 on the lawn, and presently, for want of a better 
 occupation, she went to bed. 
 
 When she woke the next day the sun imperatively 
 summoned her out of bed, as he often called to her 
 through the little window-panes of her attic room in 
 Pump Lane. She sprang up, and in her bare feet 
 ran to the seat beneath the windows, and knelt on it. 
 The air was crystal-clear, and the far-reaching park 
 delightful to the eye. But the view was only of
 
 100 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 trees and grass and hedges, and she tired of it in 
 five minutes. "Another day like yesterday !" she. 
 sighed. "I can't endure it ! I will go out and play 
 with some one " she doubled up her fist "ogre or 
 no ogre !" She tossed her head proudly. "I can give 
 him back word for word." 
 
 She turned from the window, and in doing so 
 caught her reflection in a large oval mirror. She 
 was a good judge of beauty, and she smiled with 
 pleasure at the picture she saw. The lovely creature, 
 her red-gold hair falling loosely to her shoulders, 
 her eyes as clear as a sunlit pool, her cheeks like dew- 
 kissed roses, her soft throat showing at the opening 
 in her lace-edged nightdress, was far more radiant 
 than any of the titled dames in Cumnor's portrait 
 gallery. She dimpled, and shook a finger at herself. 
 "Oh, Sally Temple, you are pretty, you good-for- 
 nothing minx!" 
 
 She decided she would not dare the ogre until she 
 learned what Lord Verney meant to do. That gen- 
 tleman must have her message by this time, and if 
 he were the man of spirit she thought him he would 
 surely contrive some way to entertain her. So she 
 dressed in a lavender gown, that would have been 
 almost too daring in any other girl of her color, and 
 breakfasted, and inspected another basket of flowers 
 from the gardens, and chatted with her maid. 
 
 "And what does the Marquis do with himself all
 
 VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE 101 
 
 day?" she asked Rachel, as the maid was filling the 
 vases in her sitting-room. 
 
 "Indeed, he does nothing, my lady. Gregory says 
 he's never seen such a man. He eats little food, and 
 swears at the wines, and sits by himself in the hall for 
 hours at a time. Sometimes he walks on the terrace, 
 back and forth, back and forth, like a bear in a 
 cage." 
 
 "A pleasant man, indeed," said Pamela. "Oh, 
 Rachel, think what it must be to have so many dark 
 crimes on one's soul!" 
 
 "As the Marquis has, my lady?" 
 
 Pamela nodded. "He must have thousands ; and 
 the worst ones ! Those Italians think of little else. 
 He told me so himself." 
 
 "And he so young !" said Rachel, pityingly. 
 
 "But he began in his cradle, and now they troop 
 before him to torment him. At least I hope they do." 
 
 "The poor man!" sighed Rachel. 
 
 "No, the wicked one. He only gets his deserts." 
 
 At one of the clock Pamela had dinner, and began 
 to wonder when she should hear from Lord Verney. 
 The afternoon passed like the one before, and the sun 
 hid himself behind the trees to the west. The lawn 
 below her sitting-room window was in shade, and, 
 looking out, she envied the peacocks that were strut- 
 ting on the other side of the little vine-sheltered seat 
 that was built into the hedge. 
 
 Starlight had come when she caught sight of a
 
 102 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 man crossing toward her wing of the house. She 
 knew by his tall figure and long stride that he must 
 be Lord Verney, and waved her hand. He quickened 
 his pace until he stood under her window, and then 
 saluted her with a sweep of his hat. 
 
 She put a finger to her lips, and he nodded com- 
 prehendingly. He held something under his arm, 
 and now, taking it in both hands, he made a gesture 
 of throwing. Pamela signaled that she understood, 
 and reaching out caught the light bundle that he 
 tossed up to her. 
 
 It proved to be a little ladder, cunningly made of 
 rope. At one end were two loose strands, and these 
 she quickly knotted about the leg of a heavy chest of 
 drawers that stood near the window. Verney gave a 
 pull at the ladder from below, and finding that it 
 held firm, gestured to show that he would come up; 
 but Pamela shook her head, and motioned him away 
 from the wall. 
 
 The rightful Lady Pamela Vauclain might have 
 found it hard to descend even such a short flight, 
 but this Lady Pamela was both strong and agile. 
 She slipped into the window ledge, and turning, 
 caught her feet in the rope rungs. Holding her 
 skirts tight about her, she went down the ladder, and 
 finally, on the turf, with a flushed face and dancing 
 eyes, she turned to the young man. "Quick," she 
 whispered softly, "to the gazebo in the hedge !" and 
 ran that way.
 
 VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE 103 
 
 The seat she had chosen was well sheltered from 
 the house, for the hedge on either side was very 
 thick, and vines had been trained over a lattice so 
 that they hung like a short curtain at the front. 
 Pamela ran in, and sat down on the bench inside, 
 and Lord Verney followed. 
 
 "How good you were to come!" she exclaimed joy- 
 fully. 
 
 The young man was beaming. "I'd have come 
 through fire and water to you, Sally!" he said, his 
 eyes fixed on her face. Then he drew a little packet 
 from his coat-pocket, and, undoing it, showed her a 
 girdle made of cloth of gold, and with a buckle set 
 with amethysts. "The closest I could come to your 
 incomparable hair," he explained. "See if it fits ;" 
 and he slipped the girdle about her waist, and 
 snapped the catch. 
 
 "It's perfect!" she cried. "But I don't deserve 
 such a gift." 
 
 "You deserve more than any man could give you," 
 said the enraptured suitor. "Listen to me; I've 
 waited so long for such a chance as this." 
 
 She sat back dutifully, looking out at the shadows 
 on the grass. 
 
 "I love you, Sally ; will you be Lady Verney ? 
 There's nothing under Heaven I wouldn't do for you. 
 Think how happy we could be together ; no other pair 
 could ever be so happy. We would live in a little 
 house I own in the country "
 
 104 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "But not on bread and cheese and kisses," she 
 interrupted; "I've too much appetite." 
 
 "On all the sweet things in the world, dear heart. 
 It would be paradise." He leaned still closer to her, 
 and caught her hand. 
 
 "There are so many different views of paradise," 
 she said. 
 
 "Mine is the place where you are." 
 
 "But I'm not in paradise half the time," she an- 
 swered. "You've no idea how cross and sulky I 
 can be," and she drew her hand away from his, pre- 
 sumably to fasten a loose strand of hair. 
 
 "At least give me leave to try to win you," he 
 pleaded. "Say that I'm not distasteful to you." 
 
 "Indeed I think you are very delightful, my lord. 
 You should make some girl very happy." 
 
 "Why not you, then, Sally?" 
 
 "Well, you see " she began; and stopped. Ver- 
 ney, watching her, noticed that her eyes widened. 
 He turned, and saw a man standing not a dozen 
 yards away, staring into their shelter. "The devil !" 
 Verney ejaculated; and Pamela, with a quick intake 
 of her breath, murmured, "Yes, it's he !" 
 
 The man outside stepped a little nearer. "Doubt- 
 less the seat was made for such meetings," said he 
 evenly, "but it happens to stand on my land. A 
 kitchen-wench and her lover would hardly dare can 
 it be that my cousin " He left the rest unsaid. 
 
 Verney, a straightforward man, got to his feet.
 
 VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE 105 
 
 "It is I, Verney," he said. "I told you several days 
 ago that I was a friend of this lady." Not liking to 
 stay in the shadows he held out his hand to Pamela 
 and led her into the starlight. 
 
 "So?" said Romsey, his eyes taking in the girl 
 from the crown of her head to her slippers. "I bade 
 you keep your rooms, and you do this. What is the 
 meaning of it?" 
 
 "I thrust myself on her," said Verney. "I begged 
 her to join me here." 
 
 "No," Pamela broke in quickly, "I came of my 
 own accord. I'm no child to be told what I shall do." 
 
 "No child, of a surety !" exclaimed Romsey. "And 
 no crack-brained maid. I will not have my cousin 
 meeting men in the dark. In Italy we'd deal with 
 such a matter swiftly, and as it deserves." He 
 twisted his black moustache. "But in England 
 in England men's veins run water, and they talk like 
 schoolboys, mumbling about for words." 
 
 Now Verney was neither slow-witted like the Earl 
 of Dorset, nor adroit-minded like Sir John, but 
 choleric and quick to resent an insult. "I don't know 
 what you have in mind," said he, "but I'm not one 
 to stand being lectured by any man." 
 
 "I had in mind," said Romsey, his eyes mocking 
 the other, "that in Italy if I found my ward alone 
 with a man in such a place as that I would let his 
 blood. A blow on the cheek or an ill-sounding word 
 and we should see what manner of man he was."
 
 106 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "No, no!" cried Pamela, appealing for peace be- 
 tween them. "There was no harm in this !" 
 
 "You see, she says there was no harm," said Rom- 
 sey. "She knows her English schoolboys thor- 
 oughly ; don't you, Pam ?" 
 
 Lord Verney promptly stepped forward, and 
 caught Romsey's arm in his right hand. "I've had 
 enough of this talk," he said. "You insult us both 
 with your boasting and your lies." 
 
 The dark man flung the other's hand away. "Have 
 a curb to your tongue!" he cried. "I may forget 
 it's England." 
 
 "Forget what you will," said Verney, now glaring 
 at him. "I'll teach you manners and, by Heaven ! 
 you'll need them if you're to stay here." 
 
 "My lord," broke in Pamela, "it was the most 
 innocent meeting in the world ; I was tired of stay- 
 ing in my rooms, and sent for him to entertain me. 
 Don't let hot words make the matter worse." She 
 held out her hands to Verney. "And you, my lord, 
 I beg you to go at once. It's such a simple affair. 
 Good-night, please leave me now." 
 
 Romsey's eyes were on Verney's face, and the lat- 
 ter, as if drawn by some spell, had to turn his own 
 from Pamela to that inquisitive, malevolent gaze. 
 What he saw there made him shut his lips tightly and 
 shake his head at Pamela's appeal. 
 
 "Well," said Romsey, "you have heard the lady ; 
 will you go?"
 
 VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE 107 
 
 "When I am ready," said Verney. Then he bobbed 
 his head at the other man, and added, "Come, let's 
 have the matter in hand." 
 
 "You will pardon us, Pamela," said Romsey ; and 
 turning, he walked toward the main door of Cumnor. 
 After him went Verney, his head high in the air. 
 The girl, greatly agitated, followed, appealing again 
 to Verney to make his peace and go. 
 
 Romsey went in at the door, and Pamela caught 
 at Verney's sleeve as they came up to the terrace. 
 "Oh, for my sake leave him !" she begged. "He's evil 
 as a snake, he'll do you harm. He's killed many men. 
 For my sake go !" 
 
 "I can't now," said Verney abruptly, and pulling 
 his sleeve loose, followed Romsey into the hall. 
 
 Pamela looked after them, very much alarmed. 
 "Oh, you foolish men !" she cried, and stamped her 
 foot. "Why don't you listen to me? Oh, you men! 
 And all over nothing at all ; both mad ; oh, why don't 
 you come to your senses?" She stood there, calling 
 to them, until the futility of her words occurred to 
 her, and she waited, feeling strangely deserted, and 
 utterly unavailing with such headstrong creatures. 
 
 Presently she moved to the open doorway and 
 looked in. The hall was lighted by half-a-dozen 
 candles, and in the middle of the great room Romsey 
 and Verney faced each other, each armed with a 
 dueling-sword. Pamela gripped the wall, and 
 watched while the two tense figures moved in a great
 
 108 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 circle, and the light on the foils showed how the 
 steel tongues shot in and out. 
 
 It was clear to a novice that Romsey loved this 
 work. The two were of equal height and strength, 
 but Romsey's sword-play was vastly superior ; his 
 wrist and arm were perfectly flexible, while Verney's 
 motions were stiff and unskilful. Verney kept on 
 the defense, his face absorbed and watchful, but 
 Romsey smiled and his eyes shone. His own peculiar 
 grace made the other seem singularly awkward, and 
 as his confidence in his skill grew his sword-play rose 
 in daring. 
 
 Pamela watched the wheeling men spell-bound, her 
 heart beating wildly as she realized Verney's impo- 
 tence, and her eyes returning again and again to 
 the devilish glow that lighted Romsey's face. 
 
 She saw Romsey lift his left arm suddenly, thrust, 
 and in some way catching the other's hilt with the 
 point of his foil send Verney's light blade clattering 
 to the floor. The unarmed man jumped backward 
 to save himself, but Romsey rested his foil by his 
 side, and bent slightly forward. "Take it up if you 
 will," he said. "The issue is decided." 
 
 "You are the better swordsman," said Verney, 
 drawing a handkerchief from his coat-pocket and 
 wiping his beaded face. 
 
 "You might learn in time," said Romsey, and 
 added with a chuckle, "It took some courage for you 
 to stand before me."
 
 VERNEY SHOWS HIS METTLE 109 
 
 "Indeed it did!" cried Pamela from the doorway. 
 "It wasn't a fair fight. You know it wasn't." She 
 hurried to Verney, her face all appeal. "Oh, be 
 satisfied now." 
 
 "We are all satisfied," said Romsey. "Bid him 
 good-night, Pam, the matter's ended." 
 
 "Good-night, my lord," she said, but it seemed as 
 if she were ignoring Romsey. "You were kind to 
 come to me when I wrote." 
 
 Verney took the hand she offered and bent over it. 
 "Good-night. I will come again," said he, and with 
 an abrupt bow to Romsey he stalked from the hall. 
 
 When the girl looked about, Romsey had laid his 
 foil on a chair, and his eyes were considering her. 
 "You said it wasn't a fair fight," he remarked, "and 
 it was not ; but that is the way of the world. Some 
 must be stronger than others, and I am stronger 
 than these men you have about you. Women should 
 love strong men." 
 
 He went up to her quickly, but she put out her 
 hands defensively. "Please say nothing more to me 
 now," she begged. "There's been enough trouble 
 to-night." 
 
 But his eyes caught hers in spite of her. "I shall 
 never give you up," he said in a low voice. "You are 
 beyond all value to me. Your face would make me 
 do anything, call me through the Pit and far beyond. 
 I am no child, Pamela, and I mean to have you for 
 my wife. Give in to me now."
 
 110 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 She summoned all her courage, for it was no easy 
 thing to dare those dark eyes. "No," she answered, 
 "never, never, never!" 
 
 He drew back, his brows angry. "Yet I'll have 
 you one way or another. I'm master here. Go to 
 your rooms, and keep to them, as I bade you." 
 
 "Very good," she said; "I prefer to keep them 
 when we two are here alone." 
 
 She walked past him, proudly scornful, and went 
 to her own apartments. There she sat down in her 
 sitting-room and thought for a long time. She 
 could hardly believe that she was still simply a girl 
 of Pump Lane, she seemed to be dealing with such 
 passionate undercurrents. 
 
 After a time she noticed that the little rope-ladder 
 was still hanging at the open window, and she drew 
 it in, and stowed it in a drawer of one of the chests. 
 She looked out at the stars, and whispered a little 
 message to Gilbert Stanes. "Oh, keep me in your 
 thoughts, Gilly," she murmured. "I need that if I'm 
 to weather all these storms."
 
 vn 
 
 THE RESULTS OF AN INDISCRETION 
 
 THE fine weather ended in two days of rain, which 
 may have benefited the lawns and the hedgerows, 
 but was certainly trying to Pamela's disposition. She 
 was restless, and kept constantly comparing Lord 
 Verney with Sir John and the Earl, and wondering 
 if admiration of the former's bravery could lead to a 
 warmer feeling. It was hard for her to be so 
 cramped. She who was used to seeing much of her 
 neighbors and to gossiping with them, saw only 
 Rachel; and Rachel proved of a narrow intelligence. 
 Her talk was usually limited to intense admiration 
 of everything Pamela wore, or did, or said; and, 
 although the girl could endure that attitude for an 
 hour or so if the part were well played, she found 
 the flattery bored her when so outspoken. Finally 
 she yawned in the maid's face. "Oh, Rachel, be mer- 
 ciful !" she begged. "I'm not an angel, and have no 
 wish to be for some time at least. If I could have 
 my wish I'd be the most popular actress in England, 
 which is quite a different thing." 
 
 "Oh, my lady !" exclaimed the maid, horrified. 
 Ill
 
 112 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Oh, Rachel, you silly woman ! A popular actress 
 is much like any one else." 
 
 "But surely not so modest, my lady," objected 
 Rachel. 
 
 Pamela's eyes twinlded, and she caught her two 
 hands back of her head. "Oh, as to modesty," said 
 she, "there are so many ways of taking that. One 
 of your country wenches will wear her bodice laced 
 tight about her throat, but her feet bare; while in 
 town- it's the other way. And I've heard tell that in 
 some heathen countries it's the fashion to wear almost 
 nothing at all." 
 
 "Oh, fie, my lady !" expostulated Rachel, blushing. 
 
 At that Pamela laughed. "I've shocked you, have 
 I? At least that's something new. I wish you could 
 do the same for me, to make the time pass quicker." 
 
 The hours dragged, and the girl beat on the rain- 
 swept window-panes with her knuckles. She thought 
 over the scenes between Romsey and her three suitors. 
 Sir John had talked the tyrant into silence, and Ver- 
 ney had made the tyrant concede his courage, while 
 the Earl, she fancied, could stand a good deal of 
 tongue-drubbing without loss of self-esteem. Here 
 were three wonderful matches ready to her hand, and 
 she could not decide on any of them. She sighed 
 because she was so difficult to please, and yet ad- 
 mitted that she found it very interesting to see what 
 such different types of men would do to win her. 
 
 She had made up her mind to stay out the time at
 
 RESULTS OF AN INDISCRETION 113 
 
 Cumnor in spite of the monster Romsey. She told 
 herself she was not afraid of him, that she was not 
 afraid of any man in the world. So she considered, 
 and drummed on the window-panes. But the hours 
 passed slowly, and she went to bed without having 
 seen any one all day but Rachel. 
 
 The next morning, which was still rainy, taxed 
 Pamela's resolution to the breaking point. She was 
 unused to such confinement, and it tried her temper. 
 She must have some excitement, and at last she de- 
 cided that at nightfall she would go down to the 
 hall and beard Romsey to his face, no matter what 
 came of it. As she was having dinner in her sitting- 
 room, however, the sun came out, and her spirits 
 rose. She sat at the window, admiring the flowers and 
 trees, fresh from their bath. 
 
 As she sat there she saw a plump young man ap- 
 proaching the house from the west. He was very 
 elegantly clad, his coat being plum-colored, and his 
 trousers bottle-green. Pamela regarded him thought- 
 fully. To be the Countess of Dorset was a condition 
 not to be despised, and the plump young man would 
 be easy for a woman to handle. A little flattery 
 would keep him in good humor. She saw him stop 
 to loosen the neck-band at his throat. Some day 
 he would be very stout, perhaps quite fat. She 
 laughed softly ; the Earl was mopping his brow with 
 a handkerchief. 
 
 Pamela watched him approach by the path at the
 
 114 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 side of the gardens, and stop to stare at the windows 
 of the west wing. Then she leaned out, and called 
 "Good-day." The Earl looked up, smiled, and took 
 off his hat. "Won't you come down ?" he asked, in a 
 loud whisper. 
 
 She had an amusing idea, and calling down, "Wait 
 a minute," drew back, and went to the chest of 
 drawers where she had hidden the little ladder. 
 She took it out, fastened it securely, and unrolled it 
 from the window. "Now," she murmured, "I'll test 
 his devotion ;" and said aloud, "I'm a prisoner. You 
 must come up to me." 
 
 The Earl considered the ladder for a minute, tried 
 his weight on the lowest rung, and then cautiously 
 began to ascend. He was puffing when he reached 
 the top, but managed to clamber, although clumsily, 
 over the window-ledge into the room. "It's like 
 climbing into Heaven," he said, standing up. "Does 
 he really keep you shut up like a prisoner?" 
 
 "He tries to," Pamela answered, as she drew up 
 the ladder, and threw it on the floor. 
 
 "But we can outwit him, eh?" said the Earl, much 
 pleased with himself. "What luck you found a 
 ladder ready to hand!" 
 
 "Wasn't it? Though I'm doubtful if Lady Pam 
 ought to invite a man to climb to her rooms." 
 
 "I'm the soul of discretion, Sally. I never tell 
 what I know." 
 
 "Indeed, and that's a rare trait in a man. How do
 
 RESULTS OF AN INDISCRETION 115 
 
 you find the milkmaids of Surrey are their hands 
 as large as ever?" She sat down on a cushioned 
 divan, prepared to be entertained. 
 
 "I didn't come here to talk of milkmaids," he an- 
 swered stoutly. "See what I've brought you, Sally." 
 He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, and produced 
 a small box. Opening it, he showed her a gold ring 
 set with a ruby. "Let me put it on your finger," he 
 said, stooping over her. 
 
 She held out her hand, and he slipped the circlet 
 onto her ring finger. 
 
 "It's the prettiest ruby in England!" she ex- 
 claimed, very much delighted as she watched it 
 sparkle as she held it at different angles. 
 
 "For the prettiest girl in the world," said he, 
 sitting down beside her on the divan. He touched his 
 handkerchief again to his face, and cleared his throat 
 as if for an oration. "I don't know how much you 
 know of my family," he began. "We came to Eng- 
 land with William the Conqueror." 
 
 "Yes?" she said, encouragingly. 
 
 "I have three other titles besides my Earldom, a 
 house in town, Holker Hall here in Surrey, another 
 place in Devon, and one in Yorkshire. Fifty thou- 
 sand acres of land go with the titles. That's not 
 bad, is it?" 
 
 "Indeed it's not, my lord. It sounds very grand." 
 
 "And all this I offer you, Sally, if you'll marry 
 me."
 
 "But you forget that I'm a girl who lives in Pump 
 Lane, and plays at the theatre." 
 
 "No matter as to that," he declared, looking at 
 her. "You're the prettiest woman in all the three 
 kingdoms." 
 
 "Are looks so much?" she asked, demurely. 
 
 "And the merriest, and the brightest," he went on, 
 more warmly. "I place all my titles, houses, and 
 acres, at your feet." He actually seemed to be de- 
 positing them in bulk. 
 
 "It is a great deal, my lord ; but in marriage the 
 man matters so much." 
 
 "Why, I'm as loving as a as a turtle-dove," pro- 
 tested the Earl, seizing at the first simile. 
 
 "But turtle-doves are too gentle," she argued. 
 
 "And as obstinate as a as a " he felt about for 
 something to please her capriciousness. 
 
 "No, don't say it," she begged. "I can't stand 
 obstinate men. Hark, what's that noise?" She 
 turned her head quickly. 
 
 Some one was knocking at the door, and Pamela 
 rose and crossed the room. "Who's there?" she 
 whispered. 
 
 "It's Rachel, my lady," said the maid's voice. 
 "Lord Romsey wants you to join him on the terrace. 
 He says you'll enjoy the freshness of the air." 
 
 Pamela hesitated. "Very well," she decided, "tell 
 him I'm coming shortly." 
 
 With mischief in her eyes she looked about at the
 
 RESULTS OF AN INDISCRETION 117 
 
 Earl. "I don't suppose you'd care to make a third 
 on the terrace, to enjoy the air?" she inquired. 
 "Lord Romsey is so thoughtful of me that I find it 
 hard to refuse anything he asks. I'm afraid I must 
 go, though I assure you I'd much rather stay here 
 with yod." 
 
 Those last words as she spoke them were honey 
 to the Earl. He stood up, and held out both hands 
 appealingly. "Tell me where we can meet soon, 
 Sally," he begged. "Name some place where this 
 fellow can't find us, and we can be quite alone." 
 
 "He has more than a thousand eyes," she answered, 
 shaking her head dubiously. "If I were only Sally 
 Temple I could find a dozen places, but the Lady 
 Pamela " and she gestured with her hands to show 
 the difficulty of her situation. "But you must go 
 now, for he soon runs out of patience." 
 
 The Earl looked from the girl to the ladder at 
 the open window, and back again, and began to 
 show signs of the stubbornness he had boasted. 
 "Romsey's family is no better than mine," he said, 
 pouting. "Not so old, in fact. I don't care to be 
 treated like some pot-boy come to see a maid. I'm a 
 peer of the realm " 
 
 "Yes," Pamela interrupted briskly; "but you are 
 also a man, and, seeing that you have climbed in at 
 my window, it's easiest to climb out the same way, 
 without making explanations to my cousin." 
 
 "As a gentleman, it seems to me " he began.
 
 118 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "As a man, whether pot-boy or peer, I beg you to 
 go," she urged; and started to push him toward the 
 window. 
 
 "I have no fear of Romsey," said the Earl, un- 
 willingly lifting one foot to the window-ledge. "I'd 
 like him to know that." 
 
 "You've made that clear to him," said a voice be- 
 hind them ; and Pamela and the Earl, turning 
 sharply, found Romsey standing in the doorway re- 
 garding them. 
 
 The Earl withdrew his foot from the ledge, and 
 stood up very straight. "I prefer a ladder to climb- 
 ing stairs," said he. "It's the most direct ap- 
 proach." 
 
 "A most admirable preference," agreed Romsey, 
 walking into the room, "and one backed by many a 
 famous precedent. Ladies have been visited that 
 way before, though I'm not certain that any of our 
 house have. That, however, is always for the lady to 
 decide." 
 
 "I made use of that privilege," said Pamela. 
 
 "You seem to make use of many, cousin," said 
 Romsey. "And doubtless this gentleman appreciates 
 them." A gleam of malice shot into his dark eyes. 
 "And does he let you do the suing too or can he find 
 his tongue?" 
 
 "I speak for myself," said the Earl. "If there's 
 anything underhand here, it's not of my choosing. 
 I have asked this lady to marry me, and she can
 
 RESULTS OF AN INDISCRETION 119 
 
 marry into no better family in England. You see fit 
 to keep her to yourself, and so force me to find her 
 as best I may. I have the right to speak, and she to 
 hear me ? if it pleases her." 
 
 Romsey nodded his head, as if quite in accord. 
 
 "How can she decide whom she will marry unless 
 she's free to consider?" the Earl continued, warming 
 to his subject. "Suppose you wished to marry her 
 yourself; wouldn't you let her compare you with 
 other men? Otherwise she might prefer another 
 after you were wed. I ask no favors but a free field 
 and a chance to speak, and that is every man's 
 right." 
 
 The little man was warming to his subject, and his 
 usually mild eyes were actually eloquent as he made 
 himself a champion of the rights of love. 
 
 "You credit women with brains, then?" asked 
 Romsey, his arms folded, and his manner inquisi- 
 torial. 
 
 "I regard this lady as wiser than any man I 
 know," retorted the Earl with zeal. 
 
 "And was she wise to take you into her rooms," 
 said Romsey, "when she knew you preferred a ladder 
 to the stairs?" 
 
 "Doubtless she knew she could trust an Earl of 
 Dorset anywhere," asserted the little man. 
 
 "How, are you all so virtuous, then?" A smile 
 curled Romsey's lips. "On my word, you do human 
 nature credit!"
 
 120 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "My family are neither rascals nor tyrants," de- 
 clared the other. 
 
 Romsey took a step forward. "Enough of your 
 family !" he exclaimed. "We are both men ; and my 
 cousin is an unsophisticated girl. I prefer not to 
 try your notions of virtue too far. Will you leave 
 by the stairs or the ladder?" 
 
 "I will leave as I please," said the Earl, hotly. 
 
 "Of course; but which do you please?" 
 
 The Earl turned to Pamela, as if in hesitation, but 
 her smile resolved his doubt. "You showed me the 
 way to happiness through your window and I prefer 
 to retire by the same road," said he. "I hope to 
 grow familiar with the pathway." 
 
 He made quite a gallant figure as he stood there, 
 rising against Romsey's malevolence, and the girl's 
 heart went out to his spirited stand. "Good-night, 
 my lord," she said in a gentle voice. 
 
 Without a look at the other man the Earl stepped 
 to the window-ledge, vaulted up to it, caught his foot 
 on the ladder, and lowered himself outside. No one 
 but himself knew how perilously near he came to 
 breaking his neck as he went down it. 
 
 "Well," said the Marquis, when the other had dis- 
 appeared, "this is a pretty affair ! A man steals into 
 your room through the window, and we let him go, 
 unharmed, to boast of it. I should have flung his 
 fat body down the stairs!" 
 
 Pamela faced him hotly. "And you steal into my
 
 RESULTS OF AN INDISCRETION 121 
 
 rooms too," she said. "At least he was invited, and 
 you were not." 
 
 Romsey rested his hands on the back of a chair. 
 "You are either surprisingly innocent or very 
 daring," said he. "Such adventures as this do not 
 help a woman's name." 
 
 "Then set me free!" she demanded. "Do you 
 think I can stay in this place day after day, seeing 
 no one but Rachel, amusing myself by listening to 
 birds from my window? I wasn't brought up in a 
 convent ; I must have freedom, or there's no knowing 
 what I may do." 
 
 "Have it, then !" he answered. "I'm not afraid of 
 rivals such as these. See them where you will, but 
 remember that your fame is mine, and that too great 
 innocence is more dangerous than too great knowl- 
 edge." He took a few paces up and down the room 
 while she watched him, but he did not approach close 
 to her. When he stood still he was at the door. "To 
 these three you are a woman who can dress to please 
 them, talk and laugh to amuse them, but to me you 
 are " he stopped and stared at her, "the woman 
 who comes in dreams. I have waited for you; and 
 now, by the living God, I will not let you go!" 
 
 She grew pale before his passionate outburst. 
 "Please leave me," she begged. 
 
 "I will not let you go," he repeated. "Since that 
 first night I knew I would not let you go." 
 
 She plucked up courage to move away from the
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 window and go through the curtains that hung at 
 her bedroom door. 
 
 Alone, he looked after her, a strange far-seeing 
 expression on his suddenly tempestuous face. In- 
 tense feeling had banished his brooding look, and 
 made him another man. Then slowly amazement 
 came into his eyes. He had never been denied the 
 thing he craved, and he could not understand this 
 new experience. Something had mastered him, and 
 was riding him as the relentless Arab breaks his 
 steed of the desert.
 
 vm 
 
 HHE house and grounds of Cumnor were again 
 * free to Pamela, who was at liberty to do exactly 
 as she pleased. But in spite of the beautiful gardens, 
 the kennels and the stables, the lodge-keeper's chil- 
 dren and the nearby tenants, it seemed to her as if 
 there was always a shadow lurking in the background, 
 the figure of Romsey watching her. The great estate 
 should have been a paradise in summer, and there 
 were times when she could imagine how easily it might 
 become one ; but the presence of the Marquis spoiled it 
 all for her. His image kept thrusting itself upon 
 her until she longed for Pump Lane, for Gilly and 
 Kate and the neighbors, for anything to shut the 
 thought of him away from her. 
 
 When they met at the dinner-table, or in the hall, 
 or on the terrace, he was civil, and at least pretended 
 an interest in all she had to say. But she knew that 
 there was a great gulf that separated him from all 
 the youths and men she had known in London, and 
 the gulf seemed to have no bridging for her feet. 
 
 She decided that he was capable of doing unprece- 
 
 123
 
 124 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 dented things, indeed she sometimes felt that his na- 
 ture craved what was impossible for others, but no 
 sooner did she try to find out what he was actually 
 like in any one direction than he checked her search 
 by some contrary word or act. 
 
 She was in the garden one afternoon, filling a 
 basket with roses, when Sir John appeared. "You've 
 proved a very good fairy to our bride and groom," 
 he said, "for I've just heard from Charles Tree that 
 he and his lady were married again on her coming-of- 
 age birthday, and that his lawyers have made her 
 property secure. A day or two more, and you may 
 safely take your flight back to town; unless," he 
 added, smiling, "you like the part of Lady Pamela 
 well enough to keep it longer." 
 
 She shook her head at his suggestion. "The part 
 has its drawbacks, Jack." 
 
 "Meaning your guardian? Has he been unkind 
 lately?" 
 
 She sat down on the garden-bench, and placed the 
 basket of roses on the ground. "It's his strangeness 
 that chiefly troubles me. Do you know, if he were 
 any other man I could almost feel sorry for him." 
 
 "Sorry for the monster! Don't waste your sym- 
 pathy on such a creature, Sally, when others near at 
 hand deserve it so much more. Here am I " 
 
 Just then a voice interrupted them from the other 
 side of the low wall at the end of the garden. "Dash 
 me, if it's not Jack Gorham !" 

 
 THE DRAGON PROVES HIS TITLE 125 
 
 Sir John wheeled about. "Why, here's that rascal 
 Verney!" he cried, very much surprised. "What 
 made you come down here in the country?" 
 
 The new arrival approached them, his expression 
 that of a man not over-well pleased at his own dis- 
 covery. "To tell the truth, I've been trying to keep 
 this lady company," he explained, "but she doesn't 
 seem to be in need of that." 
 
 "Why, so have I!" said Sir John. "In fact, I've 
 been stopping at the inn in the village for a fort- 
 night, cooling my heels, and thinking of ways to 
 amuse her." 
 
 "While I've been staying at my aunt's house, doing 
 the same thing." Here Verney looked reproachfully 
 at Pamela. "You never told me Jack was at hand 
 too!" 
 
 "I didn't know you were so much interested in Sir 
 John," she said sweetly, and made room for the two 
 men to sit either side of her on the bench. "I'd a 
 notion you were more concerned with oh, with what- 
 ever men go to the country for." 
 
 "Chiefly concerned with you," burst out the frank 
 Verney. 
 
 "But think of me at that lonely inn in the village," 
 put in Sir John, "taking my dinner alone;" and in 
 his turn he looked his reproach at the girl. 
 
 "I thought you were quite busy making hay, 
 Jack," she said, "while the sun shines, as the proverb 
 says."
 
 126 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "But my sun doesn't shine," he retorted. Then 
 as he looked away from her he began to laugh. 
 "Damme, see who comes now!" he chuckled; and 
 pointed to the well-worn path that led up to the 
 garden. 
 
 "Our little Earl!" cried Verney. "On my soul, 
 this is a pretty party much like town !" 
 
 It was in fact the Earl, his face a study in amaze- 
 ment, who bore down upon them. "Is this Vauxhall, 
 or Cumnor?" he demanded, stopping before the 
 bench. "Sally, where did these two drop from?" 
 
 "Drop from?" echoed Sir John. "Why, I've been 
 living in the country." 
 
 "And so have I," said Verney. "It's you who are 
 the stranger." 
 
 "I opened Holker Hall," explained the Earl, "just 
 in order to be near our Lady Pam." 
 
 Each of the three men looked at the girl accus- 
 ingly, to be met by her laughter. "I'd a notion that 
 men were better pleased when they thought they had 
 a field all to themselves," she protested. "I only 
 meant to please you." 
 
 "So they are," agreed Verney. "There was no 
 need of you two bearing her company." 
 
 "Listen to him !" exclaimed Sir John. "I'll wager 
 we'd each say the same." 
 
 The Earl was fidgeting nervously from one foot 
 to the other, and swinging his hat in his hand. "To 
 make the situation entirely clear," he began, "allow
 
 THE DRAGON PROVES HIS TITLE 127 
 
 me to say that I have asked her to do me the honor of 
 becoming the Countess of Dorset." 
 
 There was a pause, broken ultimately by Lord 
 Verney. "But I have asked her to marry me," he 
 declared stubbornly. 
 
 Sir John, sitting close beside her, looked into 
 Pamela's face. "She is also considering my pro- 
 posal," said he, suavely. 
 
 The girl, more flushed at each speech, gazed down 
 at her lap. "You see how it is," she said, "you have 
 all been so kind to me. Now what is a poor, simple- 
 minded maid to decide?" 
 
 "There are the best of reasons why you should 
 take me," began the Earl. 
 
 "What have reasons to do with it?" interrupted 
 Verney warmly. "The truth of the matter is that 
 every man with eyes in his head loves Sally Temple !" 
 
 Sir John nodded. "You're right there. Now I 
 shouldn't wonder if even the black Romsey was fall- 
 ing under her spell." Again he looked closely at the 
 girl. "Is it so? Hasn't the Marquis hinted any- 
 thing?" 
 
 The word "hint" was so incongruous that the girl 
 flushed deeper than ever, and actually had to laugh. 
 
 "Has he dared to make love to you?" demanded 
 Verney. 
 
 "He has his own way of doing things," she an- 
 swered, evasively. 
 
 There fell a moment's silence, and then Sir John
 
 128 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 chuckled. "What a pretty pickle! Four of us here 
 together !" 
 
 The Earl was making ready to speak again. "I've 
 met the man, and it's certain he must not have her," 
 said he. "We three must stand together against him 
 in her defense." 
 
 "My hand on that," said Verney. 
 
 "And mine," agreed Sir John. 
 
 "It's most unnecessary," said Pamela. "I can't 
 abide him that's certain." 
 
 "But he is such a beast," put in Verney. 
 
 "And he thinks you're in his power," declared Sir 
 John. 
 
 "You're all so kind to me," said Pamela, looking 
 up. "Surely no girl ever had such friends before." 
 
 The idea of this common enemy gave the three men 
 a bond, but none of them wished to leave the field free 
 to his rivals, and it was evident that no one could do 
 much to further his own cause in the presence of the 
 others. Therefore, when a footman arrived with 
 word that dinner waited, though Pamela invited them 
 all to stay, the three, as though by some tacit under- 
 standing, declined the invitation unanimously. 
 
 "At least we have nothing to fear from him," said 
 Sir John, after they took their leave. 
 
 "We can be assured of that," Verney agreed. 
 
 "He puts me in mind," declared the Earl, "of a 
 scurvy dog in the manger. And," he added stoutly, 
 "I for one don't fear his bark nor his bite."
 
 THE DRAGON PROVES HIS TITLE 129 
 
 Then the three marched away together, while Sally, 
 catching her basket of flowers on her arm, waved her 
 hand and smiled after them, finding them all good 
 fellows, each in his different way. 
 
 It was a striking contrast to go from these three 
 gentlemen, each of them trying to please her, into 
 the great dark-paneled dining-room, and find herself 
 seated opposite to the forbidding Romsey. She still 
 felt that sense of tension whenever she looked up 
 from her plate and found his eyes fixed on her, and 
 the blood came quickly to her cheeks when his low 
 voice broke the silence that frequently settled on 
 them. During dinner that day she had the sensation 
 that he was keeping some matter of importance 
 in reserve, and trying to curb the impatience that was 
 habitual with him. She was glad when dinner was 
 finished, and she could go to her own rooms, and 
 later leave the house and walk across the free fields to 
 the cottage of an old woman, crippled with rheuma- 
 tism, who blessed her for her cheering company. 
 
 By nightfall she was back at Cumnor. It pleased 
 her to dress in a different gown, as if that would tend 
 to lighten the evening she must spend under the same 
 roof with Romsey. At supper she told him of her 
 visits to his tenants, while he made short comments, 
 or listened in his morose silence. 
 
 When she left the dining-room she seated herself at 
 her favorite window in the hall, and fell into her cus- 
 tom of picturing Gilly sitting at his window at this
 
 130 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 hour, looking into the Lane. Presently she heard 
 Romsey approach, and looked up at him, attempting 
 a friendly smile. "Does the country make you restless 
 at night?" she asked, for want of something to say. 
 
 "How long is this stubbornness of yours to last, 
 Pamela?" he said, ignoring her question. 
 
 "This stubbornness of mine?" she repeated, as if in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Yes ; you've seen these other men, and you've seen 
 me; let's have the matter settled." 
 
 "Perhaps I had better leave Cumnor, and go some- 
 where else," she suggested. 
 
 Instantly she caught the old imperious flash in his 
 eye. "You shall not leave Cumnor, and you shall 
 hear plain speech from me. You're not in love with 
 any of those three." 
 
 She looked away from him, letting the truth of 
 his statement go by default of any answer. 
 
 "And you never will be," he went on, even more 
 positively. "And that being settled, there remains 
 me." He reached out his hand to an arm-chair, and 
 pulling it around, sat down in it. "I must teach you 
 to understand me," he said. "I have been alone the 
 greater part of my life, and never went to school and 
 college as English boys do, but have lived chiefly 
 with older people, or with servants, whose whole con- 
 cern was to do my bidding. The men and women of 
 my own class that I've known have all spent their 
 days at the same business helping themselves to
 
 THE DRAGON PROVES HIS TITLE 131 
 
 whatever they wanted. Once I talked for several 
 days with a Bishop of Rome, and I thought he was 
 going to show me something new, but later I learned 
 that he was spoiling the treasury of a dozen abbeys 
 to heap their revenues on his Messalina, and so his 
 talk lost its value. Every one was greedy ; even the 
 people, who lived like beasts, doubtless took what- 
 ever they could. So I did like the rest, and took this 
 and that and the other, until my appetite was gone." 
 His fingers tightened on the arms of his chair as he 
 stared at her. "We are gluttons all. Sometimes I 
 hate the whole wolfish pack, myself among them." 
 He dropped into his brooding. 
 
 The girl was looking out at the park, now almost 
 swallowed by the darkness, and lonely as a desert. 
 
 "But since the world is so we must take it so," he 
 muttered. 
 
 "And you think you know it?" she asked, her 
 thoughts on Pump Lane. 
 
 "I knew it before I was twenty; I went to the 
 Pope's court at Rome when I was eighteen." 
 
 There was a long pause before he spoke again. 
 "I came back to England despising everything in it, 
 because I had learned in Italy that the English are 
 hypocrites. But I have found something new here 
 in finding you, something I never thought to find at 
 all." 
 
 "I'm sorry," she answered, as quietly as she could. 
 
 Romsey leaned forward. "Sorry! When I have
 
 132 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLF 
 
 found you at last ! Now you understand me. We 
 are wasting time. I must make up your mind for you. 
 I shall have the curate here to-morrow ; and he shall 
 wed us. The world will call it a very proper match." 
 
 The girl instantly stiffened. "Not if you were the 
 only man alive!" she said, passionately. 
 
 "I shall settle this matter," he returned, nodding 
 at her. Then he stood up, and with a slight inclina- 
 tion of the head turned, and went through the door- 
 way that led to his own apartments. 
 
 Pamela kept her tongue, though a storm of words 
 came hurrying to her lips. She longed to make re- 
 turn for his domineering speech and manner, but 
 knew that it was impossible for her. In his world his 
 ward and cousin was virtually his chattel, and there 
 would be nothing wrong in ordering the clergyman 
 to marry her to him. She trembled as she thought of 
 such a situation, and her monstrous plight if she 
 were really his. 
 
 After a time her native sense came to her aid. If 
 she stayed another day at Cumnor he would have the 
 curate there ; if she told him that she was not his 
 cousin, the Lady Pamela Vauclain, but only Sally 
 Temple, an actress of Pump Lane, she would be at 
 his mercy, and he would not be apt to be gentle with 
 her when he learned how he had been tricked. Out of 
 her thoughts one idea came clearly, that, although the 
 month she had meant to stay was not yet up, she 
 must escape from Cumnor. She had gained some
 
 THE DRAGON PROVES HIS TITLE 133 
 
 advantage for Charles Tree and his bride, and must 
 look out for herself. 
 
 She knew that this was what Gilly would advise 
 her, and before she left her seat at the window she 
 had laid her plans for getting back to town. 
 
 As she stood in her handsome bedroom taking a 
 gilded fillet from her hair, she gave a sigh of relief 
 as she thought that this was the last night she would 
 sleep beneath the same roof with Romsey. She felt 
 no regret at leaving the fine apartments, nor the 
 gowns and jewels, nor her station as a lady of qual- 
 ity ; she would far rather be the simple girl of Lon- 
 don, with her little attic chamber, her few dresses, 
 and the liberty of the town. "To-morrow or the next 
 night I should see Gilly and Kate!" she murmured, 
 as she climbed into her high bed, "and I hope I may 
 never look into this man's bitter face again !"
 
 rx 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY 
 
 THE sun had only lately risen when our Lady Pa- 
 mela opened her eyes next morning. She did not 
 go to sleep again, but jumped out of bed in a most 
 business-like manner, and began to dress. She chose 
 the same clothes she had worn to Cumnor, looking a 
 little doubtful, however, at the shoes, which were 
 really only slippers, and not over-serviceable for 
 walking. She spent small time on her toilette, and 
 finished by binding her hair close, and putting on her 
 straw hat with the cherry ribbons. In the small silk 
 bag that held her money she placed the three gifts 
 she had won, the ruby ring, the golden girdle, and 
 the necklet of pearls, and fastened the bag inside her 
 waist. In a wardrobe she found a cloak that would 
 protect her from bad weather, and into this she 
 slipped, and then, satisfied that she was ready for 
 the exigencies of her journey, opened her door, and 
 stole downstairs. 
 
 She suspected that Romsey had learned of the 
 visits of Verney and the Earl from some of his serv- 
 ants, and so was careful to assure herself that no 
 
 134
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY 135 
 
 one was about when she left the hall. The terrace 
 and the park were empty. Hiding from the windows 
 of the east wing, she ran over the dew-wet grass to 
 the driveway. The birds were at their matins in the 
 great trees, and their songs gave her courage as she 
 hurried down the avenue, looking back now and then 
 to guard against pursuit. 
 
 The great park-gates stood open, and Pamela 
 turned her back on Cumnor, and took the highway 
 that led to the neighboring village of Chantrey. The 
 Surrey country was smiling at early day, the hedge- 
 rows were not so high but that a traveler could look 
 over them at the meadows and pasture-lands that lay 
 beyond. Our traveler, however, paid little heed to 
 them, for she was wondering if there was a coach that 
 ran from the village of Chantrey in the direction of 
 London, and at what time of day it passed through, 
 and if she had money enough in her purse to pay for 
 a seat to town. 
 
 Presently she remembered that she had had no 
 breakfast, and began to consider whether she might 
 not stop at a farmhouse and ask for food. But 
 there were few houses thereabouts, and each time she 
 neared one the highroad beckoned her on, and sug- 
 gested that she should keep to it until she reached the 
 village. She was strong, and determined, and so she 
 pushed on, unfastening her cloak as the sun rose 
 higher, and the exercise made her warm. 
 
 A man in a coarse blue smock came toward her
 
 136 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 after a time, a shaggy collie trotting at his heels. 
 The man had inquisitive eyes, and a humorous mouth, 
 which gave him a pleasing appearance. He surveyed 
 the young woman who was hastening along at such 
 an early hour, and evidently recognizing that she was 
 of the quality, pulled off his slouch hat. 
 
 "Good morning," said Pamela, affably. "It's a 
 fine day to be abroad." 
 
 "Aye," agreed the man, "though there be herrin'- 
 bone clouds to the west." 
 
 The collie came rubbing against Pamela's skirt, 
 and she slowed up enough to stoop and pat his head. 
 
 "Come here, ye rogue," ordered the man, "doan't 
 ye be disturbin' of a lady." 
 
 Pamela smiled, and stepped on, leaving man and 
 collie standing in the road, looking after her with 
 frankly curious eyes. She wondered if the man 
 were a tenant of the Marquis, and thought it very 
 probable, since that nobleman owned thousands of 
 acres in this part of Surrey. 
 
 Her slippers were not meant for walking on a 
 rough road, and before long she had to slow her 
 pace and step more gingerly. She knew it was not 
 very far to the village, and she had figured out that 
 any stage bound Londonward would probably not be 
 passing through there until later in the day. Soon 
 she met a fine-looking man with silver-gray hair, who 
 carried himself soldier-fashion, and like the man in 
 the smock, his eyes showed his surprise to see such a
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY 137 
 
 pretty woman, dressed so modishly, on the road alone. 
 The girl liked his appearance, and nodded in a 
 friendly way as he uncovered his head. "Is there a 
 coach for London passes through the village?" she 
 inquired eagerly. 
 
 "Somewheres about noontime," he answered, "from 
 the Stag and Hounds." 
 
 "Thank you kindly," she said, and was on again, 
 leaving a glow in his eyes at the sight of such a 
 lovely face. 
 
 The slippers began to chafe atrociously now, and 
 so, assuring herself that no one was within sight, she 
 sat down on the bank at the roadside, and taking 
 them off, rubbed her heels and the soles of her 
 bruised feet. She rested a few minutes before she 
 started on, and then walked cautiously, since she had 
 plenty of time if the coach did not leave the inn until 
 noon. 
 
 The highway brought her to a height from which 
 she could see a cluster of houses lying about a mile 
 away, her destination, the little town of Chantrey. 
 Below her the road forked beyond a clump of trees, 
 one line meeting the yellow ribbon of a lane that cut 
 through the green fields to her right. 
 
 Throwing her cloak more loosely back from her 
 shoulders, for the day had grown warm by this time, 
 she walked down the hill, and followed the road 
 through the trees. At the fork just beyond stood a 
 signpost, one arm pointing to the village, and one in-
 
 138 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 dicating what might be found along the lane. She 
 stopped to look at the signs, and as she did so she 
 heard hoofbeats in the highway behind her. 
 
 Turning quickly, she discovered that a chaise was 
 being driven rapidly down the road. She had no 
 chance to hide in that open place, and so simply 
 stepped to one side and waited. The chaise slackened 
 its speed as it drew up with her, and she found 
 Gregory, the major-domo of Cumnor, holding the 
 reins. He touched his hat to her with becoming 
 deference. 
 
 "I ask your pardon, my lady," he said, "but the 
 Marquis sent me out to fetch you back. When he 
 found you had left so early he was very much dis- 
 turbed, and declared that he had particularly wanted 
 to have you at the Castle to-day. He bade me try to 
 find you, and ask you to drive back in the chaise." 
 
 "I don't intend to go back, Gregory. You may 
 tell Lord Romsey so." Nothing could have been more 
 decided than this answer. 
 
 "But, my lady " began Gregory, the urgency of 
 his errand requiring him to argue. 
 
 "I've made up my mind, and wouldn't change it if 
 he sent all his servants after me, or even came him- 
 self." 
 
 "He rode out straightway to find you," said the 
 man, "but thinking it most likely you had taken the 
 north road to Holker Hall, as Lord Dorset was a 
 friend of yours, he rode that way."
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY 139 
 
 The girl gave Gregory a look full of the most 
 direct appeal. "And when he comes ba'ck won't 
 you try to make him give over following me?" she 
 begged. 
 
 "He's a very determined man, is his lordship," 
 said Gregory, "and that's a mild word for him." 
 
 "And I'm a very determined woman," returned the 
 girl, defiantly. "I will not go back, and he ought to 
 understand that I mean it." 
 
 "His lordship only understands what he's a mind 
 to," suggested Gregory, insinuatingly. 
 
 The runaway stamped her foot, and then was sorry 
 she had done so. "I am free, and mean to stay so," 
 she declared. "He can make what he likes of that. 
 Goodbye." And she turned and walked on toward 
 the village. 
 
 "He's a very determined man, my lady," Gregory 
 repeated after her ; but she paid no further attention 
 to him, and in a minute heard the wheels of his chaise 
 turning in the road. When she did look back he had 
 already disappeared beyond the trees. 
 
 Although her slippers pinched her feet badly, the 
 girl hurried on, for now she knew that Romsey was 
 aware of her flight, and she had no wish to meet him. 
 Free though she was, he was a great nobleman, and 
 the people of village and countryside would all stand 
 in fear of him, and not be over-eager to help her in 
 any dispute that might arise between them. 
 
 But when she had gone half the distance named by
 
 the signpost she slackened her speed. Soft grass at 
 the edge of the highroad invited her to rest for a 
 few minutes, and ease her ankles. She sat down, and 
 took off the good-looking, but tight, slippers ; and 
 gave a sigh of satisfaction. She folded her cloak into 
 a pillow, and cushioned her head upon it, and looked 
 up at the soft-sailing clouds in the summer sky, 
 meaning to allow herself a very short rest before 
 making the final dash to the village. 
 
 The voice of a man singing made her sit up hur- 
 riedly. Someone was coming down the road in the 
 same direction she had been taking, and was giving 
 expression to his love of music in a voice that was 
 strong, even if not consistently on the key. 
 
 She thrust her tired feet into her slippers, and 
 caught up her cloak hurriedly. The singer had come 
 into sight, proving to be a young man with a broad, 
 weather-tanned face, and a big body. His tight 
 jacket showed a pair of muscular shoulders. In one 
 hand he swung a wide-brimmed hat, while the other 
 grasped the end of a stick that rested across his 
 shoulder and dangled a bundle tied in a blue handker- 
 chief behind his back. 
 
 This stranger caught sight of the girl sitting in 
 the grass, and stopped singing. As if intending to 
 be polite, and to avoid a stare, he looked across the 
 meadow on the other side of the road ; but somehow 
 his eyes would irresistibly come back to the young 
 woman. Meantime she was admiring his broad-toed
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY 141 
 
 boots, and thinking how comfortable his toes must 
 feel in them. 
 
 He came opposite, and was about marching past, 
 when temptation overpowered him. "Might I do any- 
 thing for you?" he inquired, bluntly, and yet quite 
 respectfully, and at the same time stopped in front 
 of her. 
 
 The young man's clear blue eyes had an honest 
 look, and so she decided had everything about him, 
 from his great shock of brown hair to those enviable 
 boots. Here was a creature of healthy living and 
 good-nature, and one evidently intended to be trusted. 
 
 "I'm bound for the village of Chantrey," she said. 
 "It isn't far now; but I've come some distance in 
 these slippers that weren't made for walking, and 
 I haven't had anything to eat this morning." 
 
 Such a recital, delivered as it was by a young 
 woman of so many charms, would have touched the 
 heart of the sternest anchorite. This big-limbed 
 fellow succumbed at once. "Maybe I can help you 
 then," said he, "for I'm going to Chantrey too ; and 
 I've bread and cheese in this bundle on my staff. Will 
 you eat some of it?" 
 
 "I'd eat anything," she answered eagerly, with a 
 little laugh. 
 
 The man straightway swung the bundle from his 
 shoulder to the grass, undid the knotted handker- 
 chief, and produced a loaf of white bread and a 
 large piece of Cheshire cheese, wrapped in a brown
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 paper. "It's not very fine fare for a lady," he said, 
 apologetically, "but it's right helpful when a body's 
 hungry." He spread out the handkerchief beside 
 her, and set the bread and cheese upon it. 
 
 By now she was ravenously hungry, and she broke 
 off a big piece of the loaf and of the cheese, and ate 
 as if she had never tasted better fare. The man sat 
 down in the grass near her, and watched her with 
 the greatest admiration. 
 
 When she had eased her hunger she brushed the 
 crumbs away, and tying up what was left of the 
 bread and cheese in the handkerchief, handed it back 
 to him. "I believe you've saved my life," she said, 
 smiling at him. "Now I must hurry to the village." 
 
 "Would you let me go along with you?" he asked 
 boldly. 
 
 She nodded in quick decision. "I must catch the 
 stage to London," she explained, and in a glance 
 decided to confide her situation. "I might meet with 
 a man who'd try to keep me from going ; and if I did 
 I'd be glad of someone's help." 
 
 The young man's broad face beamed at this sign 
 of trust in him. "I can handle any man!" he de- 
 clared stoutly. "Don't you be afraid!" Then he 
 tied the bundle to the end of his staff, and held out 
 his hand to help her to rise. 
 
 She stood up in the road beside him. "I do feel so 
 much better now," she said, and as she started to 
 walk she added, "This man is a very great person,
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY 143 
 
 the Marquis of Romsey in fact; and he might well 
 be in a frightful temper," 
 
 "Leave him to me," said her new friend confidently. 
 "I be not afraid of anyone, Marquis or other." Then, 
 as if he feared that he might seem over-presuming, 
 he added, "Leastwise I be not afraid of a nobleman, 
 if he's rude with a lady." 
 
 His ingenuous words amused the girl, and she 
 studied her companion out of the corner of her eye. 
 "I think you might be able to handle a dozen men; 
 you look so big and strong. You're not town-bred." 
 
 "Not I," he answered, shaking his head. "My 
 name's Tom Jellett, and folks call me the Byberry 
 Boy. I've fought a score of battles in the ring. 
 Last month I knocked out the Bombardier at Shrews- 
 ijury Fair." Here his modesty checked him. "But a 
 lady won't care to hearken to a prize-fighter." 
 
 "Sooner than to some fine gentlemen," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "Would this one do you harm?" he asked, incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 "The harm of trying to force me to marry him, 
 though I hate everything about him," she burst out, 
 as if in relief to tell her tale to someone. 
 
 "Would he so!" exclaimed the young man. "He 
 must be monstrous evil to force a lady to such a 
 thing as that !" 
 
 "Don't let's talk about him," she said perversely. 
 "Tell me of your battle at Shrewsbury Fair."
 
 144. THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 So Tom Jellett described that historic encounter, 
 softening the details that they might not shock a 
 lady's ears. His candid, straightforward manner 
 of speech was very engaging; and his story helped 
 to make the girl forget her tight slippers until they 
 reached the outlying houses of the little village. 
 
 Chantrey was a small place, with the highroad for 
 its single thoroughfare. Midway of the rows of 
 houses stood the inn, the Stag and Hounds, a low, 
 wide building, with a great red sign, bearing a pic- 
 ture of a stag-hunt done in yellow, hanging over the 
 entrance to the court inside. 
 
 The inn was built in the form of a square about 
 this court, and in front of the entrance was a fine 
 stretch of greensward, shaded by an old gigantic 
 maple. The two travelers came to the entrance, and 
 looked into the inner court beyond. A boy, with a 
 serving apron tied about his waist, came forward 
 at sight of them. 
 
 "When will the London coach leave for town ?" the 
 girl asked him. 
 
 "It ought to be here by noon," the lad answered. 
 
 "Then there's a little time to wait," said Jellett. 
 "Yon's a comfortable-looking bench beneath that 
 arbor," he added, pointing into the court. "Fetch 
 two glasses of ale out there." 
 
 They walked under the arched entrance into the 
 court. The arbor at the far 'side, shaded with 
 grapevines, looked very attractive, and the girl
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LADY 145 
 
 hurried over to it, and sat down on the bench with a 
 sigh of relief. "I should be safe enough here," she 
 said. "Oh, these slippers!" and she took them off, 
 and rubbed her bruised ankles and heels. 
 
 "Safe and snug as can be !" agreed Jellett, sitting 
 down. His face expressed more than satisfaction, 
 it was filled with a beatific look of admiration for the 
 young woman he had been allowed to succor so far.
 
 OVERSEEN FROM AN ARBOR 
 
 THE Stag and Hounds at Chantrey was ordinarily 
 a very quiet place, with the arrival of the coach 
 for London bound north at noon, and of the coach 
 from London bound south about five in the after- 
 noon, for its chief excitements. The men of Chan- 
 trey gathered in the ample bar-room on winter 
 nights, and in the court or under the giant maple in 
 summer, when the day's work was done. There was a 
 private inn parlor, much used by visitors, on the right 
 side of the house, just beyond the bar, and a door 
 opened from this room into the court. 
 
 The noonday sun was pleasantly tempered by the 
 grapevines that clambered over the trellised arbor 
 where the girl from Pump Lane and the prize-fighter 
 sat. The waiter had brought them two glasses of 
 home-brewed ale, and they were much refreshed and 
 very comfortable. The fugitive had thrust her 
 stockinged feet into her slippers again, and was mak- 
 ing sure that her hair was in proper trim under her 
 wide straw hat. "It seems a week since I looked in 
 
 my glass this morning," she confessed, "and I can't 
 
 146
 
 OVERSEEN FROM AN ARBOR 147 
 
 think how I must look." She touched a tiny handker- 
 chief to her cheeks. "You must tell me if anything' s 
 amiss." 
 
 The Byberry Boy's red-brown face actually 
 flushed at the suggestion. "There's an ant crawling 
 over your skirt," he said, and leaning forward, flicked 
 the intruder away with his finger. 
 
 "Thank you. And is that all that's the matter?" 
 
 He nodded very positively. 
 
 "Dear me," said the girl. "How blind men are! 
 These ribbons are crumpled and untied." She 
 smoothed them out as best she could and fastened 
 them in a bow beneath her chin. 
 
 "I hope," she said, after a pause, "I'm not dis- 
 turbing your journey. I feel quite safe now." 
 
 "I make no plans," he answered, "I can't change 
 in a twinkle." 
 
 The quiet of noon had settled on the inn-court, 
 given over to a few rustling pigeons, and the girl, 
 having done what she could to remedy her appear- 
 ance, fell into a lazy reverie. Bit by bit she felt she 
 was winning back her old assurance of spirit as a girl 
 of London. 
 
 As they sat shielded by the vines a maid came 
 through the doorway that led from the inn-parlor. 
 She was small and pretty, doubtless the barmaid, 
 and as she pretended to run into the court she looked 
 back over her shoulder at a dapper man who was 
 close behind her.
 
 "Not so fast, little one !" exclaimed this man ; and 
 at the sound of his voice the girl from Pump Lane 
 sat up and pulled the vines aside enough to look out. 
 She saw the maid run part way across the court, and 
 the man overtake her. 
 
 "Why fly so fast, my dear?" said the pursuer. 
 "Surely there's no harm in one little kiss." 
 
 The maid hid her saucy face with her bare arm, 
 but stood still, waiting. The man caught her about 
 the waist, and drawing her sheltering arm away, 
 stooped and kissed her. "Come, be kind," he urged, 
 "and give me a kiss to show there's no ill-will." The 
 little maid, standing on tiptoe, did as he asked. 
 "There," she said, "but I never kissed a gentleman 
 before." 
 
 "It's all the sweeter for that," the gallant assured 
 her, "and if any other gentleman begs a kiss, you 
 box his ears for him." 
 
 "Oh, mercy me," said the maid, glancing about, 
 "there's someone in the arbor! I can see them 
 through the vines." And she turned and ran back 
 into the house. 
 
 The gentleman, however, was not so much per- 
 turbed. Instead of retreating, he walked to the open 
 front of the shelter and looked in. But instantly he 
 turned brick-red. "My word !" he exclaimed. "What 
 are you doing here?" 
 
 The girl in the arbor laughed, and the more she 
 laughed the redder grew the gentleman's cheeks. "I
 
 OVERSEEN FROM AN ARBOR 149 
 
 protest, Sally," he began, "I only did it on a wager. 
 Those other two " 
 
 "No, no, Jack," she interrupted, "don't protest. 
 You wanted the kiss, and you got it. You ought to 
 be satisfied." 
 
 But the gentleman looked anything but that, and 
 stood digging his heel in the turf like a truant school- 
 boy. "I'm afraid you'll think me very inconstant," 
 he said. "The truth is" 
 
 "That the girl tempted you; oh, I saw her do it. 
 So what Eve said of the snake, men say of women." 
 Then her face grew provokingly earnest. "There is 
 no such thing as constancy in the world, and I must 
 take all men's speeches with a grain of salt." She 
 looked down at her slipper. "I'm going back to 
 town, to trust in myself and no one else." 
 
 "The monster drove you away?" said Sir John. 
 
 "I left of my own free will." Pride shone in her 
 eyes. "That's how I came, and that's how I'm 
 going. I did what I agreed to, and now I'm free 
 again. Oh, freedom is a great thing, Jack!" She 
 looked so finely self-reliant that Sir John's heart sank. 
 He caught the eyes of the big man beside her glow- 
 ing with admiration. He stopped twisting his heel, 
 and stood straighter, as if copying her own change 
 of manner. 
 
 "You are very wonderful indeed," he said, "and I 
 don't know but that freedom does suit you best. 
 There's something of Diana in you."
 
 But lest he should grow too serious she smiled 
 quickly and answered, "Don't press your words too 
 far, Jack. Second thoughts are best nowadays, and 
 when we meet at Vauxhall we'll both be wiser. Do 
 you know I'm just beginning to find my real self 
 again ?" 
 
 "You never lost it," he said. "You carry it, and all 
 other charms always with you;" and, realizing that 
 she had no further need of him at present and that 
 the moment was propitious for his departure he bowed 
 and went back across the court to the bar-room door. 
 
 The girl watched him go, her face a study, and 
 when the court was quiet again she turned to the 
 silent man at her side. "Are we all like that bees 
 sipping honey? Does every woman love flattery? 
 And every man love a pretty face?" 
 
 The broad-shouldered youth rubbed his chin with 
 the back of one big hand. "I know little of women, 
 but it be right hard for a man to overlook a pretty 
 maid," he said, thoughtfully. "It do seem likely 
 maids were made pretty for that very reason." 
 
 "You may be right," she assented; "and yet it 
 makes human kind a very fickle lot." 
 
 "Was he an old friend of yours ?" Jellett inquired. 
 
 "Yes, I'd call him that," she answered with a smile. 
 "In town they think him a very clever man. But 
 didn't he look put about when he found us here? I 
 wonder now if he'd really laid a wager, or did he 
 make that up as quick as he saw me?"
 
 OVERSEEN FROM AN ARBOR 151 
 
 As she was pondering this two other men came 
 out from the door of the inn-parlor. They were 
 arguing, and their voices could be heard across the 
 court. One, who was tall and spare, held out his 
 left hand, and kept punctuating his remarks by jab- 
 bing at his palm with the fingers of his right, while 
 the other, who was short and stout, bobbed his head 
 up and down. "We can do nothing this way," said 
 the first. "Jack and you and I have fought it out 
 over the table. As long as we're all three here to- 
 gether, we might as well all three be in town. But 
 no two will go, and leave the other the field. Now it's 
 pleasant enough to sup and drink here, but kitchens 
 and cellars are far better in London." 
 
 "A deuced deal better," agreed the stout one, bob- 
 bing his head. 
 
 "Therefore I've a sporting plan to propose," con- 
 tinued the first speaker. "We two toss a sovereign, 
 you calling the turn, and the one who wins shall do 
 the same thing with Jack Gorham; it being agreed 
 that the two losers shall leave the field to the winner, 
 until Sally goes back to town. Otherwise we'll 
 only dog each other's heels here, and none's the better 
 off." 
 
 The stout man bobbed again. "This way none's 
 the better off," he repeated. 
 
 "Then it's agreed," said the taller ; and he put his 
 hand in his waistcoat pocket and drew out a gold 
 coin.
 
 The other surveyed the coin very thoughtfully. "I 
 choose the king's head," he decided. 
 
 "The head is yours," assented the tall man. "Now 
 here it goes." He held the sovereign between thumb 
 and forefinger, and spun it up into the air. 
 
 A laugh caught both men's attention as the coin 
 fell, and they looked away from it to the arbor. At 
 the same moment Sally stepped out from behind the 
 vines, and running forward, put her foot over the 
 sovereign. "Is this the way you deal with my favor ?" 
 she cried. "Toss a coin to settle who's to see me? 
 Why, in that case I am certain I don't care to see 
 any of you." 
 
 Verney was the first of the disconcerted men to find 
 his tongue. "I assure you," he said, in his most im- 
 pressive manner, "we had no thought of any disre- 
 spect; but three men who stick so close together 
 as we can get nowhere at all." 
 
 "We'd no notion you were in earshot," said the 
 Earl, floundering badly. 
 
 "Oh ! Then you didn't intend I should hear of the 
 plan, my lord?" she exclaimed, her eyes finding they 
 could not keep from mocking him. 
 
 The Earl perceived his blunder, and looked more 
 foolish than ever, so foolish that Sally had to relent a 
 little. "It makes no difference," she said, "for I've 
 left Cumnor, and am taking the coach to town." 
 
 Jellett had followed her out of the arbor, and now 
 stood watching, like a spectator at a play.
 
 OVERSEEN FROM AN ARBOR 153 
 
 "But what of Romsey?" asked Verney; and the 
 Earl exclaimed, "How did he take the trick?" 
 
 "I've washed my hands of him," said Sally, "and 
 he may take the trick in any way he pleases. I've 
 played my part till the curtain dropped, and don't 
 desire an encore. I'm famished for my old friends in 
 the Lane," and she added wickedly, "as hungry as 
 some gentlemen I know of for London kitchens and 
 cellars." 
 
 Verney looked at the man who stood behind Sally, 
 and a frown wrinkled his brow. "You've come out 
 victorious, I must admit," said he. "Your skill is 
 past belief; you twist my sex about your little 
 finger." 
 
 But she would not explain Jellett's presence, 
 though she read the curiosity in Verney's eyes. 
 "You're very flattering, I'm sure," she said, "but 
 when your sex fall to arguing it's time mine took to 
 action." She lifted her foot from the sovereign, and 
 stooped to pick it up. "It was the king's head," she 
 said, and handed the coin to the Earl. "Come to 
 see me in London, it's your due." 
 
 Then Sally nodded her head at the two of them, 
 and shook her finger admoni shingly. "Never debate 
 the way to a woman's favor," she said. "Take the 
 field and hold it ; the straightest way is best, cross 
 hedges and all." She held out a hand to each of them, 
 for Sally could never be severe for long. "You're 
 both forgiven, my friends," she assured them. "Come
 
 154 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 and learn wisdom from the player-folk at Drury 
 Lane." 
 
 Each man kissed the hand she gave him, and with- 
 drew into the inn, feeling that the mysterious man, 
 standing back of Sally, had displaced them for the 
 time at least. 
 
 "You've seen much in a half-hour, haven't you, 
 Tom Jellett?" she said, turning to him, amusement 
 in her face. "What do you think of it all?" 
 
 Before he could answer a coach-horn sounded to 
 the south. "At last!" she cried, "there it comes!" 
 She held out her hand. "Good-bye, and thank you 
 ever so much!" 
 
 He touched her hand with his big fingers. "Good- 
 bye," he said, soberly. 
 
 "You are a faithful fellow. Good luck in all your 
 battles !" With that she hurried across to the little 
 entrance that opened on the highroad. 
 
 Jellett stood still a moment, his eyes as wistfully 
 hungry as those of a deserted dog. Then the long 
 tally-ho sounded again, and he walked slowly after 
 her to get his last glimpse of his flying goddess.
 
 XI 
 
 THE ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 
 
 HHE coach had come to a stop before the Stag and 
 * Hounds, the driver was refreshing himself with 
 a vast tankard of ale, offered to him by the serving- 
 boy who had climbed up and stood balanced on the 
 near front wheel ; the postilion had run to a trough by 
 the roadside and was filling a bucket with water for 
 his horses, and two passengers, a mild-faced man and 
 a woman with inquisitive eyes, presented their heads 
 at the coach-window for a view of Chantrey. 
 
 "A deuced pretty girl that, my dear," said the 
 man in the coach, and he twisted his neck a little more 
 to get a better view of Sally. 
 
 "I hope she's not going to crowd herself in here," 
 said the woman. 
 
 "She has the look of town about her," the man 
 observed. "Those slippers now ' 
 
 "Her color's too high," sniffed the woman, "coun- 
 try color." 
 
 "She's coming over here," said the man. 
 
 So she was when something stopped her. A clat- 
 155
 
 156 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 ter of hoofs right at hand, and she turned a startled 
 look backward. She stood still, hesitating whether 
 to fly to the coach or back to the inn, and on the 
 instant a horseman, rudely curbing his beast, placed 
 himself in the road before her. He looked as ominous 
 as a thunder-cloud, and his right hand shot out at 
 her. "So you're here !" he cried. "Trying to escape 
 from me!" 
 
 Color swept her face, but she did not flinch from 
 his glance. 
 
 "Come here to me," he ordered, "and I'll carry you 
 back to Cumnor." 
 
 "I am not going back," she said. "Gregory should 
 have told you." 
 
 Romsey's hand fell with a blow on his horse's neck. 
 "You are coming back," he said. "You are mine to 
 do with." 
 
 "No, I am free from you now," she answered posi- 
 tively, "as free as any girl in England." 
 
 The dark man sprang down to the road, riding- 
 crop caught in his hand. "In England a ward be- 
 longs to her guardian," he declared, walking across 
 the greensward toward her. "You are very ignorant 
 of the laws." 
 
 She did not budge before him. "Happily I'm not 
 your ward, my lord," she said, and held up her hand 
 to stay him. "I'm not the Lady Pamela Vauclain ; 
 she ran away to marry Mr. Charles Tree; I'm Sally 
 Temple, actress at Drury Lane."
 
 THE ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 157 
 
 Romsey stopped, caught in a sea of surprise. His 
 black eyes stared, and his brows worked up and down. 
 "How's that?" he demanded. "Not my cousin, not 
 Pamela?" 
 
 "Not at all, my lord; I played her part because 
 she asked me to." 
 
 He stared, while the flushes ebbed and flowed in 
 her defiant face. In the silence that followed his 
 hand clutched his riding-crop tighter and his eyes 
 grew more and more like steel points. As for Sally, 
 she was the very picture of rebellious beauty, de- 
 sirable of all men. 
 
 "Very good," he said in a more controlled tone, 
 "whether you are Pam or a girl of the London streets, 
 I will have you. You shall be my wife. The parson 
 is waiting at Cumnor to marry us, and it makes no 
 difference what your name may be. Come," and he 
 stepped forward to lay his hand on her arm. 
 
 "Never !" she cried, falling back before him. "You 
 wouldn't dare do such a thing !" 
 
 "I'd dare do anything !" he retorted. "You'd best 
 give in to me." 
 
 A big fellow who stood in the entrance to the court 
 watching them stepped out, and came up to Sally. 
 His face was quiet, but his blue eyes had a very de- 
 termined look. "Keep your hands from her," he 
 said. "She be free, and there's an end of it." 
 
 "Get away," snarled Romsey, "this is none of your 
 concern."
 
 158 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Aye, but it be though," said Jellett. 
 
 Romsey gave him a look fit to wither .most men, 
 black and furious. "You fool," he snapped, "I'm 
 the Marquis of Romsey ; mind your manners." 
 
 "I don't care if you be the King," said Jellett, 
 "the lady says she'll have naught to do with you." 
 
 "And I say get away !" roared Romsey, and he 
 brought the riding-crop down across Jellett's shoul- 
 der. 
 
 The other man's hands caught the crop, wrenched it 
 away, and broke it over his knee. "I don't want to 
 harm you," he said, "for I be the Byberry Boy, and a 
 fighter by trade." 
 
 "Be the Devil," snapped Romsey, "but stand away 
 from here!" He turned to Sally, and thrust out his 
 arms to catch her. 
 
 Jellett's great first caught him on the chest and 
 hurled him backward. "Have you no care for a 
 girl?" Jellett cried. "Then I'll keep her safe from 
 you!" 
 
 Romsey steadied himself, his face pale with raging. 
 "By God, I will deal with you !" he swore. He ran in 
 on the other, and his right arm, like a flail, struck 
 Jellett's jaw and cheek. 
 
 Sally had sprung to safety, frightened at the 
 tempest she had started. Coachman, postilion, pas- 
 sengers, inn-keeper, pot-boy, barmaid, three gentle- 
 men drawn from their parlor by the noise, all looked 
 on amazed at sight of the Marquis of Romsey fight-
 
 THE ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 159 
 
 ing a pugilist with his bare fists. "He has grit," 
 muttered Sir John. "Damme, if the beast hasn't got 
 grit!" 
 
 Romsey needed grit, for he had neither the weight 
 nor the skill of Tom Jellett. And Jellett soon saw 
 that his enemy had courage of a far different order 
 than that of most of the fighters by trade. His 
 enemy meant to finish him forthwith, and went at 
 it hammer and tongs. 
 
 Blood in his eye, his face set like a vise, Romsey 
 stood to his man, and battered his fists against that 
 wall of sinew. His first blow left a red streak on 
 Jellett's cheek, and his third caught a corner of the 
 man's mouth. After that knuckles met wrist or fore- 
 arm till knuckles bled and stained whatever they hit. 
 
 Tom Jellett was slow to fight, but this was no 
 mincing matter, he soon perceived. The man was 
 dangerous, and could not be warded off continually. 
 Evidently he meant to knock Jellett out, and one 
 of those ramrod blows, caught properly on the chin, 
 would do the business. By a sudden feint and a quick 
 uppercut with his long arm Romsey reached his man's 
 ear and set it painfully buzzing; and thereupon Jel- 
 lett waded into the work that lay before him. 
 
 "By God, but it's a real mill!" Sir John muttered 
 to Verney, where they stood back by the inn wall. 
 "The Marquis hits the harder!" 
 
 "Watch the other beggar now," Verney answered. 
 "What a neck and shoulders !"
 
 160 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Jellett's tight jacket was burst as if it had been 
 paper, and his great muscled arms showed through 
 the rents. His head was set very firmly on his shoul- 
 ders, and now he lowered it to protect his jaw. His 
 feet had been planted firm and wide apart, but he 
 shifted his footing quickly and began to spring 
 back and forth, while his whole body moved with a 
 supple elasticity. Of this Romsey had little; he 
 sprang when he had the chance, jerked this way or 
 that as he had need to dodge, but kept perpetually 
 going, stinging like a wasp that darts continually in 
 and out. He was the fighting spirit incarnate, his 
 eyes wide with passion. 
 
 Jellett's left arm was poised, his right a bulwark 
 across chest and chin, and his blue eyes quick and 
 wary. His left hand struck Romsey's cheek, and 
 jabbed at his jaw; the blood came running and was 
 smeared over his face. The Marquis snarled like a 
 hurt wolf-hound, and flung himself on Jellett as if 
 to drag down his guard and find his throat, but the 
 pugilist stood him off and tore his own arms free, 
 and hit Romsey over one eye and sent him staggering 
 back. "Enough ?" Jellett cried in question ; but the 
 dark man only spat the blood from his cut lip and 
 came back at him with both fists, totally disregarding 
 the shielding of his head. 
 
 Even science has its loopholes, and Romsey reached 
 his enemy's face with a blow that shook Jellett's 
 poise. Another crash of those bruised and bleeding
 
 THE ENCOUNTER AT THE INN 161 
 
 knuckles ripped the skin from Jellett's jaw. The 
 prize-fighter drew back his head, then lunged it for- 
 ward, and body, shoulders and arms took up the 
 battle and worked together as they had not yet 
 worked. Crash went a hook from the left fist, crash 
 came another on the same tender spot. Romsey gave 
 way, caught his balance, flung out his arm. Crash 
 came Jellett's left fist on his mouth, and then the right, 
 that had waited the crucial point, sped to Romsey's 
 chin, and caught it fairly. The Marquis spun side- 
 ways and fell on the grass, his arms flung out 
 across it. 
 
 Jellett stood above him, the wild, fighting look 
 fading from his face, and its usual calm returning. 
 He was not a pretty sight, jaw and cheeks and fore- 
 head cut and bloody, hands red, and his jacket split 
 in tatters, but he was a fine figure of triumphant 
 bone and sinew, and his audience could at least appre- 
 ciate that. 
 
 As for Romsey he lay as if broken and discarded 
 on the green turf, one eye blackened, and his face 
 streaked and patched with blood. He was totally 
 spent, that last whirlwind rush of the prize-fighter 
 had battered all resistance out of him. His right 
 arm moved as if to ease his shoulder, but he made no 
 movement to rise. 
 
 "I told you who I be," said Jellett, "but you would 
 have it so. There's a rare lot o' fighting spirit in 
 you." He stepped back, and wiped his own face and
 
 162 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 hands with a torn sleeve of his jacket. Then he 
 turned to look at Sally, who stood by the coach-door. 
 "There be no real harm done. It be only cuts and 
 bruises and a little blood," he said reassuringly. 
 
 In the meantime the inn-keeper and the pot-boy 
 drew a little nearer, peering curiously at the man on 
 the grass. Romsey moved as if he meant to sit up- 
 "Fetch hot water for his lordship," the inn-keeper 
 ordered the boy, and the lad scurried away. 
 
 The coachman reluctantly turned back to his busi- 
 ness. "Time we were off," he proclaimed. The guard 
 set horn to lips and blew a fanfare, the postilion 
 leaped to his saddle. Sally opened the coach-door 
 and stepped in, and Jellett, running across the grass, 
 mounted after her. "I mean to see you safe now," 
 he declared, and pushed past the other two passen- 
 gers, who sat silent, still amazed at the strange scene 
 they had witnessed. 
 
 The horses swung out into the road under the 
 driver's whip. Sally looked through the window and 
 saw Romsey get to his feet. She had a glimpse of 
 him turning to look at her, she caught the baffled 
 gleam in his wild eyes she quivered suddenly and sat 
 back in her corner. "Oh, what a terrible man!" she 
 murmured, and shut her eyes to block out the picture. 
 
 "Aye, and a terrible fighter, too !" said Jellett, who 
 had overheard. 
 
 "Don't speak of him again!" she commanded. 
 "I'm done with him at last !"
 
 PART II
 
 xn 
 
 THE WIND IN PUMP LANK 
 
 IT was a winter night in Pump Lane. The street 
 was clogged with snow that had been trampled into 
 slush where men walked, but that still showed a white 
 crust under windows and in unused places. The 
 wind was busy, whistling and singing, and making 
 sport of whatever came in its way. The air was cold, 
 of that quality that pries between the joints, and 
 bids noses and ears beg for mercy. Altogether it 
 was a much pleasanter night on which to be at home 
 than abroad, and Pump Lane people showed their 
 wisdom. The wind looked in at one window after 
 another, and by candlelight saw snug, domestic pic- 
 tures. 
 
 Mistress Kilgore was stitching a new bodice, and 
 lecturing her husband. The wind had seen that pic- 
 ture many times before, and rattling the casement 
 to warn the couple that he was about, crossed the 
 Lane to a window on the opposite side. Here was 
 something for him to tarry over. 
 
 The small, raftered room was lighted by a pair of 
 
 candles that stood on a center-table. A young man 
 
 165
 
 166 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 sat with his elbows on the board, his chin propped in 
 his hands. On the far side of the table a girl, clad 
 in a warm-looking brown dress, lounged in a chair. 
 In the shadowy background a gray-haired woman 
 was dozing, her hands folded in her lap. 
 
 "Tom comes down the Lane," the girl was saying, 
 "and no more than steps into the Court, when the 
 boys open fire. One snowball knocked off his hat, and 
 another spattered his nose. Then they saw who it 
 was, and took to their heels ; all but little lame Walt 
 Butcher. He fell on his knees, and cried, 'Oh, Mr. 
 Jellett, I didn't mean to do it!' But Tom was only 
 laughing. 'Why, those were love-taps,' he said. 'The 
 Bombardier hit harder. Here, my lad, I'll show you 
 how to throw;' and he rolled up a snowball, and 
 threw it so it knocked the bear on the old inn's sign 
 half off. Walt told me about it, his eyes as big as 
 platters." 
 
 "He's almighty strong," said Gilbert, "and just as 
 good-natured." 
 
 "I'm glad you like him," said Sally ; "because I 
 like him too." 
 
 "I liked him first for bringing you home from 
 Surrey last summer." 
 
 "Yes, he was very kind then," agreed Sally. Her 
 face grew reminiscent. "I sometimes wonder what 
 you would have thought of that strange man, 
 Gilly. I can picture you two measuring each 
 other."
 
 THE WIND IN PUMP LANE 167 
 
 "The Marquis wouldn't waste much time on the 
 likes of me," suggested Gilbert. 
 
 "Maybe not. But one never could tell just what 
 he would do he wasn't like our town-bred gentle- 
 men." 
 
 "What's the difference?" 
 
 "Something; I can't tell. It may be just a 
 woman's instinct that jumps at such things." 
 
 "Instinct ought to say he'd make anybody near 
 him wretched," asserted Gilbert very positively. 
 
 "Oh, yes," agreed Sally, readily; "he'd surely do 
 that." 
 
 There came a rapping at the street door, and Sally 
 went and opened it. The wind burst in, and with it 
 a big, broad-shouldered man. "Good-evening, Sally. 
 Will you give me shelter?" he inquired. 
 
 "If you be quick, Tom." She pushed the door shut 
 behind him. 
 
 The big man threw his cloak and hat on a settle, 
 and walked into the living-room. He nodded fa- 
 miliarly to Gilbert, and smiled at Mrs. Stanes, who 
 had opened her eyes and sat up. That hard-working 
 woman forthwith took his arrival as an opportunity 
 to go upstairs to bed. 
 
 The Byberry Boy stood with his hands behind his 
 back, and it seemed as if his shadow covered almost 
 an entire wall of the room. 
 
 "How go things, Gilly?" said he. "It be bad 
 weather for you to get to work."
 
 168 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "So it is, Tom," said the lame youth. "But I win 
 through the day thinking of the evening, for now it's 
 winter, Sally's more at home." 
 
 "And that's a good thing to think of," agreed 
 Jellett, looking at the girl, who had taken her former 
 seat on the other side of the table. 
 
 "Nonsense!" declared Sally. "Gilly's always got 
 his books, whether I'm here or not." 
 
 "So he has," assented Jellett. "He be lucky any 
 way you take it. I wish I was a scholar. Won't 
 you read us more about that shipwrecked fellow, 
 Robinson Crusoe?" 
 
 After a proper urging Gilbert got the book and 
 read aloud, transporting the three to that magic isle 
 of the Pacific. The wind, which had doubtless heard 
 the tale before, rattled the casement, and went on 
 about his business. 
 
 In Pump Court, at the end of the Lane, stood a 
 smithy, with a harness-shop attached. The wind, 
 whistling down the great chimney, saw an old 
 wrinkled man sitting close to the fire, binding a 
 saddle. A knock rang on the door, and the harness- 
 maker got up and opened it a crack. A tall man 
 stood outside, muffled up to the ears, and as the door 
 opened he thrust himself in, bringing snow on his 
 heavy boots. 
 
 "Are you the smith?" the new arrival demanded, 
 and he glanced appraisingly about the shadowy fire- 
 lighted place.
 
 THE WIND IN PUMP LANE 169 
 
 "Yes," answered the old man, "Oliver Pipe, at 
 jour service." 
 
 "Go back to your stool, where it's warm," said the 
 other. "Bur-r-r, but this London is a dank hole." 
 He moved over to the hearth, and stretched out his 
 hands above the blazing wood. 
 
 "You might be a foreigner?" queried Pipe, humor- 
 ing his visitor by sitting down on the stool. 
 
 The other paid no heed to the question, but ap- 
 peared to be stating his thoughts aloud. "You all 
 live close enough together here," said he, his back 
 to the smith, "for warmth and company, most like." 
 
 "Oh aye, we rub shoulders close in the Court and 
 Lane, as neighborly as dogs in a kennel." 
 
 The other, his hands now somewhat warmed, turned 
 about, and by the flickering light the smith saw a 
 spare, clean-shaven face, the line of a scar cutting 
 across the upper lip, and a pair of deep black eyes. 
 "You live and work alone here, Mr. Pipe?" the man 
 asked. 
 
 The smith, his curiosity rising with each interro- 
 gation, scratched his chin with a forefinger. "I have 
 a boy come in to tend the bellows, and help out." 
 
 "You should have a man. Business would be 
 brisker." 
 
 "It might," said the other, dubiously, "but there be 
 no man would take what I could give." 
 
 "Hark you now," said his visitor, "I'm strong, and 
 quick at learning. I'm a stranger in London, with a
 
 170 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 little money. I'll buy a share in your business, you 
 to give me a place and shelter here." 
 
 Pipe's face showed his astonishment. "Why, my 
 good man " he began. 
 
 But the other interrupted. "You don't know me; 
 and I might be Satan himself. Very good ; but you 
 could put up with the devil for a month, if properly 
 paid for it, eh? Sell me half your trade at forty 
 shillings a month, and if all's well at the month's end 
 we can settle for the next." 
 
 The smith stared, and scratched his chin, and con- 
 sidered. The offer was very good, and there was no 
 doubt but that he needed a young man at the anvil. 
 He cast a reflective eye over the stranger. The man 
 stood tall and firm ; he looked as if he had the making 
 of a good smith in him. 
 
 "Is it agreed, Mr. Pipe?" the man pressed him. 
 
 "Aye, for a month," Pipe answered cautiously. 
 
 "Then here's half the sum in advance, as earnest." 
 The man took a purse from his inner coat pocket, and 
 counted out some coins. He tendered these to the 
 smith, who counted them over, and dropped them into 
 a leather pouch that hung at his belt. Then the 
 other, who was now thoroughly warmed, took off his 
 hat and heavy outer coat, and laid them on a bench. 
 He was clad in a suit of coarse brown weave, such 
 as might be had at any clothing-shop in Cheapside. 
 
 "What may be your name?" asked Pipe. 
 
 "Conrad Grote," said the other.
 
 THE WIND IN PUMP LANE 171 
 
 The smith chuckled. "There be no accounting for 
 tastes, friend Grote," he remarked, "but you do seem 
 a strange man with money in your purse and 
 turning smith." 
 
 "I haven't much of it in my purse," said Grote, 
 "and need to put more there. I know what I'm 
 about." 
 
 "No doubt, no doubt," agreed Pipe readily. "You 
 don't look like a fool." 
 
 The smith showed his new assistant up to a cubby- 
 hole under the roof, and bade him make it his home. 
 The cold came in through the cracks, and the bed 
 was only a pallet of straw. Grote shivered a little as 
 he looked through his tiny window at the mixture of 
 chimney-pots and jutting gables. No wonder the 
 houses huddled close together in such a cold place as 
 this. 
 
 Almost all of the Court and Lane were asleep by 
 now, and the wind found little to entertain him. His 
 singing was for his own ears until he went back to 
 the house opposite Mistress Kilgore's. There Gil- 
 bert, in his bedroom at the rear, heard him, and 
 stuffed an old hat tighter in a broken window-pane. 
 The clerk had finished his reading and left the other 
 two, so that he might be fresh for his work on the 
 morrow. 
 
 Downstairs the Byberry Boy was looking earnestly 
 at Sally Temple. "There be no fights around here, 
 and work in the butcher's shop is overdull," said he.
 
 172 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "You know why I came to London town, Sally. I'm 
 staying just for you. I'd make a match to fight the 
 Yorkshire Giant if so be it that would please you." 
 
 "It wouldn't please me so very much," she an- 
 swered, "to have your eyes blacked, or your teeth 
 knocked out." 
 
 "What would, then?" he demanded. 
 
 She put her hands back of her head, and sighed. 
 "You're a right good man, Tom ; but you must wait 
 a little." 
 
 "Until some better man comes along?" 
 
 "No, not that. But until I know myself surer, 
 Tom; until I feel that it couldn't be any other man 
 but you." 
 
 "It's hard, Sally," said the young man, "to sit and 
 wait for such a matter as that." 
 
 "Aren't you good at waiting?" she asked, her eyes 
 studying his broad, candid face. 
 
 "When I fought the Bombardier I waited so long 
 my friends were for going home. I let him do the 
 leading till he thought I was no better than a bag o' 
 meal. He hit out regardless, and I got him oh yes, 
 I got him, Sally." He looked fondly at his right 
 fist and forearm, which had instinctively stiffened as 
 for battle. 
 
 Sally regarded him in no unfriendly light. Here 
 was a real man, no fashionable coxcomb, and if he 
 had no greater supply of brains than were enough to 
 make him a champion of the prize-ring, he had at
 
 THE WIND IN PUMP LANE 173 
 
 least two stout arms and hands that could safely 
 shield a woman. 
 
 "You're prodigious strong, Tom," she admitted. 
 "There's little doubt of that. I mind when first I 
 saw you fight at Chantrey." 
 
 "So I be, Sally, so I be. But when it conies to a 
 girl I'm gentle as a kitten." 
 
 "Little Walt Butcher thinks there's no one like 
 you ; and a boy makes a good judge." 
 
 Now it was Tom's turn to blush. "Take little 
 Walt's judgment then," he pleaded. "I'm no great 
 hand at words, but you can tell my feelings, Sally. 
 They be as plain as daylight." 
 
 The girl, however, had not yet decided, for she 
 could still view him critically, and that did not suf- 
 fice her. "Wait," she said. "That's the only way 
 for me, Tom." 
 
 In his patient and yet resolute face she thought 
 she caught a glimpse of how he must have looked as 
 he waited for the Bombardier in his great battle. 
 He smiled as he bade her good-night, and picked up 
 his cloak and hat. She opened the door enough for 
 him to pass out, and then quickly shut it, and caught 
 the latch in place. 
 
 She carried a candle up to her tiny room under the 
 eaves. This place, garret as it was, and meagerly 
 furnished, was dearer than ever to her after her 
 grand apartments at Cumnor Castle. She was glad 
 to know that Gilbert and Kate were sleeping near at
 
 174 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 hand, and that when she woke in the morning she 
 would look out on familiar roofs and houses. 
 
 Although she had not stayed a month at Cumnor 
 Sally had received word from Sir John Gorham that 
 by her aid Lady Pamela Tree had secured possession 
 of the greater part of her estates, and that the Mar- 
 quis had as yet given no signs of his displeasure. Sir 
 John had also sent her the money he had promised 
 if she would play that part, and this, together with 
 the necklet of rich pearls, the ruby ring, and the 
 girdle set with amethysts, had been put away as a 
 nest-egg against hard times. Sally was a very popu- 
 lar actress, but Drury Lane Theatre was often closed 
 in winter, and it was well for an actress to have some- 
 thing besides her salary there. 
 
 To-night she brushed her hair slowly, in spite of 
 the cold. Was not Tom Jellett the man for her to 
 marry? she wondered. He had brought her all the 
 way from the village of Chantrey up to London, and 
 had proved as thoughtful of her as a mother of a 
 child. Since then he had stayed near the Lane, and 
 she knew from his every word and action that the 
 young giant rang true. 
 
 Thinking of Tom Jellett brought to her mind in 
 contrast the three gentlemen who had sought her 
 earlier. Though she had liked some qualities in each 
 of them she had sent each on his way when each had 
 come to urge his suit in London. Any one of the 
 three could offer her a marriage more brilliant than a
 
 THE WIND IN PUMP LANE 175 
 
 Pump Lane girl, though she were a popular actress, 
 should dare to dream of; but Sally was never caught 
 by gilt or tinsel, save when she found it on the stage. 
 She had dreams of a man who should possess all she 
 had found to her liking in others, and something more 
 besides ; and she would not let her dreams go. Just 
 what that something more might be she did not know ; 
 that was for the man to find out, she could not tell 
 him. Tom Jellett had much ; strength and truth and 
 devotion were his, but not yet the power to compel 
 her surrender. 
 
 As she shook out her long, lovely hair she wondered 
 if she were too stubborn and captious. "People must 
 give as well as receive," she said to herself. But she 
 frowned over the thought as she got in bed, for she 
 knew that it was far easier to advise than to act on 
 the wisest counsel. 
 
 Soon she was asleep, and the wind, leaping and 
 somersaulting by himself, sped away from that 
 poor quarter of London to another section, where he 
 could still find men and women performing antics for 
 his benefit.
 
 xin 
 
 OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH 
 
 WINTER relented somewhat after a few days, 
 and one morning allowed the sun a brief chance 
 at the Lane and Court. Oliver Pipe, whose face was 
 like a rosy wrinkled apple, bade his assistant open the 
 smithy door. It was likely horses would have to be 
 shod such weather, and harness mended after the 
 storm, and the ring of the hammer on anvil and the 
 sight of the smith might catch customers' ears and 
 eyes. 
 
 Pipe was pleased with his partner. The old man 
 had cut a leather apron for him the morning after 
 the stranger's arrival, and when Grote put it on he 
 looked every inch the smith. He was quick to learn 
 how to handle the tools, and he struck a hearty blow. 
 Pipe felt that he had appraised the applicant cor- 
 rectly, and that the result of their bargain would all 
 be to the credit side of the balance. They should 
 get on famously to his thinking, the more so as Pipe 
 was very fond of talking, and the apprentice had so 
 far shown himself much more inclined to listen than 
 
 to preach. 
 
 1T6
 
 OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH 177 
 
 Grote opened the street door as he was bade, and 
 stood there a minute, hands on his hips, breathing in 
 the fresh air. Pipe joined him for the same purpose. 
 The Court was partly aflood with the thaw. "Good 
 weather for shoemakers," observed the smith, nod- 
 ding toward some women, who, with skirts held well 
 above their ankles, were paddling across the Court 
 in the direction of the Market. 
 
 "No doubt," assented Grote. 
 
 A young woman came out of the Lane, and in her 
 turn started to cross the Court. She was stoutly 
 shod, and her lifted skirts showed a pair of trim 
 ankles. A knitted woolen scarf hid her hair, and was 
 wound about her throat, with its ends flung back over 
 her shoulders, and on her arm she carried a market- 
 basket. 
 
 Pipe glanced at his apprentice. "Aye, Oliver," 
 said he, with a dry chuckle, "look your fill, for she 
 be worth a man's looking. There's a woman would 
 tempt Saint Anthony himself. If all the tales be 
 true a dozen gentlemen have run their fine legs off 
 after her, and got only a toss of her head for their 
 pains. Now if I were a little younger! Saw you 
 ever such a merry face, with a pretty figure to match ? 
 Speak up, man, if you ben't a stone." 
 
 "Who is she?" asked Grote. 
 
 "Sally Temple, to be sure; and she's known at 
 t'other end of town as well as this. She's looking
 
 178 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 over here. Good-morning to you, Sally." The smith 
 waved his hand. 
 
 The girl called back, "Good-day to you, Mr. Pipe. 
 The Court's afloat." 
 
 "So it be," the smith chuckled; "but it's too cold 
 for barefoot wading." 
 
 The girl nodded, casting a glance at the man who 
 stood beside Pipe. She saw a tall fellow, whose 
 leather apron hung from his neck to his knees. He 
 was clean-shaven, with black hair and eyes. But as 
 he was looking directly at her, she turned her head 
 and hurried past. 
 
 "Well," said Pipe, "is she pretty or no?" 
 
 Grote was still looking after the young woman, as 
 she picked her way up the Court. 
 
 "Your tongue don't keep pace with your eyes, 
 Conrad," snapped Pipe. "If I was your age " 
 
 "Yes, she is all you say," assented Grote, as if 
 under compulsion. 
 
 "You talk like a block of wood," complained the 
 smith. "When most young men see Sally for the first 
 time they run out of words to talk about her." 
 
 "Well, so have I," said Grote, smiling. "What 
 more do you want?" 
 
 The smith cast a quizzing glance at his companion. 
 The man puzzled him in a number of ways. When 
 he chose to talk his voice was somewhat different 
 from that of most townsfolk, lacking their blur, and 
 being more clear and low. Now and again his as-
 
 OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH 179 
 
 sistant's dark eyes would flash unexpectedly, and in 
 so doing would disconcert the smith, who could see 
 no cause for such an exhibition in the day's routine. 
 Pipe would look up from his work sometimes, and find 
 Grote brooding over the anvil or staring at the fire. 
 "Strange eyes," thought the smith. "There's a caged 
 look about them most unusual." 
 
 For the first few days Pipe did almost all the talk- 
 ing that passed between the two. Grote and he had 
 their simple meals together, labored in the smithy, and 
 sat for a short time before the fire at night. Then 
 Grote began to ask abrupt questions. He dug facts 
 out of Pipe, facts about his own life and the lives of 
 his neighbors, how they made their daily bread, who 
 was their landlord, and such like. Once he had Pipe 
 started on an interesting trail the smith would dis- 
 course volubly. Grote would listen to him, his face 
 very intent, his fingers occasionally stroking his 
 cheek. The smith gave him credit at least for being 
 a listener in a thousand. 
 
 From time to time men and women of the neighbor- 
 hood dropped in at the smithy or the shop on busi- 
 ness. The apprentice served them ably, and if they 
 felt inclined to chat as most of them did listened 
 readily to all they had to say. But when, in their 
 turn, they tried to learn his views, Grote grew silent. 
 They left the smithy, and spread the news that old 
 Oliver Pipe had a singular apprentice, a man who 
 had dropped in from somewhere overnight, and who
 
 180 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 would not tell a thing about himself. The girls of 
 the quarter soon found excuses for errands. Grote 
 made a good figure in his leather apron, but when it 
 came to bandying words with them they found that 
 he was as useless as the wooden bear above the tavern 
 door. It seemed clear that the swains of the Court 
 and Lane would have little to fear from this tall, 
 mysterious stranger. 
 
 Late one afternoon, when the outdoor world had 
 frozen up again, a thin, peaked-face young fellow 
 entered the smithy, walking with a crutch. Pipe 
 was out at the time, but Grote was hammering a 
 red-hot horseshoe. The cripple sat down on a bench, 
 and watched the workman finish his task. When 
 Grote could attend to him the other handed over his 
 crutch, and asked if the smith would fix a new iron 
 ferrule to the peg at the bottom. 
 
 Grote applied himself to this work while the cripple 
 studied him, noting each detail of his face and dress. 
 Presently the observant customer asked, "How do you 
 like this place?" 
 
 "Well enough," said Grote shortly. 
 
 "You haven't always been a smith?" There was 
 as much assertion as question in the cripple's tone. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "If you don't mind my asking, what have you done 
 before?" 
 
 Grote stopped his work, and took a good look at 
 his questioner. He found unusual intelligence in the
 
 OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH 181 
 
 cripple's face. "A number of things," he answered 
 more readily, "and, like the common run of men, 
 more ill than good when I come to think of it." 
 "You call that the lot of the common run?" 
 
 "Don't you?" 
 
 The cripple's face grew speculative. "I think, 
 whatever we do, most of us wish to help more than to 
 harm," he answered. 
 
 Grote rested his foot on the base of the anvil, lean- 
 ing forward. "Do you mean in Pump Lane," he 
 asked, "or in all the world?" 
 
 "I only know the world hereabouts, except by read- 
 ing ; but I think it true everywhere except with the 
 nobles, who see no need to help, and find more sport 
 in harming." 
 
 "You do well to leave out the nobles," agreed 
 Grote, and his tone was ironical. "They fatten on 
 doing harm. You speak of reading; are you a 
 scholar ?" 
 
 "I have a little learning. I'm clerk by day, and 
 reader by night and on Sundays," said the cripple. 
 
 "What's your name?" asked Grote. 
 
 "Gilbert Stanes." 
 
 "And you are a thinker?" mused Grote. "You 
 read and think." He looked at Stanes as if he were 
 regarding a most unusual creature. 
 
 "You see," said Stanes, "I'm lame;" as if that 
 were his excuse. 
 
 "Yes, I see." Grote picked up the crutch, and
 
 182 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 began to bend a new band of metal about the peg. 
 Presently he said, "I read sometimes, and sometimes 
 I think." 
 
 "You do?" said Stanes, eagerly. "Then you must 
 come to see me, and talk about your reading and your 
 thinking." 
 
 "But I've found out very little," objected Grote, 
 "and I have to keep discarding what I've learned." 
 
 "You underrate yourself," suggested Stanes. 
 
 The smith looked up from the crutch, and his eyes 
 gleamed, as Pipe had sometimes seen them. "I've 
 never thought so," he said, "nor have other people." 
 The gleam died away, and his lips curled, so that the 
 scar on the upper one was twisted. "No, that's not 
 one of my sins, Master Stanes," he added. 
 
 The cripple was intensely interested by this time; 
 Oliver Pipe's apprentice was a rare character. But, 
 though he tri^d to draw Grote out further, the man 
 would not talk. He finished his work, and handed 
 Stanes the crutch, pocketing his threepence. Only 
 when Stanes said, "You will come to see me some 
 night?" he nodded his head in assent. 
 
 His assistant's singular attitude in viewing all his 
 neighbors from a distance furnished considerable 
 surprise to Oliver Pipe. So far as he could observe, 
 the man, although intelligent, showed no desire to mix 
 with other men of the vicinity, and had not once, to 
 the best of the old smith's knowledge, dropped in at. 
 the tap-room of the Bear and Staff. That was
 
 OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH 183 
 
 where the unattached men -and some of the others 
 were wont to gather of a winter's evening, but Conrad 
 Grote seemed to prefer to sit with Pipe in the smithy, 
 and listen to his chatter. After a few weeks, how- 
 ever, Pipe began to be even more surprised by some 
 of G^ote's questions in regard to their neighbors. 
 Apparently he had discovered facts about them that 
 the smith, who had lived among them all his life, had 
 never remarked, and had drawn conclusions that 
 would never have occurred to Pipe. The latter also 
 found that his assistant had bought a few books at a 
 shop in Cheapside, and was reading them by candle- 
 light in his own room. That the man should be able 
 to read increased the smith's curiosity about him, but 
 he was by this time so much interested in Grote's 
 company, and so well satisfied with his workmanship, 
 that he hesitated to seem too inquisitive for fear of 
 giving offense. 
 
 One night after supper Grote took his hat and 
 cloak from his peg in the smithy, and with a brief, 
 "I'm going to make a visit," left Pipe to his own 
 society. Down Pump Lane he went until he came 
 to the small house opposite Mistress Kilgore's. 
 Peering close, to identify the place from the descrip- 
 tions he had gathered of it, he finally rapped on the 
 door with his knuckles. It was opened by a gray- 
 haired woman. "Does Gilbert Stanes live here?" 
 inquired Grote. "Yes," said the woman. "He's 
 within. Step into the room yon."
 
 Grote walked into the living-room, where Stanes 
 sat as usual by the table, a book open before him. 
 The reader looked up, and seeing who his visitor was, 
 smiled with pleasure. "Good-evening, Master Grote." 
 said he, and bending forward, stretched out his hand. 
 
 The other took it in a firm grip, but silently. 
 
 "Throw off your cloak," said Gilbert. "Mother, 
 this is Master Grote, Oliver Pipe's new smith." 
 
 Kate Stanes regarded the man, whose dark eyes 
 seemed as quiet as her own. 
 
 Grote stood for a few moments while Gilbert 
 talked, seeming to be preoccupied in observing every 
 detail of the room the low, raftered ceiling, the 
 stained walls, the small casements, the heavy furnish- 
 ings, the rough, uneven flooring. Finally he looked 
 at the cripple, as if to say that he could attend to 
 him now. 
 
 "Sit down," invited Gilbert, smiling. "Have you 
 found more good or ill in the world since we last 
 met?" 
 
 Grote shook his head. "My studies of the world 
 are only in their infancy yet," said he, taking a chair 
 near the clerk. "I thought to begin my search after 
 wisdom here." 
 
 "But this is such a back-eddy," objected Gilbert, 
 lightly. 
 
 "Who knows which are the eddies, and which the 
 main currents ; and who knows which will teach one 
 more of truth?"
 
 OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH 185 
 
 Gilbert's tongue was unleashed by that ; and, with 
 his head propped in his hands, and his big eyes specu- 
 lative, he talked of what he had seen and thought in 
 his quiet life. It was the meditation of a sincere 
 philosopher, and as he looked at Grote from time 
 to time he saw that the other man comprehended 
 him. That meant a great deal to the little clerk, 
 who met few men who could follow his thoughts 
 rightly. 
 
 Presently there was a light step on the stairs, and 
 some one came into the room back of Grote. Gilbert 
 looked up. "Sally," said he, "I've a most interesting 
 visitor to-night. It's Master Grote, who works for 
 Oliver Pipe." 
 
 Grote stood up, and, turning, found himself facing 
 a girl in a dark blue gown, whose hair was a cloud 
 of soft reddish-gold. She looked at him with consid- 
 erable interest, a smile in her eyes and on her lips. 
 She nodded amiably as he bowed his greeting. 
 
 "I saw you standing with old Oliver at the smithy 
 door a week or so ago," she said, good-humoredly. 
 
 "I remember, you were on your way to market," 
 he answered. 
 
 Then, without more ado, Sally unfolded a bundle 
 she was carrying in her hand, and, sitting down by 
 the table, began to baste the lining in a skirt. Gil- 
 bert took up the conversation where her arrival had 
 interrupted it, and Grote appeared to be focusing 
 his attention on what the clerk said. His eyes, how-
 
 186 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 ever, would occasionally stray to the girl, who sat 
 apparently absorbed in her sewing. When Gilbert 
 noticed this he smiled to himself, used as he was to 
 seeing men's eyes drawn, magnet-wise, to his lovely 
 young aunt. 
 
 Just before Grote left Sally took a greater interest 
 in him. "Where do you come from?" she asked, as 
 he rose from his seat near the table. 
 
 "I've lived in a great many places," he answered, 
 evasively ; "I'm a wanderer, like the famous Jew." 
 
 "And do you mean to stay at the smith's?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "I can't tell. I'm 
 seeking certain things, and I can't tell whether I'll 
 find them here or not." Then he said good-night in 
 his formal, rather abrupt manner. 
 
 When he had left Gilbert began to trace patterns 
 on the table with his fingers. "It's clear," said he, 
 "that Conrad Grote is a very curious man, and not 
 much like the rest of us here." 
 
 "And what do you think of him, Gilly?" asked his 
 aunt, laying her sewing in her lap, and looking at 
 him. 
 
 "He's like a sword that hasn't been drawn from 
 its scabbard for some time. It may be rusty, or it 
 may be sharp. Did you notice his eyes, Sally?" 
 
 She nodded. "Oh, yes ; eyes are most interesting." 
 
 "Some eyes seem to see back of things ; his do, to 
 my thinking. Others see only surfaces; like Tom 
 Jellett's."
 
 OLIVER PIPE'S NEW SMITH 187 
 
 "I think I like Tom's kind best," she said. 
 "They're always frank and true." 
 
 "And Tom's always tell you what they think of 
 you; eh, Sally?" he teased. "Now you don't like 
 Grote's, because they don't flatter you." 
 
 "Oh la, my dear, I didn't say that, did I? I might 
 be able to make them if I chose." Sally rose to his 
 bait with all her love of teasing Gilbert. 
 
 Gilbert shook his head, however, and resumed his 
 tracing on the table. Sally's smile increased as she 
 watched him ; she had such a comfortable sense of 
 security when her nephew was with her. 
 
 As for Conrad Grote, he went home, and stood a 
 long time staring at the embers of the smithy fire. 
 His thoughts were bitter, like purging medicine. 
 Scenes of his life trooped before him, taunting him 
 with mocking, spectral faces. His life had been wild 
 and bad ; a catalogue of ill-directed passions. Pres- 
 ently he sat down on the smithy bench, and gripped 
 his head in his hands. He was young, and yet, like 
 the wandering Jew, he felt aeons old. He would have 
 given the world to win back the clear vision of youth 
 that he had thrown away so shamelessly. But there 
 was a spirit in him that might possibly grow, that 
 seemed the only chance left to him in his despera- 
 tion, and he thought that here in this poor, strug- 
 gling acre of Pump Lane lay its single opportunity 
 to prosper. He concluded that it was here he must 
 be tried, and made, or broken.
 
 xrv 
 
 THE EVIL, SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 
 
 '"T'HE ill wind possibly blew out of France, where 
 * Mr. Charles and Lady Pamela Tree were now 
 sojourning, wondering when they had time to won- 
 der how it was that the Marquis of Romsey had 
 raised no hue and cry after them. But whether it 
 blew from France, or from the trading cities of 
 Amsterdam and Rotterdam as some wise men averred, 
 which in their turn had caught the wind from Italy, 
 or the Levant, or Cyprus, was of small concern com- 
 pared with what it carried, which was nothing less 
 than the incubus known as the plague. It was in 
 mid-winter that two men, both said to be French, died 
 of it in a house at the upper end of Drury Lane. 
 Through the cold weather it made little progress, 
 but in early spring people began to whisper to each 
 other that there was more than usual sickness in the 
 parish of St. Giles. Rumor carried word of such 
 matter quickly, and before long it was known that 
 the distemper had found lodging in the midst of the 
 city, in fact in Bearbinder Lane, near Stocks Market, 
 
 which lay in the crowded parish of St. Mary Wool- 
 
 188
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 189 
 
 church. Thereupon well-to-do people began to close 
 their houses, and travel into the country. 
 
 In Pump Lane, however, people went about their 
 business, paying as little heed to the rumors as they 
 could. They were busy loving, and laboring, and 
 quarreling, and making up again in their usual old- 
 fashioned way. The Byberry Boy came whistling 
 down the street from his butcher's shop, sturdy and 
 strong and merry, an outdoor creature, kept in the 
 shackles of town by a girl's eyes and voice. Kate 
 Stanes spun and tended house, and Gilbert limped 
 to his clerk's stool and back, and thought inbetween- 
 times of his talks with Grote, and of the conclusions 
 they two were drawing from their reading. Mean* 
 time, Oliver Pipe had come to like his assistant so 
 well that at the end of the month they renewed their 
 bargain, and Grote's became a familiar face in the 
 Lane. But it was a face that still puzzled the neigh- 
 bors, for, although few had opportunity for inti- 
 mate judging, all felt that the dark man was differ- 
 ent from themselves. 
 
 As for Sally, she went on playing at Dniry Lane 
 whenever that theatre was open, but her friends 
 found her a little more thoughtful nowadays, her face 
 more apt to be serious, and her laughter not quite 
 so quick to answer any jesting. Something of Gil- 
 bert's reflective mood was in her eyes at times, though 
 usually when she was alone. 
 
 Then men began to observe houses in the heart
 
 190 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 of the city marked with a red cross on their doors, 
 and the toll of the plague's victims increased. The 
 gentry in the west part of London hurriedly took to 
 their coaches, and followed by servants on horses and 
 in wagons, crowded the roads that led to purer air. 
 The Earl of Dorset, now for some time despairing of 
 winning Sally, went with friends to his seat in York- 
 shire; Sir John Gorham joined his mother in Devon, 
 and Lord Verney, accredited as an attache to the 
 court of Naples, set out to have a look at the flesh- 
 pots of Italy. Red crosses gathered so thickly in 
 Drury Lane that Mr. David Garrick closed the 
 theatre, and went into enforced retirement. 
 
 In the crowded streets distress and superstition 
 and knavery soon stalked about. In spite of clergy 
 and churches men talked of dreadful omens, blazing 
 stars or comets that had shot into the skies and were 
 to be heard at night rushing with mighty noise across 
 the heavens. Astrologers gained in credit, as well as 
 in purse, and many people clutched their amulets or 
 other tokens of protection as zealously as they made 
 wide circuits about pox-marked doors or held tobacco 
 or herbs to their noses when pestilence-wagons rolled 
 through the streets. Handbills stuck on houses or 
 scattered broadcast advertised "Sovereign cordials 
 against the corruption of the air," "Anti-pestilen- 
 tial pills," "Incomparable drink against the plague, 
 never known before," or gave a name and address, 
 following it with "An eminent High Dutch physician,
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 191 
 
 newly come from Amsterdam, where he resided dur- 
 ing the last pestilence, and cured thousands that ac- 
 tually had the plague upon them," or "An Italian 
 gentlewoman, just arrived from Naples, has a choice 
 secret to prevent infection, wherewith she did mar- 
 velous cures in Italy." So the poor people were hood- 
 winked and robbed and played upon, while govern- 
 ment and reputable doctors preached in vain. 
 
 In Pump Lane it was much the same as elsewhere, 
 though there was more time given for protection. 
 Shops were shut, a few careworn physicians came and 
 went, and people muffled and hooded themselves 
 against infection, bought their food timorously, 
 kept indoors from the night damp, and went about 
 smelling and staring and shrinking whenever they 
 heard a sudden sound or met a frightened face. 
 
 Oliver Pipe said to Grote one afternoon in the 
 smithy, "You seem less afraid of this pestilence than 
 most. Have you ever known it before?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Grote. "I was in Milan once 
 when it was there. I rode through the city, and 
 found it the Devil's own home." 
 
 "In Milan? I've heard tell how dreadful it was 
 there." 
 
 Grote's eyes fastened on the old man's. "In a field 
 outside the city I fell in with a company of men and 
 women. They were all drinking, and singing, and 
 dancing like mad folk. I had to use my pistols to get 
 away from them. Then I met a girl, who begged
 
 192 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 me to kill her, or take her away on my horse. I took 
 her up but that night she tried to stab me for my 
 money. I can see her face as I caught her at it." 
 
 "Thank the good Saints this isn't Italy!" ex- 
 claimed Pipe, fervently. "You must have seen con- 
 siderable in your journeys." 
 
 Grote was silent. 
 
 "Such things are enough to make any man fear- 
 ful," continued Pipe. 
 
 "Why, no," said Grote. "Contemptuous more than 
 fearful." 
 
 There were no smiles in Cheapside, even when the 
 sun shone, and no loud voices except when some poor 
 soul, unbalanced by fear or calamity, ran howling 
 objurgations through the streets. The red cross 
 marked more doors, women went farther from their 
 homes to buy provisions from country folk who 
 stayed on the outskirts of the city, and who, selling 
 their fresh produce as quickly as they could, hastily 
 retreated before possible infection. The continual 
 toll of bells lent warning voices to the day and night, 
 watchmen were set by the authorities to see that none 
 of the sick left their houses, and men and women 
 shunned the company of their kind so far as that was 
 possible. They knew of few antidotes or protections 
 for the most part, but many were careful to carry 
 rue or wormwood in their hands and to put myrrh in 
 their mouths when they went out-of-doors. The slight- 
 est illness was cause for apprehension, so often it led
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 193 
 
 to the sweating and sores that betokened the pesti- 
 lence. Gloom enwrapped all parts of London, form- 
 ing a cloud that hung heavier in the air than any 
 winter fog. 
 
 Under the cloud some few kept their courage. In 
 spite of Grote's saying that previous experience with 
 the plague made him contemptuous of it Oliver Pipe 
 considered that it was not contempt, but strength of 
 spirit, that kept his assistant so calm, and the example 
 greatly heartened the old smith. Others felt the 
 same influence. One day Tom Jellett came into the 
 smithy and found Grote hammering a horse-shoe. 
 "They tell me you've lived in Italy," said Tom, "and 
 know the pox. What can we men do?" 
 
 "Keep up folks' courage," answered Grote shortly, 
 laying down his hammer and looking at the big man. 
 
 The prize-fighter frowned at the floor. "A little 
 girl who lived near to me died yesterday. Small 
 Walt Butcher is down. I've fought a score o' fights, 
 but they were out in the open. This thing creeps up 
 behind your back." 
 
 "The people in Italy ran away from it," said 
 Grote. 
 
 Jellett turned on him, his blue eyes angry. "I've 
 never run from anything," said he, "nor yet been 
 called a coward." 
 
 Grote's face was calm, and the other man's anger 
 vanished as quickly as it had come. He seemed held 
 by that quiet scrutiny of the smith, and stared for
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 a full minute. "Tell me what to do," he begged at 
 last. 
 
 The little half-amused curl of Grote's lips, often 
 remarked by Oliver Pipe, was his immediate answer. 
 The smith, apparently lost in thought, let his eyes 
 roam to the partly-opened door. "The ancients had 
 a saying I sometimes think of," he said, presently. 
 " 'Physician, cure thyself,' is what it comes to. I 
 am no wiser than the rest of you." 
 
 Jellett scratched his head. "I be no scholar," he 
 observed, "only a lad who can fight with his fists. 
 You know more than that, and you can think out 
 what a man might do." 
 
 Grote's gaze fell on him again, but the smith had 
 no answer to make him. Baffled, and somewhat under 
 the spell of the man's strange, silent manner, Jellett 
 left the smithy shortly afterwards. 
 
 That night Oliver Pipe encountered a new phase 
 in his assistant; the latter was talkative. In his 
 chair, his black eyes fixed on the fire, rambling 
 thoughts shaped themselves into words while Pipe 
 listened in admiration. His apprentice appeared a 
 man of experience, and one who was pondering deeply 
 the things that he had seen. Most of his talk had to 
 do with Italy, and some of it sent a chill to the old 
 man's blood. He had been in other cities than Milan 
 when they were sacked by the plague; he had found 
 nunneries turned into shameless shambles, he had 
 seen Princes of the Church fly from the beseeching
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 195 
 
 faces of their terror-stricken people, he had heard 
 noblemen give the order to kill any who came to their 
 gates for aid. "Such a high value they set on their 
 lives," said he ; "and their lives meant their lusts !" 
 
 Pipe stared. "Even the holy men?" he exclaimed. 
 
 Grote's lips smiled. "Even the holy men." He 
 brooded over the thought. "They had the message 
 in their Bible, 'He who saves his life shall lose it,' and 
 they shut themselves up where nothing ill could find 
 them save their own terrors," he added. 
 
 Pipe nodded. "But ill thoughts are better com- 
 pany than the plague," he suggested. 
 
 "You think so?" said Grote. "Then you haven't 
 tried both." 
 
 The next day Oliver Pipe's assistant went forth 
 early. He sought out a physician in the better part 
 of London, and learned from him what he could con- 
 cerning the treatment of the plague. Then he ven- 
 tured into the homes of illness, the poor hovels where 
 love tended at bedsides, though there was neither 
 knowledge nor resources to come to its aid. What 
 the great King of France had not known in his pal- 
 ace, what Cardinals of the Roman Church had been 
 denied, he found in the mean streets ; devotion that 
 took no thought of its own welfare, sacrifice that 
 had forgotten itself, love that never faltered these 
 were in the places where poor men and women battled 
 with disease. And he found more than this, he found 
 doctors who had not deserted the sick, but served
 
 196 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 them with every resource of their knowledge, and 
 nurses who went in at the forbidding doorways and 
 cheered and eased the households and interpreted the 
 physicians' orders to the ignorant minds inside. In 
 the home of Walt Butcher he met Sally Temple, a 
 quiet, low-voiced woman, to whom Walt's father and 
 mother now instinctively turned for help. 
 
 Sally, like Grote and Jellett, had watched and 
 waited until she could do so no longer. Then she 
 took it upon herself to help, where help was so much 
 needed. She too had learned from physicians what 
 she could do to safeguard herself, and carrying out 
 their instructions, went about among the sick in 
 Cheapside. Such work quickly begets at least a cer- 
 tain skill to perform it, and she grew capable and 
 wise and patient. Women left their sufferers to her 
 care while they snatched a little rest, and her smile 
 lightened many a sick-room. When Grote found her 
 beside little Walt's bed he showed no surprise, and 
 though from that day on they often met, neither 
 talked to the other except of their work. That kept 
 them busy enough in all conscience, and left little 
 room for any other thoughts. Between them they 
 brought Walt Butcher back to safety, for nursing, 
 abetted by such skill in physic as was to be had, 
 managed to avert some of the ravages even of the 
 plague. 
 
 Jellett begged Grote for a little of his knowledge, 
 and with this the prize-fighter also battled with the
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 197 
 
 common foe. He, too, often met Sally, and his love 
 leaped higher than ever as he saw the devotion and 
 courage that seemed to grow in her. She was vastly 
 more now than the spirited, beautiful girl he had 
 found by the Surrey roadside; she was showing a 
 strength hardly to be expected, although to Jellett 
 mysterious womankind had always owned a subtle 
 power of soul that men knew nothing of. 
 
 And indeed Sally was growing, as were many more 
 in distressed London. The woman was supplanting 
 the girl in her, although the girl would never alto- 
 gether vanish from her eyes. 
 
 Grote became a great figure among the frightened 
 people. He picked up knowledge until the physicians 
 knew little more than he, and his help was begged 
 by the needy in Cheapside. Men spoke of him with 
 quick-growing respect, and obeyed his commands 
 implicitly, putting reliance in him as in no one else 
 they knew. Sometimes Sally watched him with 
 thoughtful eyes, and as she did so she echoed the 
 common opinion. He had a strength she did not un- 
 derstand, but one that she found could be utterly 
 dominating. A word from him, and she did his bid- 
 ding. Only afterwards did she wonder at him. 
 
 For three long months the plague-cloud hung in 
 the air, and boats stopped plying on the river, and 
 shops were shut, and tongues whispered of only one 
 topic. The toll of the scourge was heavy through- 
 out London, but heaviest in those quarters where the
 
 198 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 poor lived cramped together. Sally and Grote and 
 Jellett were only a few of many scores of fighters, 
 for where need comes there also comes help, and 
 champions will be found even in the tangled forests 
 of ignorance. Sally grew white and her eyes were 
 always strained and tired, but she knew that others 
 needed her strength more than she needed it herself, 
 and gave it to them without hesitation. 
 
 "It's wonderful what some people can do," Oliver 
 Pipe said to Grote at one of those rare times when 
 they supped together. "There's Sally Temple; I've 
 always known she was a lass o' spirit, but from what 
 folks say she has brain and courage, too. She puts 
 her hand to a matter and she does it, so they tell me 
 like as if her hands were made for such work. 
 Who'd have thought it of pretty, willful Sally?" 
 
 Grote made no reply, except to nod his head a 
 little. 
 
 "She always could twist men about her fingers," 
 continued the old smith reflectively, "and now she's 
 showing that her finger be worth being twisted 
 round. She's no flutterby. Take my word, Conrad, 
 she's a woman as makes up for many a fickle wench." 
 
 "Whatever you have heard tell about her," said 
 Grote, "I can tell you ten times more and better 
 things," and he got up from the table and put on 
 his hat and went out to a house in the Court that 
 bore the red cross. 
 
 In spite of all the precautions that care dictated
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 199 
 
 Gilbert Stanes fell sick early in June. He com- 
 plained of a fever, and stayed in bed, and as the 
 course of the plague ran quick, Sally and Kate knew 
 by nightfall that he had taken it. Then began the 
 same scenes in their little dwelling that had already 
 been enacted in so many other homes. A physician 
 brought them physic, and left them to pit their nurs- 
 ing against the attack of their unseen enemy 
 
 Both women were tireless nurses. They divided 
 the twenty-four hours into watches, and day and 
 night either his mother or his aunt was at Gilbert's 
 bedside. His small room, at the rear of the house, 
 was lighted by a single window, and the greater part 
 of the daytime a curtain hung over it, to shield the 
 sick man's eyes. In that dim light, Kate, trained by 
 hard years of toil to few words and little show of 
 feeling, sat by her son's bed, anticipating his wants 
 as best she could, and watching him with eyes filled 
 with prayers. When she left, Sally took her place, 
 moving on tiptoe about the darkened room, or 
 crouching in the chair. Her cheeks were colorless, 
 her eyes were heavy-ringed, and only her loose-bound 
 hair still kept its beauty. She gave no time nor 
 thought to herself those days, for every consideration 
 was for her dear nephew. 
 
 Below-stairs Tom Jellett took up his post. When 
 he first heard that Gilbert was ill, he went at once to 
 Sally, and begged that he might be allowed to share 
 in the nursing.
 
 200 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Kate and I can tend him, Tom," she said. 
 "There's little work another can do." 
 
 "But I love him too, Sally," Jellett protested, "and 
 though I be heavy-handed I can serve him somehow. 
 Let me get the food, and fetch the water. You two'll 
 be so busy, someone must provide." 
 
 She looked at his earnest face, that had often 
 seemed so ingenuous to her as he had listened to 
 Gilbert's reading or his scholar's words. "You're 
 very kind, Tom," she said, gently, "but there are 
 others who need you more. Kate and I can manage." 
 
 His face made her feel almost ashamed of her 
 words, his blue eyes were as hurt as those of a child 
 unjustly scolded. "But it's Gilly who's sick, Sally," 
 he protested again. "Let me tend to the house below- 
 stairs." 
 
 So it came about that Tom Jellett took his station 
 there, and saw to it that the two women had no care 
 beyond that of the sick man. 
 
 What little physic, and knowledge gained in other 
 cases, could do, was done, but for the most part it 
 was a case of watch and pray. Nursing was of use, 
 but there were times when Gilbert seemed beyond the 
 reach of even such devoted tenders, and Kate and 
 Sally, knowing too well the story of the plague in 
 other homes, felt themselves impotent to help. They 
 dared not look at each other for the fear in their 
 faces, and the knowledge that they could give so 
 little aid.
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 201 
 
 When the illness was near its height Conrad Grote 
 came to the house. Sally was downstairs, making a 
 cup of tea to carry to her sister. Tom Jellett had 
 gone on an errand, and Kate was with her son. 
 
 "I know about Gilbert," said Grote, abruptly 
 walking into the room. "You must let me help you. 
 We've seen enough of this together for you to know 
 that the strength of two is better than one." 
 
 She remembered the many times when they had 
 stood together lately, and how he had seemed of un- 
 told value to the sick. She looked up at him, and 
 saw the strength in his drawn and haggard face. 
 "Gilly does need you," she said. "He's very sick. 
 Kate is with him now." Then, as he turned and went 
 up the stairs, she stared at the teapot in her hand, 
 wondering for the thousandth time what manner of 
 man this smith with the eyes of a Crusader really 
 was. 
 
 Grote went upstairs to Gilbert's bedroom, where 
 Kate sat watching by her son. He saw the forlorn 
 woman, hands knotted in her lap, brooding in dumb 
 despair. He had seen the same figure for days in 
 other houses, the pitiful bent toiler, father or mother, 
 too worn to hold any hope of happiness for them- 
 selves, watching the hope they had passed on to their 
 child flicker and fail. 
 
 Kate glanced about at the sound of the man's step. 
 She seemed too apathetic to care who might enter. 
 She looked again at her son, and Grote stole in and
 
 202 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 stood beside her, watching Gilbert. Presently he 
 poured some drops into a glass from a phial that 
 stood on a small table, and gestured to her to lift 
 Gilbert's head and give him the draught. She did 
 so. A little later he repeated the act; and after- 
 wards changed Gilbert's position in bed. When Sally 
 came to relieve her sister Grote stayed, and from 
 time to time ministered to the sick youth. 
 
 The weary hours dragged on, but now insensibly 
 both women felt a glimmering hope in the presence 
 of the stranger. He had control of the sick room. 
 He knew what should be done ; but more than that he 
 held up their courage with his own. Kate looked at 
 him more often, and something she saw in his deep, 
 considerate eyes each time cheered her. She felt that 
 he was more than a physician ; but she did not try to 
 understand his power. 
 
 Through one long night Sally and Grote stayed 
 in Gilbert's room together. Occasionally they whis- 
 pered, but for the most of the time they were silent. 
 The candle showed Sally the man's intent figure, sit- 
 ting like a soldier on guard, his face absorbed and 
 alert. She watched him covertly, shading her eyes 
 with her hand, but she did not once catch him watch- 
 ing her. 
 
 That long night's vigil brought the man and 
 woman close together. When the dawn came, and 
 Sally left the room, Grote went with her. In the 
 little hall she stopped a minute, leaning against the
 
 THE EVIL SEEDS IN CHEAPSIDE 203 
 
 wall. "You've been such a help," she said, "such a 
 help! I can never thank you enough for it." 
 "There's no need of words," he answered. "I some- 
 times think we understand better without them." 
 
 When the crisis came the next day it seemed to 
 Sally and Kate that it was Conrad Grote who saved 
 Gilbert for them. He stood above the bed and 
 fought the plague. Not for an instant of the long, 
 racking hours did he relinquish his battle. His will 
 rose supreme, and the sick man appeared only an 
 instrument on which he played. The women watched 
 his face, set in every line, his eyes absorbed with 
 Gilbert. The day passed, but he never relaxed his 
 vigilance ; the afternoon waned, and at last his tense 
 lips parted, and he nodded his head. They looked at 
 Gilbert. Some spirit told them that he had turned 
 the corner, and was coming back. Kate fell on her 
 knees, and Sally turned tear-filled eyes of gratitude 
 to Grote. 
 
 The following day they knew that Gilbert was 
 mending. In the evening Sally went downstairs to 
 the room in which Grote and Jellett were sitting. 
 She was white, but her eyes were very happy. Her 
 lips trembled a little as she looked at the weary face 
 of Grote. "It was you that saved him," she said. 
 "You and you only." Her voice shook. "Thank 
 God you came to the Lane." 
 
 Jellett nodded at Sally. "Aye, you're right," he 
 said. "He be every inch a man. I knew it when
 
 204 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 first I clapped my eyes on him at the smithy, and 
 what he's done hereabouts have proved it." 
 
 "Gilly's much better now," Sally continued. "Oh, 
 but you must be worn out with all this. Go home 
 and rest. We can watch him now." 
 
 Grote smiled. "I'm ready to take your orders," 
 he said, quietly. "I think I could sleep till Dooms- 
 day." 
 
 When the smith had gone, Jellett looked at Sally. 
 "He be a strange man," he said, musingly. "Some- 
 times I think he don't belong with us." 
 
 "And where does he belong, then, Tom?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He gestured his ignorance. "He might be a gen- 
 eral in the King's army, perhaps." 
 
 For the first time in days Sally laughed. "Oh, 
 Tom, your wits are surely a- wool-gathering ! A 
 blacksmith be a general in the army !" 
 
 "But he be no common blacksmith." Jellett rubbed 
 his head, perplexedly. "Come to think of it, Sally, I 
 think he be a most uncommon sort of man." 
 
 Sally was happy enough to agree with any state- 
 ment. "Well, Tom, I don't know but what you're 
 right," she said. "But whether he might be a general 
 or a smith doesn't matter ; he's saved Gilly, and that's 
 enough for now." 
 
 Before many more days the plague was loosing its 
 evil hold on London, which lay scarred like a fire- 
 swept forest.
 
 XV 
 
 SALLY'S PROBLEM 
 
 AS the long, hard, plague-burdened winter and 
 spring gave way reluctantly to the sun of sum- 
 mer the Pump Lane people came slowly back to some 
 relish for life. The sickness 'had run its course, and 
 though its toll had been tremendously heavy, and 
 strength and savings had been sapped to the break- 
 ing-point, the horizon looked a little clearer, and 
 there were a few blue patches in the sky. So men 
 and women and children trod the ill-paved Lane and 
 the worse-paved Court a little more cheerfully, 
 fathers and husbands and sons began to resume their 
 sessions in the tap-room of the Bear and Staff, 
 mothers and wives and daughters to throw open their 
 front windows, and leaning on their sills, to gossip 
 with their neighbors across the way, or critically re- 
 gard those who passed in the street. Like flowers 
 that will spring up afresh every Maytime, the old 
 familiar tricks of character revived, the dormant 
 Pharisee shrugged his cold shoulders, the shrew's 
 tongue clacked, and Mistress Kilgore renewed her 
 speculations on Sally Temple's future. But some 
 
 at least had changed and grown and ripened. 
 
 205
 
 206 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 A new character now stood forth boldly in that 
 little quarter of the town, and one that furnished 
 food for much speculation. His nearest associate, 
 old Oliver Pipe, was known to regard the man with 
 almost superstitious awe. He had confided to cro- 
 nies that Conrad Grote had lived in Italy, and had 
 seen things that would stand one's hair on end. He 
 was scholar as well as blacksmith, he had strange 
 notions, he might have met with Satan at some time, 
 and battled with him in the desert. These thoughts 
 spread abroad, and were twisted and exaggerated, 
 until the smithy became a Mecca for the curious. 
 
 All the Lane knew that Grote had helped half-a- 
 hundred households during the plague ; but he seemed 
 to disdain all thanks for what he had done. Grati- 
 tude drove him instantly into his shell, and he could 
 not manage to come out from it to meet other 
 people's humors. Therefore the neighbors still had 
 to view him from a distance, the older men and women 
 with sober eyes, the young men and girls with frankly 
 romantic curiosity. Now and then maidens shyly 
 hinted to their lovers that they had dreamed of the 
 tall, black-eyed smith, thinking thereby to rouse 
 sparks of jealousy. 
 
 Two men came frequently to the shop to see him 
 Gilbert Stanes, as his strength returned, and Tom 
 Jellett. With the young clerk Grote had the bond of 
 a scholar's knowledge, but with the prize-fighter 
 there was no such easily-understood common interest.
 
 SALLY'S PROBLEM 207 
 
 Yet Jellett dropped in very often, and sat on a bench 
 and watched the other man work. Sometimes he 
 would ask questions, but frequently he would keep 
 silent, seeming entirely satisfied to gaze at Grote. 
 Gilbert, on the other hand, usually talked ; and when 
 the invalid was well again it was not unusual for 
 Mr. Pipe of an evening to find his shop the scene of 
 a lengthy argument between the smith and the clerk, 
 while the Byberry Boy, with fascinated eyes, if 
 somewhat puzzled brow, turned his head from one 
 speaker to the other. 
 
 On a warm Sunday, when Gilbert could be out- 
 doors, Jellett procured a cart and horse, and drove 
 Kate and Sally and their convalescent over London 
 Bridge into Surrey. The trees were in full leaf, the 
 hedges a shimmer of deep green, and the sky that in- 
 describably sweet blue that tempts the lark to sing 
 his very best. The open world was a caress to Gil- 
 bert. He sat silent as they jogged into it, his eyes 
 dreaming over the stretching downs, his white face 
 perfectly content with the soft haze that the sun 
 called from gorse and heather. Even Kate felt the 
 beauty of the day, although it was Gilbert's face, 
 and not the sky's, that brought a softness to her eyes. 
 She had her arm behind him to shield him from the 
 jolts, and her hand held his. In front sat Sally, be- 
 side Jellett, her hat in her lap, her face and eyes 
 beginning again to look as fresh and smiling as 
 anything Surrey could show.
 
 208 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 They came to an open meadow beside a brook, with 
 a lane running down one side of it. Sally chose the 
 place for their camp, and Jellett drove to some wil- 
 lows near the bank. They climbed out of the cart, 
 and with the water at their feet, and the trunk of a 
 tree for Gilbert's back, they ate the luncheon Kate 
 and Sally had prepared. Afterwards Gilbert and his 
 mother sat there, while Sally and Jellett started to 
 follow the course of the stream. 
 
 An old stone bridge checked their progress after 
 a time, and Sally, throwing her cloak on the grass, 
 sat down. Jellett stretched himself beside her. 
 "Oh," said he, "that turf's rarely comfortable! I 
 wasn't made for London's stones." 
 
 Sally regarded him complacently. "No, Tom, it's 
 the open road you should have, the free road where 
 we first met. Do you mind the day when you came 
 singing down the highroad, bread and cheese in the 
 bundle on your stick, and found me sitting there 
 alone?" 
 
 "Do I?" said he, sitting up eagerly. "You, with 
 your feet so tired, running away from that Mar- 
 quis!" 
 
 "You were very kind to me, Tom I had a wild 
 man to deal with." 
 
 "You be right there, Sally. He was a wild man ; 
 wild to fight me with fists when he knew naught about 
 it." 
 
 The girl nodded lightly to the brook ; but when she
 
 SALLY'S PROBLEM 209 
 
 looked at Jellett her face was thoughtful. "He was 
 a man bent on having his way, no matter what stood 
 between." 
 
 "Women should mate with their likes, and men 
 too," said Jellett, his eyes on the water. 
 
 Now Sally, who had had to be serious so long, 
 could no more resist the lure of mischief than a cat 
 can resist cream. She pouted, and her eyelashes 
 flickered dangerously. "I heard tell of a lady, a 
 Countess of Kew, who ran away with a simple fight- 
 ing man ; and they were happy." 
 
 "Did you so? Well, mayhap a fighting man be 
 different. Oh, Sally, dear, come down the road with 
 me! I can win a living, will buy you gowns, and 
 never a word on my tongue but love for you. How I 
 would fight, my dear! I could knock out a dozen 
 like old Bombardier. I be a very strong man, Sally ; 
 fit to take care of you." 
 
 She looked at his powerful chest and shoulders, 
 his frank face, and clear blue eyes. She compared 
 him to the gentlemen she met about the theatre, and 
 he had the advantage over all of them. She thought 
 of Elihu Knott and the other youths of the Lane, 
 sallow-faced already, who had once sought her. He 
 was a better mate for her than any of them, and she 
 imagined that she understood how it was that the 
 great lady had given herself to the prize-fighter for 
 joy in his simple strength. 
 
 "Oh, Sally, come with me !" he begged.
 
 210 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 She clasped her hands in her lap, and looked down. 
 "Oh, Tom " she said ; and stopped. 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "I don't know," sighed Sally. "Something tells 
 me not to." 
 
 "What?" he demanded, huskily. 
 
 She shook her head. "I don't love you enough it 
 must be that. And yet I'm ever so fond of you." 
 
 The big fellow gazed at her adoringly, while Sally 
 trembled, wondering if he would seize her in his arms. 
 If he should she did not know what she would do, it 
 might take so little to decide her. He sat still, how- 
 ever, having no notion of how the scales were trem- 
 bling, and his silence gave her a respite. "Tom, dear, 
 you're a very fine man, and a lovable one too," she 
 said, ultimately. "The trouble's all with me. I'm 
 like a candle-light, blowing a different way in every 
 breeze. And some day, I daresay, I'll be sorry 
 for it." 
 
 "You're so lovely, Sally, a man don't care what 
 you do." 
 
 She smiled when could Sally Temple ever fail to 
 smile at such a speech? but she clasped her hands 
 tighter, and shook her head. "Yes, it does matter. 
 Some day I might be sorry ; and if I give my heart 
 to the wrong man, where will I be then ?" 
 
 Jellett stared at the back of his hand, that was 
 pressed against his thigh. "If you'd make a try at 
 it with me, Sally?" he said.
 
 SALLY'S PROBLEM 
 
 "And break your heart when it failed? Perhaps 
 some day another lad would come down the road, 
 singing a new tune, and foolish me would listen 
 just like the woman who left her lord for the fighter. 
 It's only someone who takes every bit of my heart 
 can hold me, Tom. I know how it would be, giving 
 pieces." 
 
 She ventured to look at him. "A lad who travels 
 like you must see a hundred pretty girls in a twelve- 
 month. Almost any of them is better than I. I'm 
 so strange even to myself." 
 
 His steady eyes turned to hers. "You be you," 
 he stated, "and if I married a dozen others the face 
 of you would come between my wife and me. That's 
 the fact, Sally. I'd be forever remembering your 
 eyes." 
 
 "I'm sorry, Tom," she said, truthfully, for never 
 had she met with greater sincerity. "If I were only 
 different it might be but I'm such a wayward wo- 
 man. You'll find someone much better." 
 
 She felt unkind and hard, he was so gentle and 
 considerate with her. A silence fell between them, 
 broken only by the rippling brook. At last Jellett 
 picked up a stone, and threw it into the water. "I'm 
 such a fool!" he cried, passionately. 
 
 "And I too," echoed Sally. 
 
 "I'm not blaming you," he said. "I'm blaming 
 my own wits." 
 
 "Perhaps if you knew what I think of Sally
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Temple sometimes," said she, "you'd be ashamed to 
 keep her company." She laughed constrainedly. 
 "Let's go back to Kate and Gilly; we both think 
 well of them, at any rate." 
 
 It was a day out of fairyland to Gilbert and his 
 mother, and their calm, rested faces spoke reassur- 
 ingly to Sally. Gilbert, bundled up, his eyes on the 
 trees that lined the meadow across the brook, was 
 talking, while Kate appeared to listen. As usual, it 
 was a monologue; but neither the speaker nor the 
 listener seemed the less pleased for that. 
 
 Jellett drove them home before sunset, and left 
 the three at their door. As he handed Sally down from 
 her seat, she felt his strong arm tremble, and dared 
 not look in his face. But his voice spoke reassur- 
 ingly in her ear. "You be a good lass, Sally. Don't 
 you mind for me," he whispered. 
 
 "Thank you, Tom," she answered, with a squeeze 
 of the hand; and turned to the front door. 
 
 Soon after their early supper Gilbert went up- 
 stairs to bed. When she had helped Kate with the 
 evening chores, Sally stood in the open doorway, 
 looking into the street. Already the twilight was 
 fading. There were people moving about, and 
 sounds, but she saw and heard them indistinctly. 
 The old unnamable longing of summer was in her 
 blood, the craving for life that is as much pain as 
 pleasure. A year ago her thoughts would have 
 turned to Vauxhall Gardens, to her comrades of the
 
 SALLY'S PROBLEM 
 
 theatre, or her admirers of the other end of town ; 
 those who would gladly entertain her for the pleas- 
 ure her company gave them. But a change had come 
 over her, and she could not understand the new flow 
 of her thoughts. 
 
 Presently she climbed the stairs, and knocked at 
 Gilbert's door. He called to her to come in. His 
 room was dark, but the little window at the rear 
 framed a patch of star-embroidered sky. 
 
 "You're not sleepy, Gilly ?" she asked ; and when he 
 assured her that he was not, she sat down at the win- 
 dow. "I'm restless," she said, "and want to talk my 
 thoughts out." There was a silence ; and then, some- 
 what hurriedly, she began. "Gilly, do you remember 
 the night before I went to Cumnor Castle? How we 
 talked by the window? How I told you I could out- 
 face the Marquis or any man alive? It seems years 
 ago. Well, Gilly, it was true enough then, I was 
 free and brave and self-reliant as could be. I was 
 so sure of myself. But I'm not so sure of my- 
 self now. I'm growing afraid, afraid of so many 
 different things." 
 
 "Everyone talks of how brave and fine you've 
 been, dear," said her nephew. 
 
 She went on, unheeding. "Tom asked me to marry 
 him to-day oh, he's done it before there's no se- 
 cret what he's staying here for. I don't care for 
 him enough; and yet, Gilly, he seems a rock of 
 refuge. It's just as you said about Rob Sloane and
 
 214 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 Stephen Tamworth, honest, poor men who work, 
 only Tom is truer and stronger than they. I'd never 
 be jealous of Tom, he'd be my own man always, and 
 only mine. But I couldn't say yes to Tom." 
 
 Gilbert drew himself up in bed, and peered at the 
 figure by the window. "Is there some other man, 
 Sally?" he asked in his quiet voice. 
 
 Sally's face was turned away from him, but he 
 could see that she shook her head. "No, no. But I 
 can feel there might be a different man, and he 
 might make me most unhappy, Gilly ; and I couldn't 
 protect myself from him." 
 
 She did not care whether Gilbert spoke or not ; 
 and, though he cast about for advice, he could find 
 none to fit the occasion. She rested her elbow on 
 the sill, and watched the stars. For some reason 
 her thoughts went back to a night when she had 
 watched them from the hall at Cumnor. She could 
 remember how she had trembled when the Marquis 
 stood beside her. "Perhaps it's like a battle, after all 
 perhaps that's what love between man and woman 
 is," she said, "and it's man who wins in the 'end." 
 She caught her hands together. "Or is it woman 
 who wins and doesn't know it?" 
 
 Gilbert smiled. "You will never deceive yourself, 
 dear," he said. "You are too true for that." 
 
 Sally's eyes looked defiantly at the stars as her 
 thoughts wrestled with her problems. 
 
 Presently she rose, and kissed Gilbert good-night.
 
 SALLY'S PROBLEM 215 
 
 She went to her own room, and to bed, preoccupied 
 and serious. The moon peeped into her chamber, 
 and, as if to reassure her, sent a silver beam across 
 her coverlet.
 
 XVI 
 
 A LANDLORD VISITS HIS TENANTS 
 
 TWO men ventured into Pump Lane a few days 
 later, and walked its length with keenly scrutiniz- 
 ing eyes. The one was short, slight, and dark, with 
 an inquisitive cast of countenance; the other reddish 
 of face, and plethoric of habit. "It's been a bad 
 winter, what with the cold and the plague," said the 
 first, "and the rents are very difficult collecting." 
 "What a vile sty it is!" answered the other. "It 
 might almost be better to burn the place down, and 
 build afresh. You say the pox was bad here? What 
 a pity it didn't clean out the kennels for me !" 
 
 "Aye, the plague was bad, and the cold was bad, 
 and food was high as St. Paul's Cathedral. So the 
 rascals say when my men go for the rents." 
 
 "Damme, Talbot, screw it out of them! I'll not 
 have a man Jack living on my land a day without 
 pay for it! Do you hear me?" 
 
 The short man could not help but hear, as the 
 other shouted all his words. "As you say, your 
 Grace, as you say," he replied, nodding his head, and 
 
 throwing out his hands. 
 
 216
 
 LANDLORD VISITS HIS TENANTS 217 
 
 The two men appraised the houses as they went 
 along, the reddish one listening to the other's state- 
 ments of facts and figures. At last they came to the 
 open door of Pipe's smithy, and the ring of hammer 
 on anvil met their ears. "Does the smith yield me a 
 profit?" asked the burly man. "A scant one," an- 
 swered Talbot. "He's an old man, and I've been 
 thinking that perhaps we'd best turn him out." 
 
 The questioner walked in at the door, and found a 
 young man standing over the anvil. "Not so very 
 old, Talbot," said he, pointing at the workman. 
 
 Talbot looked puzzled. "Who are you?" he de- 
 manded of the smith. 
 
 The latter stopped his hammering. "My name is 
 Grote," he answered. 
 
 Talbot wrinkled his brow, as if trying to place the 
 man. "Oh, aye, I remember now. Grote aye, they 
 told me about you. You nursed some of the plague- 
 ridden." 
 
 "You've plenty of work, fellow?" inquired the red- 
 dish man abruptly. 
 
 Grote shrugged his shoulders. He did not appear 
 to care for this questioning. 
 
 "How much do you earn in a week?" asked the 
 same man. 
 
 "That's Oliver Pipe's affair," said Grote. 
 
 The inquisitor shot him an angry glance, as if on 
 his part he did not relish the workman's independent 
 attitude. He tapped his stick impatiently against
 
 218 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 the smithy floor. "If my opinion was asked, Tal- 
 bot," said he, "I should say this fellow had a churlish 
 tongue." 
 
 The smith dropped his hammer on the anvil, and 
 his fingers took a grip at the edges of his leather 
 apron. "But your opinion's neither asked nor 
 wanted," said he, his brows beetling. "If you've 
 work to be done, name it ; if not, yon's the door." 
 
 The small man gasped; the other grew purplish, 
 and made a curious sucking sound in his throat. His 
 stick stopped tapping; he raised it, and leveling it 
 at the smith, cried, "You crop-eared rascal, you !" 
 
 "One moment," interposed Talbot, stepping for- 
 ward. "He doesn't know who you are. Smith, you 
 are speaking to his Grace the Duke of Chatto. His 
 Grace owns all this part of town." He grinned 
 maliciously, looking as if he expected Grote to fall 
 on his knees and grovel. 
 
 Grote, however, did nothing of the sort, but con- 
 tinued to stare at the reddish man with level eyes. 
 
 "Have you found your manners, man?" thun- 
 dered the Duke ; and as Grote remained silent, "Have 
 you lost your tongue, too?" he demanded. 
 
 The smith smiled at him, although not amiably. 
 "I've been a long time in Italy," he said, "and so am 
 unfamiliar with the look of your English nobles. 
 But I think I shall remember his Grace the Duke of 
 Chatto." 
 
 "What do you mean, fellow?" exploded the Duke.
 
 LANDLORD VISITS HIS TENANTS 219 
 
 "What I say ; no more nor less." 
 
 His Grace stared, and Talbot, his agent, stared. 
 Then the Duke, who had a certain store of wisdom, 
 swung about on his heel. "It's idle talking to fools," 
 he said ; and marched out of the smithy. 
 
 It was an exceedingly unpleasant predicament for 
 Talbot, who had already found the Duke in no very 
 amiable humor that morning, and who now saw him 
 flouted by a common blacksmith. "Old Pipe shall 
 pay well for this, your Grace," said he, apologetic- 
 ally. "I'll add a shilling a week to his rent. Such 
 a surly rascal as that Grote I've never clapped eyes 
 on before !" 
 
 The Duke had stopped in the Court, and was 
 taking snuff, which operation made him appear even 
 less attractive than usual. "Damme, Talbot, it's for- 
 tunate the people aren't all like him," he said sourly ; 
 "he stood up to me like a piece of cannon." 
 
 "It was monstrous, your Grace, monstrous !" said 
 the agent, spreading out his hands. 
 
 The Duke dropped his snuff-box into the pocket of 
 his coat, and bored his walking-stick into the muddy 
 street. "In the old days I might have had him 
 whipped out of town at the tail of a cart," he ob- 
 served; "but the good old days are gone. The 
 people have too many liberties, Talbot ; devilish more 
 liberty than's good for 'em!" 
 
 "They have, your Grace ; it's what I always say," 
 agreed the small man, who, as he took his short,
 
 220 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 mincing steps beside the Duke, resembled a staidly- 
 hopping blackbird. 
 
 They were retracing their passage through the 
 Lane, when, half-way down, his Grace of Chatto 
 stopped somewhat abruptly. "Who's the girl?" said 
 he, digging the point of his left elbow into his 
 agent's arm. 
 
 The agent saw two women standing in front of 
 Mistress Kilgore's door; but he had no difficulty in 
 making out which one it was that his noble patron 
 meant. "That," said he, in his most pleasant, pur- 
 ring tones, "is Sally Temple. Your Grace may 
 have heard of her?" 
 
 "No. Why should I?" 
 
 "She plays in the theatre at Drury Lane." 
 
 "Ah ?" said the Duke ; and examined the girl more 
 closely. "Now, she is a pretty creature, Talbot," 
 he continued. "None of your coarse London type, 
 but with a deuced trim figure. Yet she won't snap in 
 two like some ladies I know. Diana what a Diana 
 she'd make for a painter, eh, Talbot? Running 
 through the wood, a stag beside her, hair blown 
 about I've some of 'em at Chatto House. She's 
 a devilish pretty creature, Talbot." 
 
 No wonder the agent looked pleased at the first 
 enthusiasm his noble patron had shown that day. 
 "She's a credit indeed to Pump Lane, your Grace," 
 said he, eagerly. 
 
 "I'll walk by, and look at her more closely," said
 
 LANDLORD VISITS HIS TENANTS 
 
 the suspicious nobleman ; and proceeded down the 
 middle of the way. 
 
 The two women stopped talking, and glanced at 
 the men. Both Sally and Mistress Kilgore knew 
 Nicholas Talbot by sight, and it was very evident 
 to them that his companion was a gentleman. There- 
 fore they curtsied, and drew a little to one side. 
 Sally, however, found herself so frankly stared at 
 by the reddish gentleman that she blushed, and then 
 bit her lip for having done so. 
 
 When the two men had come to the end of the 
 Lane the Duke stopped again, and nudged his agent. 
 The latter was struck with the peculiar vividness of 
 his Grace's yellow-green eyes. "She's better near 
 than far, Talbot," said the Duke, rapping his walk- 
 ing-stick against the other's leg. "Egad, eyes, hair, 
 and color superfine! Did you note her color when 
 I ogled her?" 
 
 "A beautiful creature, my lord," agreed the time- 
 serving Talbot. 
 
 "And how came such beauty into Pump Lane?" 
 quoth the Duke. "And why should it stay here? On 
 my word, Talbot, I've not seen such eyes since I was 
 at Versailles five years ago; no, nor then, come to 
 think of it, for when an English girl is pretty she 
 outshines any of those French wenches. Damme, 
 she does, I tell you, Talbot !" 
 
 "Your Grace is always patriotic," declared the 
 agent, humbly.
 
 222 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "It's a fact, Talbot, a fact," snapped the Duke. 
 "What's her name again?" He rapped the little 
 man on the shin. 
 
 "Sally Temple, your Grace." 
 
 "And she plays at the theatre sometimes, eh? I 
 shall have my man keep an eye on the playbills. 
 She's spoilt in Pump Lane, Talbot. Egad, what 
 eyes ! Silks for pretty Sally, and a little nest not so 
 far from Chatto House." 
 
 Then an unpleasant thought occurred to him. 
 "Has she any lovers?" 
 
 "I'm not kept informed, your Grace; but if she 
 has " The agent's manner only too clearly indi- 
 cated that the Duke had nothing to fear from any 
 possible rivals. 
 
 "Keep an eye on her for me," commanded the 
 Duke; and turned into the high street. Talbot ac- 
 companied him to his waiting coach, and helped him 
 in. The little man watched the coach drive off, and 
 stood, chuckling to himself. By accident he had 
 found something that might help him to keep his 
 patron's favor in spite of the poor rents. 
 
 If the noble Duke had planted one sort of seed in 
 his agent's mind that day, he had sowed quite another 
 in the mind of the blacksmith. Gilbert learned this 
 when he claimed his favorite seat in the smithy that 
 night, and talked with his friend. The clerk's main 
 object had by now come to be the drawing out of 
 Grote, for when he succeeded in that he was certain
 
 LANDLORD VISITS HIS TENANTS 223 
 
 to hear a stream of curious facts, strange opinions, 
 and most unusual conclusions, that were more stir- 
 ring to him than any book. 
 
 This night, however, the smith spoke without urg- 
 ing. "I had an honor paid me this noon," said he. 
 "The Duke of Chatto came into the smithy. Have 
 you ever seen him?" 
 
 Gilbert shook his head. 
 
 "How shall I draw him for you?" went on Grote, 
 his eyes ruminating. "Not so fat as a hog, yet pig- 
 like ; not so sleek as tallow, yet very smooth. Small- 
 eyed, loose-lipped, a rake, a usurer, and a bully, if 
 ever I've seen one." 
 
 Gilbert looked about nervously. "Not too loud, 
 Conrad," said he. "His Grace owns all this place." 
 
 "There's none to hear," Girote reassured him, 
 with a smile. "Even old Oliver's away." 
 
 "And what did he want?" asked Gilbert. 
 
 "I think he was making sure that his good agent 
 was taxing the people enough." 
 
 "He's screwed the last farthing out of us al- 
 ready." 
 
 "Aye, that his Grace's bread may be sweet and 
 fine; that he may wear his satins, and tempt his 
 palate, and deck out his women. I know the working 
 of it; oh, I've seen his Grace before, the Duke of 
 This, and the Count of That, and the Prince of 
 T'other. A noble crew, our masters, Gilbert; be 
 thankful your farthings help to feed them!"
 
 224. THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "He's made you too bitter, Conrad. It isn't wise 
 to think of the difference between us." 
 
 Grote stroked his chin with his hand in his old 
 habit. "What do you think of our nobles yourself?" 
 he asked. 
 
 Gilbert leaned forward in his chair. "I've no love 
 for them," he said, his voice lowered. "They take 
 whatever they want, and give nothing in return. 
 They're not even good fighting men any longer. 
 Selfish, cunning, cruel they are, Conrad. I'll tell you 
 something. It's Sally's story ; but I can trust you 
 with it. She went, to help some gentlefolk, to the 
 house of one of these nobles, the Marquis of Rom- 
 sey." 
 
 "Yes," said Grote, shielding his eyes with his hand. 
 
 "This Marquis was a tyrant, mean, and cold, and 
 bitter. She's told me all about him. He thought she 
 was his ward, and wanted to marry her ; he would 
 have driven her into doing it; and once she was his 
 he would have left her alone to eat out her heart in 
 chagrin. With such a master, what chance would 
 Sally have had? She'd have been only a pretty 
 flower in his garden ; nothing more. Thank God she 
 got away !" 
 
 Grote shifted in his seat, but kept his face hidden. 
 
 "For that Marquis was a beast," continued Gil- 
 bert. "He was used to taking whatever he wanted, 
 whether it was a girl or a poor man's farm. He 
 must have whatever he fancied; and so it is with
 
 LANDLORD VISITS HIS TENANTS 225 
 
 all of the nobles, they're just beasts of prey, 
 Conrad." 
 
 "And if this Marquis had married her, you think 
 it would have made small difference to him?" 
 
 "There was no love between them. How could 
 there be, between Sally and such a creature?" 
 
 "How could there be?" echoed Grote. "Honesty on 
 the one side, and deviltry on the other; the strains 
 will not mix." He rose, and paced between the door 
 and his bench. "Yes, Sally was fortunate to escape 
 that man," said he. "It would have been an ill fate 
 for such a woman as she." 
 
 "You think well of her, don't you, Conrad?" Gil- 
 bert queried eagerly. 
 
 The smith's face was away from Gilbert, but the 
 latter could not doubt the sincerity of his words. 
 "I think her as fine a woman as God ever made," 
 said he, "as fine as she is beautiful." 
 
 The clerk's face brightened. He sat back and 
 clasped his hands behind his head. "So now you 
 have my feeling on our masters," said he. "My 
 Marquis of Romsey to your Duke of Chatto both 
 the same breed." 
 
 "The same breed," agreed Grote. Then, to Gil- 
 bert's great surprise, Grote turned suddenly, and 
 stared at him with searching eyes. "Can any good 
 come out of such a crew ?" he demanded. "Can black 
 ever turn white or even gray?" 
 
 "Not the black Marquis of Romsey, at least,"
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 answered Gilbert, with a half -laugh. " 'There's no 
 good in him,' said Sally; and she's not over-hard in 
 judging men." 
 
 Grote drew away, and stood with folded arms and 
 head a trifle bent. "It's said the leopard cannot 
 change his spots," said he, "so why the man change 
 the lusts that were born in him? Yet the hottest- 
 blooded man I ever knew in Italy became a hermit 
 in the desert." 
 
 "You have strange moods," said Gilbert. 
 
 The smith looked up. "Black moods, wild moods ! 
 It's a bitter, savage fight ! But I will beat them yet, 
 I'll shake the poison out of them, I'll drive the herd 
 of sickened swine into the sea! Mark my words, 
 Gilbert, they shall do my bidding!" 
 
 Suddenly he was a priest exorcising devils, a chief- 
 tain routing traitors ; such for the moment was the 
 face and figure of Conrad Grote the smith. The 
 clerk could not understand him; but was immensely 
 shaken. He gazed spellbound, until the sudden pas- 
 sion dropped from the man's face, and Grote stood 
 pale and tremulous before him. 
 
 Some of the wonder was still in Gilbert's mind 
 when he went home, and found Sally yet astir. 
 "What a strange man Conrad is!" said he. "If he 
 weren't such a good man, I'd think he had some evil 
 on his conscience." 
 
 Sally smiled. "How much you do like him, Gilly !" 
 
 "Why, so I do ; though he puzzles me. Have you
 
 LANDLORD VISITS HIS TENANTS 227 
 
 ever felt the strangeness in him, like a wild animal 
 kept in leash?" 
 
 "Yes," admitted Sally. She wrinkled her brows 
 at some thought of her own, and then, suddenly turn- 
 ing, put her hands on her nephew's shoulders, and 
 kissed him. "Don't have too much to do with wild 
 animals, dear," she said ; "they bring unhappiness ;" 
 and was gone before he could ask what she meant.
 
 XVII 
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 
 
 T"*HE theatres of London opened their doors for 
 the first time since the plague in the early sum- 
 mer, and near the end of June George Willis, of 
 Drury Lane, brought Sally a commission to appear 
 at that famous playhouse, and act a leading role in 
 a new drama. The play-going public, more eager 
 for pleasure than ever since its banishment, was 
 heartily glad to see her again, and gentlemen eyed 
 her through their quizzing-glasses, while ladies re- 
 called all the spicy bits of gossip that had ever been 
 whispered concerning the young woman. Like a star 
 of a steady orbit that is certain to delight the eye, 
 Sally swam into the town sky, and glowed and 
 shone there. As a year before, so now her name was 
 bruited about, and, as was the custom among her 
 circle of acquaintances, she fell again into the way 
 of being seen in Vauxhall Gardens on pleasant after- 
 noons. 
 
 It was in that delightful enclosure that Sir John 
 Gorham happened to encounter Charles Tree one 
 
 day in July. ''Well, well, Charlie," exclaimed the 
 
 228
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 229 
 
 baronet, giving the other a hearty grasp of the hand, 
 "back from France at last? Egad, your honeymoon 
 has run to a year of honey! And how is the Lady 
 Pam?" 
 
 "Blooming," said Charles. "We stop with my 
 aunt in Curzon Street." 
 
 "And she does not require you to hold her hand 
 all day? Charles, should you be gadding about on 
 pleasure without her? Do you mind it was only a 
 year ago your coach broke down in the road, and we 
 found you sitting under the laburnum?" 
 
 "Indeed I do," Charles replied. 
 
 Sir John grinned. "Dorset and Verney and I. 
 The poor little Earl, he's just married Lady Ara- 
 minta Gosling his mother drove him to it while they 
 were in Yorkshire their estates touch. Verney's 
 in Naples ; and only I remain." 
 
 "And you found Mistress Temple for me here," 
 continued Charles, "and she saved the day for Pam 
 and me." 
 
 "So she did. Has the dragon ever relented to 
 you?" 
 
 "Curious thing," pondered Charles. "Romsey 
 disappeared a few months later. He left word he 
 was going back to Italy, being tired of life at Cum- 
 nor." 
 
 "You should have seen how Sally baited him there ! 
 He didn't find life tiresome while she stayed. What 
 doings there were at Cumnor ! And what a battle he
 
 230 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 put up with a fighting-man all on account of her!" 
 Sir John's eyes gleamed at the recollection. 
 
 "How is the brave girl?" asked Charles. 
 
 Sir John shook his head, while he twirled his light 
 malacca walking-stick. "I see very little of her. 
 Some say she's prettier than ever. I caught a 
 glimpse of her last week. But there's a story for- 
 ward " Sir John shook his head, regretfully. 
 
 "What story?" 
 
 "A great ship o' the line is chasing our little pin- 
 nace, a great ship that can bring many guns to 
 bear." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "No other than his Grace of Chatto, the old Red 
 Fox. And what can any girl do with him?" 
 
 "It's not fair sport," protested Charles. 
 
 "When did the Duke ever play fair?" 
 
 Charles Tree looked across at the Mall. "I de- 
 clare I think I see Mistress Temple now," said he; 
 and he pointed. 
 
 Sir John followed his finger. "And with Chatto, 
 too ! Good-by, Sally Temple. May the Saints de- 
 fend you!" 
 
 The Duke of Chatto was evidently regarded as a 
 privileged potentate, for none of the unattached men 
 in the Gardens joined Sally and him, although the 
 girl had never looked more lovely, nor carried herself 
 with a more alluring grace. 
 
 "Mistress Temple," the Duke was saying to her,
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 231 
 
 "I shall make it my affair to see that your next rdle 
 at Drury Lane is more worthy of your talents. You 
 should hold the center of the stage all the time. 
 They treat you very badly." 
 
 "If that's your opinion," she said, "I wish you 
 were the manager." 
 
 Chatto's eyes were like a fox-terrier's as he watched 
 her face. "From the hour I saw you first at the 
 theatre," said he, "I've had no thought of any other 
 woman." 
 
 "Oh, how can I believe that!" 
 
 "You must," said he, very positively ; "and much 
 more, too ! Prove it by asking any gift of me." 
 
 She looked at him sidewise, and his reddish face 
 grew still more sanguine. She was teasing him, and 
 if there was one thing the Duke could not withstand, 
 it was being teased by a pretty woman. 
 
 "Sally," he said, inflecting his voice to a cajoling 
 murmur, "ask anything of me; I can't resist you." 
 
 There were a great many things she might have 
 asked him for, such as the free rental of her sister's 
 house in the Lane, or a cloak of ermine, or even a 
 coach-and-four, with a stable to keep it in. This 
 new admirer of hers was not only Duke of Chatto, 
 and Marquis of Quorn, and Viscount of Foljambe, 
 but so rich that he could have bought the bigger half 
 of London for a country-seat. It was intoxicating 
 just to think of such wealth as his. 
 
 "Ask anything I want?" said Sally, with her
 
 232 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 lashes lowered. "Then, pray, who was the last woman 
 you made that offer to?" 
 
 "On my word " began his Grace. 
 
 "For sure you must have made that offer before 
 to know how tempting it sounds. And what did she 
 take? And where is the lady now? You see I would 
 like to know what happens to them." She flashed 
 a glance at his baffled face. 
 
 "You treat me unfairly," said he. "I place my- 
 self at your feet; and you make sport of me." 
 
 "That's the way of the world," said Sally, "And 
 see, you refuse my very first request." 
 
 The Duke gnawed his under-lip ; he was not mak- 
 ing his customary progress. Yet when he consid- 
 ered the situation it looked simple enough ; an unpro- 
 tected quarry running before him, to be tired out 
 and overtaken when he would. 
 
 But he had to do with a girl who was much wiser 
 than he thought. Sally, so far in her experience, 
 had kept her head where gentlemen were concerned, 
 and the Duke of Chatto, though the noblest, was by 
 no means the first of his breed she had met. She 
 knew his strength and his weakness, she had meas- 
 ured him at an early meeting, and she had trust 
 enough in herself to face him fairly. 
 
 It was well she had confidence, for his Grace was 
 a persistent suitor. Whenever she left the Lane he 
 was likely to appear ; he grew to be a constant votary 
 of the theatre; he filled Sally's dressing-room at
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 233 
 
 Drury Lane with the choicest blooms from his own 
 gardens ; he tried to keep himself continually before 
 her. When the Duke came on the scene, all others 
 deserted Sally ; he was too great a man to have his 
 wishes thwarted in any particular ; and neither actor 
 nor actress, lordling nor fop, cared to brave the 
 anger of his eye. To tell the truth, most of the 
 theatre and the world that mixed with it were im- 
 mensely edified at the pursuit. Sally was lucky to 
 have caught such a prize, they said; and they only 
 hoped that she would bleed him to the Queen's taste. 
 Gossip had it that his Grace's wife, who had left 
 Chatto House three months after her marriage, and 
 lived in a mansion of her own, had remarked to an 
 intimate friend, "I hope the little hussy asks him 
 for the family jewels. Chatto's fool enough to try 
 to give them to her !" It was noticed, however, that 
 no new jewels adorned the pretty actress. 
 
 Then came the Duke's invitation to several of the 
 Drury Lane company to sup with him one Sunday 
 night at his villa at Richmond. Sally assured her- 
 self that three other girls were going, before she 
 said she would be glad to make one of the party. On 
 Sunday evening his Grace's coach rolled her out 
 from London. 
 
 The supper was served in a charming room, with 
 long French windows opening on to a sloping lawn 
 that stretched to the Thames. The silver reaches of 
 the river glistened in the moonlight, and the air was
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 spiced with flowers. The gardens were a delight to 
 the town-girls, and in so far as it could the Duke's 
 supper fitly complemented the brilliant beauty of the 
 night. 
 
 His Grace was in a humorous mood, and his guests 
 did their best to keep him in it. The men, young 
 fashionables living on the outskirts of Bohemia, ap- 
 plauded his wit, while they drank abundantly of his 
 famous claret. The girls discreetly left the post of 
 honor to Sally, upon whom the Duke lavished pro- 
 fuse attentions, and whose face was the constant 
 lodestone of his eyes. 
 
 Supper ended, the Duke proposed that they should 
 explore his grounds. He drew Sally down toward 
 the river, talking more eloquently than ever, as the 
 fragrance of his wines, his flowers, and his hope of 
 success mounted to his head. He found her a seat, 
 with a wide, appealing view, and from his position 
 beside her assailed her with all the wiles of his long 
 experience in such encounters. 
 
 It was a night specially made for yielding to ro- 
 mance, and Sally was inclined to be patient with any 
 Romeo. Her eyes drank in the silver-scattered water, 
 the silver-star-strewn sky, and she sighed for very 
 pleasure in them. But when she listened to the man 
 beside her she heard only the craft of the beast in 
 his honeyed phrasings, and clasped her hands tightly 
 in her lap and kept on guard. 
 
 She thought she must have hearkened to that
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 235 
 
 honeyed tongue for hours, and paid no heed to 
 what it said. She overlooked who he was, and 
 weighed him, man for man, against the worst knave 
 in Pump Lane, and found the knave the better crea- 
 ture. Yet she felt sure enough of herself to endure 
 it, although the enchantment of the night was broken 
 like a cracked bell by the Duke's tributes to her 
 charms. 
 
 She rose at last, half regretful to leave such a 
 lovely scene, half wild to fly from it. A white scarf, 
 that was her only headdress, had slipped from her 
 hair, and hung from her shoulders. She crossed 
 the grass with a light, springing tread. "You are 
 Diana indeed," murmured the Duke at her side; 
 "I always think of you so; incomparably fair and 
 free, sweet as a summer night, and stabbing us with 
 your smiles. Some day I will have a sculptor catch 
 you, so I can keep you for myself. There shall be 
 a grotto for you in the park." 
 
 "How I will freeze in winter," said Sally, lightly, 
 "if your sculptor catches me like this." 
 
 "Then you shall stand in Chatto House instead. 
 There's not a statue nor a portrait there can com- 
 pare with you, you beauty!" 
 
 "I'd feel like the wife of Bluebeard looking at all 
 those other women," she protested. 
 
 "They shall all be cleared away when I enthrone 
 
 you." 
 
 'No, no; a woman should be reminded for her
 
 236 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 soul's good that she is neither the first in any man's 
 life, nor like to be the last." 
 
 "I swear, Sally " he started. 
 
 "Oh, no, save your breath, sir. If I were the first 
 it would only prove your Grace a dullard, and if I 
 were the last a simpleton ; and your Grace is neither. 
 A man of taste never confines himself to dark or 
 light coloring," she rattled on ; and, as if to protect 
 herself, she turned and laughed in his face. 
 
 By this time they had come to the terrace of the 
 villa. The curtains were fluttering before a light 
 breeze as Sally stepped in at one of the French win- 
 dows. The table at which they had supped had been 
 cleared, and was now decorated with a silver dish of 
 nectarines and grapes, and decanters of port, and 
 glasses. 
 
 The Duke filled a glass, and offered it to Sally, 
 but she shook her head. He drank the wine himself, 
 refilled the glass, and set it on the table. "Some 
 fruit," he urged, "at least;" and drew out a chair 
 for her. 
 
 "Where are the others?" asked Sally. "It must 
 be time we started back to town." 
 
 The Duke smiled, and made her a little bow. "It 
 would be most inhospitable of me to permit you to 
 leave my roof at this hour. You must do me the 
 honor to remain my guest." 
 
 Then Sally understood that she had been trapped, 
 and that her companions had been induced to leave
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 237 
 
 her with this man. Instantly she rallied her innate 
 courage, and smiled as she caught the ends of her 
 scarf in her two hands and knotted them loosely 
 across her bosom. "Your Grace is too considerate," 
 she said lightly. "I'm used to late hours, and if I 
 shouldn't go home my sister and nephew would be 
 very much worried." 
 
 "Sally," said the Duke, stepping up to her, "make 
 the villa your home. It and I and all my servants 
 are at your disposing, if you'll only be kind to me. 
 I've thought of nothing but you for a whole month 
 past. How can I let you go when I have you here?" 
 
 Still Sally smiled, though his covetous outstretched 
 hands could have touched her. "See," said she, 
 "wouldn't it be better for you to go on thinking of 
 me for a whole month more, than to forget me alto- 
 gether?" 
 
 "Forget you !" he cried. "Forget your eyes, your 
 lips !" 
 
 "Yes, forget me, as you have forgotten the other 
 women. Do you remember the eyes and the lips of the 
 last woman who stayed here? She is gone entirely, 
 she means nothing to you. If you would keep me, 
 you must let me go." She was using all her wits 
 now. 
 
 "How's that?" he demanded. 
 
 Sally laughed ; and pointed him to the chair he had 
 offered her. "Let us talk sensibly," she said. "You 
 called me Diana to-night ; and perhaps I am like her.
 
 238 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 So far I have cared for no man, but when I do I 
 might care a great deal. It will be a serious business 
 for me, I assure you." 
 
 The Duke drew back a step, but did not take the 
 chair. 
 
 "If I stayed here," went on Sally, "in a month you 
 would have tired of me, and in a month more for- 
 gotten me. But if I go you can still try to make me 
 care, care of my own free will, and turn Diana into 
 a different creature. Is that worth the winning?" 
 
 "Egad," said the Duke, "there was never a woman 
 like you !" 
 
 "Then if I stay, I scorn you ; but if I go, you still 
 have a chance to win Diana. Play for the highest 
 stakes, like a true gambler, for surely the stakes are 
 worth the risking." 
 
 "Whether you come with love," he said, "or with- 
 out it?" 
 
 She managed to nod, and pulled the knot of her 
 scarf a little tighter. 
 
 "It's a fool's game," he murmured, 
 
 "It's a wise man's," she contradicted. "Anyone 
 can play the fool, and be sorry ; but a man like 
 you " She gestured the rest. 
 
 The Duke caught her eye, and held it. "Egad, it 
 may be you are right," said he, kept in check by 
 her steady gaze. "It may be we would be happier 
 if you came of your own free will if Diana melted." 
 
 "Much happier," she said, "you must see that."
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 239 
 
 Then very deliberately she slipped the noose of her 
 scarf up over her head, and tucked her hair in under 
 it. "You shall stay here, your Grace, and think it 
 over ; and I shall say good-night," she added, smiling. 
 With that she stepped back through the window- 
 space, and out on to the terrace. She seemed calm 
 enough then, but as soon as she gained the shelter of 
 the bushes, she ran like a frightened child. 
 
 The stars saw Sally slipping from the villa, a vision 
 of white and silver. She had spent her strength in 
 matching wits with the Duke, and in keeping her 
 show of assurance; her native courage had stood 
 by her, but she had no wish to put it to the test 
 again. She thought the Duke might follow and take 
 her back, or at least call to her that she should have 
 his coach to town, and so she ran on as fast as she 
 could, holding her skirts so that she should not trip, 
 and hoping that she might find some refuge. 
 
 The open gates of the villa let the girl into the 
 highroad. As she turned townward she slackened 
 her pace, for now she was almost breathless. Her 
 scarf had caught in a branch and been pulled back 
 from her hair, which fell disordered on her shoulders. 
 She began to consider the situation ; she could not 
 hope to get to London at that hour, and the open 
 road was no place for a woman alone. She decided 
 to ask for shelter at the first lighted cottage she 
 should come to. 
 
 The first cottage was a low stone house, with a
 
 240 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 thatched roof, such as laborers dwell in. A small 
 lighted window on the road side was open, and un- 
 curtained. She looked in, and saw an old woman 
 pouring a cup of tea. 
 
 A knock at the door brought the woman to it. She 
 opened it, and saw Sally, lightly gowned, her hair 
 loose, and her face flushed. "I'm in need of shelter," 
 said Sally. "Will you let me stay here till I can go 
 to town at dawn ?" 
 
 The wrinkled face showed solicitude. "Come in," 
 said the dame, "the road's no place for a lady." 
 
 Safely inside, with the door shut behind her, Sally 
 sank down on a chair. "Dearie me," said the woman, 
 "you must have this dish of tea," and she handed 
 Sally her cup. 
 
 Sally drank; and after a few minutes felt some- 
 what recovered. Surer now of her ground, she 
 smiled. "I've missed my friends," she said ; "they've 
 gone to town without me. You mustn't put yourself 
 about for me. I only want a corner to spend the 
 night in." 
 
 "We be two here," said the dame. "You shall have 
 my son's room. He've just come in a moment since." 
 She opened a door at the rear of the room, and called, 
 "Wilyum, there be a lady here!" 
 
 In answer a big fellow, just turned into manhood, 
 came to the door. He looked at Sally, stopped a mo- 
 ment to stare, and then advanced, magnetized by 
 the sight of such loveliness.
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 
 
 "The lady'll have your room, and you'll sleep here, 
 Wilyum," said his mother. 
 
 "Aye," said he, staring at Sally's hair, "the lady's 
 welcome." 
 
 "It's most kind of you," said Sally, "any place 
 would do." 
 
 The woman led her into a little room at the rear, 
 which she started to tidy up. "Please don't," said 
 Sally. "All I want is rest, and a chair would do for 
 that." So she urged the old woman to leave her; 
 and a few minutes later blew out the rushlight and 
 lay down on Wilyum's pallet bed. But the thought 
 of her battle with his Grace of Chatto kept her awake 
 for a long time. 
 
 She woke to the crowing of roosters, and made as 
 good a toilet as she could. When she appeared out- 
 side she found the dame getting breakfast. Wilyum, 
 who was drawing water at a well, came in at his 
 mother's summons, and the three sat down to table. 
 The country lad's eyes appeared incapable of leaving 
 Sally's face. 
 
 Inquiry brought the information that a coach 
 ran to London from a public-house about a half-mile 
 distant. Sally had some silver in a little purse she 
 always carried, safely hidden. Before the sun had 
 been long up she thanked the woman, and started to 
 thank her son. "I be goin' to the coach wi' you," 
 asserted Wilyum ; and, although she protested, he 
 would not budge from his plan.
 
 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 That half-mile walk was, beyond question, a memo- 
 rable event to Wilyum. Good, simple soul that he 
 was, he found Sally's smile more glorious than the 
 sunshine, her eyes and hair more beautiful than 
 flowers, and her voice sweeter than running water or 
 the song of birds. With mouth partly open, and 
 eyes and ears attentive, he plodded by her side, an 
 humble but profound worshiper. Sally could not 
 but compare Wilyum's chivalric devotion, sincerity 
 itself, with the care of her so lately shown by the 
 wealthiest nobleman in England. 
 
 He put her into the coach for town, and she, look- 
 ing out at the open window, gave him her hand. 
 Wilyum, his uncovered shock of hair seeming never 
 to have known a comb, let Sally's hand rest on his 
 large palm, while he gazed at it as if it were a pearl. 
 Sally gave his hand a squeeze, which brought the 
 blood flooding to his face. "Good-by, Wilyum," 
 said she, "you're a dear, kind soul." 
 
 Wilyum stared after the departing coach in a 
 singular elation. When he looked down at the hand 
 she had pressed he wondered at it, as if he did not 
 recognize it for his own. 
 
 It was a thoughtful woman who traveled up to 
 town by that coach. She had learned a lesson, and 
 she decided that she would never play with fire again. 
 
 She left the coach in Fleet Street, and walked to 
 the Lane. As she turned from the current of the 
 high street into the quiet backwater she heard her-
 
 THE SUPPER AT RICHMOND 
 
 self hailed, and, looking about, saw Tom Jellett come 
 hurrying from the shop where he worked for the 
 butcher. 
 
 "Sally," he cried, "you've given us all a good 
 fright !" 
 
 She felt reassured at the sight of him, like a 
 storm-tossed traveler at the view of harbor. But she 
 was too proud to tell him what had happened, and 
 she feared the effect of it on Kate and Gilbert. "I 
 spent the night with friends in the country," she 
 said. But she could not help adding, "Oh, Tom, 
 how sweet the Lane looks now'" 
 
 He fell into step at her side as she walked over 
 the rough paving. The ill-assorted houses, mean as 
 they were, stretched to either side like sheltering 
 arms. The two reached Sally's door, and she leaned 
 for a moment against the wooden panel. 
 
 "There be so many perils for a girl like you," 
 said Jellett, gently, as if echoing her thoughts. 
 "Mightn't you be happy if you married me? I'm 
 truer than the folk you meet with at the theatre." 
 
 "Yes, you are, Tom," she agreed, letting her eyes 
 rest on him. For a moment she was sorely tempted 
 to say yes, to feel his arms about her, and be assured 
 that she had found protection. She knew that it 
 was the simple folk, like Tom, and Kate, and Gilbert, 
 and Wilyum, and his mother, upon whom she could 
 most safely count. She had tested that in the days 
 of the plague.
 
 But she could not yield only to a man's power of 
 protection; she needed to give as well as to receive. 
 She turned her head from Jellett, and looked in the 
 direction of Pump Court. "I'm afraid I couldn't 
 do it, Tom," she said very gently. 
 
 "Is there another man?" he asked, quietly. 
 
 "I don't know, Tom. Sometimes I wonder but 
 I don't know. I must wait. I can't cheat you I 
 can't cheat the two of us no matter how I'm 
 tempted." 
 
 "It's weary business, this waiting." 
 
 "But we must wait," said Sally, shaking her head. 
 
 "And a right dangerous business, too," observed 
 Jellett, obstinately. 
 
 "There are so many kinds of dangers," she an- 
 swered, "but some we must not run away from." 
 
 When Tom had left, she still stood leaning against 
 the door for some minutes. "So dangerous " she 
 whispered, "but we can't always run away some we 
 must face if we're to win at all." 
 
 In her eyes was deep reverie, as if she were com- 
 muning with unaccustomed thoughts. And in fact 
 she was seeing her world in the light of new expe- 
 riences, such as were changing the willful girl into 
 the patient woman.
 
 xvin 
 
 GROTE GIVES CHASE 
 
 THE Lane was in midsummer, when something of 
 fragrance and glamour contrives to steal even 
 into the crowded heart of town. Geraniums did well 
 in window-pots then, and a thrush, if one had the 
 heart to imprison him, would bring a bit of the 
 sky beneath one's roof. Folks thawed in the fine 
 weather; even Mistress Kilgore, sitting on a bench 
 beneath her window, let her head rest against her 
 man's shoulder, and pulled his arm about her waist. 
 Swains sought out their summer affinities, and 
 promenaded, arms entwined, through the darkening 
 street. To be sure, one couple was only John, the 
 tanner's boy, with little Bess Padstow, the maid at 
 the Bear and Staff, but the summer night was theirs 
 as much as it was the elegant Count D'Orsay*s and 
 Lady Blessington's. 
 
 Oliver Pipe sat with Grote in front of the smithy, 
 regarding the passers-by. The smith still felt con- 
 siderable awe of his assistant, but the awe was by 
 now tempered with a strong affection. When the 
 
 landlord's agent, Talbot, had unaccountably raised 
 
 245
 
 246 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 the rent on Pipe's house and shop, Grote had insisted 
 on paying the extra charge for him. "He did it be- 
 cause I was surly," Grote explained; and concluded 
 the matter in his positive manner. But it was little 
 tricks and traits of Grote' s gradually showing char- 
 acter that had won the old smith's regard. 
 
 "Conrad," said Pipe, as they sat in the Court that 
 evening, "the mating time's here again. Have ye 
 never seen a lass ye fancied ? Why should ye sit with 
 an old man, and watch the others pass, lad and lass, 
 man and woman, through the Lane?" 
 
 A smile stole into Grote's eyes. "Do you set such 
 a high value on this mating?" he asked. 
 
 "There's nothing like it," Pipe answered. "Look 
 yon little Bess there's more to John than all the 
 gold of Indy." 
 
 Grote watched the pair as they, unconscious of 
 anything but each other, came across the Court. 
 "But it's a ticklish concern," he observed. "Now 
 the wise man " 
 
 "Drat your wisdom !" broke in Pipe. "Leave wis- 
 dom to the fools !" 
 
 "I did that long ago," said Grote; "and have to 
 buy it back now, bit by bit." 
 
 "You .could find a maid," said the smith, ignoring 
 this remark. "You're not such an ill-featured fel- 
 low, and I've seen several girls loiter by the door. 
 You're stiff in the neck, and sometimes monstrous 
 full of pride; but that can be overcome."
 
 GROTE GIVES CHASE 247 
 
 "I'm all you say, stiff-necked as a musket; but 
 I think I'm learning." 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding such talks as this, Grote 
 kept away from feminine society. When Gilbert 
 came to see him they sat outdoors in the Court, am- 
 talked of history and travel and like matters, but 
 never of human affections. Such personal subjects, 
 it appeared, were beyond the scope of either man's 
 speculations. 
 
 Meanwhile Sally, having clearly in mind that 
 night at Richmond, was now very circumspect. Many 
 a summer afternoon she spent at the window of her 
 own house, rather than run the risk of meeting the 
 Duke, if she sought Park or Gardens. She could 
 not avoid him altogether at the theatre, for he was 
 too great a man to be denied admission behind the 
 scenes, but she took care that he never found her 
 alone, nor succeeded in driving her companions away. 
 When she left the theatre she always sought the 
 company of some fellow-player who went her way, 
 and tried to make sure that the Duke was not in the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 Chatto, however, constantly sent her notes, fas- 
 tened to the handles of magnificent bouquets. "You 
 are not playing the game fair with me, Diana," one 
 note read; "how can I sue to a goddess I never see?" 
 And another upbraided her for spurning such devo- 
 tion as he offered. "I would never have dreamed it 
 possible," he wrote, "that beauty could be so made
 
 248 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 of ice, or woman so torture a man as thought of you 
 does me." Sally tore up the notes, and gave the 
 flowers to the wardrobe mistress. 
 
 She thought the Duke's ardor must have cooled 
 after a month of this treatment, and breathed a little 
 freer. She heard that he had gone to the country, 
 and for several nights she went only part way home 
 from Dmry Lane with a friend, and the rest of the 
 way alone. Then, one evening, as she was nearing 
 the head of Pump Lane, she met Talbot, the land- 
 lord's agent, in the high street. "Good evening, 
 Mistress Temple," said he, with a sweep of his 
 hat. "Good even," she answered civilly ; and would 
 have passed, but he barred the way, asking some 
 questions. 
 
 There were few people about at the moment. A lad 
 sat on a nearby doorstep. A coach came lumbering 
 down the ill-lighted road. Talbot asked about some 
 repairs to Kate's house. The coach stopped, its 
 door opened, and two men stepped out into the dark 
 street. Before Sally knew what was happening a 
 cloak was thrown over her head, her cry was muffled 
 in it, and she was carried struggling to the coach- 
 door. The lad jumped up with a yell; but already 
 the coach was speeding into the darkness. On the 
 paving-stones lay a little handbag of blue satin. 
 
 Such affairs had been known to happen in London 
 before, and prudence would have dictated a discreet 
 shrug of the shoulders, and a few mumbled impreca-
 
 GROTE GIVES CHASE 249 
 
 tions on the part of a single eye-witness. This ob- 
 server, however, was too much thrilled and enrap- 
 tured to think of prudence. He had heard of the 
 mad pranks of young blades known as Mohocks, who 
 were little less than pirates of the town ; and he felt 
 a compelling interest in the affairs of all pirates. 
 He snatched up the little handbag, and ran with it 
 to the flickering lamp that was still burning before 
 the butcher's shop. 
 
 The boy opened the bag, and drew out a small 
 handkerchief, two shillings, a threepence, and three 
 pennies, a packet of pins, and a piece of paper. The 
 paper had some writing on it, but the lad was no 
 scholar. 
 
 Inside the shop a big man was cleaning up for the 
 night. The lad knew the man was the Byberry Boy, 
 who had knocked out the famous Bombardier at 
 Shrewsbury Fair, and he had even heard the hero 
 recount the story of that surpassing triumph. Stick- 
 ing the handbag into the breast of his jacket, he 
 marched into the shop. "Please, Mr. Jellett, can 
 you tell me what that says ?" he asked, thrusting out 
 the scrap of paper. 
 
 Jellett studied the writing. "It says 'Sally 
 Temple : her bag,' " said he. "What be it doing 
 here?" 
 
 The boy shook his head, and considered the paper 
 doubtfully. "It don't say where she lives?" he 
 queried.
 
 250 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "No ; but I can tell you where she lives," said Jel- 
 lett. "The seventh house down Pump Lane, to the 
 right." 
 
 "Thank you," said the boy, and left the butcher's 
 shop. 
 
 So near Tom Jellett came to tracking the coach 
 through the night. 
 
 The boy went down Pump Lane to the seventh 
 house on the right. The night was warm, and the 
 lower windows here were open. He saw a man read- 
 ing by a candle, and called softly to him. "See what 
 I've found," he said, drawing the little bag from his 
 jacket. 
 
 Gilbert Stanes, who sometimes sat up for Sally on 
 summer evenings, came over to the window. "What's 
 that?" he said, leaning on the sill. 
 
 "Sally Temple: her bag," repeated the boy, and 
 thrust the bag forward, perhaps from honesty, per- 
 haps from a desire to have a hand in the night's ad- 
 venture. 
 
 Gilbert took the bag, and looked at it. "Yes, it's 
 Sally's," he agreed. "How'd you come by it?" 
 
 The lad hesitated a second, and then said rapidly, 
 "I was sitting in the door, an' she come by, an' a man 
 was talking to her, an* a coach come up, an' two 
 men got out, an' they caught her up, an' they put her 
 in the coach, an' it drove away, an' I found the bag 
 with the paper in it." 
 
 "What's that?" cried Gilbert The boy started
 
 GROTE GIVES CHASE 251 
 
 again ; but Gilbert stopped him. "Never mind that," 
 said he; "which way did they go?" 
 
 The boy pointed vaguely to the west. 
 
 Gilbert seized his crutch, and hobbled into the 
 Lane. "What shall I do? What shall I do?" he 
 muttered. "Something quick." 
 
 He glanced up and down the deserted street, and 
 then, without a word to the wondering boy, started as 
 fast as he could go toward Pump Court. 
 
 The harness shop and the smithy were dark, but 
 Gilbert beat on the door with his crutch. Presently 
 a head appeared from a window under the eaves. 
 "What do you want?" demanded Oliver Pipe's voice. 
 
 "Call Conrad !" entreated Gilbert. "It's I, Gilbert 
 Stanes." 
 
 The head disappeared, and shortly after the door 
 of the smithy opened, and Grote stepped out. Be- 
 hind him peered the smith. 
 
 "Sally's gone!" cried Gilbert. "Some villains 
 caught her up, and took her off in a coach. It went 
 to the west. Think for me, Conrad, think !" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Grote; "let me see." 
 
 "Save Sally, Conrad; save her," Gilbert begged. 
 
 "You don't know who the men were?" 
 
 "No; some of the beasts who hunt our women 
 oh, help Sally, Conrad!" 
 
 Grote's hand caught Gilbert's arm. "I'll bring 
 her back," he assured the cripple, and ran up the 
 dark Lane.
 
 252 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 When he came into the high street Grote's pace 
 slackened, for he had much thinking to do. The 
 town lay all about him, a vast cobweb of streets and 
 alleys, through which it was, of course, quite impos- 
 sible for him to trace a coach. He must attack the 
 problem from the other end. 
 
 By the time he reached the Strand he had hit on a 
 plan. He kept on westward through streets that 
 began to show more lights, and where more people 
 were abroad. Presently he encountered two young 
 macaronis strolling from the opposite direction. He 
 stopped before them. "I ask your pardon," he said, 
 "but could you direct me to the Cocoa Tree?" 
 
 The two dandies halted, and examined him nar- 
 rowly. 
 
 "The Cocoa Tree," drawled one, "is down the next 
 corner, turn to the left and a dozen paces." "With 
 four little windows in the front, and a devilish big 
 door," added the other. 
 
 "You'd best stop away from it," warned the first, 
 "that's a good bit of advice for you." "Wish we'd 
 taken the advice ourselves, don't we, George?" put in 
 his friend, as they walked on. 
 
 Grote followed their directions, and found the big 
 door, and the row of little windows. The latter were 
 all lighted, and the door stood open to the summer 
 warmth. He entered, to be stopped by a footman, 
 who demanded his business. "Is the Earl of Dorset 
 here?" asked Grote.
 
 GROTE GIVES CHASE 253 
 
 "His Lordship is in the country," answered the 
 lackey. 
 
 "Is Sir John Gorham here?" pursued Grote. 
 
 "Sir John left an hour ago." 
 
 "His town address, then?" Grote's tone was im- 
 perative. 
 
 "I don't know it," said the footman. 
 
 To his vast surprise the stranger strode past him, 
 and into the card-room on the right. 
 
 Half-a-dozen gentlemen sat at play there. At 
 Grote's entrance some looked up, and one, who held 
 a pack of cards, checked his dealing to stare at the 
 tall, dark man. 
 
 "I ask your pardon," said Grote, "but I must find 
 Sir John Gorham at once. Can any of you tell me 
 where he lives?" 
 
 "In Jermyn Street, number twelve," said one. 
 "What's amiss with Jack?" 
 
 Grote did not stop to answer. He hurried out of 
 the Cocoa Tree, and headed for Jermyn Street. 
 
 The master of number twelve had not yet gone to 
 bed when there came a sharp rapping at his outer 
 door. He was reclining in one luxurious chair, with 
 his feet overhanging another, and reading the first 
 volume of the popular novel "The History of Clarissa 
 Harlowe." His man informed him that a stranger 
 desired a few words with him, and the amiable baro- 
 net ordered the stranger admitted. 
 
 Sir John looked up at the tall, spare, black-haired
 
 254 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 man, dressed in sober brown of the quality worn by 
 artisans and tradesmen, who entered his sitting-room. 
 Something in his visitor's searching eyes puzzled him, 
 but the man gave him small time for reflection. 
 
 "My errand will doubtless seem very odd to you, 
 Sir John," said the stranger. "But it's very serious 
 to me, and to some others." 
 
 "Sit down," invited Sir John, wondering what 
 the man could be coming to. 
 
 The other ignored the invitation. "This is it," 
 said he. "You are acquainted with Mistress Sally 
 Temple." 
 
 Sir John smiled, a trifle evasively, as if unwilling 
 to commit himself too far. "I have the honor of an 
 acquaintance with her," he admitted. 
 
 "You also know the gossip of town," continued 
 the visitor. "Tell me, who is the man who is pur- 
 suing Mistress Temple?" 
 
 "Who are you?" said Sir John, removing his feet 
 from the chair, and sitting up straighter. 
 
 "A man who lives in Pump Lane, and who is a 
 friend of hers." 
 
 "And more than that, perhaps?" suggested Sir 
 John, hoping to draw the stranger out. 
 
 The man scowled. "A friend, I said," he asserted, 
 in a tone that was scarcely usual from an artisan to 
 a baronet. 
 
 "Why should I answer your questions?" inquired 
 Sir John.
 
 GROTE GIVES CHASE 255 
 
 "Because " the other began brusquely ; and then 
 checked himself. "Because Mistress Temple is in 
 danger." 
 
 "Danger!" exclaimed Sir John. "What do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 "Who is pursuing her?" demanded the visitor, ig- 
 noring the question. 
 
 "Why, who but the Devil's own Duke of Chatto, 
 the old Red Fox. That's what people say." 
 
 "The Duke of Chatto!" cried the stranger, his 
 eyes swiftly ablaze. "Where does he live?" 
 
 "In Chatto House, on Hyde Park Terrace. But 
 what are you thinking of, man ?" 
 
 "Of catching his neck in my two hands." 
 
 "You fool! He's the richest noble in England, 
 and you're a workingman !" 
 
 The other man's eyes were wicked. "But we'll be 
 man to man when we meet," said he ; "noble or not !" 
 He looked as if he reveled in the prospect. "My 
 thanks are yours, Sir John." With that he was out 
 of the room, and out of the house. 
 
 Sir John stood up and paced the floor, quizzing 
 his memory. Presently an idea flashed upon him, 
 and he stopped. "I have it, I have it!" he cried 
 eagerly. "That brow, those eyes, that voice! The 
 masterful man ! I remember how he praised my news 
 of Hawkins, the prize-fighter. What was it? 
 *Blood and brawn!' that's it. And the wonderful 
 fight at Chantrey ! The raging devil he looked the
 
 256 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 same way now! So he followed her to Pump Lane, 
 and turned workman!" Sir John folded his arms, 
 and considered. "For love of pretty Sally, pretty 
 Sally Temple. Damme, he is a man, after all ! And 
 he'll win her yet with his dogged persistence ! That's 
 the real thing for you ; how few of us have the sense 
 to see it." He walked to the window, frowning. 
 "He'll go straight for Chatto ! What a meeting that 
 will be ! Someone's going to have a most unpleasant 
 time of it ; and I should say that the odds were all in 
 favor of that someone being Chatto!"
 
 XIX 
 
 A NIGHT'S EVENTS IN A GREAT HOUSE 
 
 VIRTUE and vice were sleeping to either side of 
 him as Conrad Grote shot comet-wise through 
 the warm summer night. He took no time for reck- 
 oning nor for planning; he threw all consideration 
 from him as thoughtlessly as a runner would fling off 
 a cloak that slowed his speed. He was afire with 
 the desire for action, and all his energies and all his 
 passions were but fuel to that fire. Petty matters 
 such as the detaining hand of the night-watch, or the 
 accosting voice of a woman, would have whistled past 
 him like the wind. 
 
 Vice and virtue lay abed, while Grote possessed 
 the night. The hour was like some climax his life 
 had been leading to, the great adventure that lured 
 and beckoned and was forever dancing on ahead. A 
 wild joy throbbed in his veins, and sang in his ears. 
 He sprang on, trusting to an early knowledge of 
 London to guide him to the house he sought. 
 
 He knew the mansion on Hyde Park Terrace by 
 its vast and pompous portico. Struck by the inso- 
 lence of its great columns, he beat upon the door as 
 
 257
 
 258 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 if he were disfiguring a haughty face. Again and 
 again he pounded. At last the door was opened by a 
 footman in a great powdered wig, who peered out at 
 him from a dimly-lighted hall. 
 
 "I must see his Grace, instanter," declared Grote, 
 "on most urgent business." 
 
 "His Grace is occupied," answered the footman. 
 
 "This news will not wait," said Grote. "He will 
 be glad to see me." 
 
 "I might take your name to him," temporized the 
 footman, impressed by Grote's peremptory manner. 
 
 "He would not want you to know it," was the 
 quick reply. "My business is of a very secret nature. 
 It concerns a lady." 
 
 The footman knew that his master was continu- 
 ally seriously interested in that sex, and that such 
 affairs were naturally very private. "Wait here a 
 moment," he said, "while I speak to Hubert;" and 
 hurried away in the direction of the steward's offices. 
 
 As soon as the footman was out of sight Grote 
 crossed the hall to the great marble staircase. He 
 climbed its height, and found himself in a gallery. 
 Many doors gave on to this, some shut, and some 
 standing wide. He opened each door and looked in ; 
 the rooms were either dark, or, if lighted, unoccu- 
 pied. But as he turned the knob of the last door 'on 
 the right side of the gallery he caught the sound of 
 a voice, and smiled, and nodded to himself. 
 
 He pushed this door open very gently, and stepped
 
 A NIGHT'S EVENTS 259 
 
 into a spacious chamber. The carpet was of a thick 
 pile, and hid his footsteps. He shut the door, and 
 turned the key in the lock. 
 
 A long mahogany table at the farther end of the 
 apartment bore four massive candlesticks, and the 
 candles lighted a little scene there, leaving the rest 
 of the great room in comparative darkness. At one 
 side of the table stood Sally, every line of her face 
 and figure showing furious anger, while a few feet 
 beyond her, his arms akimbo, stood the Duke of 
 Chatto. It was his voice that Grote had heard. Sud- 
 denly Chatto broke off abruptly, and glared across 
 the room. 
 
 "What's this?" he cried savagely. "Get out of 
 here!" 
 
 For answer Grote walked to the nearer side of 
 the long table, his black eyes, very bright, never 
 shifting from Chatto's face. 
 
 The owner of the house stamped his foot, and 
 scowled with rage. "Get out of here, I tell you !" he 
 thundered. "What fool let you into my rooms? 
 What do you want?" 
 
 The candles showed the red countenance of Chatto, 
 and his brilliant blue and silver coat, and across the 
 table lighted the dull brown jacket of Grote and his 
 dark, threatening face. 
 
 "I have come for Mistress Temple," said Grote. 
 "I mean to take her home." 
 
 Chatto's face grew purplish, and his small eyes
 
 260 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 blinked rapidly as he leaned on the table with both 
 fists and stared at the other man. 
 
 "Where have I seen you before?" he demanded. 
 
 "At the smithy in Pump Lane. I'm a neighbor of 
 Mistress Temple." 
 
 "That was it; I remember your ugly face. Now 
 get out of here before I have you thrown out!" 
 
 Grote's hands took a tighter grip on his leather 
 belt, but he kept his temper. "I will go when Mis- 
 tress Temple goes," said he ; "and she is ready to go 
 now." 
 
 "She is not ready to go!" cried Chatto. "She is 
 my guest, and will stay here in my house. What do 
 you want? Money? Or cheaper rent for your 
 smithy? I'll have you turned out for this night's 
 work. Get away, before I promise to whip you out of 
 London !" 
 
 Sally's eyes, unnaturally large in her white face, 
 were fixed on Grote. 
 
 "Promise whatever you like," said Grote. "I'm 
 not thinking of to-morrow. We are two men here, 
 and I've come to take this woman home with me." 
 
 Sally started forward; but Chatto caught her by 
 the wrist. "Stay where you are," he snarled. He 
 glared again at Grote. "If you're in love with her," 
 he went on, "I'll buy you off. I'll pay you well for 
 her. Mistress Temple will be better off with me, she 
 shall have whatever she wants." He tried to appear 
 conciliatory. "There, that's best for us all. She
 
 A NIGHT'S EVENTS 261 
 
 and I were coming to an agreement when you broke 
 in." 
 
 "Oh, don't believe him !" cried Sally ; and with an 
 effort she wrenched her arm free from Chatto's 
 grasp. "He knows how I hate him! He had me 
 bound and brought here!" 
 
 "There's her answer," said Grote, his eyes glint- 
 ing as he faced the Duke. "By rights it should be 
 driven down your throat, but that takes time. Come, 
 Mistress Temple, we'll be going." He stepped to- 
 ward her, holding out his hand. 
 
 "You cub of Satan !" roared Chatto. "She shall 
 stay, and you shall go ! A mean smith to beard 
 me in my own house ! I'll have you thrown from the 
 window!" He stretched out his hand to a bell-rope 
 that hung at the side of the chimney-breast behind 
 him, and gave it a great pull. 
 
 At the same instant Grote wheeled about, and 
 leaned across the table that separated them. "Rouse 
 your men !" he cried. "For, by Heaven ! you'll need 
 them !" and he caught Chatto's cheek a blow with his 
 right hand. 
 
 The Duke bellowed with rage, and seized one of 
 the great bronze candlesticks in both hands. He 
 swung it high over his head, and then hurled it at 
 Grote, who dodged in the nick of time. The candle- 
 stick fell with a heavy thud upon the floor. 
 
 Sally had jumped back from the table, and now 
 Grote, catching hold of one end of the mahogany,
 
 262 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 behind which the Duke was partly sheltered, gave it 
 a great shove so that the remaining candlesticks fell 
 this way and that. One candle still burned on the 
 floor, and Sally snatched it from the holder and held 
 it so that Grote might see. 
 
 "Help!" roared Chatto, and pulled a knife from 
 under his coat. He struck out wildly with it, but 
 Grote jumped to one side, and as the other called and 
 jabbed he ran in and caught the Duke's arms and 
 pinned them to his side and threw him to the floor. 
 They fell together, Grote on top. They lay between 
 the table and the fireplace, thrashing on the carpet 
 , that partly broke their fall. Chatto gave a great 
 heave of shoulders and body, and his hands clutched 
 at the back of Grote's jacket. But Grote tightened 
 his hold, and then with a sudden jerk wrenched his 
 arms free and caught the Duke's throat in his 
 fingers. He shook the man's head against the floor, 
 his fingers gripped the man's throat, he twisted 
 Chatto from side to side and then flung his head 
 down again and fairly crushed the breath out of his 
 body. Chatto lay still, and Grote got to his feet, 
 shaking with his fury. 
 
 There were blows on the door, and a hubbub of 
 voices outside. Grote looked at Sally, who still stood 
 with the candle in her trembling hand. "Put that 
 out," he said, "and stand close to that wall yonder. 
 When you see your chance slip out through the 
 door."
 
 A NIGHT'S EVENTS 263 
 
 "But you " she began. 
 
 "I can fight a hundred. Do as I say." 
 
 She blew out the candle, and ran to the place he 
 had pointed out to her. 
 
 Grote stepped to the other side of the table and 
 picked up one of the heavy bronze candlesticks. The 
 door was breaking now under the blows of an axe; 
 it crashed in, and there was a rush of men armed 
 with swords and billets. 
 
 "Where is your Grace?" cried one. *'Whafs 
 happened?" called another. 
 
 "His Grace is over here by the hearth," said 
 Grote. "He needs you badly." 
 
 In the light from the hall they saw only one man 
 before them, and came toward him. Grote saw Sally 
 slip out through the doorway, and he clutched the 
 candlestick tighter and stepped forward. 
 
 "His Grace is there on the floor," said he. "Go 
 look to him !" 
 
 But now they understood, and with angry cries 
 turned on Grote. A pistol cracked, the shot flew by 
 him ; then the pack was on him, eager to pull him 
 down. 
 
 Grote swung the candlestick like a mace, heavy end 
 up, and brought it down on one man's head. He fell 
 like a log. With oaths and yells the others closed 
 in, striking and thrusting and battering at their 
 single enemy. He was struck on the shoulder and 
 the arm, a blow at his leg almost tumbled him. Still
 
 264 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 he gritted his teeth and swung the candlestick, fight- 
 ing his way forward to the door. 
 
 A mace is a terrible weapon, wielded by a des- 
 perate man, and the candlestick was terrible in the 
 hands of Grote. But the men struck at his knees and 
 legs and some of their blows reached him and made 
 him stagger and bend. Yet though he staggered, 
 and could scarcely see because the blood from a cut on 
 his forehead got into his eyes, and his breath was 
 short, and his head spinning, he crashed onward, beat- 
 ing and knocking and felling his enemies with every 
 blow of his bronze stick. Up and down it raged, 
 and they fell back, and cursed, and tried to run in 
 under it. So, stumbling and panting and thrashing 
 like a windmill in a gale, he gained the door at last, 
 still on his feet. 
 
 He heard the yells of rage behind him, he steadied 
 himself, and, still clutching the candlestick, ran down 
 the hall. He caught at the marble balustrade of the 
 great staircase and plunged down the steps. He 
 dashed across the hall, and wrenching at the door, 
 pulled it open. A figure that had been watching in 
 the shadows of a corner of the hall followed, pulled 
 the door shut after her, turned the key she held, and 
 flung it away. Then she too ran out wildly from 
 the great columns of Chatto House on to the starlit 
 terrace. 
 
 Stopping a second to look and listen, the woman 
 thought she saw a figure swaying along the roadway
 
 A NIGHT'S EVENTS 265 
 
 to the left and heard steps in that direction. She 
 hurried after the vision, tripped and nearly fell over 
 stones that had been left to guard a hole, and when 
 she looked again found that the figure she sought had 
 disappeared. With a little cry of distress she ran on, 
 passed by the portico of another noble mansion, felt 
 her feet on the soft grass of a lawn, and saw a tree 
 standing sentinel-like before her. She stopped; un- 
 der the tree lay a man, a sprawling figure. She 
 stooped, and, recognizing him in the dim starlight, 
 sank down on her knees beside him. 
 
 "Conrad," she murmured, "oh, my dear Conrad!" 
 He opened his eyes, and she bent lower over his white 
 face. "Where are you hurt most?" she whispered. 
 
 He shut his eyes and turned his head a little side- 
 ways. It seemed that he was hurt everywhere, a cut 
 on his brow was bleeding, his torn coat showed a 
 bloody shoulder, and one outstretched arm was 
 doubled as with pain. 
 
 She sat back on bent knees, seeing him as he had 
 come plunging down the stairs and through the hall, 
 as he must have come whirling through the Duke's 
 men, his face desperate, the bronze weapon swinging 
 in his hand. She saw that his fingers still clung to 
 the candlestick lying by him. 
 
 Then she thought she heard a noise in the road 
 to the right, and crouched, scarcely daring to 
 breathe. But the noise stayed some distance off ; and 
 she bent again over Grote and brushed his black hair
 
 266 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 gently back from the cut on his forehead, and tore 
 a piece of muslin from the sleeve of her gown and 
 put it over the wound to stanch the blood. So close 
 to him the stars showed her each line of the face 
 she knew so well, had seen in so many widely differing 
 places ; she looked at the scar that crossed his upper 
 lip, and leaned still closer to him. "It's I, Sally 
 Temple," she whispered. "I'm here with you. Open 
 your eyes a moment." 
 
 He obeyed her voice, and looked up at her. 
 
 "We're safe now," she whispered, "but I must 
 leave you to get help. I won't be long about it. Do 
 you understand?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered. 
 
 She hovered above him, loath to leave him. She 
 eased his battered shoulder. Then she stood up, and 
 stepping out into the road looked both ways. The 
 night was quiet now; even Chatto House in the 
 distance seemed undisturbed and still. 
 
 She had spoken hopefully of getting help, but she 
 knew that would be a difficult matter in such a place 
 at such an hour of night. Yet the two of them 
 must not be found there at dawn, and dawn was not 
 very far distant. She went down the road, silent 
 now save for her own footsteps, which sounded ap- 
 pallingly loud. It seemed to her that London must 
 be deserted, for she turned one corner after another 
 without meeting anyone. 
 
 Presently she saw a man shambling along on the
 
 A NIGHT'S EVENTS 267 
 
 opposite side of the way. He looked like a derelict, 
 fitter to ask aid than to give it, and she let him pass 
 without a word. She was not frightened at him ; she 
 had experienced too much that night to be frightened 
 by any vagrant of the streets. 
 
 Next she found two women, walking rapidly and 
 arm in arm, as if for safety. They could give no 
 help, and she let them hurry by, unheeding the curious 
 glances they leveled at her. Then, rounding a cor- 
 ner, she caught the sound of wheels, and ran in that 
 direction. She came up with a cart, jogging along 
 under the guidance of a man who swayed about on 
 the seat as though half drunk with sleep. 
 
 The cart-driver found himself hailed by a woman's 
 voice, and pulled up and looked about. The woman 
 ran up to him. "I need help badly," she said; "a 
 man's been hurt and lies bleeding ; I'll pay you well if 
 you'll fetch him home. Please, for mercy's sake! 
 I'll pay you well." 
 
 "What'll you pay?" asked the driver. 
 
 "Eight, ten shillings to take him to Pump Lane." 
 
 "Say twelve, and I'll do it," said the driver, his 
 cupidity roused. 
 
 "Twelve shillings, then only hurry!" and the 
 woman jumped to the hub and then to the wheel, and 
 into the cart before the man could think what she 
 was doing. 
 
 "This way," she said, laying her hands on the 
 reins.
 
 268 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 "Sit still," he ordered, "and mind that board you 
 sit on. It rocks about when the nag goes fast." 
 
 She pointed him out the turnings, continually 
 urging him to greater speed. "Easy now, easy," he 
 kept admonishing her. "The beast be like to stumble 
 in the dark." So they jogged on by the way she had 
 come, and finally stopped before the tree where she 
 had left Grote. "You'll have to help me lift him up," 
 she said, and slipped down and ran to the tree. 
 
 Grote lay there, and she bent ever him, whisper- 
 ing. "Here's help at last," she said. "Oh, can you 
 move a little? We must get you to the cart." Very 
 carefully she lifted him until he was leaning against 
 her knee. His eyes were wide open, and he managed 
 a faint smile. "Wait," he said, "there " and he 
 pulled himself up straighter. 
 
 With the aid of the driver Sally helped Grote to 
 his feet, and one on either side they got him to the 
 cart. The driver found some empty gunny-sacks 
 for him to lie on, and Sally rested his head against 
 her shoulder. 
 
 "To Pump Lane," she directed, as the man clam- 
 bered up to his seat. "And, oh ! be careful not to jolt 
 too much." 
 
 Sally sat with her back against the board of the 
 driver's seat, one arm supporting Grote. Occa- 
 sionally her soft fingers touched the strip of muslin 
 that had stopped the flow of blood from his cut fore- 
 head, and once or twice she eased his wounded shoul-
 
 A NIGHT'S EVENTS 269 
 
 der against her breast. He rested there like a spent 
 child, and she, remembering other days, smiled a 
 little now and then. 
 
 They drove through the empty city as the sum- 
 mer dawn was sending its first faint signals into the 
 sky. They came to the Lane, deserted except for the 
 eyes of windows, and finally up to the smithy door in 
 the Court. At the sound of the wheels two men had 
 started out. "Is it Sally?" cried one, Gilbert, his 
 voice all trembling. 
 
 "Yes, it's Sally," the woman answered, "and Con- 
 rad too. But he's hurt, Gilly ; have a care of him." 
 
 The three men helped Grote from the cart into the 
 smithy. Oliver Pipe brought a bottle of brandy, and 
 after a drink of that Grote grew stronger. Mean- 
 time Sally got her twelve shillings from the smith and 
 paid the driver, who drove away, grinning at the 
 night's good fortune. 
 
 Grote lay on a pile of skins near the smithy hearth. 
 When Sally came in again he raised himself on one 
 elbow, and then sat up. She knelt beside him, her 
 face full of tender care. "What a wonderful man 
 you are, Conrad," she said, "the bravest in all the 
 world!" 
 
 His dark eyes fastened on her, and his hand 
 caught hers. "Do you think so?" he said eagerly. 
 "Then I could fight all the devils of this world and 
 the next." 
 
 "I think you have fought them already," she an-
 
 270 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 swered, "and beaten them. Oh, I can't tell you what 
 I think not now." 
 
 "You will come to-morrow?" he begged. 
 
 She nodded, her eyes wonderfully luminous as they 
 looked into his. "Yes, I will come to-morrow, and 
 whenever you have need of me." Then she drew her 
 hand away from his, and rising quickly, went to Gil- 
 bert, who was waiting for her at the door. Dawn 
 was already lighting the Court and Lane.
 
 XX 
 
 THE DRAMA IN PUMP COURT 
 
 THE sun had almost completed his journey next 
 day before Sally woke. She had slept most 
 convincingly when once she started, which was not 
 immediately on going to bed. So much rested that 
 she felt almost made anew, she rose and looked out 
 through her little window. It was late afternoon, 
 and her conscience smote her, and more than her con- 
 science; so much might have happened since she and 
 Gilbert had climbed the stairs at daybreak. On a 
 chair lay the gown she had worn, crumpled, grass- 
 stained, with part of one sleeve torn away, and a 
 dark patch where Grote's cut shoulder had rested 
 against it. Quickly she made her toilet, choosing a 
 new gown, and stopping in front of her glass only 
 for a minute. When she went downstairs she found 
 to her relief that Kate was out, and so she might be 
 saved long explanations. Perhaps Kate had slept 
 blissfully through the night, or perhaps Gilbert had 
 told her something of what had happened in any 
 event Sally had no need to answer the questions of 
 her sister. 
 
 271
 
 272 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 She made herself a cup of tea, and breakfasted or 
 supped on a slice of ham and bread. Then she found 
 a piece of paper and pencil in a box of Gilbert's and 
 scribbled a note to the manager at Drury Lane 
 Theatre she was unwell, and asked that the woman 
 who understudied her part should take her place that 
 evening. Looking from her door she caught sight of 
 two boys she knew shooting marbles in the Lane, and 
 she called to one of them and gave him sixpence to 
 take her note at once to the manager at the theatre. 
 
 Her eyes were very bright as she stepped out into 
 the Lane, and her thoughts so absorbing that she 
 did not notice that men and women were looking 
 curiously at her, and whispering to each other after 
 she had passed them. For in some manner, through 
 Oliver Pipe or Gilbert, but probably through the 
 old smith, word had gone about that the Duke of 
 Chatto had kidnapped Sally Temple, and that she 
 had been rescued from Chatto House only after a 
 desperate battle between the Duke himself and Con- 
 rad Grote. That was a story indeed one that made 
 the blood boil and the fingers clench. But Sally was 
 too much absorbed to catch the echoes of it. 
 
 She stopped at the door of the harness-shop in- 
 stead of going to the smithy. Opening the door she 
 found Oliver Pipe threading a needle. "How is Con- 
 rad?" she asked eagerly. The smith looked up and 
 smiled. "Oh, Sally, my dear, it's you, is it? Con- 
 rad's doing well ; he be remarkable tough. He were
 
 covered with bruises, but I washed 'em out and bound 
 'em up, and he's slept and eaten. He's not pretty to 
 look on, but he's there, resting on the bench in the 
 smithy. Go talk to him, my dear." 
 
 Sally went by old Oliver, and through the doorway 
 that separated the shop from the smithy. She stood 
 still a moment, looking at the man who half sat, half 
 reclined on the bench, his head partly turned from 
 her. A bandage hid the cut on his forehead, and 
 his face was gaunt and gray. 
 
 "He says you're feeling stronger," she said in a 
 voice that tried to hide its sudden shaking. 
 
 The man on the bench turned and looked at her, 
 his eyes eager and hungry. "Strong enough," he 
 answered, "strong enough." 
 
 There was a new light in Sally's face as she went 
 toward him, but before she reached him she shut her 
 eyes a second as if to guard herself. "How is the 
 head, and the shoulder, and all the rest of you?" she 
 asked quickly, and sat down on the pile of skins be- 
 side the bench. 
 
 "They're mending," he answered. "Oliver's a 
 good nurse." 
 
 "It's I who should nurse you," she said softly. 
 "You have helped so many people Gilbert, and the 
 others during the plague, and now me. I should 
 like to watch over you, to fix your bandages, and get 
 your food, and do whatever I could. It's little enough 
 for one who has done so much oh, little enough in-
 
 274 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 deed." She spoke rapidly, eagerly, keeping her eyes 
 from him, as if putting off some impending crisis. 
 
 "You have done a great deal for me; you have 
 shown me what a woman is." 
 
 "Be careful of your shoulder you'll rub it 
 against the bench." 
 
 "All those days of the plague I was learning a 
 little from you, Sally; and last night more." 
 
 "Isn't that bandage too tight?" She made as if 
 she would reach up to his brow to fix it ; but did not 
 on second thoughts, and sat back on the pile of skins, 
 her eyes hidden from him, a fleeting smile on her 
 lips. 
 
 Into the silence that had fallen between them came 
 the sound of voices from out-doors, a murmur of 
 voices that was not loud, but slowly came in growing 
 volume through the open windows of the smithy. It 
 was so strange a noise that it sounded ominous, and 
 Sally rose to her knees, listening, and then stood up 
 and went to the nearer window. The Court outside 
 was golden with the sunset, and peaceful to the eye, 
 but there was noise in the Lane, and heads were being 
 thrust from the windows of the Bear and Staff oppo- 
 site to see what the sound might be. 
 
 Then there rode into the Court a man on a sleek 
 black horse, a heavy man with a red face and small 
 greenish eyes, who wore a thick silk stock about his 
 neck, and 1 sat as if he would be very careful about 
 moving. Beside him rode a dark-browed man with a
 
 THE DRAMA IN PUMP COURT 275 
 
 great beak of a nose, and close at their heels were a 
 dozen men in russet livery, some with pikes, and some 
 with stout staffs, and one with a coil of rope. After 
 them flocked men, women, and children, muttering 
 and growling and jeering at the strangers. 
 
 "It's the Duke come for you!" cried Sally, in 
 swift terror, and she sprang back to the man on the 
 bench, her arms outstretched. 
 
 Grote stood up. "I never feared any man," he 
 said, and picked up a hammer that lay on the anvil. 
 
 "He has men with him, a troop of them!" she 
 cried. "You must get away by the window at the 
 back I can keep him off long enough for that !" 
 
 "And leave you ?" he said. "And Oliver? And fly 
 from such a crew? No, you must let me speak with 
 him once more." 
 
 She stood between Grote and the door, her arms 
 spread out to bar him. "No, no not again, Conrad, 
 not again !" 
 
 Chatto sat his horse in the middle of the Court. 
 "Where is the smith?" he demanded; "where is the 
 black-haired limb of Satan? I've come to whip him 
 out of London !" As he spoke he caught at his thick 
 stock with his hand as if his throat hurt him. 
 
 Old Oliver stepped from the door of the harness- 
 shop. "I am the smith, your Grace," he said. "What 
 do you want with me?" 
 
 "Not you I want the other to tan his hide! 
 Fetch him out to me, men!"
 
 276 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 The crowd were booing and growling, and some 
 were muttering "The ugly beast !" and "The damned 
 robber!" and other remarks that expressed their 
 opinion of his Grace of Chatto. The Duke, however, 
 and the other horseman and the liveried servants paid 
 no attention to the scowls and murmurs, and three 
 of the men-at-arms went to the door of the smithy 
 as their master bade. 
 
 "I must speak with him," Grote said to Sally ; and 
 she read in his face that his mind was set on this, and 
 so, though very reluctantly, stood away from the 
 door. 
 
 Grote opened it and walked out, and at sight of 
 him the Pump Lane people stopped their muttering. 
 His head was bandaged, and a great bump on his 
 left shoulder showed that it was bandaged too, but 
 his eyes were piercing bright. 
 
 "At last, you devil!" cried Chatto, shaking his 
 fist in a spasm of fury. "I'll teach you a lesson now ; 
 I'll have you bound, and flog you out of town ! I'll 
 show you how I handle curs that bite! And all in 
 sight of that woman there behind you she shall see 
 you go !" His face was fairly corded with his spleen. 
 
 Then a deep voice boomed out, Tom Jellett's voice. 
 "Will you see Conrad Grote whipped, men? Will 
 you stand that?" 
 
 There came a storm of "No !" from women as well 
 as men, and hisses and curses on the Duke. 
 
 "You rats !" snarled Chatto. "If any of you lifts
 
 THE DRAMA IN PUMP COURT 277 
 
 a finger to help him I'll turn you out of jour homes, 
 I'll throw you all in the street! Lay hands on him, 
 men, and bind him !" 
 
 But Grote took a step forward, and there was 
 something in his face that held the men back. He 
 looked at Chatto as if they two were alone. "I nearly 
 killed you last night," said he, "and if you touch 
 me I will kill you now. You should be killed, coward, 
 ravisher, bully. Because you are noble you think 
 yourself a god, treat your tenants like vermin, steal 
 their daughters, beat their sons. I tell you to your 
 face that if you lay hands on man or woman here I 
 will raise a cry that will drive you out of England, 
 I will hound you down and wipe you from the earth, 
 I will show you no mercy !" 
 
 The crowded Court stood spellbound as the man, 
 shaking his smith's hammer, poured forth his fierce 
 denunciation. None had ever seen such a man before, 
 nor heard such a voice. Chatto's face was livid, his 
 eyes bulging, his under-lip caught in his teeth. 
 "You!" he screamed. "You a whelp of a smith! 
 By God, I'll have you hung !" He lifted his shaking 
 hand, pointing it at the man in front of him. 
 
 "Stop!" said the latter. "You doubt me! Then 
 hear this I'm not Grote the smith, I'm the Marquis 
 of Romsey ; the Black Romsey, have you ever heard 
 of him? I can fight you how you will, with my hands, 
 or with men and might and money. I can do all I 
 say, make your name a hissing and a loathing. Set
 
 278 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 your men on, and I'll show all England what a foul 
 thing you are !" 
 
 Chatto's hand dropped to his saddle. "The Mar- 
 quis of Romsey !" he muttered. "That crazy beast !" 
 And he added, considering the other's face, "It might 
 be he." 
 
 "I am he," said the dark man. "Put it to the test. 
 Crazy beast if you like, but still Romsey." 
 
 Chatto turned his head to the horseman who sat 
 beside him, and a roar of delight went up from the 
 crowd in the Court. "It be Lord Romsey for cer- 
 tain!" Jellett shouted to Oliver Pipe. "I've seen 
 those fighting eyes of his before !" 
 
 The roar stung Chatto, and he looked at the crowd 
 about him. "I'll have your homes for this," he said 
 blackly. "Get out of them to-night, or I'll have you 
 emptied out to-morrow ! I'll not have such scum for 
 tenants." 
 
 "Then I'll buy the houses from you," said Romsey, 
 "and the scum will be better off. A thousand pounds 
 for Lane and Court." 
 
 "No, no," said Chatto, "they're mine." 
 
 "Or the story of last night at Chatto House goes 
 to the courts," said Romsey, "and we'll see what the 
 law will make of such villainy." 
 
 The Duke pulled at his stock, looked away, caught 
 sight of Sally, and looked back at Romsey. "I'll sell 
 you the kennels," he said, "and my curses into the 
 bargain, and that woman there, too. She's "
 
 THE DRAMA IN PUMP COURT 279 
 
 He never finished his sentence, for the man in front 
 of him swung the hammer to his shoulder. Chatto 
 swerved to one side, caught his throat as if in pain, 
 and with a muttered curse turned his horse's head and 
 pushed his way through the crowd. Back of him 
 came his men, now lacking the insolent assurance of 
 their first appearance, and behind them the people of 
 the Court and Lane, as if they meant to see the Duke 
 surely on his way from the neighborhood of their 
 homes. 
 
 The man with the bandaged head turned and went 
 in at the door of the smithy. His face was very 
 weary, and he let the hammer drop to the floor. The 
 sun had set by now, and only the afterglow lighted 
 the rude room and its rough furnishings. The man 
 stood still a minute or two, looking at the floor, and 
 then glanced up. Not far away Sally was watching 
 him. 
 
 "Black Romsey to the last," said he. "You know 
 me now, the bitter fighting man. Hate is my por- 
 tion, passion my only strength." 
 
 "But you are Conrad Grote," she said in a low 
 voice, "the man who stood by all of us in need." 
 
 "And Romsey too, who drove you out of Cumnor 
 by his rage." 
 
 "I've forgotten him," she said. "No, never quite 
 forgotten him ; but come to see so much more of the 
 other." She came a little nearer. "Tell me, Con- 
 rad, what do you think of me?"
 
 280 THE HEART OF SALLY TEMPLE 
 
 He stared at her, and she met his eyes in the twi- 
 light, the woman's soul full revealed in her face. "I 
 think you are a thousand miles above me," he said, 
 "but I love you. Oh, how I love you." He stepped 
 close to her. "Do you understand?" 
 
 "I understand," she whispered; and hid her eyes 
 from his burning gaze. 
 
 "And I will have you now," he said, stretching out 
 his arms. "I shall have you now oh, at last!" 
 
 Held in his arms he kissed her many times ; and 
 presently he murmured, "This makes up for all 
 but I'm not worth it oh, dear heart, how I love 
 you!" and caught her closer yet, and kissed her 
 again. 
 
 The smithy was very dark when she pushed him a 
 little away, but he could see her sweet face tremu- 
 lously happy. "I forget your shoulder and your 
 head," she said. "This won't do. I must take better 
 care of you." She looked at the smithy door, a 
 lighter patch in the darkness. "Oh, Conrad, I have 
 so much to tell you but I forget, you're not Conrad, 
 but a great nobleman now." 
 
 "And you're to be that nobleman's wife," he said. 
 
 "Do you think I would make a Lady?" she asked 
 mischievously. 
 
 "I know you will make the one lady in the world 
 for me," he answered, and drew her back to him. 
 "My Lady Romsey how sweet that sounds! But 
 my wife sounds sweetest of all."
 
 THE DRAMA IN PUMP COURT 281 
 
 "I like to hear you say that," she whispered, close 
 to him. 
 
 So he repeated it many times, until Oliver Pipe 
 came stumbling through the door of the harness- 
 shop. "Conrad !" he called, "Lord Romsey !" Then, 
 catching sight of them, he added hastily, "Oh, I ask 
 your pardon." 
 
 "It must be very late," said Sally, drawing away, 
 "long past time for supper." 
 
 "But," protested Romsey, still holding her hand, 
 "I've so much to say." 
 
 "You shall say it to-morrow and the next day 
 and the day after that and so on," she assured him, 
 and slipping her hand from his, she went through 
 the smithy doorway into the starlit Court. 
 
 "This was a great day's work, my lord," said 
 Oliver Pipe. 
 
 "Yes, a great day's work," assented Romsey, 
 and he too went out into the Court, and followed 
 Sally with his eyes until she reached her house. 
 
 [THE END]
 
 A 000 045 390