AWYS
 
 DUKE JONES 
 
 OF CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS MGELES
 
 B F THE SA ME A UTHOR 
 
 PROMISE $1-35 net 
 
 LE GENTLEMAN $1.25 net 
 
 HERSELF $1-35 net 
 
 SUCCESSION $1.50 net 
 
 A LADY OF LEISURE $1.35 net 
 
 FOUR PLAYS FOR CHILDREN 
 
 "The Rose and the Ring" "The Goody Witch" 
 "The Goose -Girl" "Boots and the North 
 Wind" .75 net 
 
 BOSTON: SMALL. MAYNARD & COMPANY
 
 DUKE JONES 
 
 BY 
 
 ETHEL SIDGWICK 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1915 
 By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 
 (Incorporated) 
 
 BO J. 1'AERuiLL A Co., BOSTON, U.S.A.
 
 SORORI R. 
 
 2132946
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. THE MOON OF DISCOVERY . . . - . 3 
 
 II. LlSETTE . . . .'' * 46 
 
 III. THE GODS DISPOSE . . .,-..106 
 
 PART II 
 
 I. THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE . '. 163 
 
 II. THE TALISMAN . .... 219 
 
 III. UNDINE . . . . 269 
 
 PART III 
 
 I. THE NARRATORS AT FAULT .... 3 2 7 
 
 II. MAUD i . . - -357 
 
 III. EPILOGUE AND NOTE 4 1 5
 
 PART I
 
 DUKE JONES 
 
 I 
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 
 
 JONES, E. M. Jones, according to the hotel books, was 
 the name of the man who broke upon the consciousness of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Charles Shovell in the last half of their 
 honeymoon : who filled their whole horizon with a rapid- 
 ity quite inexplicable to those who were unacquainted 
 with the peculiarities of this young couple; and who 
 became forthwith the central figure of so much unneces- 
 sary curiosity, airy conjecture, analytical discussion, and 
 emphatic dissension between them, that even their best 
 friends would have trembled for the future if they had 
 overheard some of it. 
 
 But nobody overheard; for Mrs. Charles was ex- 
 quisitely careful of people's feelings always, and imposed 
 a like discretion, so far as was possible, on her husband. 
 Jones, the new objective in both their lives, was really 
 Violet's discovery, since he chanced to sit next her at 
 table-d'hote ; but so cleverly transferred to Charles, that 
 he continued to think Jones his own protege from first to 
 last, and barely felt the first stirring of jealousy, so far 
 as his wife was concerned. 
 
 It would, indeed, have been hard for any gentleman, 
 even newly- wedded, to be jealous of Jones in any circum- 
 stances, he was so intensely uninteresting. He had abso- 
 lutely no distinguishing features, and would have baffled 
 the most practised novelist, or detective, to describe. He 
 came as near as possible to being invisible, when you
 
 4 DUKE JONES 
 
 glanced down the double rank of the dinner-table: and 
 was practically inaudible when he spoke, contributing 
 nothing noteworthy to any dialogue in which he took 
 part, only existing, so to express it, in speech. There was 
 probably a Jones in every hotel of that sea-front, had all 
 been known, existing in the same innocuous manner. 
 When Charles, after his second early-morning encounter, 
 on the way to bathe, said Jones had been born without 
 an aura, that was what he meant. 
 
 But everybody had an aura for Violet, and neither of 
 the pair was easily discouraged, when really set upon 
 social researches ; and a seaside hotel, in the month of 
 June, affords many such opportunities. How they came 
 to be in such a place would have required explanation, 
 not to say apology, in the opinion of their careful friends. 
 The recorder can but state the facts. After ten days or 
 so of the regulation blissful placidity, in a nice house lent 
 by a nice relation of the bride's mother, where they had 
 extensive grounds to walk in, with stable, garage, and 
 appendages at their entire disposal, Violet and Charles 
 removed themselves, without any notice, to a populous 
 hotel, facing one of the most frequented bays in the south- 
 west corner of our island, where they were not nearly so 
 comfortable or so private as they had been at Ingestre 
 Hall: where they had to pay for every advantage to 
 which they were accustomed at about double its cost price, 
 and could not get a self-respecting horse, or a car fit to 
 look at, for love or money. What they gained they alone 
 could say; but they were thoroughly satisfied with 
 the proceeding, and neglected to warn most of their 
 acquaintance where they had vanished to. 
 
 Violet sent, of course, a lovely letter to her mother's 
 relative, the master of the house they had quitted, enu- 
 merating its charms, and abusing their own miserable 
 unworthiness of its blessings. She said her husband 
 would gladly have remained there; but that she had a 
 sudden morbid curiosity to see an English watering-place
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 5 
 
 in the summer season, having never, during the twenty 
 years of her unmarried existence, had the chance. So she 
 and Charles had got out all the maps in Mr. Ingestre's 
 library, and fixed on a place with a nice name. She' did 
 not disclose what name, though she said they had avoided 
 Blackpool, which sounded so darkly romantic, with diffi- 
 culty. She added that she had put the maps away where 
 she had found them, that she had stolen none of the 
 books she most coveted, and that her cousin John's 
 librarian was evidently a wonderful man. 
 
 Mr. Ingestre laughed over the letter, which was neatly 
 worded, and nicely written, and asked his wife if she 
 thought the girl was tired of her bargain already. His 
 wife replied that she was only spoiled and flighty, and that 
 probably the young fellow wanted to spend some of his 
 easily-acquired wealth. 
 
 These remarks will be sufficient to show the way the 
 maternal connection in general spoke of Violet's match 
 among themselves : the father's side was naturally differ- 
 ent. It was Ashwins solely that Violet and Charles ad- 
 mitted to the secret of their elopement ; though even there, 
 by an elaborate and unnecessary system of letters under 
 cover, they gave them as much trouble as possible in find- 
 ing out their real address. This was Charles, as need 
 barely be mentioned : due to Charles' passion for plotting 
 solely. The tale of the flight from Ingestre Hall, when 
 properly worked up by Mr. Shovell, with the aid of count- 
 less cigarettes, upon the beach, would have made quite 
 an effective column for a society paper. 
 
 " It happened by night," he wrote to his step-sister and 
 Violet's cousin, Margery Brading, " when owls were flit- 
 ting and bats hooting about the Hall. Bats in the high Hall 
 garden you know how it goes on. There happens to be 
 a night express to these parts (wherever they are), as 
 Violet discovered from Bradshaw. I took her word for it. 
 I thought she never used trains, but she says she does * on 
 occasion.' I own I was disappointed in her. You see,
 
 6 DUKE JONES 
 
 ever since we got to the Hall, she had been making up to 
 the Ingestres' chauffeur, anyone would have said with an 
 ulterior purpose in the near future. But when taxed, she 
 disclaimed it, only remarking that she liked the man. Of 
 course, I said no more. I bowed to Bradshaw with ' Be 
 it so.' 
 
 " I did not for a moment suppose V. had found a train 
 that really existed, being unused to such things, but, as it 
 transpired, she had. Towards nine on a moonless night 
 we started, several of the Ingestre retainers holding 
 torches on the steps. I won't deny it's a good-looking 
 house to elope from, whatever you may think of living 
 there, but I spare you architectural details. A page from 
 ' Woodstock ' will give you the sort of thing you want. 
 Mrs. Ingestre's lap-dog, a vile little brute, had been 
 silenced with a poisoned cracknel biscuit, the kind that has 
 holes inside. We stole to the barouche I saw to all the de- 
 tails and with a wink to the assembled staff, all tipped 
 beyond their wildest dreams, we mounted. When we were 
 twenty minutes on our way, and the station lights at hand, 
 V. said quietly that she had left her keys. I said I would 
 do anything in the world for her but go back for them, 
 since her guardian's bloodhounds were already on our 
 trail. She didn't rise, she only looked at me and asked, 
 still quietly, if I could pick a lock. I said I could pull one, 
 and did. But she didn't rise to that, either; she seemed 
 vexed in mind. She said her father always picked locks 
 for her when she asked him, she is always hurling her 
 father at me. I shall hate that fellow soon. Later on, in 
 the comparative security of our reserved compartment, she 
 found her keys in my pocket. But she was not really 
 amused even then, you Ashwins have no sense of humor. 
 
 " It took quite a time to restore her to a proper frame of 
 mind an elopee's frame, festive and badinacious. As if a 
 key more or less could matter ! Long before midnight we 
 should be held up by a score of men in masks, the Ingestre 
 colors on their sleeves, and we should lose all our property,
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 7 
 
 locked or otherwise, and escape narrowly, if at all, with 
 our lives. I told V., to soothe her, that a shot would only 
 reach her through my body : and she said she would accept 
 a second-hand bullet rather than give up her pearls. The 
 word ' second-hand ' in such a connection struck me as 
 both nasty and unscientific, because no bullet really could 
 do it, as I proceeded to point out. The mention of the 
 pearls, however, explained her late agitation, and though 
 it saddened me in such a child, I made allowances. She 
 simply wants to cut a dash at table-d'hote, being tired of 
 merely astonishing the Ingestres' butler. 
 
 " Thus our differences ended, Margery, and I took her 
 to my heart. No, I didn't no such luck. I took her hat 
 off no less than four pins and she sat on my knee for 
 half an hour, and lit her cigarette at my match. I made 
 her come more than half-way for the light, because you 
 can't think how pretty her eyes are when you see them 
 close. She was not up to me that time, laying my pro- 
 ceeding to the draught or something, and I very nearly 
 burnt my coat." 
 
 Lady Brading smiled over the latter sentences, and 
 skipped them when she read the account to her husband. 
 She perceived the situation, knowing both the actors in it 
 intimately. Charles made a charming Bassanio, but Violet 
 could not have followed Portia in her self-abandonment. 
 She was still schooling her shy spirit to the new neces- 
 sities. She had been hurried into matrimony, her delicate 
 plumage ruffled very slightly, and needed leisure and 
 equable conditions to smooth it down. Charles was too 
 ardent only a little, but still too much. Margery could 
 see her, in fancy, setting a course for both, daintily and 
 steadily, guarding the future, since Charles, she knew, 
 could glorify the present alone. 
 
 Charles continued to glorify, in the absurd letter under 
 his step-sister's hand. He still thought it extremely clever 
 of him, evidently, to have conquered the brilliant Miss 
 Ashwin, or at least to possess as much as he had con-
 
 8 DUKE JONES 
 
 quered. He was quite ready to boast of it to all; and 
 Margery, always a friend, and a recent bride herself, had 
 most of his confidences. 
 
 " The gallant train held good," his account proceeded. 
 " Though bandits and bloodhounds raged in her wake, 
 our driver, spurring his mettled steed steed of metal, 
 drew ahead, and distanced them. (Distance or out-dis- 
 tance? I forget.) Anyhow, I emptied the chambers of 
 my revolver thrice from either window, which had its 
 effect. V. woke up, she was sleeping with her head on 
 her jewel-case, and asked if a tire had punctured. We 
 entered the Duchy at dawn, and passing the frontier, I 
 breathed again." 
 
 " They are in Cornwall," observed Margery to her hus- 
 band at this point. " Charlie couldn't resist the allitera- 
 tion when it came to the point." 
 
 " I dare say he'll give the rest away before he's done," 
 said Robert. " I never knew anyone take such pains to 
 keep secrets as Shovell, and succeed worse." 
 
 " There are pages yet,'' said Margery, turning them 
 over. " He can't stop writing about her, once he begins." 
 
 " Oh well," said Robert thoughtfully, " that's no harm." 
 
 " We arrived," Charles proceeded, " travel-worn, but 
 with the pearls intact, and all the pins in place. V. didn't 
 trust me to dig them in again, I noticed. Do you trust 
 Bob? We received a warm welcome at our destination 
 (wherever it is). * This,' I said to V., who was looking otit 
 of the lattice of our hostelry, ' is the chief fishing village 
 of the Duchy; and those are the Duchy-men, walking 
 about.' " 
 
 " St. Ives, probably," said Robert, taking his pipe out. 
 " There are some good hotels there. Sorry, Margery, 
 go on." 
 
 "'And out there?' said V. inquiringly. 'Oh, that's 
 the sea,' I said, with proper pride. ' We reached the coast, 
 my child, and further than this, we need not go at present, 
 though we must hold ourselves in readiness for what the
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 9 
 
 morrow may bring forth.' ' It is the morrow, isn't it? ' 
 said V., who seemed sleepy. ' I hope it will bring forth 
 breakfast shortly, for your sake, Charles. It was really 
 rather clever of you to hit on such a beautiful place.' I 
 had not, but she is always civil, as you know. She asked 
 if there were dispatches from England, quite in the proper 
 style, and learning there were not, sank on the sofa, 
 while I quaffed my coffee, and cut hunks from the haunch 
 with my poniard. She lay there most of the morning, re- 
 fusing all suggestions from me and others, and blinking 
 at the Bay. I think night- journeys are a beastly institu- 
 tion, and called myself an ass, at intervals, all day long. 
 She informed me more than once how kind I was, when 
 I fetched her things : and she laughed twice at my jokes, 
 a sinister sign. But she would not admit she was 
 fagged, and after dinner, in what I believe they call the 
 gloaming, she went a walk with me along the beach. (I 
 here omit a page of description. There was nothing really 
 in sight but the sea and the shore, unless you count the 
 sky; except some decent-looking rocks, where I shall 
 bathe.) Luckily there was a stiff wind, so I could get my 
 arm right round her without offense. She had to accept 
 it, to stand up. Probably she shouldn't have tried to walk 
 at all, I rather wish that maid of the Ingestres' had come 
 along, to manage her. That was my cursed selfishness 
 again, because I barred the maid. You never get a mo- 
 ment's privacy with servants jumping out on you from 
 every corner." 
 
 " Oh," said Margery. M Now I begin to see. It was his 
 idea to move, not hers." 
 
 " Humph," said Robert, smoking. Robert also knew 
 both the elements of this union, and in the quality of col- 
 lege comrade, he considered that he saw through Charles. 
 
 " It was a very nice walk," Charles continued jauntily, 
 " in itself quite worth eloping for. Every known variety 
 of sand can be observed on this shore, and is collected with 
 ease in the pockets, or any part of the person, when the
 
 io DUKE JONES 
 
 wind blows. It flew out in clouds when V. brushed her 
 hair to-night, and I shook a lot out of my eyebrows. To 
 shave both in the Oriental manner seems to be the only 
 remedy. We discovered a lighthouse on our return, and 
 spent a long time at the window watching it, some hours, 
 I should say ; but the light came round, without the small- 
 est hesitation, every time. A wonderful thing is science. 
 V. said, a propos of the lighthouse's behavior, that she 
 did admire impartiality. (I fine her sixpence for long 
 words like that, a penny for every syllable.) I said I 
 hated impartiality, particularly in women. That was one 
 of the things she laughed at, the other I am afraid I have 
 forgotten. V. and I never agree, unless she is really seedy, 
 as she was that beastly time in the spring ; and even then 
 she generally contradicted me with her eyes shut." 
 
 Quite at the end of the silly letter, Charles turned 
 serious. 
 
 " I do wish she was well," he said ; " not better, but well. 
 Dr. Ashwin is a great nob, but he did not bring it off in his 
 own household, and I've an idea conditions were against 
 him. I believe her mother baited her to death those last 
 weeks, I wish I could get behind that woman. We had 
 some pretty little scenes, the three of us, four, rather, 
 because Lady A. always lugs her husband in, but it was 
 only towards the end I began to see how the land lay. If I 
 ever find her ladyship saying things about me, Margery, 
 there'll be a murder in the society papers. She hates 
 Violet, and can't understand anyone liking her; I believe 
 that's the long and short of it. Jolly domestic situation, I 
 don't think. I am only thankful I have brought my girl 
 off before she was completely done for." 
 
 That was the description of the new quarters and con- 
 ditions supplied to Margery ; other briefer ones to Charles' 
 mother and Violet's father, during the days that followed, 
 suggested that the pair were happy, and actively occupied. 
 They occupied other people too. There was another newly-
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY n 
 
 married couple in the hotel, who shared the general interest 
 with Violet and Charles, but, as they were the latest 
 arrivals, the Shovells came in for a good deal. All the 
 women even the other bride admitted he was fright- 
 fully good-looking ; the men differed about her, the other 
 bridegroom declaring her plain. Somebody asked Jones, 
 being the Shovells' nearest neighbor, and owning the other 
 end of their balcony, how they spent their time. 
 
 " Oh, they're always talking," said E. M. Jones. 
 
 " To one another, or to you ? " said the inquirer, rather 
 wickedly. 
 
 " I have spoken to them," said Jones. " I lent her my 
 cycling-map one day, and she said a thing or two when 
 she returned it." 
 
 " Pretty uppish, isn't she ? " said a golfing-man. 
 
 " Oh well," said Jones, " I didn't notice it. She spoke 
 like anybody else." 
 
 " Talked to him ? " asked the usual father of a trouble- 
 some family. 
 
 " He's all right," said Jones. " Oh yes, we talked a bit." 
 
 " Cultivated, isn't he ? " asked the pretty American girl. 
 
 " I dare say," said Jones. " He lent me a sheet of the 
 ' Times.' They take it." 
 
 " What were you on, then ? " his inquisitive neighbor 
 pressed him. " Politics ? " 
 
 " Cricket," said Jones ; and walked off, leaving a dis- 
 appointed circle. Mr. Jones was rather a secretive little 
 man, the hotel ladies had agreed among themselves, and 
 rather stupid. He invariably understood a question liter- 
 ally, and answered it simply, not to say shortly too. He 
 had no idea of branching out, and being agreeable, at least 
 on personal themes. The hotel ladies did not often touch 
 on any others, one does not, in holiday time. Jones was, 
 to sum up the feminine opinion, rather disappointing, for 
 he had the look of being easily managed, and was quite 
 ready to be useful otherwise. The word " rather," it will 
 be seen, qualified every epithet applied to Jones. He was
 
 12 DUKE JONES 
 
 nothing in exaggeration, and the hotel ladies frequently 
 forgot all about him, even when he was sitting in their 
 midst. 
 
 As for the men, they liked him well enough. Every kind 
 of man had a word for him willingly; and he was an 
 excellent person to grumble to on a rainy day. " Harm- 
 less little beggar," was the way the men put it, " though a 
 bit strait-laced." The latter capital term for Jones was 
 discovered by Mr. Studley, the other bridegroom, when he 
 was presenting the world with his views on womenkind one 
 day. On this occasion there was nothing at all offensive 
 in Jones' behavior, and he really said nothing, since he 
 was reading ; but Mr. Studley resented his fashion of read- 
 ing, apparently, and found that name for him afterwards. 
 
 As soon as he had walked away from the representative 
 assembly, who had questioned him about the Shovells, the 
 assembly talked about Jones, as need not be said ; and his 
 late neighbor, vexed at being defrauded of details as to 
 the young couple's private life, which Jones must have 
 spied upon, and their private conversations, which he must 
 have overheard, was rather spiteful. 
 
 " He admires her awfully, I believe," said Jones' neigh- 
 bor. " He's always looking at her, anyhow ; and she made 
 him talk quite a lot last night, at dinner. He moved to 
 that front room on purpose, I shouldn't be surprised. I 
 wonder if the girl's a flirt." 
 
 " She doesn't dress like one," said the other bride, who 
 was exhibiting her trousseau, and changing for every meal. 
 
 There was a violent discussion instantly ; and such men 
 as happened to be present left in haste. The exact social 
 status of Mrs. Shovell vexed the popular mind a good deal. 
 Even the question as to whether her pearls were real was 
 not yet exhausted in the community; and her otherwise 
 quiet and girlish style was generally considered to be out 
 of keeping, both with the improbable pearls, and with her 
 position as a two-weeks' bride.
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 13 
 
 ii 
 
 The summary of his lively young neighbors by Jones 
 was requited, as we have already hinted, by absolutely 
 indefatigable analysis of Jones, from every point of view 
 and at every opportunity, on the part of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Charles. It was a wonderful and fortunate dispensation 
 that, but two days after he first fell beneath their notice 
 at table-d'hote, he should be moved by the landlord to 
 the adjacent room to theirs, suddenly vacated by one of 
 the golfing gentlemen. 
 
 " If this were a detective story," said Charles to Violet, 
 one early afternoon, during that drowsy period when most 
 of the seaside world, after the effort of a morning bathe, 
 is snoozing contentedly on beach or balcony, " I should 
 assume at once that Jones was after your pearls. His 
 colorless manner is against him. Shall we assume it ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Violet, who was engaged on a 
 business letter, and being badly interrupted by Charles at 
 intervals. 
 
 " Oh well," mused Charles, who was smoking in a com- 
 fortable chair, " we can afford to let it slide. Because I 
 notice they have a different theory downstairs." 
 
 "Did you speak, dear?" said Mrs. Shovell after a 
 silence. 
 
 " Yes, darling. I said I noticed they had a different 
 theory to account for Jones' intrusion on our balcony 
 downstairs." 
 
 14 It's not all our balcony," said Violet, folding her letter ; 
 " so he can't intrude. At least, I don't regard it as mine." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if Jones wishes it was," said 
 Charles. "That," he added hastily, "is the theory I 
 referred to." 
 
 Violet tossed her letter on the table, pushed back her 
 chair, and looked at him. " Charles, don't be a goose," she 
 said, faintly coloring. " That's just the sort of gossip I 
 hate worst. And, anyhow, you have no right to listen to it."
 
 14 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I have the best right," said Charles gravely. " If any 
 such things are said of you, I ought to know." 
 
 " It's not fair to him, either," argued Violet. " He 
 struck me as a particularly nice young man, really nice, 
 I mean. It is probably because he holds apart from all 
 those gossiping idlers that they attack him." 
 
 " I don't regard it as an attack," said Charles. " Granted 
 it was true, I should consider it very natural on Jones' 
 part. Besides, you were rather forward the other night 
 at dinner, you know." 
 
 " Leave the subject," said Violet definitely. " You must 
 be forward, or not talk at all, with a person like that ; and 
 as for the room, he asked to have it because, like every- 
 body else, he enjoys the view. The sea- view," she 
 appended, just in time. 
 
 " All right," said Charles. " And he got the room with 
 the sea-view, because, unlike everybody else, he can afford 
 to pay for it." 
 
 " Oh dear," said Mrs. Shovell, pained. " Isn't it terrible 
 that things like that can be paid for ? " She had risen and 
 stood near him at the window, sweeping the blue bay 
 with her gray eyes. " I wish you had not reminded me 
 of it." 
 
 " As usual, you fail to take my point," said Charles, 
 catching at her sleeve. " My point was " 
 
 " That Jones has money," said Violet, eluding him. " I 
 guessed that before. It is one of the things that makes 
 him interesting." 
 
 " It's the only thing that makes him interesting in the 
 eyes of the people downstairs," said Charles. " But I 
 thought you were above all that." He looked at her with 
 reproach. 
 
 " No," said Violet, considering it ; "I think wealth is 
 an element to be reckoned with, even psychologically " 
 
 " Sixpence ! " broke in Charles exultantly, and held out 
 his hand. 
 
 Violet slapped the hand, and said her money was up-
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 15 
 
 stairs. Charles said he would let her off if she would come 
 and tell him her whole theory of Jones. 
 
 Violet accepted the bargain so far as to sit on the arm of 
 his chair, and allow him to tell her his whole theory, which 
 was probably what he meant. 
 
 " I believe," said Charles darkly, " that this man is the 
 Jones." 
 
 "Which? "said Violet. 
 
 " The one we all allude to when we use the term. Brown 
 and Robinson probably exist as well, but I always pictured 
 Jones as the most prominent. In other words, Jones is the 
 man in the street. Our Jones is the man in the street. I 
 have even proved it." 
 
 " How ? " said Violet, leaning back amused, and conse- 
 quently tractable. 
 
 " I asked him his opinion of the present Government," 
 said Charles. " And Jones said, * rotten.' Now, if he had 
 said * rotten at the core,' I should have taken him for a 
 serious politician, of the opposite faction naturally, a 
 profound thinker, an occasional lecturer on sociology, and 
 generally speaking the sort of man I loathe. But when 
 Jones said rotten, he meant rotten, proving himself to be 
 the Jones I said. He called the Lancashire bowling rotten 
 too, likewise the weather until we came, and the cookery at 
 Jiis last hotel, and the view from his other window. Do 
 you see ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," said Violet. " You needn't go on t I be- 
 lieve I could have guessed the word without annotation." 
 
 " I never know," said Charles, shutting his eyes, "if 
 you are up to the full signification of the more ordinary 
 vocables of our currency. Your own collection is unique." 
 
 " I am adding a quantity to it, every day," said Violet. 
 " I believe I could talk like you at this moment ; or like 
 Mr. Jones' sister, if I had to. Shall I try? " 
 
 " Don't, for heaven's sake ! " Mr. Shovell's eyes came 
 open. " My dear girl, how you frightened me." 
 
 " Well, you were caricaturing me," said Violet. " Teas-
 
 16 DUKE JONES 
 
 ing. I am not used to being teased about the way I speak. 
 Father " 
 
 " Drop it," said Charles, getting a hand across her 
 mouth, which implies, of course, that the arm was 
 already round her. " To proceed : having conjectured that 
 he was the Jones, it became my object to discover his 
 Christian name. It instantly becomes a question of ab- 
 sorbing interest. You admit that ? " 
 
 Violet admitted, so far as he would let her. 
 
 " Do you think the E. or the M. is the one he uses at 
 home ? " said Charles. 
 
 " The M.," said Violet, freeing herself. " Two of the 
 envelopes we saw were addressed ' M. Jones, Esquire,' 
 anyhow. And I can tell you what his name is not, Charles, 
 and that's Michael." 
 
 " Why ? " said Charles, interested in turn. 
 
 " Because Michael is the name of an up-to-date hero, 
 and a woman's favorite. And your Jones is neither." 
 
 " My Jones would fain be," suggested Charles. " All 
 right, he's not Michael. Nor Maurice, I presume, for 
 the same reason. Maximilian is a shade too warlike, so 
 is Manfred ; and Marius too classical. Miles " 
 
 " Impossible," said Violet. " Miles Jones ! No mother 
 could." 
 
 " Well," said Charles, " what sort of name could a 
 mother? I leave it to you." 
 
 Her faint color rose instantly. " I only mean you must 
 think of the combination. Not a monosyllable, anyhow. 
 Mortimer and Mordaunt both sound nice " 
 
 " So does Melchisedec," said Charles. " I believe we 
 have exhausted the lot, and got no nearer. This work, my 
 dear, every day, is almost too much for me. Shall I ask 
 him ? He's out there on the balcony now." 
 
 " Charles ! " She sat up, one little hand clenched at her 
 breast. " Why didn't you tell me ? Could he have heard ? " 
 
 " Only the murmur of voices," Charles consoled her. 
 " Whispers from Elysium, and so on. And there stands
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 17 
 
 Jones, eating his lion-heart, alone. I'm sorry for that 
 fellow. You might go and be nice to him, V." 
 
 " You can," said Violet, rising from her place at his side 
 unexpectedly, so that he had really no time to prevent it. 
 Her movements were all neat and swift, like a bird's. " I 
 am going out, to register my letter. Is yours finished to 
 Maud ? Because if so, I will take it." 
 
 " It's about a quarter as long as Margery's," said 
 Charles, looking at the sheet on the table discontentedly. 
 (He had been supposed to be writing it, all this time.) 
 " I can never find so much to say to Maud. I wish Maud 
 would get married, that would make it easier for a fellow." 
 
 " You must be very short of subjects," remarked Violet. 
 " I wish I had written to dear Maud, but there's no time 
 now. Put my love in, and fasten it up." She held it to 
 him. " Here's a stamp." 
 
 " What do you bet," said Charles, licking all the corners 
 of the stamp in turn, to punctuate his sentence, and to 
 waste her time, " that I find out Jones' second name before 
 I see you, and his birthplace, club, favorite modern poet, 
 and the address of his tailor? " 
 
 " Do be quiet, Charles," she said gently. " You make 
 me so nervous, when the windows are open. He can't 
 help his tailor, probably." 
 
 " Sorry, darling," said Charles. " I was only gassing 
 vacantly, as usual. My intentions are honorable to worthy 
 Jones, as these results shall prove. Now cut along and 
 get some air. Only just tell me where to pick you up when 
 you have finished business, I mean, when I have finished 
 it." 
 
 Violet told him exactly where, and when, and left him 
 in the hope he had been really attending to what she said. 
 When he was looking at her simultaneously, she was never 
 sure.
 
 i8 DUKE JONES 
 
 in 
 
 Mr. Shovell, an easy-going young gentleman, as the 
 attentive reader may have guessed, spent a good hour 
 smoking with Jones, each resting an elbow on the parti- 
 tion-rail of their common balcony. Starting from cricket, 
 he found out a number of things useful and the reverse. 
 Then he wandered through the veranda, making him- 
 self irregularly agreeable, and found out a number more. 
 Finally, he had a talk in the office with the proprietress, 
 who, like most motherly women of her class, loved him on 
 sight, and gave him details she would not have given to 
 others. Then, bursting with information, and needing 
 leisure to sort it, he strolled out in the direction of the 
 place Violet had named, arrived there a good deal later 
 than the time she said, and, not unnaturally, missed her. 
 Consequently, after lounging about for a time, looking at 
 other girls, and making comparisons, he found he was 
 hungry, and was driven to return in his tracks to the 
 hotel. 
 
 " Hullo ! " said Charles, espying the form of Jones still 
 on his second-floor balcony as he passed beneath. " Hap- 
 pen to know if my wife's up there? " 
 
 This highly characteristic accost, at the full pitch of his 
 lungs, reached the entire rank of tea-drinking loungers in 
 the veranda, who were considerably amused; and more 
 than reached its object, whom it discomposed in 
 proportion. 
 
 " Really, I don't know," his answer came back, amid a 
 rustle of newspapers. " I think so." Mr. Jones, with a 
 balustrade between him and the Shovells' balcony, could 
 not be supposed to see inside the Shovells' room. 
 
 " All right," said Charles easily. " Don't fag." He 
 stooped, chose a stone, and tossed it up at the half-opened 
 window next to Jones'. Admirably well aimed, it dis- 
 appeared within. Arousing by this means, however, no
 
 19 
 
 response, not even the crash of broken glass or tea-cups, 
 Charles was forced to assume either that Violet had not 
 returned, or that she was in her bedroom, changing ; and 
 he strolled airily into the porch. 
 
 " Seen my wife? " he once more inquired, as he passed 
 the group of men who generally sat, like an outpost, at 
 the entry. Observing the pretty American girl among 
 them, he removed his hat, and concentrated his inquiry 
 upon her. 
 
 " Well," said the young lady at leisure, " I presume 
 Mrs. Shovell's still inside that room, since she was outside 
 it just lately, speaking to Mr. Jones." 
 
 Charles stopped short, and pausing, seemed to blush. 
 " You don't say so," he said thoughtfully. Then he 
 laughed of a sudden, sketched the young lady a saluta- 
 tion, and dashed upstairs. 
 
 " Isn't he fascinating? " remarked the girl to her sur- 
 roundings. " As fresh ! That's the way I'd like a man to 
 be in love with me." Since at least six men were in hear- 
 ing, this classed the American girl beyond redemption in 
 the opinion of at least six spinster ladies. There were 
 innumerable such ladies in that hotel, as it has not been 
 necessary to insist. 
 
 " Surely you received my stone ? " said Charles politely 
 to Violet. She was inside the room, sure enough, reclin- 
 ing in a chair beside the tea-tray, and reading a letter 
 with close attention. Her likeness to her clever father 
 struck Charles forcibly when she was studious. She 
 glanced up at his entrance, and laying the letter aside, 
 handed him his tea-cup in one hand, and the stone in the 
 other, mutely. 
 
 " Why didn't you come out and talk to us ? " said 
 Charles. 
 
 " I didn't want to move," she said lightly. " Lazy." 
 
 Charles took his tea, and three slices of bread and but- 
 ter, carefully. 
 
 " That's right," he advised her. " Let me down easy,
 
 20 DUKE JONES 
 
 I can't stand much. Did it hit you or the looking-glass, 
 darling?" 
 
 She shook her head. " I caught it," she explained. 
 
 " Jolly smart of you," said Charles, approving. As he 
 subsided into his low chair he added " It's what I 
 thought I should do, but I haven't yet.*' 
 
 No response : Violet was smiling very slightly, though 
 her eyes were diverted to her letter. After a pause, 
 Charles put his tea-cup down, and drove his hands in his 
 pockets. 
 
 " V.," he said, with solemnity. (This was the name on 
 which he had finally resolved, after much fertile experi- 
 ment.) " You will be glad to know that, since the late 
 incident, Miss Hattie What's-her-name below there allows 
 you are just too elegant to live." 
 
 " Are you sure? " said Violet. " It doesn't sound quite 
 right." 
 
 " Well, that's the line." 
 
 " Poor Charles," said Violet, with a glance at him. 
 "Did you feel snubbed?" 
 
 " I did. By Jones positively, and negatively by you. I 
 carried it off extremely well," declared Charles. "Ask 
 Miss H. if I didn't, but the experience has left its mark. 
 Don't you think it's the thing, V., to say you're sorry? " 
 
 " Don't you think it's the thing to stop satirizing me? " 
 said Violet. " I can't help what I am." She spoke 
 quickly : but almost immediately she got up, came behind 
 his chair, and kissed him, entirely of her own accord. 
 
 " You must put up with me for the present," she said, 
 on a breath as light as the kiss, and would have withdrawn 
 again, but he seized her. 
 
 " You little angel, now, listen here. I apologize for 
 my beastly manners, that's understood. And I'll keep 
 that stone, and shy it at anyone who says a thing, harm- 
 less or otherwise, about you or Jones. I shy jolly straight, 
 so they'll be sorry. Now tell me what you were worrying 
 over, when I came in. My manners ? "
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 21 
 
 " No," she said. " Your manners are unusually good, 
 I always thought so ; so did Father." 
 
 " Is that letter from your father? " said Charles. 
 
 " No," said Violet ; " from Mother." 
 
 He made a brusque movement, but she was still behind 
 him, holding his head with her slight firm hands ; so, after 
 an instant, he took the hint and subsided. 
 
 " It's unheard-of, of course, that Mother should write," 
 said Violet. " It's not her way. But I suppose our being 
 in this part of the world was convenient. She says I am 
 to go and see the Addenbrokes, at Torquay." 
 
 " Oh, curse ! " said Mr. Shovell equably. " We can't." 
 
 " Not you," said Violet. " Mother does not suggest it. 
 I am to go. It seems that the Addenbrokes are in hot 
 water, as usual." 
 
 " More kith ? " inquired Charles, subsiding still more 
 under her expert handling. Violet never " pawed " peo- 
 ple, but her touch was agreeable and suggestive. 
 
 " Very distant, but Mother's people are responsible for 
 them. They are connected with the Ingestres on the 
 mother's side, like me. Are you bored with my kith, 
 Charles?" 
 
 M I can stand hearing about 'em," said Charles thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " Well, you shall have a cigarette to carry you through." 
 She picked his pockets and chose him one, while Charles 
 finished his tea and looked on at the operation. " Mother's 
 family is complicated," she explained, " because the In- 
 gestres all marry, and mostly have large families, Mother 
 herself being an exception. There ! " She put the cigar- 
 ette between his teeth, and lit it for him. " No, I shall 
 not smoke till after dinner. Father says I must cut my- 
 self down, or he will cut me off. Tiresome pedant, isn't 
 he ? He says I overdid it in the spring, when I never sup- 
 posed he was noticing. Are you quite comfortable? very 
 well." She replaced her hands, and herself, where she 
 had been before, behind him and just out of sight. " The
 
 22 DUKE JONES 
 
 Addenbrokes are a pair of orphan girls, one clever, and 
 one pretty, both rather fearfully so. Have you grasped 
 that?" 
 
 " It's a good start," said Charles, smoking. 
 
 " They were not brought up at all," proceeded Violet, 
 " by an extraordinary artist father, their mother being a 
 negative quantity. Honoria and Felicia are their beau- 
 tiful names, all their father could do for them, because 
 he did nothing else. He neither educated, nor earned for 
 them, so far as I could ever discover. Both the parents 
 were killed in a frightful train-smash nine years ago, 
 (Have I really not told you this?) and after that the 
 Ingestres had to bestir themselves. You know something 
 of the Ingestres," said Violet, her eyes on her mother's 
 letter, " so you know how much they object to that. They 
 are lazy, huffy people ; hard to move in all senses. But 
 Mr. Addenbroke mentioned Mother in his will, I don't 
 think she has ever forgiven him, so finally, she supplied 
 the money, and Cousin Agnes, that's the sister of Mrs. 
 Addenbroke, and of Mr. Ingestre at the Hall, took 
 charge of the girls. Have you got that straight ? " 
 
 " I think I can do it," said Charles. 
 
 " Cousin Agnes got the worst of the bargain," observed 
 Violet. " She has had nothing but trouble with them ever 
 since." 
 
 " What kind of a party is she ? " asked Charles. 
 
 " Cousin Agnes ? She is a widow, pious and invalidish, 
 living at Torquay. The Addenbroke girls live with her 
 when they are not teaching. I think Honoria teaches still, 
 that is: the other one does certainly. I am very, very 
 sorry," said Violet dreamily, " for both their schools." 
 
 " But why should you be bothered about it ? " said 
 Charles, frowning. " That's what I can't see." 
 
 " Oh, that's Mother. Cousin Agnes wrote to Mother, 
 describing Felicia's latest, and wondering if Mother could 
 do anything. Mother sends Cousin Agnes' letter on to me. 
 That's Ingestre behavior all over. The only difference
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 23 
 
 between them is, Cousin Agnes thinks I might be some 
 good, and Mother obviously does not. She does not 
 conceal it from me." 
 
 " Then why bother you at all? " persisted Charles. 
 
 " To get rid of the letter." Violet laughed. " Mother 
 hates such things lying about. And it's quite providential 
 my being here, isn't it? So near, as she says. Mother's 
 contempt for geography is quite splendid, and always 
 was." She waited an instant. " I am sorry about it, 
 Charles," she said, her finger-tips emphasizing her sorrow. 
 " If I had thought of any such annoyance for you, I would 
 have gone anywhere else. It's not as if I could do any- 
 thing really, only they think I can. Honoria thoroughly 
 alarms the Ingestres, she was a third Wrangler and 
 goodness knows what at Cambridge, before your day, 
 she's twenty-nine. The only time I met her," said Violet 
 thoughtfully, " she struck me as a stupid girl. I have no 
 natural sympathy with mathematicians ; that may be the 
 reason." 
 
 " The reason may be, you're jolly clever and she's not," 
 said Charles concisely. " All the Wranglers I ever met 
 were asses, anyhow. Are the ructions with her, or with 
 the younger one ? " 
 
 " Both, probably," said Violet. " They are both terrors, 
 in their ways. Honoria never has understood Felicia the 
 least, or tried to. Perhaps she can't." 
 
 " What's Felicia ? " said Charles. " How does she rile 
 the Wrangler, I mean ? Only by wrangling on her own ? 
 Pretty, did you say ? " 
 
 " Pretty and silly," said Violet. *' Violently silly, it 
 takes her in gusts. Mother thinks I had better not let you 
 see Felicia, Charles." 
 
 " Does she say so ? " Mr. Shovell awoke. " Give me the 
 letter." 
 
 " No, I won't." Reaching a swift hand, she pushed the 
 sheet further away before he could touch it. " I only wish 
 your mother were here," she said, " to help me about this.
 
 24 DUKE JONES 
 
 It looks to me as if the girl had really done it this time, 
 she has been near the edge pretty often, but goodness 
 knows. Cousin Agnes is prejudiced against them, of 
 course, being religious, and it may not be as bad as it 
 sounds." 
 
 Once more she waited, as if to take breath, or thought : 
 her fingers pressing him, and more than she knew. 
 
 " Have a cigarette," said Charles helpfully, with an odd 
 glance at her sidelong. 
 
 "No, don't tempt me." She bit her lip. "I am 
 strongly disinclined to intervene, you know. After all, 
 both the Addenbrokes are older than I am. Felicia must 
 be twenty-one. It is bound to appear impertinent to them, 
 I mean, however convenient to their aunt. And Honoria 
 in a real rage would not be amusing. She's rather a a 
 rough diamond," said Violet, having paused for a term. 
 
 " Meaning a wild beast," said Charles serenely. 
 " What's the shindy about? " 
 
 " I can't say exactly, dear, it's confidential. It looks 
 wild, and worse, if I have got the facts right. But what 
 with Cousin Agnes, and Mother, and both their tempera- 
 ments to reckon with, I am not sure even of that." 
 
 Charles took her hands from his brow of a sudden, rose, 
 and stood at his full height above her. 
 
 " Don't intervene, then," he said shortly. " I forbid 
 you to." 
 
 " Do you really ? " said Violet. The cloud slipped from 
 her brow, and a gleam of amusement appeared. She 
 caught at his coat. " Do you mean it, Charles ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. I simply won't have it. What business 
 have they to fag you? especially in a nasty business. 
 Confounded cheek, all round, I call it. It's my honeymoon 
 as well as yours, isn't it ? Very well. Give me that letter, 
 I'll answer it." 
 
 " Oh, no." The girl took up the sheets hastily. " I mean, 
 I'm used to her. Really, Charles. Mother's concise 
 expressions time-saving are not always agreeable. She
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 25 
 
 is vexed, to begin with, at having to write. She can't bear 
 writing, you know." 
 
 " Give it here," said Charles. " Thanks." He put it in 
 his pocket. " I'll read it or not as I think fit. Anyhow, it's 
 off your mind. You're to do nothing, >you can lay it on 
 me if she says anything. I'll explain later if necessary, 
 when we get back. Does Sir Claude know about it ? " 
 
 " No. Please don't trouble him. Mother will be at him 
 quite soon enough, if I fail her. That was one reason why 
 I why I debated. I do feel for Mother," said Violet, hesi- 
 tating. " In a way, she's responsible for those girls. The 
 will made her morally responsible. I know that from 
 Father himself." 
 
 " I hope she feels her moral responsibilities a bit more 
 than towards her own daughter," thought Charles rather 
 grimly. " If not, I am sorry for the Addenbrokes." 
 
 He felt thoroughly vicious towards the letter, he 
 thought he had at last got rid of Lady Ashwin. He was 
 ready enough to admire her, in her own place ; but she had 
 been a little too much in the foreground, in Mr. Shovell's 
 view, during the period of his engagement, and his civility 
 had been taxed to dispose of her gracefully, once or twice. 
 He particularly resented her invariable cool assumption, 
 in life, concerning Violet's services ; the more so, naturally, 
 since the date when his own claim upon those services 
 began. Lady Ashwin was a woman who used others 
 mercilessly, by the simple means of refraining from all 
 effort on her own part, and letting her obligations slide. 
 She was doubtless now coming to realize, with surprise 
 and indignation, the manifold uses of an only daughter; 
 having got the daughter off her hands, to use the popular 
 term, with the greatest dispatch that was decent, and with 
 the frankest indifference to her deserts, filial and other- 
 wise : even her claim to such interest as a clever servant of 
 the household might have asked : for such, as a fact, Violet 
 had been. Charles now perceived that Lady Ashwin did 
 not intend to slacken her grasp on those good offices,
 
 26 DUKE JONES 
 
 however she might underrate her daughter's talents in 
 other directions; and he cursed the intruding letter the 
 more. 
 
 " Don't worry, darling," he said gently, after some 
 moments of silence had passed. " I can't bear it." 
 
 " Oh, you are nice," said the girl under her breath, as 
 she swerved from him. Still concealing her face, she 
 walked away towards the window, and stood there for 
 some time, her hands clenched at her side. 
 
 Charles, after one regretful glance in her wake, decided 
 at his leisure to let her be. He abandoned, also at leisure, 
 the idea of attempting to divert her with his own scraps of 
 gossip, so carefully saved and sorted. There is a season 
 for all things, thought Charles; and this was not the 
 moment for Jones' second chapter, thrilling to all right- 
 thinking investigators though it might be. He put it off 
 until such time as Violet should be ready to play with him 
 again. Nor was he obsessed by the desire to tease her for 
 her confidence, at this stage of affairs; especially about 
 her own matters, the peculiarly trying family situation 
 she had had to face almost from childhood, and managed 
 quite adequately without his aid. At least Charles judged 
 he could do no further good by interfering for the 
 present, and he did not interfere. He took up a small net 
 he used for dredging on the beach, and proceeded to mend 
 it with materials abstracted from Violet's work-basket, 
 whistling contentedly the while. 
 
 The owner of the work-basket did not look at him, 
 though she was aware of his depredations. He was not 
 absent from her consciousness for a moment, intent on 
 her latest problem as she was. Violet had lived much 
 alone, and even this daily companionship was strange to 
 her a little. She was discovering the resource it offered 
 her, by degrees. The full expression of these discoveries 
 was reticent, even to herself. He was " nice," Charles, 
 and he was there. He made a second in her inner life, as 
 well as her outer, and her swift-weaving thoughts occa-
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 27 
 
 sionally embraced him, worked him into the pattern of the 
 future that was spreading before her, during these quiet 
 weeks. She had got so far as to accept him completely, 
 mentally at least. In life, audacious and mischievous, dis- 
 tracting, devouring at times, he was still able to startle 
 her. Once or twice, during her meditations at the window, 
 Violet smiled suddenly, thinking of Charles, certain of his 
 late proceedings, and of his latest one, in the calm abstrac- 
 tion of her letter, It was like him, the pleasant assurance 
 of it, surprising her. Then, her mind recurring to the 
 letter's contents, her face turned serious again. The con- 
 tents were concerned with things and people that, even in 
 these strangely-illuminated first weeks of wedlock, she 
 could not, should not, forget. It was safer not to forget 
 them. The ocean her eyes were watching had a melan- 
 choly little note, for all the wide glory of its appearance. 
 It was better also in the glorious tide, the rising tide, of 
 life and love, not to lose hold of that underlying tragedy, 
 completely. 
 
 Charles, urged in part by the need to try his net, so 
 admirably mended by unaided masculine contrivance 
 behind Violet's back, took a solitary stroll before dinner. 
 While he was out, he made up his mind on the question of 
 conjugal morality, and read Lady Ash win's short letter to 
 her daughter through. Violet risked that deliberately 
 when she gave it him, and he took his own risks in the 
 matter. The enclosure, which bore a black border, and 
 was conspicuously marked " private," he avoided ; for the 
 affairs of the orphan Addenbrokes were certainly none of 
 his. 
 
 The note he read gave Charles one of the sharpest shocks 
 of his life. He had always charged his own mother's 
 style with dryness, if not severity ; but what he held was 
 not a mother's letter at all. There was no sign in it of 
 confidence, or of kindness. The expressions were those of 
 a cool equal, and hostile critic. Rival, Charles would have 
 said, had his modesty ventured on the term. The " dear "
 
 28 DUKE JONES 
 
 at the beginning, the " affectionate " at the end, seemed 
 but an additional insult to his mind, as soon as he had 
 grasped the true bearing of the rest. The sentences that 
 referred to himself made him bristle, though each taken 
 alone sounded inoffensive. He could almost hear the 
 writer's deliberate voice pronouncing them. 
 
 " There is no point in Charles' going, especially as Agnes 
 implies the girl is still about. She is that sort of girl up- 
 setting unless she has changed a good deal. And if she 
 has got her own idea, she had better stick to it. She will be 
 a good riddance to Agnes, anyhow. ... So far as 
 that goes, C. will be better let alone now and then. Your 
 talk is like your father's, comes from nerves. It sounds 
 clever for a time, but they soon notice the difference. 
 Once show you are nervous about them, your hold slips. 
 It's never a grip after, only clutching. . . . You are not 
 given to taking advice, but don't say later I did not men- 
 tion it." 
 
 " And she lets me read this ! " he thought, with a thrill of 
 real pride. His next thought to that was '" But how the 
 woman dares ! a girl like that, worth six of her ! " 
 
 He felt the virulence of jealousy vaguely, but would not 
 admit it, for very shame. Another woman would have 
 recognized it at once, for only that passion can spur 
 a pen to such wounding phrases. It mattered little of what 
 the jealousy might be, of youth, of happiness, of Charles' 
 own free bearing and facile attractions ; to the truly sen- 
 sual and self-absorbed the commonest possessions of 
 others may inspire it. But Charles, wrapped at this time 
 in the study of one woman, gave little thought to Eveleen's 
 impulses, beyond their immediate effect on Violet. 
 Remembering the girl's tone and aspect lately, her delib- 
 erate concealment of her face from him, and the touch, still 
 on his temples, of her nervous hands, he did half see how 
 far such a mother as this would be capable of tormenting 
 her, if she would, in married life. For ten minutes at
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 29 
 
 least after reading, it has to be confessed, the sweet- 
 tempered Charles was in a black rage. Finding a con- 
 venient spot on the quays, where he could write in peace, 
 he composed and indited a letter to Lady Ashwin, hardly 
 longer than her own, entirely for his own consolation and 
 relief. Then deliberately, though regretfully, he tore it up, 
 and threw the fragments in the sea. 
 
 After this little effort, he resumed his place on the sea- 
 wall, and wrote another, balmy in tone, as amusing as he 
 could make it, and as flattering as he judged Lady Ashwin 
 would stand. At the close he mentioned casually that he 
 was not sure if she realized how far it was to Torquay by 
 rail, and that they had no motor handy for the moment ; 
 but he would take Violet over, if it could be reasonably 
 managed, before they left. Otherwise, he feared his wife's 
 advice on the case her mother laid before her (Charles 
 enjoyed that phrase) must be sent through the post. 
 Indeed, that might be the best solution. Violet had not 
 given him the facts, so he could not judge how unpleasant 
 the affair was ; but if it was unpleasant, after all, such an 
 unpracticed girl could be of little use. And Violet's mother 
 at least would understand, he did not want, in their short 
 holiday, to lose more minutes than he absolutely must of 
 her society. 
 
 He showed this composition after dinner to Violet, who 
 read it biting her lip, called it " quite beautiful/' and then 
 coming back to his side on the hearth, for she had been 
 using the last light at the window to read, inquired if 
 she might have the honor of tearing it up. Charles, after 
 a little so-called argument, which on his side was shame- 
 less flirting, allowed her to do so : and she scattered the 
 pieces over the fire. 
 
 " A great waste of your precious time, isn't it? " she said 
 in her soft mechanical tone, as she stood warming her 
 hands at the blaze they made ; for the evening had turned 
 chill while Charles was out, and she had had a wood fire to
 
 3 o DUKE JONES 
 
 welcome his return. It gave them a pleasant foretaste, 
 amusing in June, of what the winter evenings together 
 would be. " But a bit of true art is never wasted," she 
 added dreamily. " Somebody says so, I forget who." 
 
 " You don't," retorted Charles. " I wish you wouldn't 
 tell lies about nothing, Violet. I quote poetry myself now 
 and then, when necessary. It brightens up the dialogue. 
 I quoted in that letter, unpracticed girl is Shakespeare, a 
 trifle adapted. And you can't deny it's on the spot." 
 
 " I don't deny it," said Violet, looking down at the 
 subsiding flames with a sweet sobriety Portia's self could 
 hardly have exceeded. 
 
 " And talking of art," Charles pursued, watching her 
 between his narrowed eyelids, " you should have seen the 
 other." 
 
 " The other? " She half turned to him. 
 
 " The other letter I wrote your mater this afternoon." 
 
 " Charles, you wretch ! " She dropped on her knees 
 before him, clasping his. " You have not sent one really ? " 
 
 " No, my precious, take it easy. But it was a jewel of 
 style. It simply scorched my fingers when I tore it up. 
 It would have been waste of coal to burn it, so I cooled it 
 in the sea." 
 
 Still kneeling, she pondered the phrases an instant, 
 looking down. There was barely light enough for him to 
 see her, for the fire had died again, and they had not 
 sought a lamp. The summer twilight and she matched 
 perfectly, it was in such twilight he had seen her first, 
 three years ago, the three that had made their history. 
 
 " Were you angry? " she said at last, lifting her eyes. 
 
 His encountered them. There ensued one of the pro- 
 longed pauses between intimates, in which the unspeakable 
 is said. 
 
 " I am thinking," said Charles quietly at the end of it, 
 " of asking Marmaduke Jones to join our walk to-morrow. 
 He's quite a nice fellow, and seems lonely ; unless you 
 object, my dear."
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 31 
 
 It may amuse those who are not lovers to supply, for 
 the benefit of those who never even wanted to be, the 
 intervening steps between the final question and answer in 
 this carefully-noted dialogue. 
 
 IV 
 
 Marmaduke, as a fact, was Jones' name. Charles 
 supplied the fact, with various other facts and ornamental 
 surmises, to Violet, the next morning, before they took 
 their walk. He detained her to discuss it, with difficulty, 
 for she was on springs to be up and about the world. It 
 was a glorious morning, seeming to promise a spell of 
 settled weather, and everybody was stirring in the little 
 town. It was as well, Charles explained, with that weighty 
 solemnity which always implied an agreement of nonsense 
 between them, for his wife to be posted in advance, in case 
 they encountered E. M. Jones upon the beach. The name 
 was undoubtedly Marmaduke, and he was so little ashamed 
 of it that he had it printed on his card. Charles thought it 
 probable that Jones' sister, if he had one, shortened it. 
 He was anxious to know what the name of Marmaduke, 
 apart from all other less important considerations, sug- 
 gested to Violet. 
 
 " It's rather sweet," said Mrs. Shovell, who was looking 
 extraordinarily young and pretty, and was rather erratic 
 in dialogue. " Lavender and things, not poudre precisely, 
 but curls and hoops. He must have a nice mother." 
 
 He might have had, Charles explained, but she no longer 
 existed. Jones' father was also defunct. He was that 
 pathetic thing, an orphan. Charles was sure, at least, 
 Violet perceived Jones' pathetic side. He was the kind of 
 man who walked lonely amid crowds. 
 
 " Then he cannot be the man in the street," said Violet. 
 " Be reasonable, Charles. The man in the street is 
 certainly gregarious, no, that's only four syllables, and it 
 is exactly what I mean. You must give up one theory or 
 the other."
 
 32 DUKE JONES 
 
 Charles, on consideration, preferred to keep the pathos. 
 The pathos was evident, indeed, since Jones, for instance, 
 knew no one in this hotel. 
 
 " I heard him say good morning six times," said Violet, 
 " when he went out early to bathe. I counted as I lay in 
 bed. Everybody bathed this morning except you." 
 
 " That does not prove that he's popular, merely polite," 
 reasoned Charles. " Marmaduke is polite. He told me 
 nearly half the things I tried to find out without apparent 
 resentment. After the first few minutes, Jones goes in 
 harness steadily. I shall learn to manage him in time. The 
 man's a mystery," mused Charles. 
 
 " No," said Violet, with a shake of head, " I assure you 
 that theory is exploded too. Jones is not after my pearls. 
 He has stopped being a mystery, and become a dear. I 
 found out he was a dear, before you came in, yesterday 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Did you?" Charles pondered, eyeing her. " Well, it 
 may all fit in. At this point, V., you take a seat, and ask 
 me for my narrative." 
 
 "Mayn't I walk about?" said Violet. "All right." 
 She sat down, and leant back. 
 
 " You must listen, you know," said Charles suspiciously. 
 " It's not the thing to shut your eyes. Yes, do, darling, if 
 you're tired." 
 
 " I am not tired, only patient," explained Violet. " It's 
 a delicious day." 
 
 " You needn't be patient long," said Charles. " Only 
 just wait till I spring a bomb on you, a mine, I mean. 
 Jones is a University man." 
 
 " Oh, surely not ! " said Violet, her gray eyes open- 
 ing wide. 
 
 " I thought it would move you. Now say he's not a 
 mystery. Jones was a Tosher." 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 " Oho ! Who lightly calls herself Oxford, and attempts 
 to bandy words with fellows from the other shop ? Even /
 
 33 
 
 know what a Tosher is. Tosher is Oxford dialect for 
 ' unattached.' " 
 
 " Unattached," repeated Violet, considering it. " Well, 
 yes ; that is rather pathetic, certainly." 
 
 " Don't find pathos in the wrong places," advised 
 Charles. " I can't bear sentimentality. ' Unattached ' 
 means no more than that Jones was a free lance in his 
 studies, and belonged to no official college. It also implies 
 that, at the time, funds were low. It makes a faint reflec- 
 tion on his religious opinions, but nothing serious. Jones 
 remains, in spite of all, respectable. I have often thought 
 of lecturing on life in Oxford," said Charles, " the people 
 who lay claim to that old place seem to know so little 
 about it." 
 
 " Well, we were attached," said Violet. " And what's 
 more, you must be wrong about religious opinions, because 
 ours were awful. And what's more than that, we raked in 
 University prizes, and took a First Class at an age when 
 most men go up. We then proceeded to the business of 
 life in Paris, to the indignation of our classical professors, 
 who never forgave us. I know because I have talked to 
 one at dinner. Have you ever seen Father's medals, 
 Charles ? Do remind me to show you some time, it's too 
 silly." 
 
 Charles waited for her, his withering eyes resting upon 
 her countenance. It held a light which Jones, at least at 
 present, could not evoke. It was useless to try to stop her, 
 when launched at this speed, so he waited, wearily. 
 
 " Quite done ? " he said in the pause. 
 
 " Yes ; go on narrating, dear. What did Mr. Jones 
 read?" 
 
 " I have no idea," said Charles. " What a thoroughly 
 stupid question, excuse me,- Violet. It puts me out. As if 
 a man's subject matters! You'll be talking to Jones 
 himself about it next. The question is, what a man adds 
 to the experience of life. I learnt a great deal myself, and 
 so did Jones. We shook our heads over it, yesterday.
 
 34 DUKE JONES 
 
 Parcel of young blackguards we were, my faith! Well, 
 what are you shaking yours about ? " 
 
 " He was never a blackguard," said Violet. " He has 
 not the physique, or the nerve for it. He could not take a 
 policeman's helmet if he tried. He worked peaceably at 
 whatever it was, in well-recommended rooms looking 
 over the High no, the Turl, since funds were low at the 
 time. How delightful and spirited of Mrs. Jones to send 
 him to Oxford ! I am sure his excellent father, in an old- 
 fashioned country business, disapproved." 
 
 Mr. Shovell was waiting perforce again, but this time 
 not in scorn ; rather ruffled on the contrary. 
 
 " How do you know all that? " he demanded. " Were 
 you fishing yesterday too ? " 
 
 " Surmise," said Violet lightly. " What are the facts ? " 
 
 " His father managed a small bank in a provincial town 
 in Wales. He wanted Marmaduke to succeed him, but his 
 mother thought Marmie was fit for better things. Duke 
 was an exceptionally good boy " 
 
 "Theology!" cried Violet. "That's what he read, 
 then." 
 
 " No, he did not," said Charles. " I implied clearly that 
 at least one of the parents was unorthodox, if you had 
 listened. You go off with ideas " 
 
 " Well, I merely imply that Jones has an open mind. I 
 think that highly probable. He would read theology to see 
 which of his parents was right." 
 
 " Disgusting," said Charles. " Whatever he isn't, Jones 
 is a dutiful son. Dutifulness, as a general virtue, simply 
 trickles from him." 
 
 " Well, I did not imply he was undutif ul ; merely open- 
 minded." 
 
 " What's the difference? " said Charles. "A jolly time 
 you must have given your parents, V., if that's your idea 
 of duty. Unquestioning obedience was Jones' line " 
 
 " To which parent? " said Violet. 
 
 " Both ! Alternately ! Now will you let me speak ?
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 35 
 
 Where the money came from, and how much there is, is 
 one of the things I have yet to discover. But it is certainly 
 there. Shall we keep that before us as our object of 
 investigation for the day ? " 
 
 " Do as you like," said Violet, " but don't drag me in. / 
 shall talk to Mr. Jones about the weather." 
 
 And so she did. 
 
 When unsuspecting Jones espied the couple, and 
 removed his hat, she accosted him so sweetly on this 
 subject, that he was lured at once to follow them. Having 
 thus attached him, she enlarged upon the weather at her 
 ease. Jones talked about it too ; it would have seemed to 
 be his favorite study. Charles attended to Violet's femi- 
 nine efforts with contempt, and putted a pebble along the 
 beach with his stick the while, for miles: or at least it 
 seemed miles to Charles, who concentrated most of his 
 magnificent mind on the effort of sticking to one stone, 
 and effort was required, since there were millions to 
 choose from. As he set the course for the party, and the 
 course followed the stone, it was naturally a rather irregu- 
 lar progression ; but all parties seemed to be enjoying it 
 greatly, at least at first. Whenever Charles gave the other 
 two his attention, they were still upon the weather, or at 
 least some subject closely akin. Mrs. Shovell, in an 
 exclamatory and idle mood, remarked on her surround- 
 ings, and got no further at all. Charles grew rather 
 ashamed of Violet, who was showing herself so common- 
 place in Jones' eyes. She was really father a clever girl, 
 or had been supposed to be when Charles married her. 
 Her husband could generally trust her to sustain his credit 
 for wit in mixed company ; and when mixing with Jones, 
 for all the poor fellow's natural unfitness to support her, 
 he had thought she might do better than this. 
 
 " Pretty clouds," said Violet, waiting for Charles, who 
 had lost his stone. " But they look like wind. Another 
 windy night how hateful. I never mind the sea talking
 
 36 DUKE JONES 
 
 all alone in the night, do you? Look at that sea-gull 
 balancing, isn't he showing off? I want to duck him 
 under when he does that, just for a lesson, once. But I 
 dare say he'd only laugh and shake his wings. . . . 
 Don't you simply ache to travel, Mr. Jones? " 
 
 That was a trifle better, thought Charles, though she 
 might have led up to it more dexterously. Anything so 
 amateurish he never heard. He found his stone, or one 
 exactly like it, and drove it splendidly, and almost straight 
 ahead. This pleased him, and, shouldering his stick, he 
 turned towards the others. 
 
 " I want to go to Paris," said Jones, in his uninteresting 
 voice. 
 
 " How nice," said Violet. " Soon ? Are we to come 
 on, dear ? Very well." 
 
 " I hope to go soon. I have always wanted to." 
 
 " I have places like that too," said Violet. " I used to 
 hug them. But in the case of most of mine, I don't suppose 
 I ever shall now," she appended dreamily, gazing at the 
 sea. 
 
 Charles, overhearing, thought she might manage to keep 
 Jones going, even in her futile feminine way, without 
 administering backhanders by the way to him. It was not 
 his fault if he had deranged her maiden dreams of explora- 
 tion by marrying her. It was her fault for entertaining 
 such unwomanly ambitions. He opened his mouth, as 
 they came alongside, to make a satirical comment. But his 
 mouth remained open ; for Jones said " I never thought / 
 should. I've no notion of those cheap tours, thanks. 
 That's what I always said to myself, you know. Sooner 
 nothing at all than that. But now " 
 
 His tone was lower than Charles had heard it, and 
 caught at the end by a kind of gulp. His head was hanging 
 down, and he trailed his stick, a far from heroic attitude. 
 
 " But now you can," said Violet, her own tone soft in 
 sympathy. " Yes, that's the best of it, when really exqui- 
 site things take you by surprise. We ruin our experience
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 37 
 
 by foresight, don't we? Absolutely ruin it. Women are 
 worse than men." She withdrew her gray eyes from the 
 horizon, and they looked at Marmaduke kindly, for all the 
 haze that still lingered. "When are you going?" she 
 asked. " October's the best month. Wait till a fortnight 
 before about the twentieth, and then send a card to 
 Cook's." 
 
 " I'd thought of doing that," said Jones eagerly. " I'd 
 I'd like to do it in style, you know : no nonsense." 
 
 " That's right," Violet encouraged him. " Oh, don't I 
 wish I were you! Paris for the first time, delicious! 
 And alone!" 
 
 When she had quite done insulting him, Charles thought, 
 he would make a really biting remark, and startle her. 
 He prepared one, putting his stone viciously. But, un- 
 luckily, he hit the wrong one, more than half imbedded, 
 hurt his hand, and cracked his stick. 
 
 " Charles! " said Violet. " In your wife's presence, is 
 that Cambridge form ? I shall take the stones away from 
 you, if you can't play nicely. You do propose to go 
 alone ? " She turned to Jones. 
 
 He nodded. " Part of the fun. I'd find out alone, any- 
 how. Later on, of course, you might take somebody." 
 
 " I see you have worked it out," said Violet. " I shall 
 not advise you at all, a word would shatter it. I am 
 afraid your sea-gull is greedy, Mr. Jones. His intentions 
 are not so graceful as they seem. Look at them squabbling, 
 oh ! Will you write your adventures down ? " 
 
 " Oh, just notes," said Jones awkwardly. " Not a whole 
 jawing journal. I hate that rot." 
 
 "Don't!" cried Mrs. Shovell. "That's what I did. 
 Never mind. It was unmitigated gush, what Charles 
 calls gas, unfit for human eyes the days I really enjoyed 
 myself. We had lovely weather, I remember, rather 
 like this." 
 
 Did she intend to hark back to that again, thought 
 Charles. She was really hopeless this morning. He would
 
 38 DUKE JONES 
 
 have to take his narrative in hand himself before long if 
 she did not get on faster. 
 
 " But you weren't alone there ? " suggested Marmaduke, 
 rather grave. 
 
 " Would that I had been ! no. I lost myself twice, 
 though, quite successfully. But Father always found 
 me again too soon. That's the worst of him. ... I was 
 eleven," she added, after a short pause. 
 
 " Did he smack you ? " said Charles, who was cross. He 
 had to walk with them now, and Jones did not offer to lend 
 his stick. He did not appear to think of Charles' needs 
 at all. 
 
 " No, dear ; Father was too modern, even then. He only 
 looked thoroughly tired of me, and tipped the policemen. 
 I shouldn't wonder, thinking it over now, if Father had 
 cherished sweet dreams of being alone in Paris, that 
 time. He would have agreed with Mr. Jones. I am certain 
 you are right about it," she addressed him suddenly. " It 
 is the only way, strange though it may feel at first." 
 
 " It'll be queer," Jones admitted. " Going off on the 
 spree like that, especially now. I'm not half sure she'd 
 have liked it." 
 
 " Your mother? " said Violet. 
 
 " Father's sister, her that left me the money. She was 
 a bit stiff in her ideas." 
 
 " You are not to have moral scruples," said Violet, with 
 sudden intensity. " I can't bear it. Follow your star, Mr. 
 Jones. Plunge smiling. Sin, if you really must, with a 
 good grace. Courage, camarades, le diable est mort. Et 
 tout ce qui s'ensuit," she concluded. 
 
 " Who's swearing now? " demanded Charles. " You're 
 shocking Mr. Jones, no wonder ! " 
 
 " Will you say it again ? " said Jones rather eagerly. 
 
 " No." She laughed. " Better not. Don't you talk 
 French?" 
 
 " Oh, not to call talking'' He looked dubious. " I 
 suppose one'd write in French for the rooms ? "
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 39 
 
 " Father did," said Violet thoughtfully. " They like it 
 better, naturally ; but there's no need." 
 
 " Oh, I can write," said Jones, " if it comes to that. 
 Better to do the thing in style. I'm not up to speaking 
 much yet, but I can write." 
 
 " Dear, I'm tired," said Violet, suddenly clasping 
 Charles' arm. " I can't get as far as the point to-day. I 
 think I shall wait for you here." 
 
 Without pausing for permission, she sat down on a 
 nice rock, where there was exactly room for two, looking 
 piteous. Charles' blue eyes shot lightnings at her, quite 
 uselessly. Violet could appear exhausted at any moment, 
 whether she were so or not, and now she did. She drooped 
 on her rock, a charming and pathetic little object. Her 
 charms to-day gave Charles shocks continually, though he 
 sought to make headway against such an obviously unfair 
 advantage. 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to go home," he said omi- 
 nously. " Jones and I " 
 
 " Oh yes," said Violet. " The rocks are so slippery. 
 And I have not got tennis-shoes." 
 
 No more, it may be mentioned, had Mr. Jones. While 
 Charles preserved a dignified silence, Jones stood where he 
 was, close at Mrs. Shovell's side while she was speaking, 
 and glancing anxiously up and down the empty spaces of 
 the shore. Then he looked at his watch. 
 
 " Short of time? " Charles suggested. " Perhaps after 
 all, then, we had better all go back. We've come farther 
 than I thought, and it's slow going on this " 
 
 Jones interrupted, and interruption, of whatever nature, 
 in that quarter was so remarkable that, for all his quiet 
 voice in speaking, Charles stopped short. 
 
 " I could go back," he said, addressing Charles, " and 
 bring my car as far as the turn up there, if you could get 
 her up the path." 
 
 " A car! " ejaculated the youth. " Have you got one? " 
 
 " Oh yes, at the hotel. I haven't used it since I came. I
 
 40 DUKE JONES 
 
 thought perhaps " He looked at Violet on the rock. 
 
 " I never heard anything so kind," she cried with 
 emphasis. " Did you, Charles ? But I couldn't, you know, 
 possibly." 
 
 " Couldn't get up the path ? " said Charles. His sar- 
 casm was profound. 
 
 " Couldn't be such a nuisance. Couldn't ever respect 
 myself again. My husband is ashamed of me as it is. Go 
 on with him, dear, do you mind ? I shall rest, and wander 
 home." 
 
 This right-about-face in strategy, as he regarded it, so 
 flabbergasted Charles, that, before he knew it, he had 
 obeyed her directions, and was walking on with their new 
 acquaintance along the shore. 
 
 " She doesn't look strong," ventured Marmaduke Jones 
 presently, when the pair had left the rock behind. He 
 spoke very modestly indeed, and certainly, Mr. Shovell 
 appeared sulky. The fact was, a horrid doubt had 
 attacked Charles' mind, on abandoning Violet, that she 
 had not been acting, and was really tired or worse. The 
 Ashwins acted so well, whichever way round it chanced 
 to be, that there was no being certain of the fact, which- 
 ever it was. They were exasperating people. 
 
 " She isn't awfully," he replied shortly. " Nothing 
 wrong with her, though." 
 
 " Her father's a big doctor, isn't he ? " said Jones. 
 
 " Er yes," said Charles. He was almost incapable of 
 speech. Did he hear aright ? Had this Jones, on whom 
 they had spent so much tireless curiosity, been retaliating 
 upon them, spying too? Incredibly audacious Jones! 
 He waited, breathless, for developments. 
 
 " It doesn't always help much," murmured Jones, turn- 
 ing over the medical question. 
 
 " Apt to be slack with their own broods, you mean," 
 said Charles, quite mechanically. " I say do you mind 
 my asking how you know ? " 
 
 " Ashwin ? Heard the name," Jones enlightened him.
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 41 
 
 " He's one of the johnnies who boss my show : patronage 
 committee, but he does more than patronize. I'm secre- 
 tary for them this year, they seemed to want somebody, 
 so I wrote. I'm out of a job, you see, glad enough to 
 do anything where it's any use. They were glad enough 
 to have me as it happened. Those voluntary-aided affairs 
 go up and down, and they can't give much salary. Not 
 that I want any," he added shyly, " but I took it for the 
 form." 
 
 "Charity?" said Charles, with the vagueness of his 
 kind. He received an explanation, which left him little 
 the wiser. Jones' " show " appeared to be one of the innu- 
 merable movements for the relief of certain of the 
 more obscure, offensive evils of our vast community, 
 constantly launched like waves by the vigorous impulsion 
 of a few determined minds, to sink again when the public 
 flow of interest in a sensational novelty has subsided. 
 Jones had volunteered in the ebbing period, he gathered, 
 and continued to strive against odds for the welfare of 
 his cause. It was the kind of thing rich, piously-nurtured, 
 insignificant Joneses did. 
 
 " But I don't quite see," said Charles, recurring to his 
 most artless vein, " how it helps; to know my wife was 
 Ashwin's daughter, I mean. She has changed her name." 
 
 " Oh, that," said Jones. " You couldn't know, of 
 course. They are all on to that since yesterday. That 
 cross-faced girl Purvis found the notice in one of the 
 picture papers. They've stacks of 'em, always turning 'em 
 over, in the reading-room. If I'd thought you minded, 
 I'd have carried it off." 
 
 " Notice? Of the wedding, do you mean? " 
 
 " Yes. Only a little bit about it, but enough. Enough 
 for me, I mean. Ash win, and Claude, not likely there 
 should be two. They've been hunting for days," said 
 Jones indifferently. 
 
 " Confounded cheek," said the bridegroom. ' 4 None of 
 their business, anyhow."
 
 42 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Nothing much else to do," said Jones tolerantly. 
 " Those girls." 
 
 " Precious civil of you to call them girls," observed 
 Charles. " Hardly in their first bloom, are they ? " 
 
 " Oh well," said Jones. " They're not ladies. What 
 are you to say ? " 
 
 Since Charles laughed, he looked at him. He was a 
 diffident fellow, this Jones, but not ill-looking. His 
 ordinary eyes showed a glint of jocularity, as though to 
 answer Charles, though they protested at his laughter 
 too. 
 
 " Anyone knows a lady when they see one," he per- 
 sisted. " Any fool. Those girls aren't ; too noisy by 
 half. What's a fellow to say? Come now." Stopping, 
 he challenged his companion. 
 
 " It depends on whether a fellow expects to be over- 
 heard," said Charles. 
 
 " That's good," said Jones instantly. " But they always 
 hear. They hear everything that's going, and repeat it." 
 
 " Call them pitchers, then," said Charles frivolously. 
 " Or parrots." 
 
 " Oh yes, only you don't like to call names. There are 
 lots of them, all over the shop, that sort." Jones, having 
 swept the horizon, as though reviewing endless ranks of 
 mature girls that no fellow could call ladies, turned round. 
 " I say, she's gone," he remarked irrelevantly. 
 
 It was a fact that the wide bay, with its sweep of sand, 
 and its rock in the middle distance, were alike innocent of 
 Violet. Near or far, she was not seen. She must have 
 adopted the cliff path, and almost immediately after their 
 departure. Her elvish caprices baffled the wit of sober 
 man to follow, and sober man, in the person of her 
 husband, gave up the effort. Having searched the land- 
 scape for her in vain, its total emptiness inspired Violet's 
 husband to a bright idea, and, swinging about, he proposed 
 to Marmaduke Jones to bathe. 
 
 " Now, look here," said Charles, when, greatly restored
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 43 
 
 in temper and spirits by a lengthy swim, he reached home 
 in his turn, " I don't like these games. You don't play 
 fair." 
 
 " I don't want to play," said Violet, whom he found in 
 the depths of her bedroom, at bay, as it were, upon the 
 window-seat, looking desperate, not to say guilty. " I 
 told you so. I don't really care for the game." 
 
 This was becoming serious. Charles took a seat on 
 the bed, facing her. " You don't mean to say you're 
 tired of Jones," he said reproachfully. " You can't be." 
 
 " Not a bit," she reassured him. " Not a scrap at 
 present. It isn't that. It isn't that I mind playing in the 
 abstract, I love it. It was lovely when he was down- 
 stairs, and on the balcony, and second-hand through your 
 mind, which never spoils things, Charles, on the way. 
 Lovely investigating, I mean. But walking all together 
 in that friendly way, with those exquisite shades across 
 the sand, and the sea-gulls toppling on the little waves, 
 too unbearably white against the blue, it's different. The 
 point of view is different. It's my silly mind." 
 
 " I never knew such a girl," said Charles. " Wherever 
 will you get to next? Go on." He watched her, with 
 admiration not unmingled with suspicion. 
 
 " I can't," said Violet, swerving yet more from his eyes. 
 " It's perfectly useless explaining, unless you see. Have 
 you really never noticed how drivelling I turn on days 
 when there's lots of color about? I ought to have warned 
 you, they're used to it at home. It goes to my head, I 
 can't help it. To-day it was worse than usual. I don't 
 know why." She bit her lip. " I have not the least idea, 
 really, what I talked about to Mr. Jones. I thought if it 
 got too senseless, you'd step in. But you only played with 
 the stones, so I had to." 
 
 " Do you mean it? " said Charles. " Word of honor? " 
 
 " Word of honor, dear. He was nice about Paris, 
 wasn't he ? " She swept her brow with her hand. " I'll 
 try and make it up to him to-night."
 
 44 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Well," said Charles, with deliberation, after a pause, 
 " if you mean you were really drunk, it was not a bad 
 show, considering." 
 
 " Drunk, yes, I was. How clever of you ! I'm sdll 
 feeling it." 
 
 "Was that why you sat down?" said suspicious 
 Charles. 
 
 " Yes, probably. Because of that. It's a great pity for 
 you," said Violet with fervor, " you have married such a 
 fool." 
 
 " Perhaps that's really why you put me off so long," 
 said Charles. " Oh well, I'll make a note of it. We'll try 
 to struggle on. We're in for a week of this weather, that's 
 the worst." His blue eyes rested on the sky without the 
 window, more blue than they. " What do you want me to 
 think of you trying to keep Marmaduke, and sending me 
 on alone ? " 
 
 " I thought he would rather, perhaps. He seemed to be 
 happy talking. Oh dear, were you jealous of that? 
 Didn't you mean me to talk to him? You said he was 
 lonely, I was trying to be nice." 
 
 Charles answered nothing. She was really quite beyond 
 him for the moment, though more charming every instant 
 as she grew more distracted, more evidently shy of him, 
 and frightened of herself. He was still desperately 
 jealous of something, whatever this spirit was that had 
 clutched her, but it was not of Jones. He was pretty 
 sure it was not Jones. Violet's head was in her hands, her 
 dark hair dropping across her fingers in mossy streaks. 
 Her delicate fingers were slightly embrowned by the sun, 
 the last joint whitened where they pressed against her 
 brow. He noted such details, being so very near, while 
 he whistled soundlessly, considering in all quarters of his 
 masculine mind, her case. 
 
 " You are an extraordinary girl, V.," he said at last. 
 " It's certainly risky letting respectable young fellows like 
 that take walks with you."
 
 THE MOON OF DISCOVERY 45 
 
 " Why risky ? He's nice, I really like him. He is far 
 the nicest person in the hotel, I am sure. I think his fixed 
 idea to conquer Paris, without the cheapening effect of his 
 fellow-creatures, is charming. Most characteristic prob- 
 ably, I'm sure it fits in somewhere. To the narrative, I 
 mean. Won't you go away and fit it in for me, among the 
 other things? I make you a present of it willingly. If it 
 should supply a blank, our walk will not be wasted." 
 
 " You want me to go away ? " said Charles. His pained 
 astonishment rose by leaps and bounds, as it became 
 evident that she wanted it. Pain showed in his eyes as 
 he sat, gazing at Violet, upon the bed. Then, though her 
 face was still hidden from him, light arrived. 
 
 " Are you happy, darling ? " he said suddenly. 
 
 " Yes. Frightfully ! That's what's the matter with me, 
 really. I am glad you have found it out. I am not used 
 to it." She just got the last words out, with a strong effort, 
 though they were barely heard. 
 
 Charles sat a little longer, thinking things out. They 
 came clearer. Presently they became quite clear, and he 
 rose and departed quietly, since she wished to be alone. 
 He walked into their sea-front sitting-room, where lunch 
 was spread ; and from the window where he stood, in the 
 new light that seemed to have altered the light of day, 
 saw Marmaduke Jones' back. He was standing as usual 
 on his balcony, looking abroad at land and sea, as usual, 
 alone. Charles felt sorry for Jones, still suffering doubt- 
 less from the effects of his late walk with a drunken lady. 
 (She certainly remained a lady, even when drunk, the 
 comical fellow was right.) Charles was quite sorry for 
 Jones. And if any would-be sympathizer with the woes of 
 humankind supposes that state of mind to be depressing in 
 a bridegroom, or needing to be compassionated, they must 
 submit to instant disillusion at the hands of his biographer. 
 For the broad effect of his deep sympathy for a fellow- 
 creature on Charles' spirit, was that of a nameless, soaring, 
 really insufferable content.
 
 46 DUKE JONES 
 
 II 
 
 LISETTE 
 
 AFTER that, for a period, indeed until quite the end of the 
 Shovells' stated holiday, there was little to record. When 
 the barometer stands at " set fair," without and within, 
 for body and spirit alike, recorders in general lay down 
 their pens, or at least, are wiser to do so. They need not 
 turn their minds away, for sunshine and happiness are 
 worth considering, among the elements of life, and should, 
 for all the pessimists' conspicuously clanking fetters, be so 
 considered at times. To some natures, at least, happiness 
 is the swiftest teacher and the surest guide. Misfortune, 
 extolled by moralists, could never have shown Violet so 
 much, during the same short period. Hers was not the 
 so-called sunny temperament, molded for contentment. 
 She looked far, and asked much of life, testing all it 
 offered her with inherited fastidiousness, before she would 
 fully accept, or grant its worth. But this summer of her 
 twenty-first year, happiness took her by surprise. It 
 seized and held her unresisting, spellbound for a season, 
 her seeking spirit at rest. Its ripening warmth lay over 
 her thoughts and utterances, though she spoke less than 
 usual. Its transfiguring touch was on her face, for the 
 curious observer that watched its changes from day to day. 
 Not for Charles, he saw no change. He saw what he 
 expected, needed, no more, what her face had promised 
 him for three years back. The image in a lover's eyes, 
 especially where the lover is poet too, while it satisfies 
 him supremely, blinds him ; and Charles' eyes were hood- 
 winked by his imagination, quite successfully. Yet even 
 he realized that she had turned her light more fully upon 
 him of late, that she met him now, if not half-way, at 
 least some distance down the road. It is doubtful if Mr.
 
 LISETTE 47 
 
 Shovell, being in the insufferably inflated conditions we 
 have confessed, would have allowed her to come further 
 than that, for he was hot for the assault. In the delightful 
 contest at close quarters, which Violet and he had insti- 
 tuted, which they were the first in the world to invent, 
 most probably, he had never, from the opening day, 
 failed to make the utmost of the smallest advantage she 
 would give him: and he naturally pressed his advantage 
 now. What he had lightly termed her " elegance " amused 
 him simply, and teasing her out of her shy entrenchment 
 was his daily game, though it was frequently his lot to 
 be crushed in turn, when she emerged. 
 
 Charles' views, in this heroic mood, were by no means 
 beyond utterance, and baffled neither his tongue nor his 
 pen to express. His mother laughed half-indignant and 
 half-tender over his naive confidences. There is no dealing 
 seriously with those whom life is determined to spoil, 
 and Charles' mother had by now given up warning him to 
 distrust his fate. Since attentive fate, or fortune, had 
 handed him Violet, it was useless, obviously, at least to 
 his own mind; and every letter he sent home served to 
 increase, he trusted, the impression his engagement had 
 originally produced : and made moralizing on the maternal 
 side, as a fact, more impossible. So the Rector's wife let 
 them be, very wisely, though she thought much of both ; 
 and she stored the letters, as she stored all she had ever 
 had from Charles, at the summit of the pile that began 
 far down with his blackened schoolboy scrawls; though 
 she told the Rector severely, on the reception of each in 
 turn, that the boy had no business to trust such things to 
 the public post, and she could not think what Violet 
 would say, with reason, if she knew. 
 
 Whether by virtue of the weather, or these halcyon 
 conditions within, the pair turned excessively energetic 
 in the second half of their stay. They scoured the country- 
 side in all directions, whether in their own company on 
 foot, or on the whirring wheels which Mr. Jones supplied.
 
 48 DUKE JONES 
 
 They picked up various friends by the way, but Mrs. 
 Shovell continued to be regarded as extremely haughty in 
 her own hotel. There the pair knew nobody well but 
 Jones ; and their growing intimacy with Jones was looked 
 upon as an added offense by the spinsters, if not sniffed at 
 as a scandal. For it was evident the Shovells did it because 
 Jones was a convenience : because he fetched and carried 
 for the girl, like a hired footman almost, and lent them 
 his maps and his motor. It was unworthy behavior on 
 the part of both: and on hers (as Mrs. Studley declared) 
 " just like these fast London people." Supercilious, 
 indeed! not much superciliousness about her when she 
 wanted a spin in Mr. Jones' car! So ran some of the 
 spinsters' speculations; and they played a whole comedy 
 of disgust at the proceedings of the trio, little reckoning 
 how heaven-sent such a subject of scandal really was, in 
 the caged-squirrel round of their lives. 
 
 Charles, who let the contents of his mind fall into a 
 happy-go-lucky and rather chaotic state, while he paid 
 close attention to the nourishment of his body, the develop- 
 ment of his muscles, and the expansion of his lungs, forgot 
 for many days to tell Violet some of the interesting and 
 necessary things he had collected from the proprietress 
 about the hotel and its inmates past, present, and to come. 
 He brought out surprising scraps of information at inter- 
 vals, in jerks; and according to Violet's mood, she 
 encouraged or reproved him. 
 
 On the last day but one of their stay, he suddenly 
 informed her that " a new woman " was arriving in the 
 course of it: a personage about whom all the hotel was 
 thrilling with interest, because she had a handle to her 
 name. 
 
 " I pray heaven you don't know her," said Charles, very 
 gravely. 
 
 Violet said she trusted not too : asked him for the name, 
 and then found he had forgotten half of it.
 
 LISETTE 49 
 
 " Lady Alicia somebody," he said. " The Lady Alicia, 
 my dear, aha ! " The last name began with a K or a C, he 
 was not sure which. 
 
 " Poynter," suggested Violet. 
 
 " Poynter it is," said Charles, surprised. " What a 
 smart girl, to be sure. Oh, but you do know her then, 
 conf " 
 
 " It's only for two days," Violet consoled him, " and I 
 only know of the woman, really; and she's practically 
 immovable, and not the least interested in me. I shall go 
 up to her chair and say good morning, that is all." 
 
 " Her chair f " said Charles. " Do you mean bath-chair ? 
 This is a girl." 
 
 " Oh, my dear Charles, then it isn't Poynter. She is 
 quite fifty, and quite hideous, and a martyr to gout. Try 
 through the alphabet again." 
 
 But Charles was positive it was Poynter, and stuck to it. 
 He had heard all about her from Mrs. Tregathwick the 
 week before, and had meant every day to tell Violet, and 
 then forgotten about it. And it was indisputably a fairly 
 young person who was arriving, because she was coming 
 on foot from Penzance. She was making a walking tour 
 round the coast : which, Violet would grant, is not easily 
 accomplished by a chair-ridden martyr to gout. 
 
 " It is peculiar enough for a girl to do it alone," said 
 Violet. " And it's odd there should be a young Lady Alicia 
 of the same name. A niece perhaps, you are sure you did 
 not misunderstand Mrs. Tregathwick, Charles ? " 
 
 Charles was quite sure. " Because I thought of J. K. 
 instantly," he explained. ( J. K. Poynter was a cricketer.) 
 " Perhaps it's one of these marvelous cures. Do you 
 think Lady A. has come across a Christian Scientist at 
 Penzance, and taken up her chair and walked ? " 
 
 " Don't be absurd, and wicked," said Violet. " Not but 
 what I wish she could, poor old dear," she added. 
 
 Later in the day, towards tea-time, Charles came creep- 
 ing elaborately to Violet, where she sat darning his socks
 
 50 DUKE JONES 
 
 on the balcony of her own room at the back of the house, 
 for the sake of the cool, and hissed in her ear " She's 
 come." 
 
 " What is she like ? " said Violet calmly, threading a 
 needle. 
 
 " Perfectly young. You're perfectly off it. Poynter it 
 is," said Charles. " The whole blessed place is in a fer- 
 ment, and has been fermenting for hours. Corks will fly 
 off in all directions when her ladyship comes in to din- 
 ner. If you had a spark of real sympathy, you'd come 
 downstairs and take a hand." 
 
 " I have not," said Violet, " in this case. With a girl 
 alone, it's positively horrid. They ought to have more 
 consideration." 
 
 " Then you should have come and seen to her, shouldn't 
 you?" argued Charles. "You're married now. Any- 
 how, it's high time you showed up, unless you want to be 
 cut out completely. Lady A., to judge by accounts, is 
 something quite out of the common run. Shares in Mrs. 
 Shovell," said Charles, sitting down on the balcony-rail 
 to elaborate his theme, " are much below par. Shovells 
 are to be had for the asking. Poynters are looking up. 
 To be scriptural for a change, your glory has departed. 
 It was never more than a reflected luster, after all." 
 
 " Reflected from you ? " asked Violet. 
 
 " I allude to rank and title," said Charles. " Transitory, 
 mundane things. Not beauty, or brains, or merit. A 
 ladyship in the hand is worth any number of birthday 
 baronetcies in the bush. That's what you have been living 
 on up to now, as I supposed you were aware." 
 
 " No," said Violet, with a glance at him swinging dan- 
 gerously on the rail. " However, I am quite content to 
 live upon him. He is my principal claim to distinction, 
 after all." 
 
 " Contradiction at this period is best," said Charles. 
 " He is not ... I am. . . . Now to return to 
 the other girl, your rival. Contrary to our calculations,
 
 LISETTE 51 
 
 she romped in at a quarter to twelve, which, as all the 
 golf -champions agreed, was ripping good time, allowing 
 for her starting from Penzance at nine. She certainly 
 did not go round the coast, and probably she bicycled." 
 
 " Don't do that, dear," Violet inserted gently. " It's 
 very clever, but you will break your neck." 
 
 Charles, thinking solely of his tale, got off the rail and 
 stood up, his hands behind him. The unconscious obedi- 
 ence was even more boyish than his preceding gymnastics 
 on the balustrade, and Violet was smiling, her head bent 
 low over her work, as he proceeded : 
 
 " She should have been greeted with a cheer. Instead 
 of that she dodged neatly, passed in by the back un- 
 noticed, left her traps in her room, and went out to lunch. 
 General collapse of Jones' girls, who were posted in the 
 front, with binoculars." 
 
 " Of whom? " said Violet, laying down his sock, and 
 gazing at him wide-eyed. 
 
 " Jones calls them girls, I don't," explained Charles. 
 " We have agreed to differ. . . . Well, her ladyship 
 looked in once, I hear, during the afternoon, and every- 
 body had a go at her. She is more naturally easy-man- 
 nered than you are, darling, and infinitely better style. 
 That on the authority of Mrs. Studley, the dear little 
 woman who dresses so well. I got it secondhand through 
 Jones, who was fuming. Jones hates Mrs. Studley, I 
 can't think why. You wouldn't think, to look at Marma- 
 duke, he had such evil passions, would you ? " 
 
 " No," said Violet. " Go on about the other girl, be- 
 cause I want to know." 
 
 " Oh, you don't really get much out of 'em," said 
 Charles. " She's fair, anyhow. She is one of our real 
 true-blue British blondes, according to an authority you 
 will recognize. I rather think she ' stunned ' that lady as 
 well. She is let me see she is far from well-groomed, 
 according to Jones' girls, who know what the word means, 
 I never do. But then, she had walked from Penzance
 
 52 DUKE JONES 
 
 in record time; so if ill-groomed means dusty 
 does it?" 
 
 " I haven't an idea," said Violet. 
 
 " Put it at that," said Charles. " You can lend her a 
 clothes-brush, when you get intimate. . . . She is, in 
 addition, a deuced taking little lady, and evidently up to 
 snuff. That on the authority of Mr. Studley " 
 
 " Thank you," cried Violet, throwing aside the sock. 
 " I can do without Mr. Studley 's opinions. How can you, 
 Charles ? Where is the poor girl ? " She sat up in her 
 deck-chair and caught the balcony-rail. 
 
 " Run along and chaperon her," said Charles, with 
 an easy smile. " I said she wanted you, didn't I ? We 
 men are such ruffians, aren't we? I waited till Studley 
 had finished his remarks on that head, it took some time, 
 and then said what I thought of him, rather loud. I 
 think it carried into all the corners, though that ' lounge ' 
 of theirs is a cornery place. Hole-and-cornery," added 
 Charles, elaborating tranquilly as ever. 
 
 " Did you ? " Violet sank back. " I am rather glad. He 
 does need snubbing badly, doesn't he ? " 
 
 " She turned white with rage," said Charles. " The 
 wife, I mean, but she didn't say anything. She hasn't 
 any spunk, nor has he, they only hate me. They'll 
 hate you worse too, ducky; so look out. The little New 
 Yorker, who is much the best of them, backed me like 
 winking. She had been languishing for a man to say just 
 that, Mr. Shovell, and she was going out, right away, to 
 find that girl and make friends. . . . Consequently, 
 my blessed child," concluded Charles, locking his two 
 hands suddenly under Violet's chin from above, "you 
 need not fag, and can sit tight, because, when our young 
 friend Hattie says a thing she ups and does it, slick away. 
 Not to mention there's more than a chance her ladyship is 
 bad style, after all. Because Studley's approval goes for 
 more than his wife's any day," added Charles re- 
 flectively.
 
 LISETTE 53 
 
 Violet said she would see at dinner. Pending the hour 
 of dressing for that meal, however, she decided to let the 
 disputant parties below-stairs cool off without her inter- 
 ference, and to finish Charles' other sock. 
 
 Towards the dinner-hour she slipped down, white-clad, 
 her father's pearls about her neck. She flitted like a moth 
 through the usual little group about the door, whose talk 
 instinctively fell lower at the sight of her, turning her 
 head about as she went to look for Charles. There were 
 innumerable hiding-places, as he had said, but she could 
 not discover him in the entrance-hall or the veranda. 
 
 " Has my husband gone out ? " she queried lightly, as 
 she bent her head a very little to the salute of the burliest 
 golfing-man, sitting at the door. 
 
 Her husband had walked a bit along the terrace, he told 
 her, and couldn't be far. She thanked him, remarked on 
 the exquisite light, which was glorifying all without, and 
 to which her informant's back was solidly turned, and 
 went on her way. He looked after her, with heavy bleared 
 eyes, even as a bull might look after a butterfly that had 
 settled near it for an instant. 
 
 " Knows how to walk, that girl," was all he found to 
 say, after an interval ; but the other bride, Mrs. Studley, 
 whom he addressed, bit her lip. The other bride could 
 compete with Violet in all lines quite successfully, even 
 her father, mayor of his native town, had been knighted, 
 but it never struck her that there was more than one 
 way to walk: or that such a very stupid man as that by 
 the door could notice it, if there was. 
 
 As Violet came up to Charles, he was standing still, his 
 back to her. 
 
 " Hist ! " he murmured without turning. " Come along- 
 side. There she is." 
 
 At the end of the hill-side terrace, studded with seats at 
 intervals, on which the hotel was perched, a flight of steps 
 led up from the street below. Several people were
 
 54 DUKE JONES 
 
 mounting, in the clear evening light, trespassing on the 
 hotel property, of deliberate intent, to get the view. About 
 the sunset hour this often happened, and was winked at 
 by the authorities so long as the private visitors were not 
 ousted or inconvenienced. As Violet reached Charles' 
 side, a girl came up, followed by a man. The man, after 
 looking about him, seemed to realize he was on private 
 ground, turned, and slunk down again ; the girl came on 
 towards them, with a swinging, rather defiant gait. She 
 was clad in tweed, loosely cut: a felt hat was crammed 
 rather low over her eyes, but worn with indefinable art, 
 a certainty of effect : and no swaggering could quite con- 
 ceal her body's grace. Before she reached the Shovells, 
 becoming aware, no doubt, of the marvelous illumination 
 in the sky to her left, she paused uncertainly, and then 
 dropped onto one of the seats, where two others of the 
 hotel visitors were already seated to admire. 
 
 " Dash ! " muttered Charles, for the young lady was 
 carelessly occupying two places on which he had had his 
 eye. Violet and he strolled slowly forward, side by side, 
 her eyes diverted to the cloud-pageant, his seeking me- 
 chanically a place for her on the seats in sight, for the 
 spectacle in the sky was now attracting all the world, and 
 the terrace being a good point of view, competition for 
 places was increasing. 
 
 " There's room for one," he murmured to her discreetly, 
 as they reached the bench on which the young Lady Alicia 
 was seated. The other two occupants, either taking the 
 hint, or having admired enough, rose suddenly, and 
 moved away from them. 
 
 " A la bonne heure," said Violet lightly. " Now we can 
 gloat at our ease." 
 
 The girl before them stirred and lifted her eyes, which 
 had been fixed rather sullenly on the sunset. As they 
 lifted* they were very remarkable eyes Violet stopped 
 with a start. 
 
 " Lisette ! " she exclaimed.
 
 LISETTE 55 
 
 " Oh, damn," said the young lady, not loud, but per- 
 fectly audible. She seemed to gather her lithe limbs to- 
 gether, as a hare does before it flies. Charles, at the 
 double exclamation, turned about amazed. 
 
 " How did you get here ? " said Violet, rather breath- 
 less with the shock. Her hand had dropped from her hus- 
 band's arm. The girl on the seat shot a glance at him 
 before she spoke. 
 
 " That's my own affair. How did you? " 
 
 " I am staying here, have been for two weeks." 
 
 "Not in this hotel?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Well, I am staying for two nights, on my way to 
 London. On my way to Paris, finally." She spoke de- 
 fiantly. " I never thought of seeing you, though." She 
 gazed with resentment at the other girl. 
 
 " Paris ? " queried Violet. " But where are the others, 
 then?" 
 
 " At home, to be sure, wh^re should they be? That's 
 where I've come from." 
 
 " From Torquay ? To-day ? But how ? " 
 
 " I shan't tell you," said Lisette at leisure, and glanced 
 at Charles again. 
 
 " By the way," Violet was reminded, " may I 
 present my husband? It is Miss Felicia Addenbroke, 
 Charles." 
 
 "Your husband?" said Miss Addenbroke, her jaw 
 dropping. " Are you married f " 
 
 " To be sure, for a month past. Surely Mother wrote, 
 hadn't you heard ? " 
 
 " That's why I didn't see your name on the list, then," 
 said the girl, hitting the seat with her clenched hand. 
 " Ass, not to think of it ! What's your name ? " Her 
 singular, quick glance turned to Charles. 
 
 " Shovell," he said, half laughing, " at your service." 
 
 Miss Addenbroke's manner, to a complete stranger, was 
 amusing. It was familiar, and yet not especially offensive,
 
 56 DUKE JONES 
 
 by virtue of the absolute indifference of her regard. This 
 was the manner, no doubt, which had so gravely misled 
 the hotel gentlemen. A Studley might easily have mis- 
 understood it, reflected Charles. 
 
 " Shovell, oh yes," she repeated. A pause. " Now I 
 think, Honoria did mention you were engaged. Cousin 
 Eveleen wrote to her about it." Felicia was staring at 
 Violet again. She had beautiful, strange eyes, a little 
 dilated, and Charles was searching his memory desperately 
 to determine where he had seen them before. Then he 
 remembered his mother-in-law's had the same shape and 
 fine curved lashes, though their glance was quite differ- 
 ent. Much interested, and quite quiescent, Charles stood 
 sentry by, and watched the pair of girls. 
 
 " Did it surprise you? " Violet said of her engagement. 
 
 " No." Lisette thrust her lip forward, like Eveleen 
 again for the moment. " If it had, I shouldn't have for- 
 gotten about it, should I? The Ingestres do marry, 
 somehow, I suppose you've got that in you, I 
 forget." 
 
 " Certainly," said Violet. " I even bear the name." 
 
 " Do you ? Well, it's a good one. I always forget rela- 
 tions, and those things. Honoria's engaged too; you 
 mayn't have heard. Oh yes, she is, it's the news of the 
 day. Surprised she hasn't written you about it, she has 
 most people. Lord, such a man, you'd laugh. . . . 
 So, you see, there's hope for all of us," Felicia added. She 
 shifted her position slightly, and folded her arms. 
 "What's my name, do you suppose?" she inquired. 
 " Have a guess." She included Charles, by a sliding 
 glance, in the invitation. 
 
 " But we know," cried Violet. " How could you, 
 Lisette ? How did you ever think of it ? " 
 
 " Well, I wanted to be respectable down here : so I 
 thought of the worst frump of my acquaintance, see? 
 She often comes to Torquay, you know, Aunty and she 
 love the same clergyman. That shows she's respectable,
 
 LISETTE 57 
 
 doesn't it? so I took her name. It's great fun, I'd like 
 to tell her. Perhaps when I get to London I will." 
 
 " Don't be silly," said Violet gravely. " Turn your 
 thoughts to us, Charles and me, the quandary you put us 
 into. Whatever are we to do at dinner, for instance ? You 
 don't expect us to use that name? Good gracious, why," 
 she looked disconsolately at the girl before her, " I 
 should laugh, every time. I know the woman, you see." 
 
 Another pause, Felicia considering it. " He can call me 
 Lisette," she remarked, nodding at Charles. ** That'll do 
 all right. It stands for Alicia just as well. Alicia 
 Felicia, see? Now don't go saying I'm not clever," she 
 concluded with a nod at Violet. " I thought of that before 
 you did, anyhow. You're clever, aren't you ? Are those 
 pearls real ? " 
 
 Violet did not answer the last sudden inquiry. Her 
 hand had risen unaware to her necklace, teasing the row 
 of pearls while she reflected, which was what had led 
 Miss Addenbroke's errant attention to dwell on them, 
 probably. 
 
 " Dear," she said, with sudden soft decision, laying the 
 same hand on Charles' arm, " we have barely any time. 
 Do you terribly mind going, quick, before they ring, 
 and having Lisette's place moved up next to mine ? Mrs. 
 Tregathwick is so kind, and I am sure Mr. Jones will 
 not object, if you explain." 
 
 Charles nodded to her look, and went, flew, rather 
 light-footed in his light shoes. He was an elegant runner, 
 and the asphalt road was tempting, straight and clean. 
 So Charles streaked to the hotel, as on a race-course. 
 Felicia Addenbroke looked after him. 
 
 " He might have had the tact to go before," said Violet, 
 taking the seat at her side. " Isn't that what you are 
 thinking ? But he could hardly know, poor boy, could he ? " 
 
 '" Do you know ? " said Felicia, staring again at Charles' 
 wife ; through her, rather, for her eyes at close quarters 
 had not the grasping quality.
 
 58 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I had a note from Mother, and she sent Cousin Agnes' 
 on. I think, now, you had better tell me everything, 
 hadn't you, Lisette ? It's simpler, now we are all together. 
 Come to our room, on the second floor, after dinner, 
 won't you? I can get rid of Charles." 
 
 " He can hear if he wants," said the girl. " I'm not 
 ashamed of anything. There is nothing really to tell 
 How did you find him? " she added, sullenly rather, and 
 lowering her tone, since Violet was close to her. 
 
 " Find Charles ? He found me. Let me see," she 
 leant back to reflect, " you remember the Gibbs girls, 
 don't you? Margery and Maud. Charles' mother mar- 
 ried their father, that's all. So we all became acquainted." 
 
 " Margery, that was the pretty one," said Lisette, 
 seeming to catch a wandering memory. " Why didn't 
 he marry her?" 
 
 " Well, dear, I suppose because Sir Robert Brading 
 came along, and asked her first. So Charles fell back on 
 me," said Violet gently. 
 
 " That's a way of boasting," remarked Lisette, lifting 
 a hand for an instant to Violet's pearls. The gesture, 
 bold in fact, like her speech, was coaxing in manner, 
 childish almost, and invited gentle treatment. 
 
 " Is it? Perhaps it is," laughed Violet. " Mayn't you 
 boast a little on your wedding journey? " 
 
 Felicia, for all reply, took her cousin's hand up and ex- 
 amined the rings upon it, with furtive, cautious fingers. 
 At the same time she wrinkled her little nose, as though 
 investigating the vague dry scent that clung to Mrs. 
 Shovell's wedding clothes. Then, her finger-tips on the 
 bridal hoop, she shifted her eyes for a minute to Violet's 
 face. As she did so, she passed the tip of a little red 
 tongue across her lips. She had done this once or twice 
 before, in the course of her idle, rather defiant remarks. 
 It is a well-known feverish symptom, for it means that 
 the lips are dry. 
 
 " Inexplicable, I admit it," said Violet, smiling, for the
 
 LISETTE 59 
 
 glance from ring to face had spoken ; " but it is so, all the 
 same. You are like a cat, Lisette. Rather a wild cat, 
 though. Why don't you get married, dear ? You couldn't 
 have any difficulty." 
 
 " Couldn't I ? All you know about it," said the girl. 
 She got up on the words, and stood restlessly. " I'll tell 
 you after dinner, perhaps," she said. " Some of it. I'll 
 tell you less lies than Honoria, anyhow. Honoria simply 
 makes you lie. Honoria is damnable. I'm going in to 
 tidy now," she added indifferently. " I shall be late, I 
 expect. I've nothing to wear, of course." She stopped, 
 glancing at the pearls again. 
 
 " You're lovely anyhow," said Violet. " You know 
 that very well. You shall have anything you want of 
 mine, though," she added gently, her eyes distracted to 
 the entrancing sky. 
 
 " Anything I want ! What a way to talk ! You know 
 I can't, so you tell lies about it. You've got everything, 
 haven't you ? Cheap way of being nice, I call it." After 
 these expressions of opinion, Lisette added, " Are you 
 going on sitting there ? " 
 
 " A minute or two, I must. The color's so perfect as it 
 dies, so cold." 
 
 " Umph ! " said Felicia dubiously. She glanced once at 
 the sunset, wrinkling her little nose again, in criticism 
 evidently. " It's not so bad," she admitted, " but no good 
 to paint. I can't ever remember colors afterwards 
 Father could. . . . Violet, I say, are those pearls 
 real?" 
 
 II 
 
 Charles did not address Miss Addenbroke by her pet 
 name at dinner, as invited, and Violet was equally careful 
 to avoid all unnecessary appendages when she spoke. 
 Felicia herself talked very little during the earlier part 
 of the meal. She sat eating, and gazing before her ; but 
 for all that, the impression of intimacy between her
 
 60 DUKE JONES 
 
 and the girl at her elbow seemed to penetrate, and reach 
 the popular attention. For one thing, that attention was 
 so pressing as to be disagreeable, at least to one of the 
 pair ; for another, Lisette herself was quite careless of the 
 part she had undertaken, and used Violet's first name 
 when she happened to want it, asking her to pass things, 
 loudly ; for a third, she was actually wearing a blouse of 
 Mrs. Shovell's: as at any rate one suspicious eye 
 discerned. 
 
 " She knows her," muttered Mrs. Studley to her spouse. 
 " She must have done before. They only had ten minutes 
 before dinner together, because I watched. She must 
 hang on to a pretty good set, then," she admitted grudg- 
 ingly. She spoke, as need not be said, of Violet, since 
 Lisette's " handle " secured her from criticism. 
 
 Mr. Studley, who did nothing but stare at the new- 
 comer like a man in an hypnotic trance, hardly heard. 
 Half the world was staring in fascination, wonder, or in 
 vague discomfort. When Lisette walked in to dinner, 
 quite late, having thrown on a blouse of her cousin's, and 
 hardly touched her hair, dragged low by the felt hat into 
 a mat on her forehead, the hotel had its long-coveted sen- 
 sation. Corks, as Charles put it, flew off. Lisette could 
 not see her place at first in the crowded room, and made 
 her little private grimaces, as she stood consulting with 
 the waiter, and looking up and down for it. 
 
 " She is much much lovelier than I remembered," 
 moaned Violet softly to Charles. " I cannot introduce her 
 to Mr. Jones, darling; I simply cannot do it. If I say 
 Alicia Poynter, with that absurd thing in front of me, 
 I shall inevitably laugh aloud; and then neither Lisette 
 nor Marmaduke will ever forgive me. You really must 
 come to my assistance, Charles. I am getting hysterical. 
 The original Alicia is so very frightful, if you knew." 
 
 Charles hardly felt like laughing. The general petrified 
 interest in the girl almost scared him, thinking of his wife's 
 tacit assumption of the guardianship of this impossible
 
 LISETTE 61 
 
 little creature. Charles felt like an anxious father of a 
 family, almost, as he rose, drew Felicia's chair back in 
 his best manner, and when she was within it, murmured 
 the ridiculous travesty of her real name to Jones. He 
 dared not look to see how Jones took it ; nor did Lisette 
 look at Jones, she looked at the menu which he handed. 
 And Jones, at her side, appeared ten times more staidly 
 commonplace, so much so as to verge upon the comical. 
 He was a general object of envy to his sex, but he did not 
 seem fully to appreciate his situation. He glanced beyond 
 his new neighbor constantly, his air protesting very faintly. 
 He had got used to Mrs. Sho veil's proximity at dinner, 
 and to her soft remarks ; and, since Jones was a creature 
 of custom, he missed her. Added to this, he could not see 
 Lisette so well as the rest of the room, since she was 
 squeezed against his elbow ; so any consolation he might 
 thus have been permitted was denied him. 
 
 Felicia Addenbroke was fair, fair as a water-wraith. 
 Mrs. Studley, even with the aid of the most skilful and 
 persistent dyeing, could never have hit the tint of her 
 pale gold hair, an ashen gold, most delicate and unusual. 
 Nor could art have imitated the way it grew, twining in all 
 directions, embracing her ears, and flattering the nape of 
 her enchanting neck. In itself, the hair was sufficient 
 fascination ; but Lisette went further. She distracted the 
 unwary by her use of her extraordinary eyes; she en- 
 snared them by every new position of her constantly 
 changing mouth. She bit her lip a good deal, a sign of un- 
 certainty and weakness : but far from unbecoming, as the 
 connoisseur will admit, to a pretty mouth and teeth. She 
 did not seem to like looking at anybody much, and kept 
 her lashes lowered a good deal. But at any sudden clash 
 in the serving, or unwary voice, she threw a glance from 
 her no other phrase would describe such swiftness in 
 that direction. Her senses, like an animal's, were evi- 
 dently exquisitively keen, and her nerves on edge. Lisette 
 was also, like all artists in sensation, a gourmand, not to
 
 62 DUKE JONES 
 
 use a harder English title. She took the best part of every 
 dish submitted to her, with quiet deliberation, and ate it 
 attentively. She also took wine, and Violet kept an eye 
 sidelong upon her glass and its refilling. It would seem 
 she had some recollection of such a taste in the young 
 lady; for, at a point towards the end of the meal, she 
 reached a hand across inconspicuously, and held Miss 
 Addenbroke's right wrist, as the waiter with the de- 
 canters approached. 
 
 Lisette, as he passed unsummoned, made a face at her 
 captor, and laughed slightly. Nobody else espied the 
 movement, with the exception of Marmaduke Jones. 
 Jones could not help seeing the clever little hand, with its 
 swift, decided movement towards him, which pinioned his 
 neighbor's supple white wrist for that short moment. It 
 was the first, absolutely the first incident of the meal 
 that really fixed his attention on the girl at his side. He 
 observed that, wilful as she looked, she was submissive to 
 the tacit warning ; only pouting, sly, and a trifle amused. 
 
 By rank ill-luck for Jones, Lisette caught his eye before 
 he could withdraw it. 
 
 " She thinks I've had enough," she remarked to him, 
 with her astounding manner of familiarity, the same she 
 had used to Charles. " She thinks she's married, so she 
 can manage me. That's what they always do. She's 
 younger really, a kid. How old are you, Violet? He 
 wants to know." Turning to her other hand again, she 
 nodded backwards to the gentleman on her right. 
 
 To say that Jones would never have thought of putting 
 such a question is, his chronicler hopes, quite unnecessary. 
 He would have sunk beneath the table sooner. It was 
 simply Lisette's native naughtiness, and he held his 
 breath until the answer came. So did others within 
 range, for the question had been recklessly loud. For- 
 tunately, Mrs. Shovell seemed amused. " I am twenty 
 and a half, a largish half. What are you telling Mr. 
 Jones about me, please ? "
 
 LISETTE 63 
 
 " What did I say ? " Felicia, quite content, turned back 
 again. " I'm a year older easily. I'm quite grown up, 
 of age, I dare say I shall get married soon. When I am, 
 perhaps she will let me alone to manage my drinks, what 
 do you say ? " She flung a wonderful glance at Jones, 
 and then another at Violet. " Though I don't suppose I 
 shall ever wear such pearls as those." Her voice sank into 
 confidence on the last phrase. " Her father's rich, you 
 know, and spoils her. So did mine. I was spoiled, great 
 Scott, wasn't I just! till he died. I did as I liked at 
 home. But he couldn't give me things, for the best of rea- 
 sons, so here I am without clothes to my back. Fact ! " 
 she showed the unwilling Jones her sleeve. " That isn't 
 mine, it's hers. I shall kep it, though, rather. It suits 
 me. She said I could have anything of hers I wanted, and 
 I shall. People should say what they mean, shouldn't 
 they?" 
 
 Marmaduke was too completely overpowered by this 
 titled lady's behavior to answer her constant appeals for 
 sympathy, still less to contradict any of the opinions so 
 freely presented to him,- and so far Lisette barely left 
 him the time. Having fed herself, she felt comfortable, 
 and prepared to chatter ; and since fate offered her Jones 
 to chatter to, she accepted him, having appraised the 
 article with a pout before she began. He had been intro- 
 duced to her, anyhow, not that it would have made much 
 difference if he had not. Having said her say, she leant 
 back, and gave him another wonderful glance in the 
 pause. She thought he might offer something, to induce 
 a pleasant argument, and waited to see what it was. 
 
 Lisette rarely coquetted; as with Violet's mother, it 
 was rarely necessary. She noticed her own effect on peo- 
 ple, that was all. She had noticed it, with advantageous 
 results, from the age of four years old. But her effect 
 on this man was not noticeable, at least to her rather undis- 
 cerning eyes. He showed none of the ordinary signs, the 
 ready and gallant response, to which Miss Lisette was
 
 64 DUKE JONES 
 
 accustomed. He might, of course, be afraid of her, that 
 occurred now and then, and amused Lisette prodigiously 
 when it did. Yet he did not shrink visibly, he showed 
 singularly little emotion of any sort. He looked a trifle 
 puzzled, perhaps as to the moral question she had raised 
 the question as to the possession of the blouse. That sub- 
 ject would do to argue on as well as another. 
 
 " Don't you think it suits me ? " asked Lisette, thinking 
 it might be the artistic point on which he disagreed. " I 
 thought it did, up there, but I hadn't time to look long. 
 She turned the light out. I hoped they'd stick me down 
 at dinner in front of a glass. They often do at these 
 places. Then I could see if it suited me really." 
 
 " It might suit other people just as well," remarked 
 Jones, fidgeting with his fork. On strictly moral points, 
 Jones could generally be quite clear in his own mind, and 
 was ready, when challenged, to offer a modest opinion. 
 But on the question of this particular piece of feminine 
 apparel he felt at sea. It happened to be of a particularly 
 lovely shade of twilight blue, a fabric of veiled lights and 
 soft shadows, bewildering even as to color for ordinary 
 man to define. Pale blue is a tint which fair-haired and 
 dark-haired ladies may equally well assume, no denying 
 it, with the evidence supplied. Jones had got used to it 
 with dark hair, but that was hardly a presentable argu- 
 ment ; the girl wore it in a way to make Studley stare, 
 an objection even less possible to advance. Worst of all, 
 whatever he said, Lady Whatever-she-was might turn to 
 Mrs. Shovell again and betray him. His was a false posi- 
 tion, really horrible in the circumstances. There seemed 
 nothing for it but to be honest, a thing not difficult as a 
 rule to Jones : but it cost him more of an effort than usual. 
 
 " Other people ! " Felicia laughed out, all her little 
 white teeth gleaming for an instant. " Why, there aren't 
 any others when I like a thing ! Didn't you guess that ? 
 I know what you mean, though," she added with a soft, 
 sly look. " You mean she looks as nice in it as I do. Well,
 
 LISETTE 65 
 
 why don't you say so, then ? I shouldn't care. I say what 
 I mean, and I want other people to." 
 
 " Will your ladyship stop saying what you mean to Mr. 
 Jones," Mrs. Shovell's voice beyond intervened again, 
 and Marmaduke breathed more freely, " and come up- 
 stairs with us ? I am sure for one evening he has been 
 instructed sufficiently." 
 
 " Oh well, I don't care," said Felicia, her usual fashion 
 of assenting. " We can go on to-morrow, I've another 
 night. I love arguing," she added unnecessarily, as she 
 rose. With a last glance at the uncomfortable Jones, she 
 departed, leaving him, as was probable, to be teased by the 
 whole circle of his acquaintance when the ladies were gone. 
 
 "We shall have to take her between us, Charles, to- 
 morrow," observed Violet, when the trio had left the din- 
 ing-room, and were upon the stairs. " She is really not 
 to be trusted." 
 
 " Oh well, I shan't mind," said Felicia calmly. " But I 
 shall swear and shock him, and what will you say then ? " 
 She wrinkled her impudent nose at Violet. 
 
 " You can't teach him any swear-words that he doesn't 
 know," said Violet, too audaciously as her husband 
 thought. " You should have heard him the other day on 
 the sand." 
 
 " Is he so wicked ? " said Lisette. " I'm glad of that. 
 I like people to be wicked, a little bit. Not too much, of 
 course, but rather. It's better than the other thing, 
 anyhow, like Aunt. I'd sooner have him," she nodded 
 at Charles, " than that other man, the dull one that sat 
 by me. He's something to say for himself, anyhow." 
 
 " Thanks," said Charles, " awfully. I'll keep it dark 
 from Jones." 
 
 " You needn't," returned Lisette. " He doesn't care for 
 me much. He won't mind what I think about him, any- 
 how. He's a stuck-up sort." Turning from Charles with 
 indifference, she took Violet's arm as they reached the 
 upper floor. " He didn't care for me teasing him, you
 
 66 DUKE JONES 
 
 know," she said, in confidence. " He didn't think I ought 
 to have this blouse." 
 
 " Nor does Charles," said Violet. " It's the color he 
 likes. Ask him what he thinks about the matter." 
 
 " I shan't," said Lisette. " He's stuffy, I shall ask you. 
 You'll give it to me, won't you ? " She squeezed the arm 
 she held, pushing close. 
 
 " Of course, dear, if you're sure you like no other bet- 
 ter. You might change your mind again. You dressed 
 rather hastily, didn't you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Shovell gave two touches to Felicia's hair in front, 
 looking her calmly in the eyes. They had reached their 
 private room now, and were facing each other on the 
 hearth. They were certainly curiously contrasted, not 
 only in surface coloring, though such a meeting of morn- 
 ing and dusk might well captivate a man's imagination. 
 But Charles, though a poet in his way, was not thinking 
 of externals for the moment. He was vexed in mind, 
 not jealous or ill-tempered as the girl seemed to imagine. 
 His wife's way of managing the creature was instinctive, 
 and he had left the opening tactics willingly to her; but 
 he did not see, ultimately, what good a girl like that could 
 do Violet, or vice versa. There was an inner complexion, 
 as well as an outer, to be considered; a fine spiritual 
 bloom which, even if Violet had not possessed it, Charles' 
 form of adoration would have supplied. He had a strong 
 feeling, in short, that he, personally, was an element in 
 this situation; and an element whose intervention might 
 at any moment be required. 
 
 " Go away ! " said Lisette to him sharply, having 
 watched Violet's face for an interval, biting her lip. 
 " Send him away," she jerked to her cousin. " I'm going 
 to cry." 
 
 On the words she sank on a convenient chair in a grace- 
 ful heap, and broke into furious sobbing, her fair head 
 in her hands.
 
 LISETTE 67 
 
 " Will you go, dear?" said Mrs. Shovell, turning with 
 raised brows. " And tell them not coffee, please, we had 
 better be alone. Leave me a cigarette, there's an angel, 
 I think that's all." She looked delicate and dubious, 
 to the critic's eye. 
 
 " She'd better go to bed, I should think," said Charles, 
 propping himself obstinately, hands behind, against the 
 mantelshelf. Lisette on her chair was weeping with the 
 abandon of a child a piteously lovely sight. 
 
 " No, no, it is useless with anything on your mind. 
 1 don't suppose she has slept for nights. I shan't get it, 
 probably, I know what she is, and how those other two 
 have hardened her, but I shall do my best." She spoke 
 low and hurriedly, under cover of Felicia's sobs, avoiding 
 his eye as she spoke. It struck Charles she was proposing 
 to do the thing she had been forbidden to do, by her 
 husband. 
 
 " I think you had better let me," he observed, in a 
 superior dry manner. 
 
 " Why ? I know her, not well, but I know the variety. 
 I have had it before me," said Violet, " all my life. They 
 have turned her out, or something like it, I suspect. I 
 dare say she went too far, if she was like this." 
 
 " And may again," he appended, preserving his attitude. 
 There was a pause, in which Lisette's sobs were strongly 
 audible, so strongly that it sounded a little forced, as 
 though she were recovering. 
 
 " Don't you trust me? " said Violet, her tone uncertain : 
 and there was a pause. 
 
 " What are you talking about, you two ? " gasped 
 Lisette, turning her dishevelled head on her bare arm. 
 " You're talking about me, I know. You fancy all sorts 
 of things, and there's nothing. There isn't anything, 
 I'm only sick to death of the infernal fools they are." 
 
 " Be quiet we do not," said Violet quietly. " We fancy 
 nothing whatever, until we hear, it is wiser. Do you 
 mind his staying, Lisette? He wants to stay."
 
 68 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Yes," she shot. " I'm sick of them, I tell you. Send 
 him right away ; you said you would. You promised. I've 
 never known a woman fit to speak to, all my life. Call 
 themselves women, those two ! my God ! " 
 
 " Stop swearing," said Charles sharply, turning on his 
 heel. " Promise to behave decently and I may go/' 
 
 " May you ? " the girl muttered. " You will if she says 
 so, jolly fast. What were you saying about me, just 
 now ? " Her marvelous eyes fixed Charles. " What did 
 
 you say 
 
 " Nothing." He diverted his own glance involuntarily. 
 
 " What do you think, then ? Better say it out. Oh, I 
 know you! You think I'll hurt her, don't you? 'Cause 
 she's so young, and your property, I suppose." Lisette 
 gazed at him mercilessly, her chin on the back of the chair 
 she was embracing, mischief dawning in her wide eyes, 
 tear-trimmed as their lashes yet were. " Men always 
 think that," she said, " and always will. They're all the 
 same. . . . Well, listen here : she's not yours, she's 
 mine if I want. She's my cousin, one of our lot, any- 
 how, quite a nice little decent thing. . . . That's 
 what I said to Honoria, when Cousin Eveleen's letter 
 came, just to hear her snort. Violet's been called clever 
 to us, smart and so on, ever so long back, so Honoria 
 can't let her alone. She's jealous, couldn't bear her be- 
 ing engaged. She wasn't then herself, and thought she 
 never would be, old horse! She said she supposed it 
 was the money, and she expected you were a fool." 
 
 Violet laughed easily. " That was really a good effort 
 for the brilliant Honoria," she said, " wasn't it, Lisette ? " 
 
 As she spoke, standing to the rear of the girl and facing 
 Charles, she signalled to the door imperiously. Lisette 
 had dropped her dishevelled head again. Charles, receiv- 
 ing the mute command, strode to the door, and after a 
 moment's hesitation, went through it and shut it behind 
 him. 
 
 It came home to him, perhaps, that he was a fool, com-
 
 LISETTE 69 
 
 pared with Violet, at this work of dealing with tortured 
 souls. She had the noble gift from the other " lot," not 
 Lisette's, from the great physician her father, and be- 
 hind him generations of courageous thoughtful men. 
 From the Ingestre " lot " she had singularly little : external 
 details merely, finishing touches such as her beautiful 
 clear skin, a kitten-love of being petted, warring con- 
 stantly with the Ashwin shyness, and the aristocratic 
 manner (Charles laughed ruefully as he remembered it) 
 she had used just now. For a thing so comparatively small 
 and slight, Violet could be dignified; she could face a 
 roomful effectively without assistance ; and she could, at 
 will, as he now recollected, frighten her husband terribly. 
 Of late she had not attempted it, it was true ; but he could 
 think of occasions before marriage when she had reduced 
 him in just that manner ; and it struck him that the power 
 she sheathed might very well also be the gift of a lordly 
 stock: a stock which, as in the case of this exquisite 
 Felicia, assumed placable acquiescence beforehand in its 
 most unreasonable demands. 
 
 Charles went below and walked about for a long time 
 on the terrace, restively. He had been indignant, agitated, 
 and a little offended too, and he needed a lengthy dose of 
 the night air to cool him down. He could not, he found, 
 escape thinking of the strange girl merely by leaving her 
 presence : if only for the sake of abusing Lisette, he had 
 to think. He reviewed again, for they were imprinted 
 on his memory, all her incomparable attitudes, tones and 
 movements in turn. He saw well how beautiful she was, 
 and how much more beautiful she would be, for the Inges- 
 tres were singularly ageless, came to their full develop- 
 ment slowly, and still made conquests when they were 
 grandmothers, as Eveleen Ashwin probably would. He 
 was well aware of a rather resentful admiration, an in- 
 ner relish withal, careless and rough such as that which 
 Studley had unwisely expressed, and a keen curiosity to
 
 7 o DUKE JONES 
 
 see her again, different and perhaps more brilliant yet in 
 the sharp insistent light of day. He was vexed with her 
 intrusion, a good deal more than was necessary, or than 
 would have been necessary with a less intrinsically excit- 
 ing person; and he was vexed in addition that Violet 
 should squander her fine sympathy, risk her fine suscep- 
 tibility, where both were all too probably wasted, in a sec- 
 ond-rate and sordid cause. 
 
 But, ridiculously enough, the thing that haunted Charles 
 with the most persistent annoyance, even when he con- 
 sidered he had quite cooled and ordered his volcanic 
 thoughts that night, was that he did not want Felicia 
 to have that moonlight blouse of Violet's, which he knew 
 on Violet, and which was her, consequently, to his mas- 
 culine idea, and startle the world into supposing that it 
 became her better, when it did not ! He shared an orig- 
 inal instinct, in this matter, in favor of the first possessor, 
 with Marmaduke Jones. 
 
 in 
 
 It was late in the evening before the importunate girl's 
 demands allowed Charles to return to his own, and he 
 became highly indignant. Violet had no right, naturally, 
 to attend to a girl in his despite. It was his honeymoon, 
 anyhow, and Lisette was as remote, to all right-thinking 
 minds, as a bolt from another star, not wanted. When 
 he was at length allowed to enter his own room, and re- 
 sume the ownership of his wife, he found her leaning 
 against the mantelpiece, a hand supporting her brow 
 (ashamed of herself, probably), in a pose of languor and 
 reflection; while Lisette, looking greatly restored and 
 extremely lively, not to say mischievous, lay sidelong in 
 Charles' own special chair, his cigarette between her 
 white teeth, and his that is, his wife's priceless pearl 
 necklace in her hands. 
 
 " Look at her," complained Violet. " She's taking all
 
 LISETTE 71 
 
 my things away, one by one. I've nothing to play with, 
 Charles. The loss of the pearls I can endure, just, but 
 I did want that smoke so badly. I was saving it up till 
 the end, for a treat, and then she snatched it before I could 
 touch. Isn't she a horrid girl ? " 
 
 Lisette, at the charge, laughed low and delightfully. 
 She did not move, or notice Charles, which annoyed him 
 the more, naturally. She was considering the pearls, in 
 detail, with her soft finger-tips and long-lashed eyes. 
 
 " I can supply one loss at any rate," he said, stopping to 
 feel in his pocket. " Catch." He tossed Violet his ciga- 
 rette-case, his eyes resting the while on the delinquent, 
 who was pouting in the chair. " I think I can remedy the 
 other too." He walked up to Miss Addenbroke, and said 
 carelessly, " Thanks, those are ours." 
 
 " They're real," observed Lisette to him in confidence, 
 disregarding the extended hand. " I asked her three 
 times before she'd tell me, she's so rude, but they are." 
 
 " Some people might call the question rude," said 
 Charles coolly. " Give them here." 
 
 " The question ? Why ? Wouldn't you let her go about 
 in sham pearls? Lots of people do, quite smart ones, I 
 can tell you." 
 
 " I dare say you know all about it," said Charles. " Give 
 them here." 
 
 " They're not yours," said Lisette. 
 
 "They are," said Charles, the snap of a nursery 
 quarrel. 
 
 " You're cross because I kept her," said Lisette. " I 
 wouldn't let her call you before. I wish I hadn't at all, 
 I'm sure. Isn't he horrid, Vi ? " 
 
 " Take care, dear, he'll break out," said Violet. *' He 
 can't abide that abbreviation." 
 
 " Abbreviation ? " She repeated it prettily, quite with- 
 out comprehension. " I don't see why he's in a temper," 
 persisted Lisette. " I wouldn't have a man that's always 
 in a temper about me, anyhow."
 
 72 DUKE JONES 
 
 Charles bit his lip, Violet laughed. 
 
 " Let her alone, Charles," she said. " You'll get the 
 worst of it. She has absolutely no scruples in what she 
 says, which gives her an unfair advantage." 
 
 " You'd better clear out," said Charles, turning his 
 back, perhaps partly to hide his face. " It's late." He 
 had never been as rude as this in words to a woman before. 
 
 " If you want to kiss her, don't mind me," said Felicia, 
 demure and sly as ever, and still examining the necklace, 
 pearl by pearl. " That's what I said to Honoria's man, 
 who was redder than you, and much stuffier about it. 
 Perhaps he didn't want to do it," she added softly. " I 
 shouldn't, anyhow. Great Scott ! " 
 
 " Vulgar little beast," muttered Charles, to ease his 
 mind. Violet by the hearth was still laughing under her 
 hand, which fact particularly Outraged him. He did not 
 consider Violet ought to laugh at such things, whatever 
 he was inclined to do. 
 
 " Don't be cross," she said, shifting the sheltering hand 
 to glance his way. " It is so hopeless. I am long long 
 through that. . . . Lisette, isn't it bed-time? Don't 
 you think so ? It's been such an exhausting day." 
 
 " Has it, for you ? " said Felicia. " I've given her a 
 time of it," to Charles. " Not quite so bad as Honoria, 
 'cause she's younger, but a time. I used awful words. 
 Once, I nearly made her cry. I thought she was going to, 
 but she didn't, laughed instead. Now she wants to go 
 to bed, naturally, but you told me to clear out." She 
 threw the pearls on the table with a clash. " I can't see 
 what a girl's to do, between you all. Perhaps I'll go." 
 
 She got up, stretching her lithe limbs deliciously. Then 
 she laughed of a sudden at their faces. 
 
 " I'd never be married," she announced, " if it makes 
 you sulky like that. It looks silly, I can tell you.. Standing 
 with his back turned! Why doesn't he look at me? 
 He's afraid, that's what it is." She nodded at Violet. 
 " Lots of people are afraid of me."
 
 LISETTE 73 
 
 " Who wonders ? " said Violet beneath her breath, 
 " you marvelous thing. Will you give me my chain 
 again, Lisette ? You snatched it from me rather rudely, 
 you know, just now." 
 
 " Didn't you mean me to have it, then? " said Felicia. 
 " I thought that's what you meant. Oh well, here goes for 
 the present." She took, carried, and clasped it about her 
 cousin's throat, looking at it all the time. " There," she 
 said, with a final pat. " That's just how it was, biggest 
 in the middle. I like that big fellow, one of the best. Has 
 Cousin Eveleen got one too ? " 
 
 " No. Heaps of jewels, but not that." 
 
 Felicia whistled, her eyes widening. " Gave it to you, 
 did he? and left her out? I wouldn't stand that, any- 
 how, if I were Cousin Eveleen. I say, don't they fight 
 like cats, those two ? Honoria says they do." 
 
 " Honoria does not know everything," said Violet 
 crisply. 
 
 " No. . . . What's-his-name, her husband, I forget." 
 
 " My mother's husband ? My father, you mean ? Ash- 
 win." " 
 
 " Ashwin, oh yes. ... I wish I knew him," said 
 Lisette. " Would he give pearls to me? " 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder the least," said Violet, looking 
 at her seriously. " Not the very least, if you went to stay." 
 
 " I'd like to go to stay there. I went once with Honoria ; 
 for somebody's dance it was, just the night. Stodgy old 
 dance, not much to go for, but it was a smart house to 
 stay in. ... I remember," said Felicia thoughtfully. 
 
 " So do I," Violet assured her. " So does my father. 
 We were both on the premises, you know." 
 
 " Were you ? " Lisette looked at her in her charming 
 vacant manner. " I never remember people much. It's 
 people have to remember me, see ? " She touched the 
 pearls again. " Real things," she murmured lingeringly. 
 " Everything real in a place like that. That's what I like, 
 Honoria doesn't care."
 
 74 DUKE JONES 
 
 " You should have nothing that is not perfect," said 
 Violet. " Anyone can see that at a glance." 
 
 " Oh, can they?" she laughed. "I wish they did, 
 anyhow." She turned confidential, being near. " Father, 
 my father, painted me once in a shell. I had pearls, 
 but not real ones. It was by the sea. I had nothing 
 on " 
 
 " Charles, wait, be gentle," cried Violet, low and 
 entreatingly. " Too exquisite it is. Imagine, in a shell ! 
 How old were you, darling, then ? " 
 
 " Six," said Felicia, very simply. She had shrunk a 
 little from Charles' violent movement towards her, and 
 was holding Violet's arm. " I was twelve when he died, 
 you know. . . . When he was smashed," she added, 
 shrugging curiously. 
 
 It was her last effort of sincerity. She decided to go. 
 She moved slowly, slid, one might have said, to the 
 door, where Mr. Shovell was standing markedly, his hand 
 upon the latch, ready to open it. Then she laughed once 
 more, quite involuntarily, at his face. 
 
 " I said it like that to shock you," she observed. " About 
 the shell, I knew it would. You're not so clever as she 
 is . " And she went. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " said Charles with fervor, having re- 
 shut the door. He wiped his brow. Then he laughed 
 himself, shortly, much as though his strong resentment 
 and natural good-temper met in an equal shock. Then he 
 walked back to Violet, and with a curious manner of deter- 
 mination, took her in his arms. 
 
 " Sorry I jogged her," he remarked, in a manner not 
 quite his own. " I don't believe she'd ever have gone 
 without it, and she'd got to go." 
 
 Violet was absent, rather. " Did you have a nice walk, 
 downstairs ? " 
 
 " No," said Charles, in precisely the manner of a per- 
 son saying " Yes."
 
 LISETTE 75 
 
 " Isn't it a nice night? I thought I saw a moon. . . . 
 Charles! It occurs to me I want to pay Lisette's bill 
 these two days: and I haven't money enough, really. 
 You'll have to fork out, do you hear? " 
 
 " Don't care if I do," said Charles, carelessly agree- 
 able. He was holding her tightly, however. 
 
 " Good boy. Now give me time, and I'll think of the 
 next thing. There are heaps." She closed her eyes, 
 slightly frowning, to think. 
 
 " That little spitfire has been tiring you," said Charles. 
 
 " No, really. She is only a little tiring to the soul, 
 that sort of girl. Poor dear, it's not her fault." 
 
 " Said you were tired," returned Charles coolly. 
 " There's black under your eyes at this minute, there 
 and there." 
 
 " Nonsense. It's a shadow dye off the lashes or some- 
 thing." She laughed, looking aside. 
 
 " I'll try if it comes off, shall I ? " said Charles oblig- 
 ingly. " Shut your eyes again tight." 
 
 She did, and he tried. It did not come off, so he tried 
 again. 
 
 " Behave, please," said Violet, catching him by the tie. 
 " You have not congratulated me on having such a pretty 
 cousin." 
 
 " You're a lot prettier," said he. 
 
 " Charles ! Your immortal soul, my dear. This is a 
 question of fact." 
 
 " I'm thinking of the fact, glaring fact, I call it." The 
 expression of his eyes bent on her was perfectly fatuous, 
 long past criticism obviously. 
 
 " Ask anyone in the hotel what they think," he said 
 " and Jones." 
 
 "And if everyone, and Jones, agrees with me?" 
 
 " I shall be sorry for 'em. It wouldn't change my opin- 
 ion for a moment." 
 
 Mr. Shovell's ensuing remarks were all silly ones, really 
 not worth the setting down. Violet's replies were a trifle
 
 76 DUKE JONES 
 
 cleverer, but not much, since he distracted her. Hers 
 were intended to be bracing, probably; but Charles had 
 lost an evening, and was inclined to make her pay for 
 excluding him. 
 
 " You will have to be respectable soon," she reminded 
 him, resting a rather nervous hand against his chest. 
 " The day after to-morrow we shall be in London : 
 chokers and chimney-pots, calls and card-cases. Serious 
 business of life again. You will have to interview 
 plumbers, probably, and go to the office. I shall have 
 to have my hair done, and yours cut. Reflect ! " 
 
 Charles reflected, looking at her steadily. 
 
 " Lisette told me a lot of things," pursued Violet dubi- 
 ously. " It's bothering a little. I really want your opinion, 
 though whether it's worth having to-night What do 
 you think about her, seriously speaking?" 
 
 " Her aunt should have taught her not to swear." 
 
 " Yes," Violet agreed. " But she's better than she used 
 to be ever so much. It is only on the subject of Honoria 
 she lets fly, and I hardly wonder. When those two get 
 together, brimstone simply sputters out. Nobody ever 
 stopped them in youth, you know; and it's how they're 
 made. . . . They did it once in our dining-room in 
 Harley Street, Father was rather interested. He called 
 it an hysterical symptom, and said they should have buck- 
 ets of cold water at intervals, like cats. . . . Mother 
 laughed, I remember, it's Ingestre, probably. Lisette 
 is rather like a cat; I told her so. Don't you like her 
 when she wrinkles up her nose ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," he said. " I didn't notice much." 
 
 " Then you wasted your opportunities " 
 
 " Sorry : I won't any longer," said Mr. Shovell, very 
 promptly ; and for the next few minutes he did not. 
 
 " No man ever treated me like this before," said Mrs. 
 Shovell plaintively at last. 
 
 "Didn't they? Quite sure? Not Ford and the other 
 johnnies who used to admire you so? "
 
 LISETTE 77 
 
 " Certainly not. Poor Mr. Ford ! You make me blush, 
 Charles." She did blush a little, and Charles made her 
 still more. She had to clutch at his tie again, and even 
 then he kissed the wrist of the hand. 
 
 " You are not behaving," said Violet. " I am sorry, but 
 it is the case. You are not at all what I thought you. I 
 am trying, against odds, to talk sense this evening. People 
 always go to their husbands for advice. I have read that 
 in ever so many books. Even Mother does at times, and 
 she constantly asks for information. Suppose I really 
 needed help at this moment, a lot of good you'd be." 
 
 Charles merely gazed at her, not quite throttled, and 
 quite unashamed. 
 
 "You behaved a great deal more nicely at Ingestre 
 Hall," said Violet. " Something like a gentleman, if I 
 remember right. Do you remember our arrival there, 
 ages ago? Oh dear, how many ages? We were quite 
 proper and dignified, both of us. I was dreadfully shy, 
 and you were afraid of me. Just a little bit, weren't 
 you?" 
 
 Still no answer, though his intent eyes smiled. 
 
 " Yes, you still were in the train," she determined. 
 " But it's much worse to suffer from shyness, much. 
 . . . Oh, Charles ! Suppose we had remained at the 
 Hall, with the owls at night in the terrible old trees, and 
 had rain all the time, and wind " 
 
 " Suppose I had had small-pox," interrupted Charles, 
 " and you had married another man." 
 
 " I shouldn't have married any other, I think." 
 
 " You'd only have flirted with 'em, eh? " 
 
 " No, I never flirt. I am surprised at you, Charles, 
 saying such a thing to my face! You are certainly not 
 yourself this evening. . . . But it has been nice here, 
 hasn't it? We were a little clever to come? Nothing, 
 somehow," said Violet, looking rather wistfully at the 
 light, " can really spoil it now." 
 
 " I'd chuck her out if she did," said Charles instantly.
 
 78 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Oh yes, I should, I can tell you. Bag and baggage, on 
 the nail." 
 
 " She has no baggage, poor little thing," said Violet. 
 " She really hasn't anything ; she said so. She said I have 
 it all. Please don't be such a brutal boy, it hurts my 
 ears. . . . Oh, Charles, no ! There are limits, dear- 
 est, really. A girl must have some feature left her, and 
 be able to mention it without annoyance. There, calm 
 down. Talk to me about Jones, or anything soothing, 
 what you like. I will leave Lisette till to-morrow, alto- 
 gether, shall I ? Very well." 
 
 She retired soon after, and sat motionless for a long 
 time on her bed before she undressed. Charles had never 
 been quite like that before, not quite. It was a little 
 perplexing and disturbing to her mind, when they had set- 
 tled into steady habits as she considered, almost as if he 
 had drunk something, which really she was quite certain 
 he had not. 
 
 She did not, among possible elements of intoxication, 
 in a quiet domestic atmosphere, think of Felicia, but 
 that was because she was very sure of Charles. Yet 
 Lisette, as a fact, was to blame. Her presence had proved 
 " upsetting " a trifle to Mr. Shovell, even as his experi- 
 enced mother-in-law had hinted in her letter : but it was 
 not in any way of which Eveleen Ashwin, when she wrote 
 those words, had dreamed. No one, perhaps, would have 
 been more vexed than Lady Ashwin, if she had been able 
 to witness the exact effects on Charles that Lisette's 
 awakening presence had actually produced. 
 
 IV 
 
 By the sobering light of day, Charles had Felicia's his- 
 tory, such as it was. Violet had really made out some- 
 thing of the state of things from the girl's obscure and 
 broken account, though she suspected at various points
 
 LISETTE 79 
 
 that she was being evaded, or even flatly deceived. Lisette 
 hardly could speak the truth, such had been her upbring- 
 ing. The whole truth, clearly presented, would have con- 
 stituted a mental and moral effort quite beyond her. But 
 she had the advantage, with Violet, of not feeling she was 
 being patronized or looked down upon, both of which 
 attitudes made her take the offensive with an Adden- 
 broke, the intolerably offensive instantly. She was 
 talking to a girl and an equal, one of her clan, whom she 
 could even patronize herself, as her junior, if need arose. 
 Need had not arisen ; she did not tease much, though she 
 tired Violet greatly by repeating things, or presenting the 
 same thing under different and incompatible aspects. 
 However, by putting together the most probable-sounding 
 statements, elicited others by adroit inquiry, and employ- 
 ing her sympathetic fancy to fill the chinks, she did arrive 
 at something like a connected story, though she got small 
 reassurance from it in its finished form. 
 
 The first-hand evidence, as has been indicated, was far 
 too chaotic, passionate, and prejudiced, to be set down 
 as related. Violet herself, having thought it over during 
 the watches of the night, summarized it the next day for 
 Charles, always with cautious reservations, as became an 
 Ashwin, in a matter where the psychology of the actors 
 and reporters went for so much. She had no doubt, at 
 least, where to lay the blame. 
 
 " It is perfectly perfectly mad of those women," she 
 said hopelessly. " I mean, the two at Torquay ; mad 
 whichever way you look at it, whether they are right in 
 their deductions or wrong. The only way would have 
 been to pet and pat and soothe her, very gently, and pre- 
 vent at all hazards her going off like this on her own. 
 Instead of that, they have simply goaded her to renounce 
 them dramatically, a beautiful, dust-shaking scene, dear 
 Charles, and now her pride is set in the way of her 
 returning. I doubt, I very much doubt," said Violet, 
 walking about the room, " if either of those women,
 
 8o DUKE JONES 
 
 even with unexpected angels to whisper promptings to 
 them, like the goodiest books of our earliest years, will 
 ever get her back again. Cousin Agnes is merely a fool, 
 of course, but Honoria! oh, I should like to tell her 
 what I think!" 
 
 Charles asked what the quarrel had been. Violet tried 
 to put it straight in her own mind for him. 
 
 " It was a sudden idea, which is the bane of Felicias. 
 She thought she hated her school at Southampton, which 
 really had been marvelously tolerant, if all she says about 
 her proceedings there is true. She taught drawing chiefly, 
 Ledger, her father's master, taught her for love, a 
 really great old man; so she started right, however she 
 has played with it since. But I believe she is very clever 
 at it when she likes, and cares for it certainly. She liked 
 the work with the girls, but she imagined she was being 
 put upon about some trifle quite beneath attention, and 
 instantly found she would like a change. It struck her 
 it would be a good change to go abroad; and since she 
 wanted to shock her aunt at all costs, she proposed Paris. 
 All that is very simple, so far, it is just Lisette." 
 
 " Well? " said Charles, as she stopped, her brow lifting 
 into its lines of care. 
 
 " Well, fortune favored her strangely. The visiting 
 master for modern languages, French from Brussels, 
 she says, which implies Belgian, told her of a post. He 
 had a friend who had one to offer, a friend in Paris, 
 Charles ; just what she wanted. He showed her a printed 
 paragraph about it from an English paper: one child to 
 manage, good conditions, good salary. She was much 
 attracted, and felt worse-used by the Southampton school 
 than ever." 
 
 " Well ? " he queried again, after an interval. 
 
 " Sorry, dear," she said quickly. " I suppose I haven't 
 finished thinking myself, though I thought I had. . . . 
 Of course, you see the uncertainty. No people of sense 
 would take it on a vague recommendation like that.
 
 LISETTE 81 
 
 Morally, Cousin Agnes was perfectly right to sniff at her, 
 and tell her to be good and happy where she was, and 
 Honoria to call her (as I suppose she did) an infernal 
 fool. My opinion on the subject," said Violet, pulling out 
 a little curl, as was her habit when distracted in mind, " is 
 identical, evidently, with theirs. Lisette should be, and 
 she is one. But my reason would have told me not to 
 express the opinion, but to flatter Lisette, fondle her, 
 bribe her with gold if necessary, to drop the idea of Paris, 
 and to stay at home. Yes, even to drop the Southampton 
 school, since she was feeling melodramatic and oppressed 
 there, and to take a walking-tour with me on Dartmoor 
 or some healthy place, if I had been her sister, which I'm 
 not." 
 
 " Which fortunately you are not," said Charles, " since 
 you can talk for two minutes on end without offending 
 decent people." 
 
 " Yes," she sighed. " Profanity is required, though, all 
 the same: a nice steady man's profanity, Charles. I 
 should like Father to go down to Torquay, and swear at 
 them a little, I never heard him, but he is probably good 
 at it, since they all practice on the nurses, and force that 
 pair of canting females to take her back. But as it is " 
 
 " Can't you tell your father? " 
 
 " I must talk to Mother first." 
 
 " Why, V. ? " inquired Charles. Turning from him, she 
 gripped the hands she had clasped behind her. 
 
 "Not because it is so much the hardest thing to do. 
 I am not a Puritan donkey to that degree. But because 
 because the girls are Mother's business ; she ought to do 
 it. She would have a right to be offended if I went to 
 Father under the rose. And I don't want to offend my 
 Mother, Charles, more than necessary." 
 
 " Meaning she'd make it nasty for you if you did." 
 
 " She would, of course : but that's not all I mean." She 
 walked about a little, restlessly, as she reflected. " There 
 is such a thing as justice, hard as it often is to see. I am
 
 82 DUKE JONES 
 
 not inclined to do justice to Mother; she makes Father 
 suffer so. I do not love her often I almost hate. But 
 she has a good side, she is very strong on her family, 
 very loyal to her stock. She is house-proud in that sense, 
 and to act against her inclinations, for the honor of her 
 house, is the only way I can see her being unselfish. I 
 believe she could not let Lisette, being an Ingestre grand- 
 child, cut her throat like this, or risk cutting her throat, 
 if she heard the whole case properly stated. I shall rest 
 heavily on that side of things when I see her. I shall not 
 write: letters put Mother off. It must be viva voce, I 
 think I can do it, I am going to try ; as soon as ever we 
 arrive to-morrow I shall go straight and do it from the 
 train. Do not throw cold water, darling, or my nerve will 
 go. I have to plead before a judge that doesn't like me, 
 and won't ever believe I am disinterested, and that is 
 hard." 
 
 Violet had never before, to her husband's ears, stated 
 the home situation so openly and undisguisedly as this. 
 Charles was more than a little interested, especially since 
 in the future it touched him too. 
 
 " Why should I throw cold water ? " he asked, lazily 
 amused at her intensity. " I am not the least inclined to, 
 I assure you." 
 
 " Because it is so deadly important, and I thought you 
 might think I was wasting time." 
 
 "You don't very often do that, ducky. Rather the 
 other way." 
 
 " Yes, I do, quite often enough. I have wasted weeks 
 of heaven here. It is time, quite time, I found a war- 
 path again. Did you know I was the least bit pugna- 
 cious ? " She lifted a brow at him. 
 
 " I could guess it," he answered serenely. " Go on. 
 Why is it so supremely important to do something striking 
 with all speed ? " 
 
 " Why, because " she paused. " I thought you saw. 
 
 Didn't I make that part clear enough ? Coward ! " She
 
 LISETTE 83 
 
 bit her lip. " That is because it is the worryingest, and so 
 I shirked it." 
 
 " Worry away," said Charles, " but worry aloud." 
 
 " Oh," said Violet, impressed. " What a nice friendly 
 way to put it, Mr. Shovell. Thank you." She offered him 
 a finger, which she then withdrew. " What on earth am 
 I to say about it ? It is all so vague. I may be so ridicu- 
 lously wrong to feel frightened." 
 
 " Frightened ? " he said quickly. " What about? " 
 
 " For her. She is so very pretty. And a man proposing 
 it just in the nick of time for her. And the good sal- 
 ary, can't you see ? " 
 
 " Good Lord ! " ejaculated Charles, " seeing " then for 
 the first time. He sat up, staring at her. 
 
 " I have no fear," said Violet, gazing oddly back at him, 
 " about Mother failing to take that point up, promptly. 
 She will jump at it, without a doubt. She may even see 
 it is strongly advisable for somebody to take steps. The 
 question is, if she will act herself. Well now, Felicia is 
 coming to London, to stay, as she says, in rooms. She is 
 very poor, and hates rooms in that sense, and she loves 
 luxury and lovely things. Mother can easily take her in, 
 at least till she has investigated the post proposed. It's 
 nonsense her saying she can't. Mother can't pretend she 
 has not a place for Lisette now I am gone. It strikes me 
 as an obvious first step on her part, doesn't it you, 
 Charles?" 
 
 " Am I to encourage? " inquired Mr. Shovell. " Yes." 
 
 " It is a bribe to Felicia," proceeded Violet. " She wants 
 to be invited by Mother, you heard. Our house is a par- 
 ticularly nice one, with two motors ; and the food is good." 
 
 " But won't Lady Ashwin and Miss Addenbroke quarrel 
 instantly ? " asked Charles, " and bring the house about 
 your father's ears ? " 
 
 " Instantly," said Violet earnestly. " I rather count upon 
 that. They will keep one another up to the mark. It 
 will distract both their attentions from other things.
 
 84 DUKE JONES 
 
 Mother may easily be bored by this time, always going 
 out alone, and Ingestres understand one another's natures. 
 You remember their righting amused Mother before. I 
 never succeeded in amusing Mother," said Violet, " but I 
 think Felicia may. And Father will like a third at dinner 
 for a change, and someone deliciously nice to look at, 
 like Lisette. He appreciates that immensely. I am not 
 jealous of Lisette, talking to Father at dinner instead of 
 me, the least." 
 
 " That's what I was noticing," said Charles, " with some 
 surprise. It's an awfully nice plan, darling, quite worthy 
 of you. Will it work?" 
 
 " Probably not," said Violet. " But you are not dis- 
 couraging me, only sitting by in approbation while I talk. 
 . . . We couldn't have Lisette, dear, could we ? " It 
 was the lightest, oddest little suggestion, tacked on to the 
 other well-elaborated proposal. 
 
 " No," thundered Charles without warning. 
 
 " Very well, be calm. I said we couldn't, and there 
 isn't a room. The workmen haven't nearly done, since 
 Mother has been looking after them. They saw by 
 Mother's eye that they needn't really get my house ready 
 in time, whatever Father said about the matter. I quite 
 expected it, and I am quite prepared. Disgustingly un- 
 comfortable you will be," said Violet, her affectionate eyes 
 on Charles. " Nothing particular to eat, and hammering 
 everywhere for weeks." She had abandoned Felicia's 
 affair for a moment at a temptation which brides may ex- 
 cuse. 
 
 " Don't let's go home," said Charles, with a bright 
 thought. 
 
 " We must, because I have packed the books," said 
 Violet. " I spent a lot of time over it, and my time is never 
 wasted. Besides, I have got to chaperon Lisette." 
 
 " You mean we're taking her with us ? " said Charles, 
 with the emphasis of disgust. 
 
 " We are, and you are paying for her ticket. She hasn't
 
 LISETTE 85 
 
 got a sou, that girl," said Violet. " That is the other horrid 
 complication. Honoria offered her her journey-money, it 
 appears, and she threw it at her head. She would, of 
 course I quite believe it. She has nothing but her last 
 term's salary, and she won't tell me how much that is." 
 
 " Well, your mother will rise to that, won't she? " said 
 Charles. " You said she did before." 
 
 " Yes, in all probability she will. If she goes, she must 
 have money," declared Violet. "At the worst, I shall 
 insist on that." 
 
 "' Have you seen the correspondence ? " Charles asked 
 presently. He observed Violet seemed to take the thing 
 to heart, and he was pleasant as usual. 
 
 " No, and she won't give up the address, or even the 
 advertisement, though she declares she has both, and 
 letters. . . . She may to Mother," said Violet, her 
 sensitive brows working. 
 
 " When does the new salary start in October ? " 
 
 " In August," said Violet, looking down. 
 
 " Oh, that's not so long to tide over," said Charles cheer- 
 fully. She rather wondered if he took the point of the 
 extreme unlikelihood of a good post falling vacant in 
 August, in Paris. But she said no more to him then, think- 
 ing perhaps he had been instructed sufficiently in Felicia's 
 private affairs. She had given him at least a dose of facts, 
 and stored the comments for her mother. She had not 
 mentioned to Lisette that she would confide in him, but 
 she nursed a curious conviction that Lisette, for all her 
 impudent remarks, knew the terms they were on together 
 well enough. It was the kind of thing her eager animal 
 senses and beautiful vacant eyes grasped straightway, 
 without the need of argument or attention. 
 
 During the interval of this conversation, Lisette was out. 
 She went out into the town, saying, with a defiant lift 
 of chin, that she had a call to pay on some people her 
 father had known there, who used to be decent. She had
 
 86 DUKE JONES 
 
 referred several times, in her moments of involuntary 
 confidence, to her father and his evidently Bohemian 
 circle, and her delightful life among them as half play- 
 thing, half pupil; and as there was a considerable artist 
 colony resident in this little coast town, the excuse seemed 
 the more probable to Mrs. Shovell's ears, and she had not 
 given a second thought to it. She was glad, if she thought 
 at all, that Lisette had found other friends who might ad- 
 vise her, for she had plenty of business herself on this her 
 last day. To be free of Lisette's constant demands, not to 
 mention her distracting personality, was rather a blessing. 
 Violet did all her own packing, and most of her husband's ; 
 and then, late in the morning, having certain farewells to 
 make and presents to buy, she went down herself to the 
 lower town. Thence she diverted to the shore, for she had 
 abstracted a really disgraceful cap of Charles', which she 
 intended to bury in his absence to avoid all possibility of 
 his insisting on wearing it again. 
 
 Having accomplished the obsequies with her usual neat 
 decision, she looked up, and discovered she was being ob- 
 served by a casual gentleman of an ordinary appearance ; 
 who, on a second look, discovered himself to be Marma- 
 duke Jones. As Mr. Jones liked a joke, Violet shared the 
 mild joke of Charles' buried cap with him ; and then, since 
 it occurred to her she had not seen much of him lately, she 
 let him walk beside her on the beach a little, and talk; 
 or rather, as usual, she talked to him. 
 
 " We shall be sorry to go," said Violet, and common- 
 place remarks like that. Not having Charles at hand to 
 stimulate her, she sank to Jones' level, and let her con- 
 versational credit slide. 
 
 " I've got to go to London too," said Jones, when several 
 nothings had been exchanged. 
 
 " Without prejudice, I hope, to Paris later on," said 
 Violet. 
 
 "Oh, I shall get there, I expect," he said, his look soften- 
 ing. " It's only bits of things I have to do, rather a slack
 
 LISETTE 87 
 
 time. Later on, I could get a fellow to take my job, if 
 necessary." Except through Charles, Violet knew noth- 
 ing about his charitable interests. He had not talked to her 
 about the " show " for reasons she suspected. It was con- 
 cerned with things too sad and serious, in Jones' view, 
 to be forced on the notice of the youth, innocence and 
 ease she represented. Marmaduke's conception of young 
 womanhood, ladyhood rather, was as ordinary as the 
 rest of him, or had been hitherto. Certain phrases Violet 
 had dropped had shaken it a little. But as he had little 
 hope of knowing her, he had hardly allowed himself to 
 be curious. He simply, in his unassuming manner, en- 
 joyed her society. 
 
 After another pleasant period of nothings : 
 
 " I hope you didn't mind my friend last night," said Mrs. 
 Shovell. " She is rather sudden, but she means no harm. 
 She is really a most interesting girl." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Jones, at once cast down. Presently he 
 ventured " Is she staying long? " 
 
 Violet told him. " She leaves when we do, comes with 
 us to London. I am escorting her, you know." She smiled 
 demurely, as such a newly-established chaperon should. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Jones again, accepting it. He did not 
 smile, however. " She's alone then, is she ? " He thought 
 of venturing on the title, and decided not. 
 
 " Very much alone. Had you doubted it ? " 
 
 The young man did not answer for a moment. As she 
 turned her eyes to him, he blushed, quite visibly. 
 
 " I thought there might be someone with her," he said 
 awkwardly ; " that's all." 
 
 Violet waited, weighing him. He was looking straight 
 in front of him along the beach. He had a colorless man- 
 ner, as Charles said, but not enough so to disguise the dis- 
 comfort he felt. 
 
 " Had you seen her with anybody ? " she asked mildly. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose she had picked up a friend." 
 
 " Down here ? This morning ? " He nodded to each
 
 88 DUKE JONES 
 
 before she added, " Man or woman ? " But she knew what 
 the answer would be before he spoke. It seemed so 
 extraordinarily unlikely, on the face of things, that Lisette 
 Addenbroke would pick up a lady friend on the beach. 
 
 " She knows some friends of her father's here," said 
 Violet, in duty bound. 
 
 He assented in exactly the same formula as before. 
 Natural sincerity, and an almost panic-stricken wish to 
 reassure her, were striving in every phrase he uttered. He 
 would have given much, now that they had been pro- 
 duced, to sweep away those little lines of apprehension 
 from her brow. It was too young a brow, he thought, to 
 bear them. He hated himself when he saw them there ; 
 but it was not in his nature to do otherwise. When two 
 sincere spirits meet; there is little hope of trifling between 
 them. 
 
 They pursued their way in silence, he hardly daring to 
 do more than glance at her from time to time, seek for 
 impossible subjects of diversion, the first word of which 
 would not pass his lips, and reproach himself for clouding 
 her last day amid such scenes. He looked far more at the 
 familiar view than at her, but he knew every detail about 
 her notwithstanding. He even noticed how, absent and 
 pensive as she was, she avoided the sand-castles and sand- 
 gardens of innumerable children, with exquisite care, in 
 walking; for they were on the more populous portion of 
 the beach to-day. Jones would have known before- 
 hand she would do that, a person so naturally respectful 
 to all forms of thought, however unfinished, in others. 
 Her own, he had no doubt, were finished as admirably as 
 herself. 
 
 Impressions, rather than thoughts, flashed through 
 Violet's mind, one after another, concerning this phantom 
 stranger and Lisette. She had, of course, to be prepared 
 for lying at any point; that, in dealing with an Adden- 
 broke, she recognized. The girl's excuse of acquaintance 
 in the town might be true or false, Mr. Jones evidently
 
 LISETTE 89 
 
 thought the latter. Why ? The why must wait. For the 
 moment, it was open to her to suppose that Lisette's 
 artist-father's friend was so seedy, flashy, or eccentrically- 
 garbed as to mislead the mere " man in the street " that 
 Jones represented according to Charles. That consti- 
 tuted the first group of Violet's impressions, the pre- 
 liminary. 
 
 Next, it was more than possible a quite casual man 
 should address Lisette, and more than probable she would 
 answer him affably if he did. Mr. Jones, unacquainted 
 with the Addenbroke psychology, and still conceiving 
 Lisette as a lady of title, would in this case pass at the 
 wrong moment, and misunderstand the encounter. This 
 thought was almost humorous, really: though Violet's 
 anxious brow did not change. 
 
 Next, on the presumption that it was a particular man, 
 which must be faced, he might have followed her unin- 
 vited, and she might know how to deal with him if he did. 
 Probably Lisette had some unexpected talents in such 
 situations, and would be far less perturbed in dealing with 
 unpleasant characters than Violet was in simply thinking 
 about it. This thought was not humorous, but it was 
 a way of escape, one of the ways. There were heaps of 
 chances still, heaps: for all the possibility of ill grew 
 blacker. 
 
 Then, at the point of stress, she remembered herself to 
 have seen a man in the girl's track that first night, a 
 dark-looking man, with an air her quick sight and critical 
 sense had condemned on instinct before he vanished again. 
 And just there in her thoughts, Violet swept aside the 
 flattering chances, and turning mentally, looked straight 
 in the face of that improbable evil for a minute or two, 
 minutes during which Jones' unseeing eye perceived her 
 clench her fine bare hands. He was not consciously pro- 
 jecting his thoughts to her, he would willingly have 
 spared her any hint of them, but he saw the mental strain 
 reach its climax in that bracing movement, and, more
 
 90 DUKE JONES 
 
 anxious than she, he wondered what was in store for him. 
 As he wondered Violet turned. 
 
 " Mr. Jones," she said, her soft tone shaken a little, 
 " nothing at all excuses me in what I am going to say. 
 It is eccentric, to say the least. I am ashamed of it before- 
 hand. Could you, if quite necessary for a friend's peace of 
 mind, get to Paris during August a disgusting month 
 instead of October, a delightful one ? " 
 
 " A friend ? " said Jones surprised. " Oh yes." The 
 answer came with promptitude and simplicity. 
 
 " It would be simply a case of charity," said Violet, her 
 faint shy color showing, though she looked at him frankly ; 
 " serving your neighbor. I know you are very good at 
 that, through Charles." 
 
 " Neighbor? " he queried. It seemed to express less to 
 him than " friend." 
 
 " Neighbor through the wall," said Violet ; " and on a 
 balcony with a particularly heavenly view. And neighbor 
 at table for a fortnight," she added smiling, " except last 
 night." 
 
 " For you ? " said Jones quickly. 
 
 " For me. It is wild to propose it ; especially here and 
 now, and I cannot think my husband would approve of 
 my impetuosity. Charles says I am impetuous. But I 
 inherit it from a violently hasty father, if I may offer that 
 as an excuse. It may be the last time I shall see you in 
 private, and it is not a thing that bears much talking, 
 anyhow. It is all in the air, absurd, very likely. But I 
 have to think of the worst that can be. It is better, 
 in life." She looked past him, out to sea, her delicate 
 throat working. 
 
 " It's best to be on the safe side," Jones translated 
 mechanically, marveling at her. She had evidently 
 reached his point of speculation, must have done so in 
 that short time. That was what she termed impetuosity, 
 doubtless ; that hawk-like flight of thought. 
 
 " Only I do apologize," added Violet with fervor, turn- 
 ing, " in this instance."
 
 LISETTE 91 
 
 " Don't, please," said Jones, perturbed. "Of course, 
 I'll do anything I can: that's what I'm good for. I've 
 nothing to keep me, really, nothing that can't be shelved. 
 I only pick up things, anything going, that's the way I 
 live. One thing's as good as another." 
 
 Having tried this half-dozen of little phrases, and find- 
 ing that none of the common idioms satisfied his feelings 
 in the least, he snatched at facts. 
 
 " August can be managed, anyhow," he said with de- 
 cision. "What date?" 
 
 " I should have to let you know. Could you really get 
 off again in August ? How wonderful of you. Will you 
 give me your address ? " 
 
 He wrote it on his card, stopping an instant on the 
 strand. She stopped too at his side. He longed as he 
 wrote to step further into intimacy, to tell her that he 
 knew her father's name, Shovell had evidently not men- 
 tioned that, anything to calm the childish agitation at 
 doing an unheard-of thing that he perceived. But he was 
 unable to summon further courage than was necessary to 
 meet and satisfy her demands as a matter of course, pre- 
 serving his most ordinary aspect to reassure her : as though 
 such as she asked these things of Joneses every day. 
 That he could do, and he did. 
 
 " May I explain later? " she asked shyly. " And will 
 you take it from me I will not bother you unless I really 
 must? I trust I do trust I shall not have to. I am 
 probably fussing like a fool about it, women do." 
 
 " But you'll write ? " said Jones. Whether or no she had 
 to, he meant. 
 
 " I will or Charles, I promise. We shall not spare you 
 directions, if you undertake our affairs, you may be sure. 
 We both love words so much. You have suffered from 
 that, haven't you ? " She laughed a little to his face, which 
 seemed vaguely disappointed. 
 
 After an interval, as he did not speak " Perhaps you 
 will come and see me," she added in pure kindness, " some 
 time or other, in town."
 
 92 DUKE JONES 
 
 Jones' face cleared again a little, but he explained he 
 did not live in town. He lived down in Surrey, the 
 Leatherhead district, and only came up to his office 
 three times in the week. 
 
 " Well, one of those times," said Violet. " After lunch- 
 eon ; will you try ? Unless I go to lunch with Charles, I 
 shall be lonely. He told you, didn't he, where we live ? " 
 
 " Yes, he mentioned it," said Jones. 
 
 " You see," she said, seeking to make him easier, as they 
 walked slowly on again, " I don't feel as if I want to lose 
 anything belonging to all this." Her eyes traveled past 
 him to the sea again. " It has been an ordinary summer 
 holiday to you and the rest, to us it has been different. 
 You can afford to forget it, having others of the same 
 kind to come, I hope. But ours Charles' and mine will 
 never come again." 
 
 She renounced her lease of the perfect paradise with 
 that steady look past him, had he been able to read. He 
 did not reach so far, he merely rose to the sentiment of the 
 words with a nod and his pleasant ordinary smile. Jones, 
 just past the barrier of the thirties, could look on the little 
 lovers' paradise with benevolence, and what is more, with 
 generosity. It had been a perfectly genuine daily joy to 
 him to see her happiness. 
 
 "You have been really fearfully kind," said Violet, 
 after a pause of wondering what next to say. " We should 
 not have seen half what we have without your help. You 
 have made about half our memories, Mr. Jones." 
 
 He murmured something which he trusted would fill 
 the pause. Mrs. Shovell's way of talking always charmed 
 him, particularly the way she spared him any but the 
 most obvious responses. If he did not answer, she went 
 straight on. 
 
 " I suppose you will be motoring home, won't you ? " 
 she proceeded. Any of Jones' girls at the hotel would 
 have thought she was " fishing " by the question : but 
 Jones would have gratified his girls, for he did not " rise,"
 
 LISETTE 93 
 
 or propose instantly to drive the party of three to London, 
 the following day, in his car. It seemed he was send- 
 ing the motor by the man, and returning himself to 
 London in the train, he had not yet settled which train. 
 Perhaps he had not looked it up, or made sufficient 
 inquiries. 
 
 However, before he could even start on preliminary 
 inquiries with the lady at his side, she was suddenly over- 
 come by the recollection of a serious omission in her 
 morning's errands, which had instantly to be remedied. 
 She had cream to order, pounds of cream, to satisfy 
 her voracious relatives at home. Not that they had asked 
 for it, Mr. Jones should understand, but people always 
 expected such attentions when their friends traveled in 
 the West country, and almost invariably liked cream best, 
 and quite invariably looked it in the mouth to see if it was 
 fresh on arrival. She explained all this in a flight of 
 words to Jones, and went, also in a flight, and an ex- 
 tremely youthful one, up the slope of shallow steps to the 
 Parade. All the languor and vagueness that had been 
 marked on her arrival in that health resort had vanished, 
 and her activity of body and buoyancy of mind were 
 equally and, to the spinsters, shamelessly exhibited. 
 
 " Twenty and a largish half," Jones remembered as he 
 looked after her, slowly lighting a cigarette, before he pro- 
 ceeded to turn over some of the startling elements in their 
 late conversation. It certainly was not extremely old. 
 
 Nothing remarkable occurred on the journey to London, 
 until quite the end : except, of course, Mr. Jones turning 
 up in his car at the junction, and having finally decided 
 upon that train, which was delightful. They had half 
 an hour at the junction, which was, however, a beautiful 
 place to wait : and Charles and Miss Addenbroke had been 
 fighting all the way. So Violet explained to Jones, when
 
 94 DUKE JONES 
 
 he joined her in a bay of the platform, where she was sit- 
 ting alone. The general result of these conditions seemed 
 to be that she had accepted all Charles' most cherished 
 possessions on her knee, and sat nursing them pensively, 
 while the other two finished their quarrel in peace, out of 
 her hearing. 
 
 Violet was conscious of an inclination to sit alone to-day, 
 and could have dispensed with Jones' society, though she 
 showed no sign of objecting to it. She was in a mood for 
 solitude, partly because she had not yet finished thinking, 
 partly because she was frankly nervous of the prospective 
 interview with her mother. Charles had noticed her state 
 of mind, but beyond saving her all trouble at departure 
 and on the road, he did not tease her with inquiry, and 
 spent his ingenuity in distracting Felicia's attention : which 
 could be most readily done by contradicting her. The 
 dialogue during the first hour of the journey had a nurs- 
 ery flavor, the flavor of a fractious nursery, in conse- 
 quence. In the process, Charles and Lisette became rapidly 
 better friends : and their snapping was broken from time 
 to time by bursts of involuntary laughter, at least on the 
 part of the gentleman. 
 
 Jones, having interviewed his chauffeur, and handed 
 over the car and all his luggage to his charge, was able to 
 sit by Mrs. Shovell with free hands and mind at ease : a 
 most enviable state to a lady so loaded with the burdens, 
 tangible and otherwise, of her party. Down the vista of 
 the country platform, her friend and her husband were 
 happily engaged, face to face, with their noses rather near 
 together, and their hands behind. 
 
 " She objects to being looked after," Violet explained 
 this attitude. " I have quite resigned my pretensions, at 
 the earliest stage, being chaffed really to rags. He will 
 not. He and I are separating at Paddington not for good 
 and he wants her to let him drive her to her place. He 
 wants to look at it, you know : and since he acted rather 
 badly, she was on to him. I think he had better leave it
 
 LISETTE 95 
 
 now, and let her go to her boarding-house for to-night. 
 I hope to fetch her home to-morrow. I have the address, 
 and it looks quite a nice one." She handed the address to 
 her companion as she spoke. 
 
 " That's all right," he said, handing it back. " I know 
 the place." 
 
 " Oh, how nice of you," said Violet. " Thanks. Shall I 
 go and stop them now, before she quite boxes his ears? 
 Charles would never forgive that, you know, because he 
 thinks so much of his position with the porters." 
 
 " Oh, I shouldn't bother," said Jones, glancing passingly 
 at the pair. " He's laughing now." 
 
 " Lisette is funny at times," said Violet, and settled back 
 on her seat. Since she seemed to wish to be silent, Jones 
 was silent too. 
 
 " The train's late, isn't it? " she said presently, stirring 
 from her dream. 
 
 " Not signaled yet," said Jones. " This one's often late. 
 Shall I put those down?" He alluded to the un- 
 gainly collection of properties upon her knee. Her 
 arms were clasped about her knees, as though protecting 
 them. 
 
 " They are so fearfully precious," said Violet, looking 
 them thoughtfully over, without unclasping her hands. 
 " There's my myrtle cutting : and Charles' best stick, and 
 his worst cap, the same I buried yesterday, which he 
 resurrected this morning: not the least that he could 
 wear it now, but to be a lesson to me : it certainly will be 
 one. And there's the cream, more precious than words ; 
 and the only one of his sea-anemones that didn't die 
 horribly, which he is taking for his step-sister's husband's 
 aquarium, if it will be kind enough to survive in a pickle- 
 jar, which it won't " 
 
 " Well," said Jones, who found the list, in combination 
 with her abstracted face and mechanical tone, amusing. 
 
 " I think that's all : except my pearls ; which hardly 
 signify, being false," said Mrs. Shovell sadly.
 
 96 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I say ! " exclaimed Jones. 
 
 " Well, haven't a dozen people told you so, in confidence, 
 since we came ? " 
 
 " That's not what I mean," he said, coloring slightly. 
 " What I mean is, it's beastly cheek of me, Mrs. Shovell, 
 wouldn't they be better on? " 
 
 " On ? " said Violet, wondering. " On me ? Oh, do you 
 think I am careless of my treasures, Mr. Jones? " 
 
 " It's beastly cheek," he repeated doggedly. " But real- 
 ly, I often wondered why you showed them, in a place like 
 that. Mixed lot of people public rooms it's not safe." 
 He seemed really to be repeating a conviction. " You 
 couldn't feel safe," he concluded. 
 
 " But I did ! " she cried. " That was why." As he did 
 not speak, looking puzzled, she resolved to explain. " It's 
 rather childish," she admitted, " when I think. But it 
 was so odd your saying that, I suppose it brought the 
 truth out unaware. That was why I brought them with 
 me, for safety, mine, not theirs. Because I was plung- 
 ing into a dark unknown, and nervous of goodness knew 
 what coming upon me, it was security and home to feel 
 them. It was like his fingers round my neck." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Jones, in his usual quiet formula ; but 
 his eyes moved down the platform. 
 
 " Not his," cried the girl, swift to catch the implication, 
 the color sweeping across her face. " Oh, careless that I 
 am, how could you think itt I meant my father, his 
 protection. I had never been cut off from it in life before. 
 I have been far, far too well cared for, really, I had 
 never thought what it would be. His pearls stood for his 
 presence to his daughter's silly mind, that is simply all I 
 mean. It was really only at the first I wanted it." 
 
 Jones muttered something, probably an apology, and 
 there was a pause. She was biting her lip, fighting the 
 shame and shyness he had aroused ; but for all that shame, 
 she had answered freely and fully: they were striding 
 into intimacy by some freak of fate. He was careful not
 
 LISETTE 97 
 
 to glance in her direction till she moved suddenly, sought 
 her keys, unlocked her casket with rapid, decided hands, 
 and drew out the string he had seen so often round her 
 neck. 
 
 As soon as she did so, Marmaduke sat up, and glanced 
 swiftly along the platform in both directions. 
 
 " It's quite all right," she said, amused at his agitation. 
 " I am going to take your advice, that's all. It's simply 
 common-sense, in a train, if I had thought. I expect 
 motor-traveling makes one careless of things like that. 
 Look," she added softly. " Do you care to see them near? " 
 
 Jones had seen the pearls near often enough; but he 
 did not refuse to see them again, thus laid across her 
 fingers. It was certainly easier to examine them so than 
 in the more conspicuous post they had occupied nightly, 
 at the hotel. He knew something about pearls, too, as 
 was clear: more than Violet did, for she confided to him 
 that she had never been able, owing to her father's un- 
 fortunate habit of being frivolous in the wrong places, to 
 get at their real value. She believed he had insured them, 
 that was all. It was on the question of the insurance that 
 she betrayed to Jones that her surmise of their value was 
 about half the sum that must actually have been given for 
 them: for they struck him as remarkable both in form 
 and color, and admirably matched. He was only relieved 
 when she stopped sifting them through her fingers, every 
 touch of which wr.s a caress, and clasped them round her 
 neck. Needing both hands for the operation, she re- 
 quested her neighbor to uphold the erection on her knee, 
 which Marmaduke did attentively. 
 
 " Aren't you going to lock it up again ? " he inquired 
 after a period, when she had tucked the pearls out of 
 sight inside her collar, and resumed the guard of Charles' 
 treasures. 
 
 " Oh yes, of course," said Violet. " Thanks. I am 
 afraid," she added naively, " that I am not showing off 
 extremely well this morning. I seem to need looking after
 
 98 DUKE JONES 
 
 even more than Lisette. It doesn't promise particularly 
 well for Charles' future, does it? " 
 
 " Oh, when you're thinking," said Jones. 
 
 " How did you know I was thinking? " she demanded; 
 and added before he could reply, " He would say it was no 
 excuse." 
 
 " Your father? " asked Jones. 
 
 " My father. He is a frightfully severe critic in things 
 like that. He never sees why you should let little things 
 go, you know, in turning over big ones. His own net is 
 big enough and fine enough for all." 
 
 She spoke very thoughtfully, and stopped again. 
 
 " Little things " were her priceless jewels, Jones per- 
 ceived ; " big things " were the business of that girl down 
 the platform, jesting with her husband. Jones took the 
 liberty to be convinced that she was still tormenting her- 
 self about that girl, because of the direction of her eyes. 
 She had probably been worrying over that ugly affair ever 
 since she had met him the preceding day, and he had 
 blurted out, like the fool he was, the suspicion he could 
 not conceal. Once more he longed with all his heart to 
 disabuse her of the unnatural anxiety, but did not see in 
 conscience how he could. Each glimpse of Lisette in the 
 distance was enough to revive it in himself, and to revive 
 the face and form of the man he had seen at her side. 
 He had not seen him since, though he had watched with 
 care ; and he had certainly not come up by the local train, 
 though he might, of course, be in the one that was coming 
 from Penzance. It was entirely, almost entirely, for 
 the purpose of examining that train in turn that he had 
 dropped his car at the junction ; for it was better, Jones 
 continued to consider, to be " on the safe side." And the 
 " safe side " would not admit the presence of a man like 
 that in a train that held these two girls. He was not 
 working on nothing, on air as she called it, had she known. 
 On the business side of his life he had had sufficient expe- 
 rience of such men and their feminine equivalents to test
 
 LISETTE 99 
 
 and justify his first prejudice. He might be wrong, and 
 he wished to be, but he refused to admit his suspicion 
 was foolish, still less hers. He tried to put trouble, the 
 trouble she shared, away from him during this interval 
 of their solitude together, and to look on the cheerful side 
 of life; but though he found things to say, and even 
 jested, he could not turn her thoughts from it, nor his. 
 Their brains were, as it were, netted in abstraction ; and 
 when the white puff of distant steam proclaimed the 
 train's approach he knew very well that he had failed. 
 
 Nevertheless, he was enabled to extract a special satis- 
 faction from even that brief interview, a point over 
 which he had passed too carelessly in reckoning out her 
 chances of relief. The satisfaction lay in the thought of 
 the father of whom she had spoken with such a manner 
 of innocent devotion, while they debated over the pearls. 
 Jones knew something about Sir Claude Ashwin, one of 
 the public men who was " all right " according to his 
 simple phrase; who lent a hand to the things that mat- 
 tered and made no fuss about it ; giving here money and 
 there brains where each was most urgently required, and 
 never mistaking the different requirements. In his family 
 ties, it seemed, he was " all right " as well ; and it was no 
 more than becoming that a girl like this should have a 
 good man at hand to guard her two men, that is, of 
 course, but a man of weight as well as her light-hearted 
 husband. Two, in the case, was not too many by any 
 means. 
 
 Not that Charles was thoughtless of her : Jones marked 
 with pleasure his attentions by the way. He was a thor- 
 oughly nice fellow, Shovell, courteous and pleasant to 
 all. They all traveled in one carriage finally, of course, 
 Charles making no objection, since Lisette already spoiled 
 the tete-a-tete. It was even a slight improvement, from 
 Charles' point of view, to have Jones; and certainly, by 
 varying the possible couples, made things livelier. Not 
 to mention that Jones really was so entirely unobjection-
 
 ioo DUKE JONES 
 
 able that a fellow could even ignore him completely if 
 necessary. 
 
 A fellow did so, on more occasions than one, and Jones 
 had a most perfect air of not observing the private tele- 
 graph in the compartment. Lisette, who appreciated 
 rapid change of scene, chattered like a magpie, and was 
 quite capable of diverting the whole party single-handed, 
 when such was her good pleasure. It was a liberal enter- 
 tainment to look at her, indeed; and except during the 
 period, after a large lunch, when the young lady went to 
 sleep, nobody was dull. 
 
 During that period, they were quiet of necessity; the 
 more quiet by contrast. Charles, having no companion, or 
 at least no adversary left, collapsed lazily. Jones, though 
 in doubt, took up a book, which for some time past, owing 
 to circumstances of Lisette, he had not been allowed to 
 read in peace. Reading, it seemed, was an occupation 
 Miss Addenbroke entirely failed to sympathize with or 
 comprehend ; drawing was a much more reasonable pas- 
 time, but in a train, for obvious causes, drawing is dif- 
 ficult. For these reasons she had remained empty-handed 
 for the most part, and insisted on others doing likewise. 
 
 Mrs. Shovell, having leant to tuck a cushion under the 
 sleeping girl, took from her slackened fingers her half- 
 smoked cigarette, which threatened to burn her dress, 
 and prepared to finish it herself, very calmly. 
 
 " Only half a one," she murmured, in excuse apparently, 
 in Charles' direction. " A pity to waste good things, you 
 know." 
 
 Jones also glanced beyond her, to see how Shovell took 
 the proceeding. He had not seen her smoke before 
 Violet had been very moderate, lately, and it surprised 
 him a little. In Miss Lisette he had taken it as a matter 
 of course. 
 
 " You are ex ceeding," Charles whispered back. " I 
 shall tell on you at home. I shall have half yours after 
 dinner, rather."
 
 LISETTE 
 
 101 
 
 " Pig," returned his wife simply. She took off her hat at 
 leisure, it had a long soft feather that was possibly smart, 
 thought Jones, and certainly suitable, both to her and to 
 her dignity as chaperon, and tossed it by her on the seat. 
 Without it she was again as she had been on the beach 
 every day. She leant back and shut her eyes, smoking in 
 small quick whiffs that looked nervous somehow. It 
 seemed Shovell thought so as well as Jones. 
 
 " Perhaps her ladyship'll be out," he murmured, in the 
 same private manner, through his teeth. 
 
 " I made an appointment," she returned without stirring 
 or opening her eyes ; and Jones saw him laugh. 
 
 " Jones is shocked," remarked Charles presently. As 
 she opened her eyes, he added : " Now he's trying to con- 
 ceal it. His ideal of you is in fragments, really. He does 
 so hate fast women. Perspnally, he has no vices, have 
 you, Jones ? " He put an arm round Violet as he spoke. 
 " Yes," he ordained, as she resisted. " Go to sleep too, 
 good girl. Follow Lisette there, you know you had a 
 shocking night." 
 
 " I may know," she retorted. " You don't, for obvious 
 reasons, obvious at the time. No, I have not done smok- 
 ing. Let go, you nuisance ! Charles " 
 
 After a short inarticulate parley, conveyed in move- 
 ments of eyes, and brows, and lips, she succumbed to 
 brute force, calmly and steadily exerted upon her, and, 
 settling down of a sudden against him, shut her eyes. 
 Charles remained immovable utterly, the immovability of 
 which strength alone is capable, his blue eyes fixed beyond 
 her, out of the window, until he felt by her steady breath- 
 ing that she slept. Then he looked down, softly twitched 
 the remainder of the cigarette out of her fingers, and, 
 tossing it through the window, signaled to Jones beyond 
 to pass his book. 
 
 Yes, Shovell was careful of her, no doubt of that; all 
 but as careful and gentle as man could desire. Jones, 
 stirring to pass the book, saw, without looking, her atti-
 
 102 DUKE JONES 
 
 tude of childish confidence and abandonment, and his 
 fingers in her soft hair. He effaced himself again, in equal 
 discretion and contentment presumably, since wedded hap- 
 piness is a satisfying thing to see. He may even have been 
 having a nap himself behind his book: for during the 
 hour of her sleeping there, had anyone been interested 
 enough to notice, he never turned a page. 
 
 VI 
 
 At Paddington Station the event of the day, to which 
 all these quite inferior incidents have been leading up, 
 occurred. It was thrilling, though short, for Violet. She 
 had thought out her arguments to her mother nicely by 
 the time the train ran into the terminus, but this simple 
 occurrence upset all her ideas again. This is a trick of 
 fate frequently noticed by those who prepare themselves 
 too completely in advance for life's important junctures. 
 It is as though fate did not approve of such skilful fore- 
 arming, and was jealous. Violet was much vexed and 
 disturbed : so much so that she did not even tell Charles, 
 at least till she had gone to higher quarters first. The in- 
 cidents shall be taken in order. 
 
 There was the usual confusion on the platform on arriv- 
 ing, and when they were all outside the train they adopted 
 a frequent plan of such parties in a crowd: one group 
 remaining stationary with the smaller baggage, while 
 another went to identify the large. Jones, being free of 
 all such cares, remained with the ladies, choosing to stand 
 behind their sequestered seat in order to riddle the drifting 
 crowds with his watchful eye. At the usual point when 
 courtesy demands it, Mrs. Shovell besought him not to 
 wait, and with a last look all round him he made his fare- 
 wells. That is, he said three words in one of his formulse 
 to Violet, lifted his hat to both, and vanished in the skir- 
 mishing throng. 
 
 " He likes you best," remarked Felicia, in her usual
 
 LISETTE 103 
 
 irresponsible way. " He never looked at me at all while 
 he was speaking. That was because I teased him in the 
 train." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Violet absently. " Are you going, 
 dear? Oh, but do wait for Charles. He can't be long." 
 
 Charles had the double mission of discovering the boxes 
 and the carriage Lady Ashwin had sent, as the best 
 substitute for meeting her daughter in person. Thus 
 Violet, all her various small belongings arranged around 
 her, could not venture to leave the post she held, planted 
 on a seat. 
 
 " I shan't wait," said Felicia. " I know he means to 
 drive me home when he's settled you. I told him I 
 wouldn't, and I do what I say. Good-bye." 
 
 She edged round behind the seat, where Jones had 
 stood, and from that point of vantage put her soft arms 
 round Violet's neck. 
 
 " I told you some shocking lies last night," she mur- 
 mured affectionately. " You are a dear. Just tell Honoria 
 when you see her that I said you were one. Promise ? " 
 
 She squeezed her cousin. The intense publicity of this 
 dramatic performance was nearly as good as privacy, in 
 fact; for nobody in the press of a station platform, a 
 place where silent dramas are constantly played, has time 
 to heed such theatrical incidents. Besides this, they were 
 in a backwater by Charles' choice, nobody quite near. 
 
 " Silly," Violet commented. " Be good, darling, won't 
 you? and stay at home to-morrow morning. Either 
 Mother or I will come and fetch you for a drive." 
 
 " Oh, will you ? " said Lisette, evidently pleased. " You 
 promise ? " 
 
 " I promise faithfully. Have you got the blouse? " 
 
 " Of course ! Do you think I'd leave it when he made 
 such faces, and it suited me ? I've got everything." She 
 still squeezed, rather feverishly, like a child that is un- 
 willing, all the same, to go; that holds, for protection's 
 sake, while it offers love.
 
 104 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Kiss me properly," said Violet. " You're not polite, 
 Lisette." 
 
 " I don't want to," she said, with a laugh. " You get 
 enough as it is." She pinched Violet's ear, and then kissed 
 her suddenly. " I say what I mean, don't I ? " she observed 
 in triumph. " It's the only way." Therewith she slipped 
 off in turn amid the luggage-piles, and Violet shook out 
 her collar and put her hat straight, pensively. She really 
 did not see how her mother could help adoring Lisette, if 
 she could only be brought to look at her seriously. A 
 single drive in her company ought to be quite enough. In 
 the sheer charm of the girl, still lingering about her, she 
 felt reassured. Left solitary on the seat, her lips were 
 smiling, though her eyes still looked anxiously for Charles. 
 
 " Oh, Joliffe," she said with real relief, perceiving the 
 familiar face of her father's chauffeur come to the surface 
 in the crowd. " How are you ? all well at home ? Did 
 you see Mr. Charles? Is Lady Ashwin there? All right, 
 so long as I catch her. These are Mr. Charles' small things, 
 
 that and that and that. I'll keep the jar and the " 
 
 She broke short, reckoning up the items. " Have you the 
 little leather case ? " she asked. " Did you pick it up ? 
 The one with the initials ? " 
 
 " Yours, Miss ? " said Joliffe, who knew her possessions 
 well. " It isn't among these." 
 
 " Miss ! " laughed Violet. Even while she laughed, her 
 quick eyes were seeking everywhere in vain. 
 
 Joliffe, shocked at the breach of etiquette, apologized ; 
 by the time he had done so she looked serene. 
 
 " Perhaps Mr. Charles took it," the man suggested. 
 
 " That's it, of course," she said with decision. " He did, 
 I remember. Thanks, that will be all, then. Go straight 
 to the car, will you ? Mr. Charles and I will do the boxes." 
 
 Joliffe obeyed, though protesting. Her business was to 
 do nothing, naturally, but sit like a queen in the car ; but 
 she was always over-active Miss Violet saving trouble 
 to those who were most eager to serve her. From youth
 
 LISETTE 105 
 
 she had paid back the servants, as it were, the trouble 
 her mother deliberately gave. She was gone from Joliffe's 
 side now, before he could look round, and he saw her 
 speeding in Charles' direction. 
 
 Later, when she reached the car, her arm in her hus- 
 band's, she was laughing. It occurred to Joliffe, on seeing 
 this, since he knew something of Mr. Charles' ways, that 
 he had stolen her jewel-case for a joke, that she had sus- 
 pected the fact promptly, and gone off in a flash like that 
 to charge him with the theft, being at once too dignified 
 and too shy to let the family servant see her husband 
 tease her. Joliffe was very nearly right, too, in this acute 
 surmise, for just such a moment's hope had crossed 
 Violet's mind. The only matter in which he was wrong 
 was that the hope was justified, and the case restored. Her 
 laughter to Charles' face was acting, purely. She turned 
 his mind from suspicion by a jest; and he, as well as the 
 chauffeur, was easily deceived by her manner into suppos- 
 ing all was well. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " was all she thought, breathlessly, 
 when she was alone in the familiar carriage, flying home. 
 Her hand was pressed against her throat, where she could 
 feel her own panting and her father's pearls. Her thanks 
 should have been directed, of course, to Marmaduke 
 Jones ; but she forgot the fact, as people will, in a loftier 
 emotion : and Heaven had the benefit.
 
 io6 DUKE JONES 
 
 III 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 
 
 IN the interview with her mother, next on the list of the 
 day's doings, Violet failed. It is barely worth while stat- 
 ing that she failed to such as already know Lady Ashwin, 
 but circumstances, as well as character, were against her. 
 The gods, one might say, were against Violet: for dealing 
 with Lady Ashwin brought one near to the immortals 
 unconsciously, which is not an exclusively flattering 
 comparison for such as can imagine the task of meeting 
 an Olympian in argument. 
 
 Yet Violet was in fault as well; for one undoubted 
 reason of her failure was that she went too fast. She 
 did her best not to hurry her mother, for she knew the 
 danger; she interrupted her own careful array of facts 
 constantly, to remark on passing and indifferent things, 
 and answer inconsequent and insignificant diversions. It 
 was like most oddly like her interview with Lisette in 
 several ways; though Lisette, even at her most madden- 
 ing, never quite failed to be childish, " caline," or at least 
 amusing. Lady Ashwin by force of familiarity had long 
 ceased to amuse her daughter. Further than this, the 
 last incident of the day, taking Violet when she was least 
 prepared, had upset her. In one stroke, to lose her jewels 
 and refrain from all effort to recover them were con- 
 ditions equally against her nature to bear serenely. She 
 was moved: and the results of emotion on the Ashwins 
 was to string up and concentrate their faculties at fever- 
 pitch. Her words came too rapidly, and her reasoning 
 was far too close. It would have taken her mother a week 
 of leisurely study really to take in her points in logical 
 sequence. To take in the generous emotions behind the 
 argument, she blankly refused to do. Eveleen could shut
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 107 
 
 her will like an iron dike against such warm tides of feel- 
 ing when she wished. She had frequently found it ad- 
 visable, both with daughter and husband, to do so. 
 
 Yet her general mood was not disagreeable ; rather the 
 reverse; nor was she displeased to see Violet, as it ap- 
 peared, for a change. She was later returning to the 
 house than the hour she had said, of course ; Eveleen was 
 rarely punctual to appointment, except, of course, for the 
 things that really mattered. Violet had not expected her 
 to be so, and filled the interval, while she waited in her 
 mother's room, in practicing French conversation with 
 the maid. It was after six, by the watch on her wrist, 
 when Eveleen actually appeared : and Violet, thinking of 
 Charles, was getting anxious. Also, the maid had men- 
 tioned that Sir Claude would be in at seven, and she 
 wanted urgently to catch him too before she left. She 
 had a confession for her father's ear. 
 
 " Well? " said Lady Ashwin pleasantly. " What's the 
 fuss?" 
 
 Ashwins invariably fussed, was her experience; and 
 Violet's request to see her mother privately on her arrival 
 from her wedding journey was attributed naturally to 
 some such cause. Why else should she trouble her par- 
 ents, indeed? having a home and a husband to go to 
 now: and a position, thanks to her father's extravagant 
 generosity, which ought to content anybody and encour- 
 age independence of her father's house. That was the 
 bearing of the question, broadly. 
 
 Violet explained what the fuss was, gradually, as she 
 helped her mother to take off her things, and settle for a 
 rest before the new business of dressing began. Every- 
 thing needed was lying ready to hand, but since Violet 
 had seen fit to demand the maid's dismissal, she had nat- 
 urally to help. She gently and clearly jogged her mother's 
 memory as to Lisette's situation, at school and at home ; 
 as to her resignation of her post, and her differences with 
 the domestic circle. She stated that the girl had run
 
 io8 DUKE JONES 
 
 away from home, and then paused; leaving an interval 
 for the newly-revised facts to settle : this being the family 
 way to treat Eveleen, who could not follow any argument. 
 
 " Let me make you some tea, shall I ? " she said, when 
 her mother, comfortably clad in a loose gown, had 
 finally disposed herself on the couch in an alcove of the 
 spacious room. 
 
 Lady Ash win had no objection, and watched her while 
 she produced the materials and did so, with pretty quick 
 ways, which, as Eveleen reflected at leisure, Violet had 
 always used. It was vaguely pleasant to be so served 
 again, for the maid, though deft of hand, had nearly 
 always to be directed. Her daughter's appearance was 
 trim, too, as usual, no one would have said she arrived 
 from an eight-hours' journey. She had made no change 
 in her traveling-dress, except to toss her feathered hat 
 upon a chair. 
 
 " They cut that coat nicely," said Eveleen, as Violet 
 brought her the tea. " Goodson has done nothing decent 
 for me since." 
 
 " Extenuated, poor man," said Violet absently. " I am 
 sorry, Mother dear. Anyhow, I shall not trouble him 
 again for long." 
 
 " Why has Lisette left home ? " said Eveleen, for she 
 had got so far, by this time, in the story successfully. 
 While she drank her tea she picked up some more facts 
 from Violet by degrees. 
 
 " Good gracious, what idiots ! " was her simple com- 
 ment on her cousin and Honoria, when hearing of their 
 treatment of the girl. Next, as Violet had foretold, she 
 fixed on the striking feature of the Belgian master of 
 modern languages, and slowly concentrated forces upon it. 
 
 " He'll go off with her now, probably," she observed, 
 her fine eyes on Violet's collar, not her face. " I always 
 thought that girl would go to the bad. I told Agnes so, 
 in my last. Agnes had no idea how to handle her, from 
 the first. She never had an ounce of sense in things like
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 109 
 
 that." She added, with a slight increase of interest, 
 " Why are you wearing your pearls, child ? " 
 
 " I thought it safer traveling," said Violet. " He has 
 not gone off with Lisette, Mother ; at least at present, be- 
 cause she is here in London. I brought her up to Lon- 
 don with me to-day." 
 
 " Oh," said Lady Ashwin; " you did go over, then, did 
 you ? You never answered my letter, but I supposed you 
 would manage it somehow." 
 
 " I did not go to her, she came to me," said Violet. 
 " Such information as I have is first-hand from Lisette, 
 which saves possible mistake, doesn't it? I have not in- 
 terviewed Cousin Agnes or Honoria." 
 
 " Well, you wouldn't have gained much," said Lady 
 Ashwin, who had a vast contempt for her cousin, and an 
 absolute dislike, founded on theory simply, for her 
 cousin's elder niece. All the family Ingestre agreed in dis- 
 liking Honoria heartily, while they merely shrugged and 
 laughed over Lisette. Eveleen, the purest of the Ingestre 
 types, always reflected a representative attitude by which 
 that noble family could be judged. 
 
 After this, a period of Violet's talking again ensued, 
 to which she attended more or less. Violet talked on end 
 rather tiringly, and was getting excitable, walking to and 
 fro. Her gestures in this mood were her father's, which 
 Eveleen noticed, in passing, as unpromising. Eveleen 
 looked at her figure, her slim hands clasped behind, the 
 simple fashion of her hair and her sun-browned neck, 
 and tried to realize the girl was married she looked so 
 slight and young. 
 
 " How is Charles ? " she interrupted suddenly. 
 
 " Very well. He is coming to fetch me at half-past 
 seven. You will be dressing, won't you? Shall I send 
 him up to call?' ? 
 
 " Where do you propose to be ? " said Eveleen, tacitly 
 agreeing, by means of not uttering a refusal and going 
 on, a plan which in its simplicity can be recommended.
 
 no DUKE JONES 
 
 " Oh, I shall be in the kitchen, probably ; I must have a 
 word with Mason and the rest." She did not mention her 
 designs on her father, she thought the point better re- 
 served, for reasons. 
 
 " Mason won't want you," observed Lady Ashwin. 
 " She will be dishing up. I can't have Lisette on the 
 premises," she proceeded calmly, as though her daughter's 
 earnest pleading five minutes since had just reached the 
 department of her brain. " I should have thought you 
 could see that for yourself, Violet. I haven't the time. I 
 can't waste it, anyhow, looking after a girl like that." 
 
 " You have plenty of time, Mother. Excuse me, it is 
 true. You waste time only in making such absurd state- 
 ments." 
 
 The girl had stopped short her perambulation, and was 
 facing her. She was much older, a woman; Eveleen 
 noted it at once when she took the trouble to look her full 
 and fairly in the face for the first time. They were con- 
 versing, she discovered to her astonishment, on a level. 
 What was worse, no grain of that brilliant cleverness, re- 
 garded as a mere tiresome phenomenon in the child Violet, 
 was wanting in the woman she must thus meet face to 
 face. She held her sword, and Eveleen had let her own 
 mediocre faculties rust for long. It was extraordinarily 
 disconcerting, the impression made on her for the mo- 
 ment: would be so, doubtless, to any mother brought 
 suddenly, by a single quietly spoken phrase, to such a 
 pass. 
 
 " How dare you ? " she said mechanically. 
 
 " I must dare. I don't want to, really. It is a thing to 
 be seen, not argued. It is a situation that you recognize 
 in full, since you said Lisette might go to the bad. That 
 phrase was on your lips, of your own relation, a girl, 
 a child. You can't refuse, for a reason that is no reason, 
 to do the obvious, only thing. You will surely not dare 
 that. You must write to Lisette to-night, no, I will 
 write for you, since we always found that best. Didn't
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE in 
 
 we? I will save you all the bother, and I think I can 
 make her come. Mayn't I be your daughter, for the mo- 
 ment, and treat it as my house again? You used to let 
 me ask my own friends here, and Lisette is nearer to us 
 than a friend." 
 
 She waited, and you could have heard a pin drop in the 
 room. Her mother, her beautiful head sidelong on the 
 couch, was watching her with lazy eyes. They held little 
 hope of kindness, but at least she was attending to 
 something. Whether the sense of the words or the speaker 
 of them was the question impossible to solve. 
 
 " I can put it so that she will not refuse," pleaded 
 Violet. " She was jealous of my happiness and Charles, 
 a little ; and she teased me, poor little thing ; but she kissed 
 me to-night. No one has ever tried to be kind to her, 
 Mother, since that awful crash, and before that they 
 were too kind. She craves for the comfort and flattery 
 she used to have; she worships the soft life. It is just 
 natural to a little pussy cat like Lisette. She would jump 
 on to any cushion offered her, you know. You will in- 
 vite her to our cushions, won't you, dear Mother, just for 
 a little time ? Think what you would do without them." 
 
 She had approached quite near to Eveleen, and paused 
 again, touching the silken cushion near her mother's head 
 with a fine little nervous hand. The flash of a ring upon it 
 caught Lady Ashwin's eye. 
 
 " Who gave you that ? " she said, breaking her silence. 
 
 " Mr. Ingestre, Cousin John : hadn't you seen it ? " 
 She twisted it nervously. " I believe there are heaps of 
 my things you haven't seen. Cousin John mentioned Lis- 
 ette in his letter rather anxiously. Did I tell you he 
 wrote to me, very kind about our escapade. He wanted 
 to know if we were doing anything about it, Cousin 
 Agnes had been complaining to him as well. They all so 
 dread a scandal : they would all be so horrified if it hap- 
 pened, too late. That is the worst of coming to decisions 
 slowly, though really, I don't want to fuss more than
 
 ii2 DUKE JONES 
 
 necessary in life, you know. But there are moments when 
 you must fuss, I am pretty sure Father would agree with 
 me," said Violet. 
 
 " Do you intend to talk to your father," said Eveleen, 
 " in this strain ? " 
 
 " Not unless you give me leave," said Violet. 
 
 " Well, if you say a word to him of any such nonsense, I 
 shall never speak to you again. You can be sure of that, 
 anyhow. Do you intend to ? " 
 
 " I told you, Mother," she said patiently, " Father 
 would be very willing to have Lisette. He would prob- 
 ably send to-night." 
 
 " Would he, indeed ? If you persuaded him, you mean." 
 
 Violet saw that she had touched the spring of an old 
 jealousy, and regretted it too late. 
 
 " You are going to him," said Eveleen ; " I know you. 
 You think you will get your, way." 
 
 " My way is yours," the girl repeated, with a desperate 
 clearness that was almost sharp. " Can you not under- 
 stand me ? That is why I have come to you. I could have 
 gone to him, couldn't I ? It was open to me, if I had only 
 wanted my way. I want yours. If anyone speaks to 
 Father it will be you, not me. It should be you." 
 
 " Oh, very well. I suppose you will keep your word. 
 You are excited," she added, still suspicious. 
 
 " I am not." The girl controlled herself. " I am aware 
 what I am saying when I tell you I will not go. I promise 
 it, but you must, and to-night. He is coming in at seven 
 " She stopped anew, and bit her lip. 
 
 " Oh, you know that, do you ? He is in to dinner, for 
 once ; but he goes out again directly after, and will be late. 
 I don't see how I can see him. You can't talk of private 
 things at dinner, anyhow." 
 
 " Very well," said Violet, meeting this brilliant argu- 
 ment. " See him at seven. I renounce my time to you. I 
 had wanted to ask him something, a point of business ; but 
 this is far more urgent, naturally. Mine can wait."
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 113 
 
 " Thanks," said Lady Ashwin. " That is really very 
 kind, considering it is my own husband. But I have not 
 the slightest wish or intention of seeing him on such a 
 subject. I shall not think of it, nor will you." 
 
 Pause again : Violet, summoning her hope and courage, 
 played the card of family pride. 
 
 " You said another thing, Mother, that Cousin Agnes 
 had failed with Lisette because she did not know how to 
 handle her. You mean you know yourself. You do, 
 because she is an Ingestre, don't you? I thought her 
 curiously like you in some ways. I believe you could make 
 her do what you wanted, though she is set against every- 
 body else." 
 
 " I have no doubt I could," said Eveleen calmly. " How 
 did she strike you as like me, may I ask ? " 
 
 She was interested, evidently, though the tone was 
 contemptuous. Violet's card was not trumped as yet. 
 Eveleen's egoism was always awake, however her better 
 impulses slept or drowsed. Violet pursued eagerly : 
 
 " She likes the things that you like, the same things 
 amuse her and make her angry, she is like you to look at 
 too. She really is ; Charles noticed it." 
 
 "What is she like?" 
 
 " Lisette like ? But you know ! She is terribly 
 thrillingly pretty, just as you wrote to me. She thrilled 
 us both, all the hotel." 
 
 " Charles admired her, did he? I shouldn't mind seeing 
 her," said Eveleen slowly ; " but I shan't have her in the 
 house." 
 
 " Only because you said so before, Mother darling, not 
 because you will really refuse to let her come. She is 
 funny, naughty, of course, she would amuse you. Her 
 effect on people is amusing too, you could see it if you 
 took her out. You needn't say she is a little cousin, 
 everyone would see that at once, and laugh." 
 
 It was exquisitely adroit, as a tack, and Lady Ashwin 
 was shaken. She had no objection to taking out a little
 
 ii 4 DUKE JONES 
 
 cousin, like her, who could be trusted to make a stir. 
 Eveleen made a stir herself, so the sensation would be 
 doubled. She had once dreamed of such a daughter as 
 Lisette ; only the daughter when she came, by taking after 
 the Ashwins, disappointed her hopes. 
 
 " What are you after, in this, Violet ? " she said slowly. 
 The question, to her mind, rose directly out of the rest. 
 
 " After? What should I be? Only her safety." 
 
 " Safety from men ? She'll never be safe from men 
 that sort. I can tell you that." 
 
 " Well, Mother dear, she had better marry decently, 
 then, hadn't she ? " The girl spoke dryly. " You could 
 see to that." 
 
 Eveleen thought it over for a period. " I won't," she 
 then said suddenly and simply. " I had more than enough 
 disturbance marrying you." 
 
 One more pause that way seemed blocked. The girl 
 gathered herself for a final effort : wherefore, of course, 
 she overdid it. She was too intense, though every word 
 she spoke was just to her observation, earnest and deeply 
 felt. 
 
 " She is capable of crime, Mother," said Violet. " She 
 is hunted and miserable, not over the brink, but near it. 
 I have seen her eyes these two days. She might steal, 
 she is destitute. She might drink, more easily still. If 
 the worst happened, by any unhappy chance, she might 
 kill the man. It is not unknown in your family history, is 
 it? Not quite." 
 
 She repeated, with extraordinary vehemence and ac- 
 curacy, to Eveleen who had the Ingestre chronicles by 
 heart, more than one case of criminal violence in the direct 
 line ; women concerned in them all. Of course, romance 
 had dressed the stories; duels, prophecies, specters and 
 such truck bedizened them elaborately, when related 
 within the ring; but the naked facts of character were 
 there, and it was astonishing how the facts stood out, dealt 
 with by the girl's dexterous dry tongue. They hardly
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 115 
 
 sounded picturesque, so stated, and more than once 
 Eveleen winced. 
 
 " Anything may happen," Violet finished, " may it not, 
 to a girl with that blood in her? You must see anything. 
 And you are responsible: it will be laid at your door if 
 she does." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Lady Ashwin coolly. " John is not 
 such a fool. Not to mention he would take my word in 
 front of yours, I should know how to manage John. I 
 shall say I did what I could. Anyhow, I wrote twice." 
 
 Wrote twice! Yet once more, the hopeless, lengthy 
 pause. 
 
 " Very well, then, I must have her," said Violet. 
 
 It was by far the most effective thing she had said, had 
 she wanted to be effective. Her mother's head turned 
 instantly, in frank surprise. Then it turned back again. 
 
 " Violet, you little fool ! " she said simply. 
 
 The girl gasped, clutching at the nearest support a 
 chair. It was one thing to receive a letter, another to re- 
 ceive the written implication full in the face like this. And 
 in such a tone ! tolerant amusement, not even permitting 
 contempt. The gods were hard on Violet. 
 
 She replied, after a second or so, standing rigid, turned 
 away. 
 
 " You may insult me, Mother, but not Charles. Is that 
 the last thing you have to say to me ? " 
 
 " Don't be dignified and frosty," advised Eveleen, " and 
 make scenes about nothing. Come here." 
 
 Violet did not come, or stir. 
 
 "Are you crying?" her mother inquired. "You will 
 get so excited. Fool was a little hard, perhaps, when you 
 thought you had been so clever. I'll tell you one thing, 
 you nearly made me think I'd try it, once. . . . But 
 it's against reason, really, to expect it. I'll write to John. 
 . . . Look here, give me that girl's address. I will go 
 and see her in the morning if you like, I rather want to 
 see her. I don't know why you should be so concerned
 
 ii6 DUKE JONES 
 
 about it. I dare say I can bring her to reason, and get her 
 to go back. Only for goodness' sake don't do anything 
 high-faluting and hasty, you can't imagine you know 
 men more than I do, at your age. . . . Come here, 
 Violet, I want you." 
 
 It was a very long speech for Eveleen, and showed that 
 some vague effect, from the emotion spent in the discus- 
 sion, had reached her. It showed the vaguest trifle of re- 
 morse as well. Violet repeated internally that it was her 
 nature, and she was trying to be kind. She turned and 
 came slowly. She was rather white, but not crying : for- 
 tunately, for Eveleen hated tears. 
 
 " Silly little goose," she said pleasantly, being victorious. 
 " Give me a kiss." She held her on the couch beside her 
 for a moment. " Do, for goodness* sake, avoid making 
 scenes for Charles. It's only not to get excited, men do 
 hate it so. And it's not good for you, either, really, your 
 father will tell you that." After this maternal effort, she 
 paused. " You really must get your hair done properly 
 to-morrow," she proceeded. " You'd hardly be taken for 
 your age like that, though it suits you. You looked rather 
 nice, standing over there. One of these days you may be 
 pretty." Another interval, while she warmed the girl's 
 cold hand. She had almost got as far as affection by 
 these ingenious means. The general aspect was all right, 
 anyhow, and Eveleen went in for aspects. " Are you and 
 Charles stopping to dinner? " she asked. " You had bet- 
 ter. I shall make him, when he comes." 
 
 " Make him, if you can," said Violet, very low. " I 
 think you will not persuade him, to-night. There's 
 Leontine," she added gently, at the knock. " Good night, 
 Mother. I am going to see Father now." 
 
 ii 
 
 The other interview, parallel as it were with this, was 
 short perforce, for her father had, as usual, been detained. 
 She had to wait for him some time, sitting in his little
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 117 
 
 private study, almost in the dark. She was not sorry to be 
 granted an interval, among the friendly books and signs of 
 his daily presence, to calm her thoughts. Her mother was 
 more " tiring to the soul," even than Lisette, and the 
 gentle light and studious atmosphere of the familiar room 
 were more soothing to Violet's soul than immediate com- 
 pany, even of the kindest, would have been. Her first 
 natural instinct, like that of the father she awaited, was 
 toward retirement and intellectual calm ; the instinct was 
 only overlaid by small feminine distractions and the habit 
 of society ; but she came back at intervals to grave places, 
 to the haunts of books and those who read them, as to her 
 real home. 
 
 She began to think his books would have to serve her 
 for himself before he finally arrived ; but when she did get 
 her interview, though brief and conducted of necessity at 
 top speed, it was a success. She had not to waste time 
 waiting for him to follow, luckily, and she produced in the 
 course of it every single effect she wanted, quite easily, 
 more than she expected; for she succeeded in surprising 
 him, making him jump: he, the wariest person of Violet's 
 acquaintance, was absolutely startled. He had not the 
 least expected her to come that night. It was a momen- 
 tary triumph, quite worth any amount of waiting to 
 secure. 
 
 " My darling ! " he ejaculated, as she seized him. " Why 
 did you not warn me ? You have had to wait ? " 
 
 Father and courtier were perfectly combined; he was 
 not oblivious of her new dignity, at least. 
 
 " I should think so ! " said Mrs. Shovell plaintively. " I 
 do nothing but wait for my parents, in this house. That is 
 how I spend my time under their roof. We have just 
 thirteen minutes now before my husband comes." She 
 looked at her watch in comical despair. " I don't know, 
 really, how ever we shall get through. Shall we talk 
 simultaneously, Father darling, or what ? I am in straits, 
 as it happens, for advice."
 
 n8 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I am horrified," said Sir Claude, without emotion. 
 " You do not look so, particularly." 
 
 "Not professional, don't imagine it! Much more re- 
 sembling Scotland Yard. I want to make your flesh 
 creep," quoted Violet at random from a favorite author. 
 "Will you just sit in that chair and listen eloquently? 
 You know the way I mean." 
 
 " Certainly, if I do, but I doubt it. May I ask three 
 questions first ? " 
 
 " No, yes, get along." 
 
 " Three will serve, I think." He considered carefully. 
 " Have you seen your mother? " 
 
 " To be sure. I had tea with her. She knew all about 
 my visit in advance, only she didn't tell you. Mother did 
 not see the almighty hurry, probably." 
 
 " Thanks, so I supposed." His eyes were on her, 
 steady and amused. " Well, secondly : are you prepared 
 for a primitive state of things at home : Genesis before 
 the Creation, and worse ? " 
 
 " Hasn't the light come? " said Mrs. Shovell innocently. 
 " The company informed me so. You don't know your 
 Scripture, Father, I am afraid. Dearest, don't say she has 
 fagged you to go round ? " 
 
 " I have been there half the day, quite fruitlessly," said 
 Sir Claude. " I can not make them see that blue's not 
 green; and I could not think of more than one way to 
 express it." 
 
 " Couldn't you ? I should have added that green's not 
 blue, and then left them in peace to make comparisons. 
 The lower classes need such gentle handling," said Violet, 
 sitting down on his knee, having tried the dignity of a 
 chair and rejected it. 
 
 " Oh well, go and handle them gently. I didn't. The 
 third thing " 
 
 " Father, if you have been trampling on my workmen, 
 I shall complain. I am delighted they are still about. I 
 intend to have picnics with them, pleasantly, all this week.
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 119 
 
 I am hoping to know them intimately, Christian names. 
 I shall flirt with the foreman, oh, how is Mr. Ford, by 
 the way ? " 
 
 " The third thing," said her father, lifting a hand to 
 ward frivolity, " is serious, Pussy, because imminent. The 
 need is close at hand. What does your husband drink? 
 There is nothing in your house for him to-night." 
 
 Violet's gray eyes flashed, and she drew herself up. 
 
 " Your health he may drink, in water ! Father, dar- 
 ling, you will really make me cry ! The idea of your wast- 
 ing your magnificent mind on such a thing ! Charles' beer ! 
 he can fetch it himself from a pub ! Now do dismiss all 
 such trifles where they really belong, and listen eloquently, 
 do you mind? I simply love your face when you do 
 that, contented and watchfully blinking. I don't wonder 
 the least," Mrs. Shovell summed up in her intensest man- 
 ner, " people give you guineas for looking so." 
 
 " They don't," Claude assured her. " Only half the 
 guinea for that. Go on, I'll do my best." 
 
 She told him the story of her loss, avoiding names, in 
 the most erratic language, though he seemed able to un- 
 derstand. He listened, with the expression to which Violet 
 alluded, glancing at her from time to time. He would 
 sooner have played with her, of course ; but since it was 
 to be business, and the time was short, it was better to get 
 it done, and their minds ran admirably in harness to- 
 gether. Nothing she said was foolish, only wild. And 
 her wildness, though it clearly had some physical cause, 
 did not disturb him mightily; for by all the signs his 
 fatherly and physicianly mind could muster, she was mar- 
 velously well. 
 
 " You are sure just when you lost it? " he said. " Do 
 you suspect the thief ? " 
 
 " I do. There were two people who might have done it 
 equally, close to me when it disappeared : one was a girl 
 whom I have known, or at least known about, for years, 
 and one a man we met quite by chance at the hotel."
 
 120 DUKE JONES 
 
 
 
 " And you suspect the girl ? " 
 
 " Now how did you know that, Father ? " 
 
 " By the form of the sentence." 
 
 "Well, it would be politer not to steal my dramatic 
 effects. I suspect the girl. In fact, I am almost certain 
 it was she, and not him," finished Violet with elegant de- 
 liberation. 
 
 " Evidence ? " said Sir Claude. 
 
 " Psychological largely," said Violet. " But I suppose 
 you won't take that? Well, the girl was in want of 
 money, immediate want, and the man was quite well off. 
 That, of course, is not conclusive. Secondly, the man 
 knew I had taken out the only thing of value and put it 
 round my neck." She snicked the pearls she was still 
 wearing. " In fact, he advised me to do so. And the girl 
 had every reason to think it was still inside the case." 
 
 " Humph ! " Claude considered. " Did you take any 
 steps? Promptly, I mean." 
 
 " No. My husband was not there when it occurred. To 
 tell the truth, I thought he might have taken it himself, 
 my husband does that sort of thing. When I realized 
 Charles was innocent, I had had time to think, and I did 
 not bring up the subject." 
 
 " You mean Charles did not notice it was gone ? " He 
 looked at her. 
 
 " No, darling," said Violet tranquilly. " He is not a 
 kind of lynx and bloodhound in one, like some people. He 
 is very restful company." 
 
 "And you incline to do nothing in the matter? And 
 expect my moral support in doing it ? Is that it ? " 
 
 " Precisely, all of it. You hit the mark." He consid- 
 ered again. 
 
 " But if so," he suggested, " why tell me at all? " 
 
 " Feminine, rather," admitted Violet, " and conse- 
 quently intricate. Can you bear it ? Nearly every pretty 
 thing I possess was given me by you, wedding presents 
 notwithstanding. Broadly judging by wedding presents,
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 121 
 
 you are the only person of taste of my acquaintance. The 
 things in that case were yours exclusively, chosen for 
 beauty, not swagger, the rest being at the Bank. They 
 were old things, unmarried, and I am not yet legally 
 of age," she added hastily. 
 
 He tapped his head. " What a jumble of sentiment and 
 equity. Don't mix the issues. Of age or not, anything I 
 give you is yours, you can assume it. Fling it out of the 
 window if you like. What was the value of the trinkets? " 
 
 " I have not the least idea," said Mrs. Shovell plain- 
 tively. " I must depend on you even for that." 
 
 He made her describe them, and the occasions to 
 which they belonged ; and, with his sure memory for gems, 
 recollected each in turn. 
 
 " About thirty pounds," he said thoughtfully. 
 
 " Lucky it was no worse," suggested Violet. " Fortune 
 favors the careless in this instance, doesn't it? " 
 
 " It seems to. Would it be presumptuous to suggest 
 that it is unwise to play with your pearls in public ? " 
 
 " Most impertinent," said Violet. " It would probably 
 close this conversation." 
 
 " Why do you carry them about, when the Bank is 
 there?" 
 
 " Pure sentiment, Father, a thing you can hardly un- 
 derstand. Charles calls me sentimental. Besides," she 
 added, with sudden mischief, " I was safe enough at the 
 hotel. The hiss of the word artificial simply followed me 
 about." 
 
 The doctor's eyes flashed, and he would have spoken, 
 but she caught him laughing by the throat. 
 
 " Gently," she said. " Two people appreciated them 
 thoroughly, the two that accompanied me to-day. She 
 wanted them fearfully, I know, poor dear. I can't help 
 being thankful she did not take them, because I should 
 have been forced to act. You would have forced me, if 
 not my own feelings. I could not have borne it. I can 
 hardly bear it as it is. It is three birthdays gone from my
 
 122 DUKE JONES 
 
 life, she little knew ! If it had only only been the In- 
 gestre wedding presents ! " 
 
 " Was the girl in distress? " said Claude, touching her 
 hair as she hid her face on his shoulder. He had seldom 
 suffered such showers of flattery, it had evidently been 
 storing up. His heart had long been open to all girls for 
 her sake, so the question fell naturally into the context. 
 
 " She was," said Violet, just audibly. With all her heart 
 she longed to tell him, for she knew his help would be 
 ready and his judgment sure; but her hands were tied. 
 Her silence and rigidity spoke the fact eloquently ; and Sir 
 Claude made no attempt to press her. During the in- 
 terval he took stock of her in his usual merciless fashion. 
 
 " You have put on weight, Pussy," he observed. 
 
 " Oh, poor man, am I too much for him ? " She 
 looked up. " It's all that cream. Charles simply drove 
 me into competition. You never saw anything like him 
 when he gets to work, and yet he gets no plumper, per- 
 ceptibly. I suppose he talks it off. Do you like Cornish 
 cream, Father?" 
 
 " Very much, thank you," said Sir Claude. 
 
 " I counted upon Mother, but I was not sure of you. I 
 brought two little jugs, for you not to quarrel. I shouldn't 
 like you to quarrel in my absence, the first night." 
 
 " Are you not staying to dinner? " 
 
 " Oh dear no, couldn't think of it. I didn't even ask 
 Mason what Mother had ordered when I was in the 
 kitchen just now." 
 
 " Great self-control," he agreed. He waited a minute. 
 " Has your mother written to you these last weeks ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the girl, very gently. 
 
 " I thought she might." His face cleared. " You ex- 
 cuse my asking ? " 
 
 " I do, dear. You have written less than usual, I may 
 observe." 
 
 " I have resigned my responsibilities," said Sir Claude. 
 
 " Father ! Will you kindly take that back ? "
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 123 
 
 " Most of my responsibilities. Some of them, Pussy, 
 one or two." 
 
 " Not any," she said. " It's no good hedging. You 
 never were my husband, whatever else you set up to be. 
 Charles' job is completely different, harder, perhaps," 
 she admitted pensively. " There he is," she added, 
 though his quick ear had heard nothing. A second later 
 a hand pushed the swing door, and Charles entered to 
 fetch her. The doctor greeted him without moving, 
 indeed, he was unable to, since Mrs. Shovell did not stir 
 from his knee. 
 
 " Oh, Father, before I forget," she said. " Will you 
 show Charles your medals? He is simply longing to see 
 them, aren't you ? " 
 
 " I should like to, really awfully," said Charles. 
 
 " I should be charmed," said Sir Claude, without ex- 
 pression. " Now we have fulfilled the forms sufficiently. 
 She's safe to forget for another year." 
 
 " You've got the key on you ! " exclaimed Violet in 
 indignation. She proceeded to the search. 
 
 " No, I assure you," he said patiently. " None of 
 those. It's on Ford's bunch, probably, unless he has mis- 
 laid it." 
 
 " Father, do you expect to go to Heaven ? " said Violet 
 very seriously. " Because you won't, at this rate. You 
 know you would never trust a mere Ford with your Order 
 of Merit, not to mention the ducky little one the Prince 
 of " 
 
 The doctor signed to Charles, who gagged her oblig- 
 ingly with both hands. 
 
 " Has she been boring you ? " he inquired, glancing 
 above her. 
 
 " Only on a few subjects, this for one," said Charles. 
 " I can head her off if I'm careful. But this seems to 
 have more sides than most, so it's harder to dodge. 
 . . . How's that? " he added to Violet. 
 
 " Rather well put," said Violet. " But there's a medal
 
 124 DUKE JONES 
 
 for each side of him, if you had let me explain. It's 
 highly instructive, really, and an awful warning. If 
 you never waste a golden minute, oh, goodness me, 
 weren't they golden, Charles, in the shrimpiest pool! 
 that's where you come to. That ! " She pointed, leaning 
 back against Charles. Then she swung forward. " Good 
 night, my own blessing. I hope you'll like the cream. 
 Your advice has been invaluable over that little difficulty 
 of mine. Professional, with a difference. As a consult- 
 ing occasional solicitor, with a moralizing turn, you might 
 have scored several other decorations for your best coat. 
 Only I am afraid you would sum up everybody's evidence 
 far too fast, and fluster them." 
 
 " Solicitors don't sum up, my child," said Charles, with 
 reproval. " Try judges." 
 
 " Don't they ? Well, he would make a nice-looking 
 judge when he's a trifle older : a kind one. And he would 
 not need powdering, very soon." She smoothed a crisp 
 dark lock on which the silver was gaining rapidly. " He 
 will be rather more respectable as a father too, when that 
 takes place. More presentable in the background, among 
 his daughter's guests." 
 
 " Tell me when you have had enough," said Charles to 
 his father-in-law, " and I will muffle her with my scarf. 
 It may not have struck you, V., that our taxi-tariff is 
 running all this time." 
 
 "Did you call one?" said Violet. "Why didn't you 
 warn me, idiot ! I can tell him the rest to-morrow, when 
 he comes to call. A mere formality, Father ; twenty min- 
 utes will do. No time for protest," she added, ever more 
 rapidly, as her victim snatched up his engagement-book. 
 " Every second is wasting Charles' substance, and he can- 
 not stop. Any time after five would suit me, just wire 
 to the King you can't. I made his acquaintance last May, 
 the May before last, and he's quite agreeable. Charles, 
 my coat! Thanks, dearest; now I really am ready, I 
 believe."
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 125 
 
 " Violet looks extremely well," observed Eveleen across 
 the dinner-table; softened doubtless by a perspective of 
 cream. 
 
 " She is very happy," said Claude, with gentle dis- 
 tinctness. " I am thankful. That boy has more in him 
 than I thought." 
 
 " He's improved too," said Eveleen. " Not so languish- 
 ing. He stands up and talks. He was quite amusing the 
 few minutes he stayed with me. I like that light com- 
 plexion when it goes brown." 
 
 " That will go off soon enough," said Claude. " The 
 rest, we may trust, will not. Will you go and see them, 
 Eveleen ? " 
 
 " Naturally to-morrow. I could fit it in just after 
 dinner, I think," said Lady Ashwin, pondering. " Then 
 I could be sure of both." 
 
 " I will fit it in just before dinner," reflected the master 
 of the house. " Then I shall be sure of one alone." 
 
 He did not note the hour, all-important as it was to 
 miss his wife, and to catch Violet ; being still able, in the 
 day's most tedious complexity, to trust his memory for 
 details. 
 
 in 
 
 Little did Mrs. Shovell suspect, in the course of those 
 last days' incidents, and those two casual interviews she 
 had had tete-d-tete with Marmaduke Jones, what a sleuth- 
 hound she had let loose upon the world. It would have 
 afforded some quite thrilling finishing touches to Charles' 
 original " narrative " concerning this inconspicuous young 
 man, if either husband or wife had been enabled to study 
 this side of him more completely. But it was just from 
 husband and wife that the really striking qualities in Jones 
 were concealed, for the reason that they were bad-weather 
 qualities, such as the glamour of golden honeymoon does 
 not encourage or tempt from their hiding-place in the 
 heart of a shy young man. Thus, to the end of the honey-
 
 126 DUKE JONES 
 
 moon's concluding journey, when Marmaduke had the last 
 glimpse on the station-platform of Mrs. Shovell's whim- 
 sical little pointed face under her feathered hat, he pre- 
 served the mask. The instant he turned his back on her, 
 no doubt, the wild gleam of the bloodhound loosed on a 
 scent, flickered furtively in his ferocious eye. That is at 
 least how the facts would have figured in the narrative, 
 had Charles been allowed his fair chance at them. 
 
 Jones called a farewell to Shovell as he passed, 
 Shovell looking straight, fair and indifferent, as usual, 
 amid an unholy ferment of men and things: airing, no 
 doubt, at that six-foot eminence of his, a perfectly quiet 
 mind; since his pleasant prestige of youth, ease, arro- 
 gance, together with a certain tone of voice and cut of 
 clothes infallibly connected with our older universities to 
 the uneducated mind, surrounded him at every turn with 
 servile porters eager to do his will, and, in preference to 
 many an older and more deserving traveler, to tear out 
 his wife's boxes from everybody else's which they over- 
 turned, and in response to a mere lift of brow, jerk of 
 head, or brief careless word of direction, to charge and 
 heave then onto his chosen cab. He was a young lord of 
 the earth, and looked it ; but he spared, as usual, a pleasant 
 word to Jones, across the scrambling porters. 
 " See you, shan't we ? Rather, don't forget." 
 Forget ! Why, he forgot himself the next instant, prob- 
 ably; and Jones, melting into that station turmoil which 
 begins and closes so many human tragedies, was blotted 
 out likewise upon the tablet of Charles' mind. Shovell 
 was created to forget, every bit as surely as Jones was 
 created to remember, every day, hour, minute of the time 
 they had passed together in that enchanted land. It was 
 already a kind of agreeable game, pretty but played out, 
 to Shovell, and his thoughts full of the ancient interests 
 and occupations, the new duties and diversions, of the 
 town. Jones alone forgot nothing easily, whether work or 
 play, having a retentive, well-managed mind, working like
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 127 
 
 an excellent little road-engine to and fro along a limited 
 span, but absolutely to be trusted in the accomplishment 
 of its common duties, day by day. 
 
 His mind had retained for him, for instance, quite 
 solidly and safely, three addresses, only one of which, 
 being foreign, he had written down. That was Mrs. 
 Shovell's quiet hotel in Paris, where they talked some 
 English but things were French. The other two were the 
 new house in Livingstone Gardens, near Holland Park, 
 mentioned, in passing, by Shovell as his future abode; 
 and the boarding-house address, patronized by the lovely 
 Miss Lisette, and handed him for an instant at the junc- 
 tion by Shovell's wife. Jones had also jotted on his cuff 
 the name Addenbroke, a queer one ; since it appeared the 
 girl had been only " pulling the leg " of the other (and 
 older) girls at the hotel, when she entered herself on the 
 books with a title. This last fact, which seemed to amuse 
 the Shovells, had been a decided relief to Jones, who 
 jibbed at titles, and who foresaw some probable inter- 
 course, in the near future, with the young person who no 
 longer carried that alarming prefix to her name. 
 
 Jones had decided, during the leisure of the long jour- 
 ney, that he did not greatly like Lisette, though it was 
 none the less his business to care for her. He had been, 
 to begin with, most horribly torn in mind over the duty of 
 deciding whether she was a " lady." She had not seemed 
 to him so the first night, especially in the light of Stud- 
 ley's visible appreciation. In spite of certain things to her 
 credit, such as her crisp accent, well-made, dark-colored 
 and rather careless clothes, and ready reception of and 
 response to Shovell's high-quality witticisms, not to men- 
 tion her occasional references to the aristocracy, some of 
 whom seemed to be her relations, Jones on his own 
 account would have refused Lisette that great name : had 
 it not been for Mrs. Shovell's manner towards her. That 
 was a unique testimonial, that easy sisterly acceptance, 
 and above all the constant pretty laughter at her riskiest
 
 128 DUKE JONES 
 
 speeches. Jones had seen her laugh, when her husband 
 himself stared, and when Jones, in the corner beyond, felt 
 scorched and petrified. It looked as though what sounded 
 flashy and fast to his untutored ear might be in reality 
 only the mistakes of others, reflected, as it were, in a 
 singularly frank, shallow and childish mind, a little em- 
 bittered by hard experience. It might, of course, be so, 
 though Marmaduke still felt dazed in retrospect by some 
 of Miss Lisette's opinions and expressions. 
 
 Beyond this, it had to be set against Miss Adden- 
 broke's account, she had been really impertinent, not 
 once only, but several times, to the young married lady of 
 Jones' party. She had laughed extremely loud at the 
 name of the book Mrs. Shovell was reading, and jerked 
 it across the carriage, so that in falling from the seat to 
 the floor its leaves were bent. She had criticized Mrs. 
 Shovell's hand-made sandwiches most rudely, and then 
 proceeded to eat three-fourths of them, which must have 
 been a sign of some inner appreciation, gracelessly and 
 ungratefully disguised. She had tried on Mrs. Shovell's 
 hat, wrinkled her critical little nose over each of its silver 
 pins in turn, and, with most unjustifiable curiosity, sought 
 for the name of the maker within. She had done a thing 
 far worse, for Marmaduke, which he could still barely 
 forgive her. She had winked at him, at Jones, when 
 she woke, as fresh as a cricket, from her nap, and dis- 
 covered that her cousin had also fallen asleep within her 
 husband's arm. Jones hoped very much he had betrayed 
 by his wooden and repellent aspect, on this occasion, his 
 true opinion of this irreverent proceeding on the part of 
 Miss Addenbroke; but since she continued to smile at 
 him, calmly and confidentially, he could not be sure. 
 
 Another matter as to which he could not be sure, 
 naturally, was whether Miss Addenbroke liked him. Her 
 speech and conduct seemed no safe guide, since she con- 
 tinually contradicted her own proceedings. For instance, 
 she had drawn, for the benefit of her connections, a very
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 129 
 
 violent and childish caricature of her sister's suitor utter- 
 ing the word " Honoria," with exclamation points, in- 
 closed in a long balloon ; and then, turning the sheet, had 
 begun a careless but really excellent likeness of Mr. 
 Shovell, smoking in the corner. She had chosen him as 
 model without hesitation, and he, as obviously, enjoyed 
 being drawn. It was only when his wife betrayed curi- 
 osity and interest in the portrait that the artist, like a 
 naughty child, spoiled the whole suddenly with a scribble, 
 and told the indignant model he had a " stodgy " face, 
 not worth her serious pains. She then, instead of turn- 
 ing in the obvious direction, tried Jones: and made him 
 very uncomfortable indeed by her attentions and commen- 
 tary, until she abandoned art at the appearance of the 
 lunch-basket. 
 
 Then again : she had interrupted a manly discussion of 
 mountaineering to boast of her adventures as a child 
 during various excursions on foot in her father's com- 
 pany. Her courage and endurance, by her own account, 
 and her father's at second-hand, were remarkable. In the 
 midst of which boasting the train entered a tunnel, and 
 Miss Lisette, terrified, had crouched up to Mrs. Shovell's 
 side, and clung child-like to her arm. When the train 
 came to a stop, still in the darkness, she had been so nerv- 
 ously apprehensive of an accident having occurred that 
 she was only prevented by male force from springing at 
 the communication cord. On emerging into the sunlight, 
 letting go Violet, she had bidden Jones feel her hand ; and 
 when he unwillingly did so he found it was really cold and 
 limp. She had next proceeded, with fearfully realistic 
 detail, and singular heartlessness, to relate to him the 
 story of the accident in which her parents had lost their 
 lives, and in which Miss Lisette, having been cleverly 
 rescued, alone uninjured, from the broken carriage, had 
 taken a prominent part. She seemed absolutely to relish 
 the description, especially when it came to the point of 
 her portrait, a nice one, having been in all the picture
 
 i 3 o DUKE JONES 
 
 papers next day: where, in the neighboring column, of 
 course, Mr. and Mrs. Addenbroke figured on the list of 
 the dead. 
 
 Jones, really quite perplexed what to think during this 
 recital, had glanced at Mrs. Shovell beyond, and found 
 she had shut her eyes with an expression of keen pain 
 that explained, if not everything, at least much. He de- 
 cided at once that the girl had suffered horribly herself 
 at the time, and was trying to disgust them now deliber- 
 ately by a kind of bravado. 
 
 " Look at her," Lisette appended to her own story with 
 a little laugh. " She knows about it too, of course. 
 They're her people as well." 
 
 Thus it became clear that she had carried through her 
 late effort, having started it idly, in her own despite, and 
 to tease the other girl; being not less sensitive herself, 
 only wishing to display her callousness and contempt of 
 weakness, whether her own weakness, or that of others 
 who cared for her. 
 
 This experience, and above all that look in Mrs. 
 Shovell's face, patient beneath its pain, set Jones at once 
 on the track of new discoveries in this fair young lady she 
 guarded. Lisette Addenbroke was defiant, her hand 
 against every man, her back against the wall. She pricked 
 and tormented these two people, who had certainly been 
 very kind to her: she took the offensive towards Jones, 
 who had neither done nor wished her any harm. She 
 looked as far as possible from crying, at all stages of 
 that lively journey; yet Jones imagined she might have 
 cried, and recently. Briefly, a very little time after that 
 brutal story of hers concerning the calamity that had made 
 her an orphan, a singular thing happened, Jones' pity 
 awoke. How far it was as a direct consequence of his 
 suspicion that Mrs. Shovell pitied too, beneath her 
 laughter, cannot be determined entirely. Pity, as an emo- 
 tion, is certainly contagious ; so much may safely be said. 
 
 But the important thing was that pity, in this particular
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 131 
 
 Jones, was more than an emotion, it might almost be called 
 an alarum. It awoke a whole department of his being, a 
 department which, on holiday, could be allowed to lie in 
 abeyance. It was the same crying need of his nature that 
 urged him to claim that vacant secretaryship of his 
 " show " in London, which various other good-natured 
 persons were " quite too busy " to undertake ; and what 
 is more, to claim it at a moment when a sudden accession 
 to fortune, at an age when youth can most appreciate it, 
 would have turned many a young man's head to giddier 
 dreams. It merely suggested to Marmaduke that he had, 
 at last, time to be useful. 
 
 Jones was one of the people fortunately not rare in this 
 soft-hearted, serious Northern race, who from birth feel 
 a duty to the community, and whose thoughts turn from 
 early manhood in the high philanthropic direction. Of 
 these young men, all excellent folk and many very dull, a 
 number go into the church, let us say one of the 
 churches, the " church army," or the more distant mis- 
 sion field. A small proportion, by a singular psychological 
 leading that it would take volumes of far finer study than 
 this to follow or define, go into the other army, their 
 nation's. A quantity go to lay societies and settlements in 
 the East End, and conduct parties of poor lads round 
 museums, on tours, or to the life of holiday camps. A 
 few write rather stupid books for children. A few more, 
 free lances, of whom Jones, take up the odd causes, 
 appear at the less popular meetings, do horrid jobs such 
 as offering votes of thanks and distributing prizes at mis- 
 sion-schools, and write the few sincerely indignant letters 
 to the papers, generally much inferior in style, among the 
 hundreds of better-composed and touching addresses that 
 flood the public columns, every week. 
 
 The only difference between Jones and many others of 
 his kind was that he had had a better education. And by 
 this, with deference to Mr. Shovell, we do not mean that 
 he had been an unattached member of Oxford University,
 
 I 3 2 DUKE JONES 
 
 but simply that he had received a good education from his 
 parents. It is really as important as the other, and the 
 other is of singularly little use without it. 
 
 Charles himself owed his guidance in life to women 
 chiefly : and Jones had also been so inspired. His mother 
 had been the mother of a hero, whatsoever her son ulti- 
 mately became. She had shown him the path in every 
 direction, and supplemented at every point his father's 
 gifts of steady sense and steadier purpose. Mrs. Jones, 
 as to whom Violet had been so persistently curious when 
 Charles' chatter had been of Jones alone, had lost the use 
 of a finger as a young woman by saving a child from 
 burning, and that small reminder had been before Marma- 
 duke throughout his most sensitive years. Violet, sitting 
 in her corner, beyond Jones, while he read his dull book 
 and watched Lisette furtively at intervals, would have 
 been greatly interested to hear that and other tales of Mrs. 
 Jones. It might even have relieved her of some of her 
 vaguely-haunting anxiety. Charles, who also noticed 
 these frequent glances on Jones' part, merely hugged the 
 amusing thought that, against his better nature, their 
 model young man was being attracted. 
 
 So he was attracted, as events shortly proved. By a 
 chance that critics would have thought most suspicious, 
 he occupied the same omnibus as Lisette, when she left 
 the station finally, only he was within and she above. Jones 
 knew she would go above, because the man who followed 
 her, a well-dressed and prosperous-looking man, was 
 smoking. It was the same man as before, and he had not 
 been in the train, but had met her at a rendezvous in the 
 station. As to the omnibus, Jones was interested ; it was 
 not the least such an omnibus as he would have used 
 naturally, and it took a route in a diametrically opposite 
 direction to that of his third address the boarding-house. 
 It interested Jones because, on the subject of the boarding- 
 house, at which she had scoffed elaborately, it had seemed 
 to him Lisette was sincere. The change therefore signified
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 133 
 
 a new departure, and as the girl went up, she looked pink 
 and pouting, as though resenting such a change. The man, 
 on the other hand, was benignantly calm. 
 
 Lisette did not see Jones, as need not be stated, because 
 her mind was occupied evidently by a recent quarrel ; and 
 also because, as we have so often asserted, he was exactly 
 like a hundred other young men who were crowding the 
 London conveyances at the busiest hour of return from 
 work. His appearance, to refer to Charles again, would 
 have been suspicious in the eyes of nobody unless the de- 
 tective-novelist, or that novelist's well-trained reader, such 
 as Charles. And since Charleses are more rare than 
 Joneses in London 'buses between five and six o'clock, the 
 sleuth-hound sitting in the corner passed unsuspected. 
 
 Marmaduke also noticed, as the pair went aloft, that the 
 man was carrying something that might have been a bag 
 or dispatch-case; but he paid no closer attention until, 
 just after Lisette and her escort got down at a busy street- 
 corner, and as Jones was preparing to follow them, a 
 commotion occurred on the top of the omnibus. Some 
 people, after the usual short altercation over treasure- 
 trove, handed down an object. 
 
 " Man left it who got off with the girl," was the in- 
 formation. " It's hers, probably. Can you catch him ? " 
 
 It seemed late to the conductor to catch him, considering 
 the crowd. 
 
 "Can you still see him?" he called to his informant 
 above, who had the best point of view. 
 
 " I can see the girl," was the remarkable answer. " Just 
 turning the corner, next to the right. He will be with 
 her." 
 
 " No go," muttered the conductor : and opening the bag, 
 added for consolation, " It's empty." 
 
 " Give it to me," said Jones, as he swung off. " I'm 
 going that way, and I had a look at him, as it happens. 
 I'm quick on my feet," he added. 
 
 " It's my orders to hand over " the man was begin-
 
 I 3 4 DUKE JONES 
 
 ning, when he caught Jones' eye. It was not the eye of a 
 thief, to that experienced observer of his kind; he had 
 even experience enough to know it was the contrary. 
 " Right, sir," he said, delivering it ; and added with con- 
 descension, " Go it ! " 
 
 " I'll take it to your place if I miss him," called Jones, 
 and was off. The people on the omnibus-roof, and the 
 conductor on the steps watched, amused, as the figure of 
 Jones twisted like an eel through the congestion on the 
 crowded pavement, and made for the corner where the 
 pair had vanished. It was a very godsend to have this 
 excuse for haste, though he much feared he had already 
 lost his trail. 
 
 " He'll do it, I bet," said the friendly conductor, glanc- 
 ing upward at his public with a knowing, sidelong nod 
 which implied a recognition of the sporting style of 
 Jones : and turned to his work again. 
 
 Jones did not do it. He did not even try to, once the 
 corner was turned, for the street beyond it was empty. It 
 was not for the sake of the lost property that he regretted 
 it, honestly bred as he was, and righteous in all his in- 
 stincts, for he knew in one short shock at the moment of 
 receiving it that what he held was not the dark man's prop- 
 erty, still less Lisette's. There was no room for doubt, 
 indeed, as to the ownership; for the dark leather case, 
 daintily mounted, had three small initials stamped on it 
 clearly, V. I. A. and he knew, even in detail, what they 
 stood for: Violet Ingestre Ashwin, her maiden name. 
 The information about Mrs. Shovell Jones had collected 
 was, by this time, quite as varied and striking as that which 
 she and her husband, in conjunction, had collected about 
 him ; and even more accurate, for Jones had little imagina- 
 tion, and regarded facts as more generally useful and 
 satisfactory. A seven or eight-hours' railway journey in 
 the society of three lively and loquacious young people is 
 likely to offer a store of facts to a bystander who knows 
 how to collect them. Jones collected his, not out of curi-
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 135 
 
 osity purely, but from a native need to have his informa- 
 tion well packed and straight, if he had it at all ; and since, 
 owing to their charm, he could not but attend to them, he 
 stored steadily, like an ant, against the day when he might 
 need the knowledge. 
 
 Well, the thing being her property, she must naturally 
 have it. That was so obvious a point that he put it aside. 
 Next thought to this, the contents, also hers, were in that 
 dark man's pocket. The contents did not include the neck- 
 lace of pearls. Jones, like Violet, thanked Providence 
 for that, and not his own prudence. But they must, on 
 the other hand, include several of the other beautiful 
 things she had worn, the little things that flashed on her 
 fingers, in her hair, or among the soft folds of her pretty 
 bodices in Jones' neighborhood of an evening. That 
 struck him first; then, immediately afterwards, that the 
 girl Lisette would " catch it " from a man with a face 
 like that, if he came to know that she had missed the more 
 valuable booty the pearls. That is, granted she had been 
 commissioned to steal, there remained another alter- 
 native. A whole series of the girl's odd little defiant tones 
 and expressions came back to his mind as he pondered 
 her bearing and weighed her conceivable motives. 
 
 " She said I could have anything of hers I wanted, and 
 I shall. People should say what they mean, shouldn't 
 they ? " He could hear the voice. 
 
 It would have been just like Lisette, Jones' latest con- 
 ception of Lisette, to take the pearls out of sheer wanton 
 mischief, after that; not at all out of a natural bent to- 
 wards criminality, such a girl cannot be a criminal. She 
 is caught and punished as such frequently, and lacerates 
 all thoughtful folks' minds with pity when she is. Society 
 must defend itself against such as Lisette: that is the sole 
 excuse for society in punishing ; for there is no crime to 
 deal with, no studied crime, and the punishment is so 
 pitifully useless as well. 
 
 Alas ! Jones saw the path to retribution straight ahead
 
 136 DUKE JONES 
 
 for this particular errant girl. Not society's retribution, 
 probably, but the more ruthless revenge of nature and of 
 fate. Jones could not word his thoughts, like Violet ; but 
 he saw the vengeance that hovered over that lovely little 
 sea-nymph clearly : close above, quite ready to strike, as a 
 vulture strikes a dove. The victim felt the shadow al- 
 ready ; the shadow had lain in her eyes as she faced him 
 carelessly in the train. It was odious to think of, un- 
 thinkable, except that Marmaduke thought it. It is just 
 such men as Marmaduke who give thought to the un- 
 thinkable most steadily. 
 
 Having made his inquiries fruitlessly, and considered, 
 he made up his mind to the next thing in order. He took 
 the swiftest cab he could see, and drove to the third ad- 
 dress on his list, the boarding-house. 
 
 rv 
 
 It was a long drive, but it gave him time on the way to 
 study his next plans in the campaign. Arriving at the 
 house, a plain but decent building in the west-central quar- 
 ter, he inquired if a Miss Addenbroke was to arrive there 
 that night. 
 
 " No, sir, was the simple answer. 
 
 "No lady of the name of Poynter, either?" Jones 
 supposed. 
 
 " A lady called Poynter was to have come, but had not 
 yet appeared. They supposed she had missed her train." 
 
 "If she comes to-night," said Jones, " will you have the 
 goodness to wire me here?" He handed his official title 
 and his club address. " It is very serious news for her. 
 And please, for the same reason, be very kind and careful 
 of her till I come. She is quite young, and it is a case for 
 caution, if you understand." 
 
 A little awed by his manner, which was vaguely clerical, 
 the woman agreed. He did not offer money, for he knew 
 by instinct those cases where money impairs the moral
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 137 
 
 effect. This woman was " all right " to Jones' eye, which 
 was a certain consolation. 
 
 Leaving that loose end of his skein knotted, as it were, 
 he turned to the next thing. He went to the police. 
 Jones had various links with the London police force, 
 owing to the occasional exigences of his " show " ; and 
 his theory was that an application at once in that quarter 
 is often useful, and saves time and trouble in the end. 
 It saved him time, remarkably. He went to a local sta- 
 tion, in the unpleasing quarter where Lisette and her 
 escort had disappeared; and having excellent references 
 to offer, he received after quite short delay, from first- 
 hand authority, a list of lodgings, hotels and residences 
 under suspicion. 
 
 He made the round of the hotels first ; and by what he 
 called the help of Heaven, and other people would have 
 called an unjustifiable stroke of luck, he recovered almost 
 at once his lost scent. Such strokes of luck among the 
 infinite chances of large towns may happen to sleuth- 
 hounds who are also thoroughly sensible people. 
 
 The two persons described had come to the hotel, and 
 the young lady had taken a room. Her beauty had been 
 remarked, as usual, and interest aroused in her, so that 
 he learnt without delay the facts he wanted. As to the 
 other person, the people of the hotel, naturally, " had no 
 idea," as soon as ever Jones alluded to the police. All 
 ideas, apparently, were far from their minds, especially 
 as this gentleman, missionary or whatever he was, was 
 startlingly free with his money. They would do anything 
 whatever for him, show him the lady's room? Oh, 
 certainly. Jones was shown the room, which was empty ; 
 and there he waited, praying possibly, it may be wiser 
 not to ask. There were two bags on the floor, a man's 
 and a woman's ; one was opened, and the contents tossed 
 about. On the bed lay a woman's white shirt and felt 
 hat, both of which he knew familiarly, having watched 
 them during an eight-hours' journey. It would not have
 
 138 DUKE JONES 
 
 been difficult for a duller man than Jones to deduce that 
 Miss Lisette had put on Mrs. Shovell's moonlight blouse, 
 he clenched his hands thinking of it, and gone out 
 hatless, probably not very far, to dine. 
 
 Such was the fact: and again his good sense that was 
 nearly subtlety brought him luck that was doubtless un- 
 deserved, for the girl came back alone. Later, Jones 
 learnt that the man wanted to examine his treasure-trove, 
 the jewels, and dispose of them promptly before he left 
 the town, and that he simultaneously discovered that 
 the pearls of which the girl had rashly boasted were not 
 among them. That affected nothing at the time, only his 
 behavior later as regarded Lisette. 
 
 " Well, I never ! " said Lisette when she entered, 
 stopping to stare with her lovely dilated eyes. " Well, 
 what next ? " 
 
 Most young ladies might have been startled, even a 
 little alarmed, at finding a young man, with an air of 
 purpose, sitting in their chosen apartment, even though 
 it should be such a simple-looking specimen as Jones. 
 Lisette was not alarmed particularly : she was quite pre- 
 pared to find Mr. Jones amusing, as he had shown him- 
 self to be more than once during their intercourse, un- 
 wittingly. Jones had quite taken Lisette's fancy, had he 
 wished to be reassured, by showing himself so infallibly 
 " shocked " at whatever she said. She liked him a good 
 deal better than Violet's husband, who was really, she 
 ultimately decided, by far the more " stuck-up " of the 
 two. Jones was a " good sort," and it was by no means 
 in his disfavor that he was ridiculous. People were often 
 ridiculous, at least in Lisette's neighborhood. 
 
 For, of course, Lisette assumed at once, on his turning 
 up again so soon after she had parted with him, that 
 Jones had fallen head-over-ears in love with her in the 
 train. His awkwardness at parting was now accounted 
 for by the simple fact that he intended to see her again 
 at the first opportunity, and here he was. There was
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 139 
 
 some excuse for Lisette in so reasoning on facts ob- 
 served, the phenomenon had occurred so often under her 
 eyes since she was seventeen years old. She was old 
 indeed, far older than Violet Shovell, in that experi- 
 ence. Also, like Charles, she had been quite cognizant 
 of those frequent, cautious glances directed, as she would 
 have said, " to her address." Lisette's address was im- 
 mensely popular as a destination for glances, even if no 
 more followed them. In this case, Jones had followed 
 his glances, that was all. He was " after her " and had 
 consequently found her, quite superfluous to inquire 
 how. The thing, the whole of the thing, had hap- 
 pened to her before. 
 
 " You are to come with me at once, Miss Addenbroke," 
 said Marmaduke, rising. " It's an unlucky mistake, of 
 course, no fault of yours, but this is no place for you to 
 be. I've explained downstairs, and paid them. Mrs. 
 Shovell wouldn't like it at all, you know. Come now, 
 I will answer questions afterwards." 
 
 " Come ? where ? " said Lisette, thoroughly amazed 
 and faintly frightened at his manner. She resented such 
 high-handedness, naturally; yet his words revived her 
 fears. She had not had many, as yet, having been treated 
 most skilfully by the man who had relieved her of Violet's 
 case. She had explained to him that she had taken it 
 for a joke and meant to send it back, when she had worn 
 the pearls once or twice, of course. He had quite under- 
 stood, and been greatly amused by the jest; only he had 
 warned her, in his careful foreign English, that it might be 
 as well not to wear any of the contents, however prettily 
 they matched her clothes, in the restaurant to which he 
 was taking her that night. She had given in with a pout, 
 and let him keep them safe, according to his idea, and 
 free her hands. 
 
 " To the Langham Hotel," said Jones calmly, mention- 
 ing the first conspicuous name that occurred to him. 
 " I'll see you have a better room there than this. That'll
 
 i 4 o DUKE JONES 
 
 be better than a boarding-house for you, anyhow, 
 they're so stodgy." Seeing her instant agreement with his 
 view of the case, he added easily, " I'll let your friends 
 know where you are." 
 
 Lisette bit her lip. " Friends ? Do you mean her, 
 Violet?" 
 
 "Yes. You're breaking promises, aren't you? You 
 shouldn't have changed till to-morrow. She might send, 
 or want to see you. They would have lost you alto- 
 gether." He ignored the second valise on the floor, and 
 its meaning, most utterly. He counted on her confusion 
 and his own iron determination to snatch her from the 
 coil. Her confusion was manifest, pitiably. 
 
 " I didn't mean to," she stammered, her lip trembling 
 a little more. " I wanted to have a drive with her to- 
 morrow, or Cousin Eveleen, one of them. I want to 
 see the Park, you know, that side. I didn't want to 
 change." She looked not at Jones, but all round him, 
 with her singular eyes. " I don't see why I should come 
 with you, though," she added. " I don't know you 
 specially. Who's to pay ? " 
 
 " Not you, anyhow," said Jones. " I'll see to it." 
 
 " You're well off, aren't you ? " said Lisette. 
 
 " Pretty well," he said, smiling. " I've enough for 
 that." 
 
 " Don't laugh," the girl said angrily, and he instantly 
 turned grave. 
 
 " You'll be all right there, Miss Lisette/' he said. 
 " Trust me." 
 
 " Oh yes," she murmured, still looking round him. 
 " They all say that." Pity, wide and impersonal, swept 
 over the man again. The idea of this lovely empty thing, 
 on the world, alone, it was inconceivable. 
 
 " You can't want to stay in a hole like this," he said, 
 coming closer. " You don't, do you ? It smells, and it's 
 horrid. Why, you haven't even got electric light 1 " 
 
 " No," she murmured, " it's beastly ; I said so." Then
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 141 
 
 she decided, with a flash of the recklessness which was 
 her courage. " All right, I'll come. I don't care. Big 
 hotels are rather a lark. Only I'll write something to 
 
 leave, you know, in case " She failed to finish, and 
 
 licked her lips with her little pointed tongue. 
 
 " That's it," said Jones, assenting in his most ordinary 
 manner. " Only be quick." 
 
 " I shan't mention you," said Lisette, writing. " I'll 
 just say I changed my mind, for fun. No harm in that, 
 is there?" 
 
 " None," said Jones. 
 
 " I hadn't meant to come here, you know," she went on 
 innocently. " But they don't take people at the other 
 place for a short time, just a night or two. I have got to 
 go over sooner to that place in Paris, sooner than I 
 thought. I've just heard. It put me out a bit." She 
 was biting her lip even as she scribbled, glancing his way. 
 
 " That's all right," said Marmaduke, looking out of the 
 window, perhaps the flattest lie he ever told. He was 
 devoured with impatience, though his aspect was as usual. 
 She was a bad writer, evidently, slow. In people whose 
 natural expression was line-drawing, he had noticed it 
 before. Thinking hard, putting himself in her place, he 
 was beginning to get the " hang of " the circumstances. 
 
 Almost immediately after she had signed her name with 
 a triumphant twirl, glad to get quit of it, he had another 
 piece of evidence in his possession. A feather-head like 
 Lisette was easy to deceive, which was as well, for Jones 
 was not a skilled deceiver. As he followed her from the 
 room, stooping to pick up her bag, he snatched with his 
 other hand at the note behind him, and just captured it 
 without turning. As he followed her downstairs, he slid 
 it in his pocket carelessly. They both got away from the 
 place without mishap, and leaving no traces, he trusted, 
 behind them. He was sure at least of the hotel people, 
 whom he had terrorized with powerful names. 
 
 When he had installed Felicia and her belongings in all
 
 142 DUKE JONES 
 
 comfort at the big hotel in a cheerful quarter, surround- 
 ing her loveliness with a setting more appropriate to a 
 " lady's " delicate needs ; recommended her to the neces- 
 sary attentions of the staff, with the necessary stimulus 
 from his pocket ; and talked to her cheerfully for a time 
 to calm her nerves, which were on edge, he left her, 
 went to his club, and read the note. It was ill and hastily 
 written, naturally, and aided him with neither name nor 
 address, since it was a mere message left for the finder. 
 But the fact,, of course, that she left it, suggested friendly 
 terms. In style it was familiar, since she was that to all 
 the world. It witnessed to mischief and defiance, some 
 relish in disobeying orders, but barely a hint of fear. It 
 gave her new address, with exclamation points, frankly 
 as to a friend : said the other place " stank " and she did 
 not care for it, that her cousin had given her money, and 
 she did not see why she should not spend it as she chose. 
 This last was the lie which, according to Lisette's artless 
 idea, protected Jones. 
 
 It had not occurred to Jones that he needed protecting, 
 and it was some time before he perceived the full bearing 
 of her attitude, her conviction that in moving her he 
 was playing for his own hand, " going one better " than 
 the other man. Why should he come after her, other- 
 wise ? Why should he " stick " her in that pretty room, 
 and propose to pay her bill ? He was simply bidding for 
 her favor, and bidding in rather a successful manner, 
 since Lisette loved comfort, and his rival had made a 
 false move. But then, his rival was a foreigner, unused 
 to London, hating all things English except Lisette, 
 and exalting the wonders and glories of Paris which he 
 should shortly show her. That was evidently the more 
 effective course, this was the immediately easy one. She 
 would sleep on the choice, and meanwhile it was really 
 very amusing to have two men wrangling over her. 
 
 In short, Lisette " jumped on Mr. Jones' cushion," to 
 use Violet's little phrase. It was her kitten instinct to
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 143 
 
 do so, having investigated for a few short minutes with 
 one of her pretty grimaces. There was a good prospect 
 that her cousin, arriving in a smart carriage to-morrow, 
 would offer her a better cushion still, and she could 
 investigate the charms of that in turn. Of course, if this 
 second man proposed to marry her, she judged him as 
 that kind, it might be more amusing to be married than 
 the best Violet or her mother could offer. Lisette liked 
 dignity as well as comfort, and she had a weakness in 
 favor of the married state. It was stately, if " stuffy " a 
 little. Rags from her father's ideas, and tags from her 
 mother's, filled Lisette's foolish little head. She was half 
 adventuress, half aristocrat, in the grain. Honoria's 
 trampling, ultra-modern theories impressed her at inter- 
 vals, at least more than her aunt's drooping sentiment and 
 rigid propriety on the subject. She wrinkled her nose at 
 matrimony at present, as at everything else, dubiously. 
 She had never met the man with whom she would care 
 to stop for long. She had got tired of the sight of 
 Charles in two days, and was rather surprised at Violet 
 for tolerating him. He was not Lisette's idea at all. 
 This Mr. Jones was extremely ordinary, she had got 
 sick of his features trying to draw him that day, but 
 he was, on the other hand, extremely amusing to tease, 
 useful in emergency to turn to, and he had a long purse. 
 It might be on the cards that he was worth taking, if only 
 to surprise Violet in the letter with which she sent back 
 the jewels. She would see, on the morrow, if nothing 
 happened. 
 
 She went to sleep in rather a good world, full of cush- 
 ions ; and the black tunnel, vaguely discerned at intervals, 
 full of dim terrors, had receded. 
 
 Jones, meanwhile, reached the decision first, that he 
 could do no more for the minute to help the girl in per- 
 son : and secondly, that in Miss Lisette's desolate situation 
 women were, above all, necessary.
 
 144 DUKE JONES 
 
 As to the first, he had no definite evidence before him 
 that warranted him to set an official watch upon the man. 
 He could not yet even be proved a thief, far less the more 
 sinister thing Jones was after. He had nothing but ap- 
 pearances to go upon, which was no evidence at all. He 
 might even be deluded by a common prejudice against a 
 foreigner, a prejudice of which, in himself, Jones was 
 aware. Both he and Violet were acting on instinct purely 
 in the matter, instinctive knowledge of the girl, realization 
 of her amazing and evidently marketable charms, and the 
 kind of covetousness they might produce. They had no 
 case for a police court, absolutely none; nor reason to 
 suspect worse than some furious lover, temporarily mad- 
 dened by her beauty, following her in all honesty and for 
 his love's sake alone. A complete stranger cannot save a 
 girl from her lovers, especially a girl of breeding and 
 high family, without impertinence. No man can do so. 
 Women, even in that case, were still essential to his cause. 
 
 To make for women's aid was no more than a theory of 
 Jones', as we have said, bred in him by early education. 
 But he was shy of women in the walks of life, and pre- 
 ferred, where possible, to deal with them through their 
 husbands. This is a peculiarity, not of Joneses alone, but 
 of countless young men of his age, in all societies through- 
 out the world. It is quite natural and defensible, but it led, 
 in this case, to his first mistake : one may say to his first 
 two serious mistakes. 
 
 His note to Shovell, just mentioning that he had heard 
 from Miss Addenbroke her boarding-house was no go, 
 and she had moved to the Langham by his advice, was 
 the slighter error. It made Charles at the breakfast-table 
 whistle, happening to be seated alone there, for he had 
 kept Violet, by force, in bed. Thus Charles whistled pri- 
 vately, and did not immediately tell his wife. It was really 
 too disturbing to his late theories on the subject, that ad- 
 mirable Jones, acting on his own, should move Lisette to 
 the Langham ; yet it looked like that. It disturbed, up-
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 145 
 
 rooted, a private theory of Charles' as well as to the con- 
 dition of admirable Jones' affections. It needed thinking 
 over, and he had no present leisure to think. He put it 
 off, and went to his office without telling Violet: not 
 supposing, since he had commanded her to stay in bed, 
 that she had any intentions on Lisette that morning. She 
 had nearly worried herself ill about the girl as it was. If 
 he had time, he might himself look in at the Langham and 
 get news of Lisette during the lunch interval. This oppor- 
 tunity, it may be mentioned, did not occur, or else Mr. 
 Shovell forgot. 
 
 Jones' second mistake, of exactly the same nature, was 
 more serious than this, though to his mind it was an 
 extraordinarily obvious thing to do. Late on the same 
 evening that he installed Lisette at the Langham, to make 
 assurance doubly sure, a thing he loved to do, he went into 
 a public telephone office, and rang up Sir Claude Ashwin. 
 This constituted, of course, a ticklish and cheeky proceed- 
 ing; but the matter was ticklish, and admitted cheek. 
 It was better to " get on to a good man," in Jones' modest 
 phrase ; and one who was, at least by marriage, related to 
 the lonely girl. 
 
 Jones " got on " pretty promptly to Sir Claude Ashwin's 
 house, but not to himself. It was the secretary who an- 
 swered, and the doctor was out. He would not be in till 
 very late, probably. Was it serious ? 
 
 " Dash ! " said Jones, not into the telephone, but the 
 secretary happened to hear. He took it calmly, for he was 
 used to that sort of remark, through this particular tube, 
 at just such a juncture, daily. 
 
 " It's important and private," Jones observed to the 
 telephone. " I'm the secretary of the S.P.X.Z. Know it? " 
 
 " Yes." Sir Claude's representative knew it well. 
 
 " Think I've written to you," observed Jones, as man to 
 man. " You wouldn't remember, so never mind. Is Lady 
 Ashwin at home ? " 
 
 Lady Ashwin was, as it happened.
 
 146 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Would she be so awfully good as to come a minute ? 
 Private matter, you know." 
 
 " Well, I'll see." The secretary sounded dubious. As 
 a fact, Mr. Ford, the secretary, knew that Lady Ashwin 
 loathed telephones, and would be extremely angry at being 
 disturbed for such a purpose at such an hour. He could 
 
 if really necessary, of course, but He was a nice, 
 
 easy-mannered young man, and liked things pleasant in 
 the house. He waited a minute, and then, leaning to the 
 tube, he said, man to man, like Jones : 
 
 " I say ! I'm sorry, but Lady Ash win's rather busy just 
 now. If it's anything of that kind, better tell me, or Mrs. 
 Shovell. That's the daughter . . . young, you know, 
 but awf'ly clever and kind. I can give you her address, 
 and she's at home. . . . Lately married," he added. 
 "You'd be safe." 
 
 Safe! Another pause, in this unexpectedly romantic 
 conversation. Two hearts, if the telephone operators had 
 known it, were beating in full accord at either end of one 
 of their wires : the hearts of two young gentlemen who 
 had never met, and only corresponded once upon a per- 
 fectly indifferent matter. It was unheard-of as a coin- 
 cidence, and would have made, in itself, a capital romance, 
 if properly worked out and mounted adequately. 
 
 " Beastly sorry," said Jones back, after the pause, 
 across the impenetrable barrier of the public wire. " Not 
 that, family matter, you know urgent. Tell Lady Ash- 
 win at once, would you awf'ly mind ? " 
 
 " Right," said Mr. Ford, resigned. 
 
 After a pause, a very long one, during which he was 
 rung off, and on again, Jones " got on to " Lady Ash- 
 win, Mrs. Shovell's mother, surely a capital card to play, 
 in a case like this. In the interval, he had been congratu- 
 lating himself, though he felt shy a trifle, naturally. This 
 was a lady of title, a real one, not Lisette. Why, she was 
 actually the bond of connection between Mrs. Shovell and 
 Miss Addenbroke: she constituted the link: Jones had
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 147 
 
 made that out from Lisette's artless references. . . . 
 An excellent card, even better than Sir Claude. 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " said her ladyship, in a deliberate 
 clear tone that carried well for telephone purposes. 
 
 Jones stated the facts very baldly : the facts of the girl's 
 change of address, and that it was advisable she should be 
 protected soon. " I thought it better to tell Sir Claude," 
 he added simply. 
 
 Thank goodness Ford had had the sense to call her, 
 thought Eveleen. Claude might have come in, and heard 
 of it, and she would have had to go through all that 
 again. Once in an evening was quite enough. What she 
 said was 
 
 " Are you the police ? " 
 
 " No," said Jones, thinking it a most sensible question. 
 She had evidently followed him, got all the way, and was, 
 as evidently, one of the people who saved time. Just such 
 a mother as Mrs. Shovell should have, and probably a 
 person who acted promptly. " There's no need for that," 
 he explained, " at least at present. I shall be glad to come 
 round, Lady Ashwin, if you have a minute." 
 
 " Thanks, but I've heard about it," said her ladyship. 
 " I had meant to go. It's only the address." 
 
 " Pardon," said Jones. " Three-seven, at the Langham, 
 then ; second floor. Is that all right ? She'll do for the 
 moment, but might be followed there. Catches attention, 
 you know, too easily. The sooner the better to-morrow, I 
 should say. I hope you'll excuse me troubling you." 
 
 " All right," said Eveleen, without exhibiting the small- 
 est curiosity as to who he was. If the public telephone 
 had developed a metallic voice and preached, Eveleen 
 would barely have felt, and certainly not expressed, sur- 
 prise. She was receiving a useful bit of information from 
 somebody somewhere; that was all. Really, she began 
 to want to have a look at this Lisette. Even the telephone, 
 vaguely representing London at large, seemed to take 
 an interest in her perilous attractions.
 
 i 4 8 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Thanks. Then I can leave it to you ? " said the tele- 
 phone voice. 
 
 " All right," said Lady Ashwin again, and shut him off. 
 
 All right, twice over, and in the voice of Mrs. Shov- 
 ell's mother, Sir Claude's wife, evidently a lady of few 
 words, and deeds as prompt. Lisette was doubly all right, 
 then, surely. So Jones went back to his club, where he 
 was staying temporarily, reached his room, and having 
 said his prayers (presumably) went to bed. The little 
 jewel-case with its three letters, empty of its treasure, lay 
 close to him on the table. It had reached home before him 
 by special messenger, and lay awaiting him invitingly. Its 
 leather scent, vaguely pleasing, had caught the scent of 
 violets as vaguely, possibly from a late handkerchief 
 within ; so that to every sense it was sweet, for one night, 
 to have it near. 
 
 Life promised complications enough to Mrs. Shovell 
 those first days in her new home. Not that Violet minded 
 that. It was deeply interesting, though unusual, the state 
 of things in her house, promising in every direction, but 
 barely finished anywhere. Her father's intervention, 
 though at the eleventh hour, had done marvels, as she 
 expected; and her interior, very far from the chaos he 
 had promised her, was already charming; but there was 
 still immensely much to do, at least for an Ashwin born, 
 with the critical instinct greatly over-developed, and a 
 passionate love of abstract beauty and cleanliness, in a 
 situation where it was really almost impossible to compass 
 either. Fortunately, her small domestic staff proved kind 
 and competent : one, transferred from the servants' hall of 
 her father's house, being accustomed to " Miss Violet's " 
 ways ; the other a rosy little Swiss, very young, but tract- 
 able, and cheerful even to exaggeration, so that she 
 amused them both. 
 
 Mrs. Shovell accepted breakfast in her room the first
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 149 
 
 morning, since Charles was a nuisance about it : but she 
 was up and about as soon as he had disappeared ; and in 
 spite of the charms of her workmen, and their evident 
 openness to reason when properly addressed and soothed, 
 by ten o'clock she was on her way, in a carriage, to Lisette. 
 She bore with her a note, just in case naughty Lisette 
 should be out, containing a pressing though playfully 
 worded invitation, on the part of her and her husband 
 she calmly faced the work of it to come and stay with 
 her, and help her finish off the house, until such time as 
 she should have to go abroad. 
 
 Reaching the boarding-house, she was greatly rebuffed 
 and startled at the news. Lisette had not come at all: 
 and a gentleman had come inquiring for her, soon after 
 she should have been there. Begging to know what sort 
 of gentleman, Violet was informed he looked like one of 
 those missionaries, but not a clergyman. More and more 
 remarkable ! The company Lisette expected seemed to be 
 good, Mr. Jones seemed to be wrong, but why was 
 Lisette herself not there to see her visitor? It was all 
 very mysterious and annoying indeed, and she barely 
 knew where next to turn. 
 
 She drove home, considering it. It seemed useless to do 
 anything for the moment, or worry Charles at the office 
 merely because she was worried herself. She reproached 
 herself sharply, at intervals, for not having brought the 
 girl home, in spite of Charles, the night before. It might 
 perhaps have been accomplished if well, if Charles 
 had been a little different from what he was, less 
 domestic, let us say. His instincts were domestic in the 
 extreme ; more so perhaps than Violet's. This is a painful 
 thing for a woman to confess, even to herself ; and it is 
 probable no one but Violet would have admitted it, had 
 they seen her playing with her workmen that morning, and 
 measuring her curtains with an anxious brow. She was 
 capable of doing these things very well and thinking of 
 Lisette simultaneously, that was all.
 
 150 DUKE JONES 
 
 She looked forward to a day of mental torment on the 
 subject of the girl, but very likely she was a fool. Lisette 
 would write to her anyhow, she believed. So Violet dis- 
 missed her carriage at her door, and devoted herself to 
 her workmen, who had all done wrong impulsively in her 
 absence, with the very best intentions; and interpreted 
 adroitly between the Scotch cook and the Swiss parlor- 
 maid, who also with the best intentions occasionally 
 failed to understand one another; and planned out a 
 Dutch garden for the spring-time, pacing about her tiny 
 parterre behind the house ; and tried to forget in vain. 
 
 She proved right at least as to one thing. She was the 
 one person who received a first-hand communication 
 from Felicia. It reached her through the post at dinner- 
 time, just after her father had left the house, Charles 
 having that instant returned to it. He actually brought 
 the letter in, with an idle comment on the hand that wrote 
 it, which had evidently been in haste, to say the least. It 
 maddened Charles above all that the doctor had just 
 gone down his steps, beyond recall, for Violet nearly 
 fainted. 
 
 Her shocked face as she read the note brought him to 
 her side instantly, and he shared it, one arm holding her 
 up, steadying the shaking page with the other hand. His 
 own calm was perfect, though his brow was set. The 
 opening was extraordinary, and made him stare even 
 more than she had done, before he proceeded to the 
 rest. 
 
 " Haven't you missed your pearls? " Lisette began in a 
 childish, rather shaky scrawl. " I saw a man at the sta- 
 tion with the box in his hand. I think it was yours. He 
 took it away before I could stop him. I could not stop to 
 tell you then ; I had to get on. You won't see them again, 
 I think, he had a [beastly erased] not a good face. Don't 
 have me to a police court, I did not see him enough. I 
 swear it, Bible swearing. That's all about it."
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 151 
 
 Having thus declared it " all," she proceeded, the writ- 
 ing a little stronger, as though the feeling gathered force : 
 
 " Cousin Eveleen came in the carriage. We had a bit 
 of a row, not a bad one. She does not tell lies, she is the 
 other sort. Better than Aunt Agnes ; I liked her rather. 
 I'd rather anyhow people say what they mean. She gave 
 me money to go home, but I shall keep it now. I thought 
 she might take me for a drive; I asked. I always ask 
 what I want [something erased]. I should like to come 
 to you to stop, but not while he is there. I know he would 
 be fit to curse having me ; I told her so. She said it would 
 not matter for a bit, but I said that was rot. Married, 
 they all do mind. I like you best of any I have seen, any- 
 how. If Honoria comes and you set her after me [an- 
 other black erasure, probably the place] I shall damn you 
 all the same, Violet, like the rest. Bad word, do not show 
 him ; make him cross again. It's not worth it " 
 
 And therewith a perfectly unreadable signature. 
 
 " That's lying," gasped Violet, pointing to the first part, 
 " all that. Look at the writing even, she is desperate. 
 Only the end is true. . . . Not even a drive, though 
 she asked for it! . . . Horrible of Mother, oh, 
 poor little thing! I would go now if I did not feel so 
 sick. . . . Can you get me a cab, my dear ? " 
 
 " No," said Charles. " Not yet. All right, my sweet, 
 don't you move." He was bitterly anxious not for 
 Lisette. He hardly thought of Lisette. 
 
 " I have you," murmured Violet, her gray eyes looking 
 immense in her white face. " And she's afraid already. 
 That man made her write, Charles. You understand? 
 He's a foreigner or he would have tried lying himself, 
 and better than that. She can't do it on paper. Poor 
 baby. . . . She took my case, you know, the jewels. 
 I did not tell you, quite at once. I told Father, what 
 was necessary." 
 
 " Be quiet," said Charles angrily. " Don't talk. I'll
 
 152 DUKE JONES 
 
 go when you're all right. You have to leave this to me." 
 Yet every word she said, giddy as she was, was enlighten- 
 ment. 
 
 "The address is on the paper, isn't it?" she asked, a 
 hand across her eyes. 
 
 He assented, after a glance. It was the Langham 
 paper : useless to tell Violet, of course, that he had known 
 the address all day. The girl who wrote this was beyond 
 addresses by now. 
 
 " Charles," she murmured, eyes closed, presently. " For 
 five minutes, lying here, I have wished myself free. She 
 would have come to me, when Mother failed. Yes, she 
 would have come." 
 
 " Anybody would come to you anywhere," said Charles, 
 stupidly, really. He might have known she did not want 
 that, spoonfuls of sugar, when you are sick for another 
 girl's pain. 
 
 " That is not what I mean," she said painfully. " You 
 prevented her. It is that dreadful Ingestre knowledge 
 of men." 
 
 " I know," he said doggedly. " But she's right. I 
 wouldn't have had her here. I can't want her now. I 
 dare say I should be better if I could." 
 
 Violet thought " Jones could," but she did not say it. 
 The thought merely crossed her languid mind, since she 
 had been studying Jones quite lately, and forgot nothing, 
 unlike Charles. She wished Charles would leave her, 
 with the impatience of conscious weakness, not look at 
 her, at least, not kiss her above all. She could hardly 
 bear it, thinking of Lisette, yet a woman must bear. 
 
 " I can manage now," she said wearily. " Get the cab : 
 I am coming." 
 
 " No, darling," pleaded Charles. " You can't, it's no 
 use, she must be gone. She would never have written 
 like that if you had a chance of reaching her. The post- 
 mark is Victoria, look. And anyhow you can't do it. 
 Let me send for Sir Claude."
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 153 
 
 She shook her head. " Quite useless, that above all. I 
 can't tell him a thing at present. I only thank goodness 
 he was gone. Father must know nothing of this, please, 
 ever. Remember that. I can't think much, but that is 
 clear. Mother understood, I had told her." She shud- 
 dered so that he felt it. " The worst she has ever done." 
 
 " Your father ought to know," said Charles. " About 
 this, at least ; you're ill." 
 
 " Nonsense," she said impatiently. " It is helpless fury, 
 and remorse, hands tied. Doctors can't cure that. It is 
 life, and the family. Get the cab." 
 
 He got it, and took her inside it, as need not be said. 
 Violet, even in faintness, got her way. 
 
 " Stay there," he directed her shortly, at the hotel 
 entrance. " I will go and see." 
 
 She obeyed, lying quietly in her place, glad enough not 
 to have to move. Charles came back to her quite soon, 
 and his face, rather grim beneath the lights, told his tale. 
 
 " Hopeless," he said. " Gone hours since." And then 
 to the driver " Home." 
 
 " Scotland Yard," said Violet, gently from weakness, 
 but in her dryest tone. 
 
 " That's been done already," said Charles. " Some sort 
 of missionary, those people thought, on the tracks of the 
 gang, if it is one. I saw the manager frightfully apolo- 
 getic, but washes his hands, of course. They were off 
 before eleven, and this other fellow came in soon after. 
 He was primed apparently, just examined the servants, 
 cursed a little, I presume, since they were cringing, and 
 went straight off to the Yard. One of these societies 
 probably, there are heaps. He'll see to details best. 
 But it's a poor chance I should say," added Charles. 
 
 " Odd," said Violet, low. " A missionary, it must be 
 the same." She thought of the woman of the boarding- 
 house. " Still, I'd rather go," she added, rousing. " They 
 might want help, money." 
 
 " Well, you won't go to-night," said Charles. " Sorry,
 
 154 DUKE JONES 
 
 my dear, but there are limits. I've not had my dinner." 
 
 To be sure, he was hungry: poor Charles. He had 
 worked all day. " I'll go when I've seen you rest and 
 feed," he added, relenting and humoring her. " I can find 
 out what the second man was after if you like. But 
 later, no hurry about that. The manager said he had a 
 list of all the trains. Those fellows are as keen as 
 knives." 
 
 What fellows he did not define : the seething commun- 
 ity who interested themselves in crime and the miseries 
 that lead to it, most probably. Charles had not got society 
 on the brain, like Jones. For the moment, the society of 
 one was all he asked, and he rather doubted if he had 
 got her thoroughly. Still turned from him, her head back 
 as though for air, and her fine hands clenched on the 
 cushion at her sides, she wished to know if the man, 
 the man, had been seen. 
 
 " Yes," said Charles curtly. " He fetched her. Looked 
 all right, and took them in easily. He seemed in a hurry, 
 they said." 
 
 He did not add that " the " man had been noticed by 
 some of the staff to be in a towering rage. Exactly how 
 much sympathy for Violet, and how much fellow-feeling 
 for his own sex in the abstract, and their wrongs as re- 
 garded women's unreasonable behavior, prompted this 
 reticence on his part, need not be asked. He felt injured 
 at the moment, and in need of attention. He also wanted 
 to turn her attention, by force if necessary, upon herself : 
 since she was his, and worth six of Lisette. Six! six 
 hundred : he felt a touch of contempt for the girl, it must 
 be owned, though of course he was sorry. It was a 
 hateful business, and he loathed that Violet should have 
 to think of it. It was not that he believed there was any- 
 thing to be done about it, that a girl could do anything, 
 above all: especially the girl who was his wife. Charles 
 really represented, had he known it, the domestic priest, 
 -a type found as often among male as female kind,
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 155 
 
 lighting the holy fires on the hearth, his sanctuary, in a 
 temple swept and garnished by his goddess' own hands. 
 He wanted very sorely to retain those hands to his 
 temple's services, and to kick this ugly intrusive thing 
 aside, the thing on which, turned from him, her eyes 
 were fixed. There is much to be said for Charles' atti- 
 tude, too ; even from the wider social standpoint, it need 
 not be utterly despised. She saw it very dimly, perhaps, 
 among the pressing mass of thoughts that threatened to 
 overwhelm her: and she did not find him purely selfish, 
 or unreasonable utterly, though hard at the moment to 
 bear. 
 
 " I am not ill, you know," she said, later in the evening, 
 when it seemed necessary. " Father agrees I am particu- 
 larly well, a triumph." 
 
 " All right," said Charles grudgingly. He seemed to 
 imply, his father-in-law might pretend to know about 
 Violet, but he knew best. 
 
 " I am afraid you are rather silly about me," said 
 Violet, making a discovery. " There will be a reaction, 
 some day." 
 
 Charles thought this simply not worth replying to. He 
 was finishing his dinner heartily, and she was on the sofa. 
 She had made a certain pretense of eating to please him, 
 but that was all, for her sickness had been no idle plaint. 
 She was more capable of talking than of eating, a good 
 deal, she could always talk. The dining-room was the 
 only one in the house that was finished completely, and 
 they were practically living there for the present. Unlike 
 many dining-rooms, it was a particularly charming place ; 
 not large, but elegant in its proportions, and in its decora- 
 tion, evidently studied by authority in their absence. In- 
 deed, Sir Claude, a person of theories, had chosen it for 
 first completion, and concentrated upon it expressly. It 
 was Father's opinion, Violet told Charles, that among the 
 many departments of family life, digestion was not the 
 least essential function, and walls of that color helped.
 
 156 DUKE JONES 
 
 She was decidedly amusing on the subject of her father 
 and his cranks physiological, artistic and otherwise. 
 She laid the horror of Lisette aside, shelved her private 
 emotions, and amused him, while he ate, with tales of 
 her father and the workmen, as she well knew how. 
 Something, either the color-scheme of the digestive 
 dining-room, or Violet's confidences, seemed to have a 
 happy effect on Charles. He recovered his temper with 
 praiseworthy rapidity, and ate abundantly of everything. 
 At intervals, he begged his wife not to talk, with much 
 feeling; but between- whiles he approved her efforts, fed 
 himself, and smoked. 
 
 Once or twice during that evening Violet thought of 
 Jones again: exactly why she could not say: perhaps 
 because Charles was so handsome and so hungry and so 
 charming, and so ridiculously fond of her. He was like 
 a big Newfoundland dog, nothing like either a sleuth- 
 hound, or a plain black-and-tan terrier, looking out on 
 life and man with a sensible and wary eye. The contrast 
 was certainly very marked between the two young men. 
 
 It was useless to think of writing to Mr. Jones to-night 
 that the moment had come, and the need, for him to go 
 to Paris, she simply had not the brains. She could not 
 drag her thoughts along, nor clear their tangle sufficiently. 
 They might not be in Paris, there were other towns. 
 Jones was in his comfortable home, down in Surrey, 
 somewhere in the Leatherhead district, and it was too 
 late; they must have crossed the sea, Lisette must be 
 on the further side, lost, a tossing chip on the waves, in 
 Paris, or some other great rattling, ruthless town. It was 
 far too late. It would be silly to send Mr. Jones to Paris 
 on no scent, with no knowledge of trains or boats to 
 guide him. He would probably, being so thoroughly sen- 
 sible, refuse to go. It was better to consider Lisette 
 dead, negatively murdered by Violet's mother. A 
 negative murder meant one accomplished by not doing
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 157 
 
 anything, and merely looking beautifully on at life, by 
 taking what came, by not fussing, in short. Violet had 
 been perfectly aware, all the time she talked divertingly 
 to Charles, that she was fussing, like an Ashwin, 
 abominably. 
 
 Fruitlessly, too ; she repeated to herself the futility, the 
 vanity of dwelling on it even, as soon as Charles left her 
 a moment, in the silence and shadow she adored. Alone 
 at last, she could think more lucidly, and thinking, saw 
 that he was right. There was nothing she could do, 
 prayer itself, had she been one who prayed, would not 
 succor that lost child. Lisette was dead, sucked under, 
 through everybody else's sin. ... A corpse, white- 
 bodied, in a shell, not even with the small consolation 
 of Violet's real pearls, little Lisette of six years old, 
 herself a pearl of beauty, exquisite and unmatched. . . . 
 
 " You're nearly asleep, my ducky," said Charles' voice, 
 " and I loathe disturbing you again; but a man has just 
 brought this." 
 
 He had turned up the light that he had snicked out 
 soundlessly when he left the room more than an hour 
 before. In the interval he had been out, seeking news, as 
 he had promised. But he had discovered nothing to do 
 that had not already been done by Lisette's unknown 
 providence, a person whom everyone seemed equally 
 unable to describe. Returning, with a virtuous sense of 
 duty done, to Violet's side, he found her just as he had 
 left her in the darkened dining-room; too drowsy, as it 
 seemed, even to ask for news. 
 
 She traveled back to her senses slowly, and roused to 
 the facts of life by degrees. The first fact, as usual now- 
 adays, was Charles : his strong arm beneath her, and his 
 lips against her hair. Violet had been in the hairdresser's 
 hands that day, and had quite expected him to remark on 
 the way one lock sat down on her head owing to Charles'
 
 158 DUKE JONES 
 
 persistent attentions. But being polite and French, he 
 had merely observed how Madame's hair had grown 
 since he saw her. 
 
 Having recalled so much of the day's bewildering ex- 
 periences, Violet woke a little more, took in the spoken 
 words whose echo reached her, and realized, as her eyes 
 grew used to the flood of light, that Charles' right hand 
 was holding something in front of them, an object her 
 eyes knew well, had known for years, familiarly. It 
 was of leather, dry-scented, with three gold letters glint- 
 ing under the light. She had had it since she was twelve, 
 her father had given it her with the first and dearest of 
 his three little jewels, chosen for beauty, not swagger, 
 that she had lost. 
 
 " Lisette ? " she queried, her brow wrinkling faintly as 
 she gazed. For a wonderful moment she thought the 
 nightmare a delusion, and Charles had found Lisette. 
 
 "I don't know," he said. "Shall we look inside?" 
 He spoke as to a child, and pitifully. Then it was not so. 
 Violet awoke. 
 
 " Not like that," she said, irritated by his fumbling, 
 laying her clever hand over his. " I will see, thank you," 
 she added, in her waking tone, steadily. 
 
 Charles' hand dropped at the hint. Her irritation and 
 vagueness alike, both so unusual, brought home to him 
 her real suffering. She was too tired even to act for his 
 benefit now, exhausted. Therewith the last shreds of 
 his resentment vanished, and he recollected the obliga- 
 tions of friendship, which the more selfish passion over- 
 lays. After a second of watching her, he left her alto- 
 gether, rose, and went to the hearth, turning his shoulder 
 to give her the more privacy, while she opened what was 
 within. 
 
 It was a most proper little note, on club paper, in a 
 white envelope, without superscription of any kind. Vio- 
 let unfolded the sheet on a natural assumption, before 
 she found the message was addressed to Charles.
 
 THE GODS DISPOSE 159 
 
 " Dear Shovell," it began, in a hand with a certain 
 commercial neatness, which she did not immediately 
 recognize. After looking at Charles' back a moment, 
 Violet read on: 
 
 " I found this thing on an omnibus, by a lucky fluke. I 
 am not on to the other things at present, and the brute 
 has dodged the police. I suppose you went to the Lang- 
 ham, like self, too late. I am taking the car over, on the 
 chance. I will let you know, if any good, from the other 
 end, or before that, if they stop. All the wires are pulled, 
 anyhow, and he can't hide her easily. That's our chance. 
 It is pretty bad, on the face of it, but she [erased] Mrs. 
 Shovell need not quite give up. I will do what I can. 
 " Kindest regards. 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 " E. M. JONES." 
 
 " It's the missionary, darling," said Violet, in a new 
 tone. 
 
 Charles, turning about, found her hand extending his 
 letter, and her gray eyes upon him, full of tears, but with 
 a light behind that was not the light of amusement only. 
 It was so deliciously like him, the E. M. Jones of their 
 holiday game, to send a note to Charles, unaddressed, in 
 Violet's property! Such business-like decorum, at such 
 a juncture, it was enough to make her laugh, while she 
 cried at the kindness. 
 
 Real kindness, the essential oil, invariably made the 
 Ashwins cry ; but Jones' business note had not that effect 
 on Charles. Reaching the end of it, he laughed shortly 
 once, and stowed the letter away. The laughter surprised 
 Violet a little, though by that time most of her thoughts 
 were aloof, and following Marmaduke Jones to France, 
 so she did not challenge it. It was as well, perhaps, she 
 did not : for it was at the " she " erased that Charles had 
 laughed: half in self-approval to find his private theory
 
 160 DUKE JONES 
 
 supported by such evidence, half in amusement at the 
 reflection he added to it, that the little fellow must have 
 been in the deuce of a hurry to allow that erasure to 
 stand. It would have been more like Jones, Charles' 
 idea of him, having made a slip as serious as that, to 
 have written out the whole again.
 
 PART II
 
 I 
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 
 
 LISETTE'S frantic, furious little letter to her sister, sent 
 from beyond the water, incompletely stamped, with 
 neither address nor signature, and constituting in itself, 
 short as it was, not the least ghastly document ever penned 
 in the annals of her family, though there had been many 
 such, first paralyzed the little home at Torquay, and then, 
 quite inevitably, shot round the Ingestre outposts, one by 
 one. The news it contained went round, that is, the note 
 was burnt. 
 
 The family arose in their force. Even to keep the thing 
 out of the papers effort was necessary, and there were 
 claims far more serious than that. The Ingestres stirred, 
 one might say, from the sleep of centuries, swore first, 
 naturally, and then made inquiries. They even took 
 steps. Mr. Ingestre of the Hall, a really tremendous per- 
 son, though frail in appearance, and crippled with com- 
 plicated gout, sent, in almost royal fashion, a flash of 
 telegrams in all directions, and then came to London: a 
 place which all his life had never seen him at such a sea- 
 son of the year before. 
 
 "If we had known " was Claude Ash win's simple 
 
 response to all John Ingestre's unrestrained eloquence on 
 the subject, when he sat in judgment in his cousin 
 Eveleen's private room in Harley Street ; and a shrug fin- 
 ished which conveyed the rest unsaid. 
 
 " It's the most sickening luck," said Mr. Ingestre. 
 " Sickening." 
 
 163
 
 164 DUKE JONES 
 
 He glared at Claude. He did not really blame him, 
 naturally, since Lisette's flight had been secret, and her 
 plans the plans of another, presumably, that unnamed 
 demon with the master mind, of whom all were thinking 
 while mention was made of " the girl " alone, it was only, 
 as frequently, convenient to be angry with Eveleen's hus- 
 band, since wrath was wasted upon her. 
 
 For it appeared that two letters, on the part of Eveleen, 
 in the matter of Lisette, were not regarded by her cousin, 
 and the family view he represented, as sufficient inter- 
 ference, in the earlier stage where influence might have 
 served. Eveleen had been slack, her cousin John feared, 
 in this matter. (He had noticed slackness in Eveleen, 
 once or twice in her existence previously, but since she 
 was a very lovely woman, he had usually laughed and let 
 it pass.) She had been even culpably slack, since she was 
 the person named in poor Addenbroke's will : though no 
 talking on John's part seemed to make her see it. Her 
 husband, of course, had the sense to be silent, though he 
 listened to John's moral efforts in that quarter with a 
 certain interest. John had known her all her life. 
 
 "You have got a motor," said Mr. Ingestre, looking 
 beyond Claude to his cousin, who was pouting slightly, 
 her head on a cushion, in a very comfortable chair. 
 " Couldn't you at least have gone down to take stock of 
 the situation, when you first heard, heard the girl was 
 bucking dangerously like that, I mean? You must have 
 known Agnes qua Agnes would mucker it. She always 
 does." 
 
 " It's such a way," murmured Eveleen, her eyes on John 
 Ingestre's tie. " Of course I knew Agnes would," she pro- 
 ceeded, " if there was a chance. But I'd an idea Honoria 
 had sense : I am sure they always told me so. They bored 
 me to death about Honoria's brains, when I first went 
 down there, before she went to college. What's the good 
 of brains if you can't use them? " 
 
 " I'm not saying anything for Honoria," said her
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 165 
 
 cousin John, " Lord knows. It's a lasting moral against 
 this training of women's brains at the expense of their 
 common sense and natural feeling. Lord only knows, I 
 don't defend Honoria. But she's the worst sufferer, after 
 all. We ought to " 
 
 " The worst ? " said Claude, snapping his fingers once 
 upon the table. 
 
 Mr. Ingestre, thus gracelessly interrupted, glanced at 
 him and left a pause : perhaps ashamed a trifle. Eveleen 
 glanced too at her husband's face, and saw his impotent 
 fury, not, she was happy to observe, with her. He was 
 furious, as always, at knowing of a thing too late that he 
 could conceivably have remedied. Of course, now, it was 
 far too late, at this point when the hateful outrage reached 
 his ears. Claude looked extremely, exaggeratedly, un- 
 happy and ashamed, as he sat in his wife's beautiful sit- 
 ting-room, at her unique Sheraton table, hearing of it. He 
 might, judging by his looks alone, have been solely re- 
 sponsible for the tragedy, if John had not known he had 
 been enlightened, for the first time, during the last few 
 hours. 
 
 " I told Violet " began Eveleen. 
 
 " What ? " said her husband sharply. 
 
 " Well, she was down there, just before it all happened, 
 close to them. At least, not so far away. I never re- 
 member exactly if Torquay is in Devonshire or Cornwall, 
 but it's much the same. I said Agnes was in a way, and 
 Violet might as well go over, if she had a chance, and see. 
 Not that she would have been any good," added Eveleen. 
 " But she didn't." 
 
 Both men looked at her, endeavoring to get to the bot- 
 tom of this lucid statement. 
 
 " Poor little Violet, on her wedding-journey ! I'm 
 glad she did not," said John. " You would hardly have 
 countenanced that, Claude, would you ? I know these up- 
 to-date girls, but still ! " 
 
 " Well, Agnes seemed to think her better than nothing,"
 
 166 DUKE JONES 
 
 said Eveleen impartially. " With Honoria, of course, I 
 mean. I don't suppose she could have dodged Lisette. 
 Nobody, anyhow, could have dodged Lisette, if she was 
 set on her own way. We had her here once, they came 
 together for the Welbys' dance. She was sixteen, I no- 
 ticed then. Don't you remember, Claude ? " 
 
 " I remember very well," he said, looking down. Was 
 it likely any man with his senses awake would forget 
 beauty like that ? Only the young Eveleen Ingestre, to his 
 mind, had ever equaled it, he had compared the two at 
 leisure, then. 
 
 Claude was trying hard to think, always a difficult 
 business in mixed Ingestre society. John was well-mean- 
 ing, but he had, so to speak, only one plane of thought. 
 One had to remain on that level steadily, or one might mis- 
 understand him, and lose one's temper unaware. It was 
 the scandal that mattered really to John, the degrading 
 scandal, not the girl. As for Claude's wife, she laid, or 
 appeared to lay, her impressions before the company 
 freely, and looked sublime in the intervals. That was as 
 far as Eveleen ever went, in strictly male surroundings, 
 so he expected nothing more useful. Her secretiveness 
 about the origins of the thing, the point where work and 
 intervention might have served, was characteristic too. 
 Yet perhaps if he had not let her drift so far apart from 
 him she might have mentioned something, hinted at 
 least, so that he could have evolved the rest. 
 
 " I expect Charles prevented Violet," he said, after the 
 pause, the kind of conversation, being so fruitless, is 
 largely pauses, " quite right. She would have only run 
 her head against the wall, that is if I remember the girls 
 at all correctly. The elder would need er something 
 more strenuous than soothing." 
 
 Eveleen laughed : and John said, " Meaning, a man ? " 
 
 " A man, of sorts," said the doctor cautiously. " Qual- 
 ities of temper are needed." He paused, and added, 
 " Charles himself might have done something, if properly
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 167 
 
 posted. You have not met Charles, John. He's the right 
 type for it, equable, and above all, healthy. The crisis 
 was unhealthy essentially," the medical disgust came 
 through. " Shovell might have lightened the atmosphere 
 a bit," he finished, " and he'd have kept his head." 
 
 " All you know," said Eveleen. " And it wasn't Charles' 
 business, anyhow." 
 
 John, by his short grunt, seemed to agree. They were 
 equally inclined to keep the scandal within the family ring, 
 and seek an offender there. That, Claude supposed, was 
 why they had all settled on Honoria. His wife, he noticed, 
 was particularly vicious on the subject of the elder girl. 
 Honoria made the mistake, of course, of being in the 
 family, but not of it, a white blackbird in the brood. 
 Being now shamed by her sister's conduct, with her newly- 
 attached lover backing away from her, in equal suspicion 
 and alarm, Honoria had, they could not avoid thinking, 
 her deserts. She had no right to marry, so to speak, at 
 poor foolish little Felicia's expense. A girl of sense, with 
 the proper instincts, ought to have seen to it that Lisette 
 married decently first, it was not as though there could 
 have been any lack of chances. Honoria could easily have 
 picked up a husband herself later, Ingestres almost in- 
 variably did. That was John's view : and Eveleen would 
 doubtless have shared it, if she had had it stated slowly, 
 and been given time to take it in. 
 
 " Why on earth didn't the poor little creature come to 
 us ? " said Claude, his head in his hands. " That's what 
 I cannot see. Come, or send at least, if she found herself 
 in straits. She has been here, she couldn't have forgotten 
 the address : we did our best for her on that occasion. And 
 she must have passed through town, unless they crossed 
 from Southampton? To be sure, the school was there. 
 Has anybody aired that theory, John ? " 
 
 " No," said Mr. Ingestre. " She undoubtedly came 
 through town, and stayed at the Langham, her name is 
 on their books. She may have assumed you were out of
 
 168 DUKE JONES 
 
 town, your habits are your own, Claude, I may men- 
 tion : but it's likely the other was with her, and stopped it. 
 Lord knows. I shall go to the Langham this afternoon to 
 get what I can, but I fear it's little good. All the scents 
 are stale, and the police at fault : though I hear some pri- 
 vate workers are worrying at it." After another of the 
 hopeless pauses, he pursued, " She wasn't in straits at 
 that point, at least : it's an excellent hotel. He was prob- 
 ably playing her, and treating her about. She can have 
 had no suspicions. Why, she could have telephoned to you 
 from there, if she had really " 
 
 " Just so," said Claude, catching him up, " or to Violet. 
 Violet must have been home by then. What was the 
 date you said, John ? Let me see." 
 
 " Hold your tongue," Eveleen observed to him, low and 
 sharply, 'as the secretary Ford came in. Claude, whose 
 head was still in his hands, looked up surprised, and Mr. 
 Ingestre's eyebrows lifted slightly. But no one spoke 
 for a minute, as was natural. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said young Ford to his chief, 
 blushing and rather astounded at the crushing silence 
 which greeted him. Even in a domestic conclave, he 
 thought, one does not need to shear it off so completely as 
 this. And Ford had attended many conclaves, some of 
 quite a peculiar nature, in this house. 
 
 " What do you want? " said Eveleen, just as though he 
 had been a servant, thought John. 
 
 " Come in," said Sir Claude, beyond her, quietly. " We 
 are only ash-picking over this wretched affair. I forget 
 if you know Ford, Ingestre. I think you must have met." 
 
 That was more like it, thought Mr. Ingestre, as he shook 
 the youth by the hand. John liked to have things decent, 
 at least outwardly. Really, even in the presence of per- 
 sons who knew the domestic situation, Eveleen's snub to 
 her husband had been so vicious as to be barely in good 
 taste ; not less her remark to the secretary, patently a good 
 fellow, and a University man. Her sharpness suggested,
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 169 
 
 in John's view, some nervous strain on Eveleen's part: 
 and John was perfectly right. The dialogue had sailed 
 much nearer to the wind, in the last two speeches at least, 
 than Eveleen liked. She had no wish at all for Claude to 
 think out dates, a thing for which he had a positive genius : 
 or to consider too keenly how far his daughter might 
 have been involved in Lisette's tiresome affair; nor, above 
 all, did she want John to maunder of telephone messages, 
 in the unwelcome presence of Mr. Ford. These contin- 
 gencies must be avoided, by rudeness if necessary. So 
 Lady Ashwin was rude sublimely. 
 
 It was noticeable that, after the first shock, nobody 
 thought much of it. 
 
 " I'll come at two if I must," said Sir Claude, in the 
 most unprofessional manner, to his secretary's correct and 
 low-toned information. " But it's not necessary, and I 
 don't want to. 'Phone that to Lady Gertrude, in your 
 best style. And I know I am later than I said, but Mrs. 
 Shovell must wait. Keep her going for ten minutes, 
 Ford, would you mind, down there. You can talk about 
 musical glasses, or something of that description, can't 
 you? We don't want her bothering here, as it happens." 
 
 " Oh, I say," remarked Mr. Ingestre, turning. " I do." 
 
 " Better wait," said Claude, with a glance at him. 
 " She's dining to-night, isn't she, Evie ? Or merely hired 
 to do the flowers and the fruit? " 
 
 " Don't be absurd," said Eveleen. " If she wants to, 
 I'm sure I don't see why she shouldn't. I told her she 
 might just as well do the food as well, while she was 
 about it, since John is here, and she remembers what 
 people eat. Or rather don't. I never do." 
 
 John's satiric mouth twisted, for, like most men who 
 have been in their time good livers, he objected to having 
 the exigencies of a diet made public property. But, as 
 it was merely Eveleen, he said nothing violent; he only 
 grimaced passingly, and took stock of the new-comer 
 while he waited among them, easily, for orders.
 
 170 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I suppose," Eveleen pursued, addressing Claude ap- 
 parently, though she did not look at him, " if Violet wants 
 you to walk, she's finished. Has she ? " Her fine eyes 
 fixed the secretary, who was perfectly used to the most 
 anomalous duties in her establishment. 
 
 " I gathered," said Mr. Ford, very modestly, " Mrs. 
 Shovell had been promised some information as to some- 
 thing shades, I think, which is not forthcoming, and is 
 stuck for want of it." 
 
 " Let her stick," Sir Claude intervened in a flash before 
 his wife could speak. " She's my guest to-night, and I 
 won't have it. Tell her that. Send the shades to the 
 underworld, where they probably belong. Stick her on 
 the study table, and divert her mind. Tie her hands if 
 necessary, Ford. I have to depend on you." 
 
 The secretary, keeping his face admirably, though his 
 color was a little high, retired and shut the door. 
 
 " Nice young fellow," commented John Ingestre. 
 " Good choice you London fellows get, mine's a beast. 
 . . . I oughtn't really to keep you, Claude. I sup- 
 pose you have all the world to do. The only thing left 
 is I wanted to pick your brains a bit about the missions, 
 societies and so forth, that deal with these things, but 
 that'll bore Eveleen, won't it? We had better put it off." 
 
 They both looked at Eveleen, hoping she might see she 
 had to go. She did not, only settling more comfortably 
 under their eyes. It was, she would have argued, her own 
 room, though it also happened to be the most private spot 
 in a very busy house. So John proceeded, hoping to 
 weary her. 
 
 " I'd no idea those people ran their noses into messes 
 like this so promptly. On my word, it's rather smart, 
 according to what the inspector told me yesterday. One 
 of them was across almost as soon as she was, must 
 have been, I mean. And he's still hanging about, over 
 there, watching the tracks." 
 
 " Happen to know the society ? " asked Claude.
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 171 
 
 Oh dear no, Mr. Ingestre never remembered such 
 things. The inspector had used a string of letters, of 
 course. " I no more remember 'em," he said pleasantly, 
 " than I remember the dozen or so you carry after your 
 name. And I doubt whether Eveleen there could repeat 
 those, if she was put to it." 
 
 " Good gracious no," said Eveleen, full length in her 
 chair. " The only result of that sort of thing is, he's out 
 nearly every night." 
 
 " I can't see how that follows," said John, after conning 
 it. " Can you, Claude ? Societies, does she mean ? Meet- 
 ings? Eveleen, what do you mean? do tell us. Some- 
 times, we really want to know." 
 
 But Eveleen was vexed, one might have said agitated, 
 if such a thing were possible. She had not yet got over 
 the jar of Ford's untimely entrance, she did not reckon 
 in life for such outrageous and unjust coincidences. It 
 ruffled her so that she could not even flirt lazily with 
 John, who from the age of seventeen or thereabouts had 
 always been ready for the exercise. So having revenged 
 herself by teasing and interrupting the busy pair for a 
 period, she left them to their private conversation, much 
 to its advantage, and theirs. 
 
 Claude, when he finally reached the study, found his 
 daughter and Mr. Ford sitting upon the table, as directed, 
 side by side, with their hands clasped about their knees, 
 and their heads rather near together, talking with energy 
 low-toned. They were old comrades, and good friends, 
 and Mr. Ford was resigned. That is all that need be 
 mentioned about their situation. It is not exclusive of 
 agreeable intercourse, on the subject of musical glasses, 
 or any other artistic topic that happens to crop up in Lon- 
 don in September. Their present attitude on the table 
 witnessed to this consolatory fact in life. 
 
 As father and chief made his appearance, they simul- 
 taneously leapt off the table, and tried to look relieved.
 
 i;2 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Thank you," said Sir Claude, glancing at his secre- 
 tary's face. " I trust she has proved tractable." 
 
 " Very fairly," said Mr. Ford demurely. " Only looked 
 five times at her watch." 
 
 " I did not," said Mrs. Shovell, coloring. " I was look- 
 ing down at my hands, and happened to see it, that's all. 
 Only really," she added, turning breezily about, " I have 
 a little wasted my morning with all of you! You ought 
 to have a waiting-room here for daughters, Father, or 
 at least a wooden chair in the hall. I have not touched 
 the piano, I was growling to Mr. Ford. He will have to 
 do the whole of the concert this evening, every bit. As 
 for Mother, I simply give her up. Mason was nearly cry- 
 ing, and all the others were cross. I tried to console 
 them, but I have done nothing in two hours, really, nor 
 have they. And it's not as if I hadn't things at home." 
 
 " I am sorry, darling," said her father, with genuine 
 remorse. " I suppose Ingestre's sudden descent has up- 
 set your mother, rather. I am really vexed about it, I 
 think I conveyed as much. She has no right to ask you, 
 and Charles has every reason for complaint. In future, 
 Pussy, I shall see to the shades myself, granted Ford 
 will discover for me what they are." 
 
 Mrs. Shovell laughed, at herself, as was evident ; and 
 after an instant, approached and took his arm. She had 
 lost her temper frankly, and as frankly recovered it. The 
 Ashwins had tempers, though they held them in control ; 
 they could not have owned such a store of hot feeling 
 otherwise. To-day Violet's tiresome nerves were teasing 
 her a little, on more counts than one ; for her cousin John 
 was particular both as to his meats and his music; her 
 mother's household, which she had been calmly requested 
 to manage on short notice, was thoroughly out of gear; 
 and she knew she would be asked to play. Mr. Ford, 
 alone in a hard world, had been sorry for her, because 
 musical people know. She had asked at some length on 
 the table, and briefly received, his sympathy. Having that
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 173 
 
 and her father's apology, she felt somewhat armed against 
 fate and the future. Now she held out her hand. 
 
 " I beg everybody's pardon," she observed, " for letting 
 fly. I expect I have been detestable, but I will go home 
 and reform before the evening. I will brush up my man- 
 ners with my best shoes. I must have interrupted you 
 most horribly," she added, with evidently false compunc- 
 tion and a charming smile. 
 
 " Most completely," said Ford, looking back with equal 
 meaning. " Really, I forget what I was doing when you 
 came in." 
 
 " Oh, I can tell you," said Violet kindly. " You were 
 standing at the window, looking out. Dog fight, I think, 
 by the sounds. And the telephone-bell was ringing, per- 
 sistently, in the background." 
 
 " Did he attend to the telephone," asked her father ; 
 " after you came in, I mean? " 
 
 " Yes, Father, instantly. I seemed to remind him of 
 his duties. I am rather like you, they say. Personally, I 
 could have settled Lady Gertrude in half the time. They 
 had a long, interesting, intimate conversation. I heard her 
 quacking voice. I think," she added dreamily, " a tele- 
 phone to all the nice houses in London is a great embellish- 
 ment to a room. It certainly lends variety to the cloistral 
 life." 
 
 " A comfort to hear her words again, isn't it ? " said Sir 
 Claude to the third party, with a smile. " We miss things 
 like * cloistral ' nowadays. They hardly ever crop up, in 
 our common speech, especially like this, in working 
 hours." 
 
 " We miss more than that," murmured young Ford ; and 
 being capable of taking a hint, he sat down, with an air of 
 purpose, to the table. 
 
 " Ford is a great consolation to me," remarked Sir 
 Claude, just not outside the door, as he passed through. 
 " His sympathy is so unforced." When he was quite out- 
 side, dropping all raillery, he added, " Puss, can you pos-
 
 174 DUKE JONES 
 
 sibly do without my young man this evening? Your 
 mother seems curiously set against it. I cannot make it 
 out, and I don't know how to tell him, really. I know," he 
 added in the fatherly tone, " that it will break his heart." 
 
 The girl looked at him a minute. " Has Mother taken 
 against him ? " she said. " Why ? He has never been 
 anything but kind and attentive to her." 
 
 " I know ; but it is the fact. Useless, probably, to go 
 into it. Could you not play alone ? Ingestre so loves your 
 playing, so do I." 
 
 " Father darling, it isn't that," she said after a minute, 
 with an effort. " I feel Mother should not be humored in 
 these things. It is not even good for her, it is unnatural. 
 Someone must make a stand about it, really. Must I ? " 
 
 " No," he said unhappily. " Because that will mean 
 teasing for you, won't it ? In the case, unpleasant teasing, 
 I imagine." Violet was silent. " We must think of some 
 other way." 
 
 "You mean something insincere? A piece of unex- 
 pected business cropping up at seven o'clock, and so on, 
 I won't bear it, Father. Hubert Ford is a friend. He has 
 never been anything but sincere to me. He is incapable of 
 concealing anything. I cannot bear that sort of thing, 
 you know; it is injustice, unkindness too. I shall tell 
 Mother what I think." 
 
 " I wish," said Claude thoughtfully, after another silent 
 space of walking, side by side, " you had not always to be 
 sacrificed. It seems quite unfair." 
 
 Indeed, such little deceptions as he had proposed were 
 one of the many miseries of the domestic situation, over 
 the constant problems of which they now talked almost 
 freely. One would have thought often, overhearing their 
 cautious talk upon the subject, that the wife and mother 
 who was the center of all problems was diseased, or chron- 
 ically infirm. So she was, to the delicate, fastidious Ash- 
 win standards ; but the condition led frequently to shame 
 and discomfort for them. Violet had always, where pos-
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 175 
 
 sible, spared him such small humiliations, and he was 
 driven, more as time went on, to let her suffer them in his 
 stead. On the present occasion, he felt incapable really, 
 on thinking it over, of going to " his young man," who had 
 nearly broken an excellent heart for Violet, and telling 
 him, even in the most adroit manner his own ingenuity 
 could suggest, that he was not to see her at dinner that 
 night. It seemed too hard, unjust, as Violet said. So 
 he left it to his daughter's wits, as usual. 
 
 ii 
 
 " Hullo ! " remarked Mr. Ingestre. " We're the first." 
 
 Violet, who had not noticed him in his chair, for the 
 drawing-room lights were low, started. 
 
 " We are simply a family party, Cousin John," she ex- 
 plained in the distance, rather shyly. 
 
 " So much the better," said Cousin John. 
 
 Mrs. Shovell had slipped into her mother's drawing- 
 room, just to see that all was well in that department, 
 having reviewed exhaustively all the others. She had 
 come early for the purpose, on her own account, and no- 
 body else was dressed. She had supposed not, that is ; she 
 was not prepared to see the head of the Ingestres, the cen- 
 ter, so to speak, of all her cares, sitting ready and lonely 
 in his chair. Having stopped short at the sight of him, 
 secretly vexed, she came on with decision, stripping off 
 the pinafore she wore to protect her dress, and adding to 
 her whole demeanor as she advanced the stateliness of the 
 married woman. She had been in her old incarnation, 
 child and fag of the household, only the instant before, 
 and her cousin John's amused eyes witnessed the change. 
 He had only seen her once in youth, and a passing glimpse 
 of her at the wedding, but he liked her, as he liked Claude. 
 He held out a hand invitingly. 
 
 " Come and kiss me, little girl," he remarked. 
 
 " That's not the way to address me, Cousin John," 
 observed Violet, folding up the pinafore. " Just because
 
 176 DUKE JONES 
 
 you dress too early, and happen to catch people in mufti, 
 you oughtn't to take liberties. I have all my war-paint 
 underneath. Besides, I am not on the premises at pres- 
 ent : I arrive with my husband, later." As she threw aside 
 the pinafore with easy grace, she added, " I had to do 
 the flowers at the last moment, because Mother would 
 not settle the shades finally before. I have been at her 
 all day on the subject, fruitlessly. Mother has a per- 
 fectly noble way of putting off." 
 
 Mr. Ingestre laughed for all answer at this tirade, and 
 drew her to him. 
 
 " My, what pearls ! " he said, when he had been kissed. 
 " Here, kneel down ; let me see." 
 
 The elders of that house had a fine, rather historic, 
 manner of treating the younger women like chattels: 
 things to their pleasure and at their command. They 
 combined it with the most elegant civility on state occa- 
 sions, and the younger women got used to it. Violet 
 laughed and knelt down, while her mother's cousin fin- 
 gered the pearls in turn, examining. He had fine pointed 
 fingers, and he was extremely careful, as he did so, not 
 to touch her neck. He looked in her eyes, though, not 
 Ingestre eyes, but very pretty ones. 
 
 " What have you been crying about ? " he said simply, 
 holding her by a pearl. 
 
 " Nothing." A pause. " Mother made me cry." 
 
 John Ingestre showed no surprise. " Did she box your 
 ears, or what ? " he inquired, resuming his investigations. 
 
 " Cousin John ! " 
 
 " Well, she did mine once. I'm sure I'm glad to hear 
 it," he added courteously. " I shouldn't like them to be 
 boxed." 
 
 " She has never beaten me yet," said Violet, her tone 
 unsteady. " This evening something has gone wrong. 
 That's all. I dare say it will be better after dinner. Will 
 you let me go, Cousin John ? " 
 
 " No," he said, half to himself. " This is a chance of
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 177 
 
 chances, really. Violet, did she see Felicia when she 
 passed through town ? " 
 
 The blushes surged up, as he saw by the dim light : the 
 girl was gasping, as he felt. " No," she said. 
 
 " That's a lie," said John pensively. " Did you see her 
 yourself ? Don't be nervous, my dear. I'll not hurt you 
 or her. Eveleen's a woman in a thousand immune. You 
 must know that." 
 
 " I know it : I only had not expected this. Won't you 
 allow me time to think ? " 
 
 " I'm frightening you," he said, still pensively. " It's 
 a horrid business, certainly. Did she drag you in ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Violet. There was really nothing for it ; 
 and easy almost to familiarity as his treatment was of her, 
 on the broad lines Cousin John Ingestre was all right. He 
 was a perfectly courteous gentleman, with the conviction 
 in him, ages old, that women, if sufficiently beautiful, may 
 be as heartless and as mischievous as they please. Eve- 
 leen, as he said, was immune. She had knocked even the 
 Ingestre standard down in looks, and, in her marriage, 
 had broken new but excellent ground, with a courage all 
 her relations of sense now openly admired, though they 
 had been intensely disagreeable at the time. 
 
 " How did you find out? " said the girl after a minute. 
 
 " By a chance. I happened to go to the hotel. The 
 people there recognized your mother. She didn't give her 
 name, but she was recognized," said Mr. Ingestre, as 
 though the fact pleased him. " She couldn't disguise her- 
 self, Eveleen, if she wanted to, and she doesn't." 
 
 " No," Violet agreed. She told him, simply and short- 
 ly, what she knew. It was a relief to tell anyhow, and 
 to a person who was safe. 
 
 " It's Father," she added. 
 
 " Yes, just so. Father shan't know. Shouldn't won- 
 der," said John thoughtfully, " if he'd turn her out if he 
 did. He's been pretty near it before now. What do you 
 say, Mrs. Shovell?"
 
 i;8 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I had thought of it," she said, looking him in the 
 face composedly. " It's a thing Father minds so much, 
 so terribly, Cousin John." 
 
 " Yes, I saw that. Don't wonder, I'm sure, with such a 
 nice little girl of his own." 
 
 This civility on Mr. Ingestre's part was absent, for he 
 was thinking. " I'll make no mischief between 'em," he 
 said finally. " But you ought never to have been let in. 
 That's shocking, really. I don't like that. Does your hus- 
 band know ? " The girl nodded, silently. 
 
 " Tell him that's right," said Cousin John, looking at 
 her eyes again. " Don't cry," he said. " Shovell's a good 
 name. Sounds all right, anyhow." 
 
 " It looks all right," said Violet, laughing through her 
 tears. " It appears very nice indeed. I assure you it 
 goes further than sounding." 
 
 " And feels all right, eh ? " He touched her chin. 
 "Looks after you? That's well." 
 
 " Do you know," said Violet presently, still kneeling by 
 him, "you always make me feel mediaeval. Fair Ellen 
 or somebody, in Scott. I noticed that feeling too about 
 the Hall. I don't wonder the mere look of your house 
 inspired us to run away from it romantically." 
 
 " I hope you'll run away to it, and soon," said Mr. In- 
 gestre, very calm. " Christmas is a good time, things 
 pretty lively." He did not, however, accept the change 
 of subject. " Now let's see," he pursued, " how much 
 has your father really reached of this hateful business. 
 Anything ? " 
 
 " Nothing to speak of : he has hardly turned his mind 
 that way. He is so frightfully busy, you know. I think," 
 said Violet, frowning, " that I can manage that he doesn't, 
 anyhow, though it is harder, not being in the house. He 
 is so quick, you know, at a hint. Still, I think in this 
 case, Mother will be careful." 
 
 " Who's to have Honoria, when she comes ? " said 
 John, after fresh reflection. " That's danger, of a sort."
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 179 
 
 " I had thought of that. I will have Honoria, it won't 
 be just at present, anyhow. She is ill with the horror 
 and disappointment, poor dear thing. ... I wanted 
 to ask you, Cousin John. You will not worry them about 
 it yet? You will let them have a mourning-time? You 
 know it is far, far worse than death, to us." She bit 
 her lip. 
 
 " Yes : that's true." John was silent. He had meant to 
 be " at " Honoria ; he had even written a letter ; but the 
 girl was right. The letter should not, at least at present, 
 be sent. He came back to Eveleen's case, after a minute. 
 " Anyhow, when she comes," he said, " she must be kept 
 off your mother. Honoria has lost her man, she'll be 
 frantic. If anything got out, you know, there would 
 be Hell's own row." He paused and added gravely, " I 
 beg your pardon ; Violet." 
 
 " I know what* you mean," she said. 
 
 " I'm sorry you do," said John. " Well, is there any- 
 one besides your father might get at it ? In the house, I 
 mean. What about the man who drove her, for instance ? 
 I suppose she drove round." 
 
 " Joliffe is exquisitely discreet," said Violet. " He is 
 used to driving Mother." 
 
 " Good," said John, smiling. " Nobody else ? " 
 
 " Yes. There is Father's secretary, Mr. Ford. He 
 knows she was rung up, on a family affair, that night. 
 And he knows Lisette's tragedy, from Father. He is per- 
 fectly safe, really, if only Mother would believe it. But 
 she obviously doesn't, I have seen to-day." 
 
 " So have I." Mr. Ingestre remembered the morning's 
 incident. "Well, who's got the secretary in hand, 
 you ? " He touched her chin again. 
 
 " It's not necessary," said Violet firmly, " I assure you. 
 Mr. Ford is perfectly, absolutely the right sort. As good 
 as Charles." 
 
 " Dear, dear," said Mr. Ingestre in a tone Mrs. Shovell 
 chose to disregard. She looked over his gray head, stead-
 
 i8o DUKE JONES 
 
 ily. It was, as she would have said, a question of fact, 
 not opinion, whether a young man was the right sort or 
 not. Besides, Cousin John ought to have known on 
 sight, and did. He was only tiresomely teasing, as 
 ancient relations do. 
 
 " Your dear mother will get Mr. Ford turned off," re- 
 marked Mr. Ingestre, when he had amused his eyes for a 
 time. The girl must certainly come to Ingestre Hall at 
 Christmas, he decided. She would be an acquisition. " I 
 don't set up to be a prophet, my fair Ellen: but that's 
 what will happen next." 
 
 " Oh no, it won't happen," returned Violet. " You 
 little know Father, saying that. Father loves him dearly. 
 Mr. Ford has learnt all FatHer's most peculiar methods, 
 and snubs his worst women without huffing them, and 
 stands his viciousest snaps without offense. You would 
 really say Mr. Ford liked to be pounced upon by Father, 
 that it did him good, somehow, inside. He just sits in 
 the study enjoying it, and writing neat little notes. I am 
 perfectly certain, much as Mother may compass in life, 
 that she will never compass separating those two." 
 
 " How beautiful," said Cousin John, properly im- 
 pressed. "Is this paragon coming to-night?" 
 
 " He is," the girl blushed a little, " because you like 
 music, don't you? Mr. Ford is a musical person, had 
 you guessed ? I dare say that is why he is so harmonious 
 in a house," added Violet. " He has always chimed in 
 pleasantly, from the first. I thought you would like 
 some music, after dinner. I told Mother so, firmly. I 
 was young when you came before, but that is a thing I 
 don't forget." 
 
 " And what did Mother say ? " said John. " Did she 
 chime in pleasantly, hey? Ah, just look at me, Violet," 
 he added. " Was that the row ? " 
 
 "That was the row," the girl admitted. "It was not 
 much of one, really. Anyhow, I thought it would be very 
 marked to leave him out, our first meal in the house.
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 181 
 
 Charles and I have hardly seen him. . . . You do 
 like music, don't you ? " she added, timidly rather. 
 
 " I do," he said. He lifted her hand to his lips as he 
 spoke, with the ease of a past school. " I wish I could 
 rise," said Mr. Ingestre. " I am certainly not worth a 
 single tear. You are a sweet little girl, worth a dozen of 
 her, really." 
 
 He was really touched, and held her hand in silence till 
 Charles came in. Hospitality, true hospitality, was a 
 thing these Ashwins knew. He seldom stayed in a house 
 where he was better treated. And he knew enough of 
 Eveleen to be convinced that the credit did not lie there. 
 
 When Charles came, John looked at him very crit- 
 ically, but certainly, to the eye, he stood such fire well. 
 He " looked all right," and more : he looked comely, and 
 seemed kind to her. The head of the Ingestres, who 
 really had no claim whatever to Violet, was content. 
 Then came the other nice young fellow, Ford, and John 
 watched the three together pensively. He liked young 
 people, and their ways; and these three were friendly 
 and pleasant, and made room for him. Cousin John 
 very much liked to be made room for, and was very con- 
 tent to pay with flattery when he was. He flattered, till 
 the husband turned huffy, and grew short with him ; and 
 that amused him still more. 
 
 It struck him, the girl kept the two in play so expertly, 
 that if it went on at that rate, her mother would be vexed. 
 This slid into Mr. Ingestre's mind as a natural conception ; 
 and he was right, as usual. Eveleen was vexed : far less 
 loftily composed than usual, it was true she had hardly 
 been herself all day ; and she came in consequence as near 
 as her cousin had ever seen her to being outshone. An 
 awful danger loomed in front of Eveleen, a doom that 
 fatal evening foreshadowed. Young as she looked still, 
 one dared not call it age. It was eclipse. . . . Out- 
 shone by her own daughter, in her own house; con-
 
 182 DUKE JONES 
 
 sidering how she had always treated the daughter, it was 
 rather hard on Eveleen, certainly. 
 
 Mrs. Shovell, who had evidently forgotten that she had 
 dressed the dinner-table lately, in a pinafore, wore her 
 bridal satin, and went in on her father's arm. That, it 
 struck John, was how he had seen her last, only on this 
 occasion one could see her face, which was an advantage. 
 It was clearly, though so small, something of an occasion : 
 at least she rose to it with great dignity. But conversation 
 with such a company could not abide by the strict rules. 
 Half-way through dinner, John, who should have been 
 talking to his cousin, leant back at leisure, and reckoned 
 it out. 
 
 They were four men and two women : good allowance 
 for the women two to each. Well, Claude and his 
 daughter played together capitally, far too pretty an 
 exchange of love and liveliness for anyone to want to 
 detach Claude. That was one. . . . The son-in-law, 
 on Lady Ashwin's other hand, was fair game for Eve- 
 leen, very fair game: the kind of lad she had always 
 liked, and, what was more, she liked him obviously. 
 Well, he did nothing whatever but watch his wife, ma- 
 noeuvre for her notice, and glare sidelong at young Ford. 
 That was two, Mrs. Shovell's strict allowance. . . . 
 Next, there was the secretary, unpretending nice young 
 man, plumped down right opposite the girl, cut off from 
 his hostess by jealous Charles. Well, what do you 
 expect ? That was three to the daughter. . . . There 
 was, finally and insurmountably, Mr. Ingestre himself. 
 Well John suddenly remembered Eveleen, and turned 
 back to her. And he had admired Eveleen, you know, 
 between you and me and the bedpost, married and un- 
 married, all his life. Well in short, there you were ! 
 
 And to crown all, by every right and tradition known to 
 the stock, all four men should have been Eveleen's. 
 
 This perfectly Ingestre summary of the Ashwin din- 
 ner-party is offered to the reader respectfully, as far bet-
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 183 
 
 ter than any less refined intelligence could even attempt. 
 It gives the whole thing in a nut-shell, and accounts, 
 abundantly, for Lady Ashwin's resentment. She made 
 her daughter cry before dinner: and at dinner, all un- 
 aware, her daughter paid her back. 
 
 " She's a little beauty," remarked John to Eveleen, just 
 to see what she would say. " I'd no idea you had a pretty 
 daughter." 
 
 " Nor had I," said Eveleen indifferently. " I suppose 
 you've seen Violet before." 
 
 " Oh yes, in the nursery ; and under yards of chiffon 
 at her wedding. You do call it chiffon, don't you ? Any- 
 how, it's a good disguise. I never yet saw a girl look 
 well at her wedding," said John thoughtfully, " I suppose 
 the strain's too great." 
 
 " You saw me married," said Eveleen. 
 
 " Ah no, I didn't. I turned round." 
 
 Lady Ashwin's fine eyes fell on her daughter a moment. 
 " Violet's been crying," she said. 
 
 " I know," said John Ingestre. " And I know why. 
 Feeling goes for something, I dare say," he added. " Is 
 that what you meant? You never had much feeling, 
 Eveleen." A pause. 
 
 " You don't know why," said Eveleen, who had taken 
 in the first sentence completely. " Violet wouldn't have 
 told you." 
 
 " Wouldn't she ? I might know without. What do you 
 bully a girl for, who's perfectly loyal to you, and serves 
 you the whole day long? Rank bad form, I call that, 
 would be, for a man." 
 
 Another pause. " What are you after, John ? " said 
 Eveleen : the question she asked so commonly, of all the 
 world. She seemed really rather curious. 
 
 " I'm after a criminal," said Mr. Ingestre, as quietly, 
 " and rather a low breed. But I don't expect to look for it 
 in my house."
 
 184 DUKE JONES 
 
 That much, he thought, she deserved : though he doubted 
 greatly if she took his meaning in. He wished, if pos- 
 sible, to frighten her, and to keep her off that little 
 girl. If she meant to poison the first year of matrimony, 
 John had little doubt that Eveleen could: but it struck 
 him as a sickening proceeding on the part of a woman 
 who had lived and thriven, all her life, on passion purely, 
 not respect. Mr. Ingestre got so far, and then, with a 
 courtly instinct, left the subject in his thoughts. It only 
 occurred to him, he was sometimes glad, in spite of every- 
 thing, that he had not married Eveleen. 
 
 Just after this, he reached his left arm to Violet, 
 grasped hers gently, and asked her to tell him, very 
 gravely, which were the " shades." Claude seemed in- 
 terested too in the point, and young Ford opposite leant 
 forward. The jealous husband was left out, and Eve- 
 leen got him. That was only fair, thought John. 
 
 " I thought you were talking to Mother," said Mrs. 
 Shovell, turning. " I am so sorry I jumped. I somehow 
 had not thought of you, Cousin John." 
 
 He liked her awfully: her mischievous ways were 
 sweet, between him and her father : and her musical ways 
 were sweeter still. That was the final charm, bound to 
 be so, to this particular man. 
 
 " Do you play ? " said Charles, surprised, when, at the 
 inevitable moment, in resignation, his wife arose. 
 
 " A little, dear," said Violet, stopping. " Do you like 
 music ? " 
 
 Both the elder men laughed aloud, and young Ford, 
 really indignant, glared at Charles. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you didn't know? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " On my honor," said Charles, " I hadn't the least idea. 
 How should I, never having seen her at it ? " he added 
 naively. 
 
 " It's hearing matters," observed Ford. " I say, I sup- 
 pose you have got a piano, Mrs. Shovell ? "
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 185 
 
 " No," said Violet. " This is mine. Even Father had 
 to think twice before he gave me a second as good, 
 and he couldn't very well give me a worse one, and 
 he's thinking still." 
 
 John Ingestre aroused. " Not a piano in your house ? " 
 he said. " A house without a piano, Claude ? What's 
 this?" 
 
 " It is as she says," said Claude. " This is hers, and 
 she prefers it: so she comes here to practice, the times 
 she can. It isn't as often as we'd like," he added gently. 
 
 " Humph ! " said John, mastering the situation in all 
 its details, marvelously. " Eveleen ! " 
 
 " Well ? " said Lady Ash win, who had not entered the 
 discussion, though it had faintly amused her, as was evi- 
 dent by her eyes. 
 
 " When's your silver wedding? I forget." 
 
 " Not for ages yet," said Eveleen. " Is it, Claude ? " 
 
 " Ten years," he said dryly. " I mean three." 
 
 " Three looking away from you," her cousin ex- 
 pounded, " and ten, at. That's what Claude means. Now, 
 Eveleen, attend: I'll give you a piano for the occasion, 
 and I'll anticipate the occasion by three years." 
 
 " We don't want another," said Lady Ashwin. " It 
 looks stupid : and besides, there's barely room." 
 
 " And you give Violet's up to her," proceeded John 
 steadily. " Do you follow the transaction ? Fully ? 
 Quite ? Violet, my dear," he turned his head, " will 
 you come with me and choose your mother's piano to- 
 morrow? I shall just have time before my train." 
 
 " I will," said the girl, flushing. She moved swiftly 
 across, and it was she who thanked Mr. Ingestre for the 
 silver-wedding present, with a kiss. 
 
 After that, having simply stated that she was out of 
 practice, she played, everything that her father de- 
 manded. Her father knew what he wanted, too, and Mr. 
 Ingestre discovered a new sympathy for Claude. He was 
 a startling fellow, always breaking out in new directions ;
 
 186 DUKE JONES 
 
 but this was a direction Mr. Ingestre approved: he had 
 always approved it, in man or woman either. He adored 
 music, and understood it. The girl was out of practice : 
 she made several mistakes, and slurred some passages: 
 being nervous at starting, she stopped once; but the 
 choice, reading and manner were alike exquisite, partic- 
 ularly the manner. 
 
 " I feel young," said John, alluding to it. " Youth, 
 there's nothing like it, it's divine." He had risen, pain- 
 fully as he moved at all times, just to look at her on the 
 piano-stool, from where he stood by the hearth. " Youth, 
 and the world to come," he murmured, gazing intently, 
 and speaking under cover of a quiet passage. " She will 
 make it, she holds the key." Then he looked down at 
 Charles, who was flushed even before the words reached 
 him, and said, low but distinctly, " You are a happy 
 man." 
 
 Eveleen Ashwin heard it all, and saw it. She had to 
 see, she was tied. And she heard Hubert Ford sing his 
 love-songs, and saw how he looked at his accompanist. 
 " My love is fresh as a lilac-bush," that meant youth as 
 well, in German, but unluckily Eveleen understood it : a 
 heavenly, rushing, rustling clamor of spring and hope. 
 And she saw, none could avoid seeing in the delicate 
 candle-light, the girl-player's own expression, intent and 
 dimly radiant, ready. And she saw Claude's eyes, dark 
 and weary, resting beyond her, on something she could 
 never reach, with the look they had had once, long since, 
 when they rested upon her. Charles she would not look 
 at, she refused. . . . But John, cool, critical John, 
 moved to tears almost, charmed, it was hard indeed, 
 very hard to bear, for a mother! 
 
 It was gone from her, gone : youth was gone as well : 
 confidence, worst of all, was shorn from her, at least for 
 those miserable minutes while her daughter played, and 
 all emotion stirred faster, even hers. Confidence left her,
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 187 
 
 and she hated Violet. The thing Charles had fore : 
 shadowed to Margery Brading, delayed long by lazi- 
 ness and idle tolerance of a serviceable thing, came that 
 night to pass. She knew she hated, and she knew why. 
 It is useless to state why, completely; for the Ingestre 
 range of thought and feeling was so utterly simple, a 
 child could guess. 
 
 in 
 
 Violet's cousin, Margery Brading, was the first to hear, 
 because Margery was the nearest to a sister Violet had 
 known, and much more than a mere step-sister to Charles : 
 and also because she conveniently came round to pass an 
 hour that morning with Violet, since she had heard in 
 some quarter the girl was not looking well. Margery, 
 being a happy mother, had her own affairs or rather 
 affair to talk about; and the charms, talents and odd- 
 ities of the young affair known to both, for convenience 
 in the Brading domestic circles, as " Bobbin," would 
 have filled up all the time at their disposal even without 
 Violet's assistance: and she assisted sedulously. 
 
 She assisted till the last moment, when Lady Brading 
 was flinging on her furs preparatory to departure; and 
 then, having apparently reflected on a distant sofa for a 
 period, she spoke : 
 
 " I should like to make some clothes for the sweet," 
 said Violet, "but really " 
 
 Probably nobody in the world but a mother and Mar- 
 gery, a mother who was Margery, would have known 
 by this broken sentence that she was receiving informa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Violet, darling ! " she exclaimed, with passion. " It's 
 not true?" 
 
 Violet shrank a little, turned her eyes aside, out of the 
 window, and remarked that what really worried her was 
 what the relationship would be. 
 
 " First cousins, of course," said Bobbin's mother.
 
 i88 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Second cousins, surely. You and I are first." 
 
 Violet flashed a glance at Margery, who saw at once 
 that she was very shy. Indeed, if she had been enabled 
 to think at all in advance she would have known she 
 would be so. 
 
 " I am just going to give you one kiss," she announced 
 from the window, " and then we will talk of something 
 else." 
 
 " Bobbin," said Violet. " Thank you immensely, dear- 
 est. You are perfect." 
 
 " I believe what I really like best about you is the shape 
 of your face," said Margery thoughtfully, having de- 
 posited the kiss. (We make all possible excuses for these 
 two erratic young women. Lady Brading was a portrait 
 painter, if that helps her case at all.) 
 
 " Mother seems to think I am getting on," responded 
 Violet. " Sometimes I may be decent-looking, according 
 to Mother. It is a great relief, to Charles and everybody, 
 to know that from such an authority." 
 
 " Uncle Claude, oh, won't he be delighted ! " said 
 Margery, taking everybody in turn, and making obvious 
 remarks about them, which is the correct form on the 
 occasion. Margery was "perfect," that is, mildly cor- 
 rect, in this company, by intuition. Margery was the 
 Ashwin side, a great relief. Her pretty tranquil face, 
 framed in its winter furs, was soothing equally, and 
 Violet lay watching it intently. 
 
 " Father is coming to breakfast to-morrow," she re- 
 marked. " He never gets any breakfast at home now- 
 adays, so he may as well. I told him so, in a note, this 
 morning; and he will be very happy, on a post-card, to- 
 night." 
 
 " Perhaps he will profoundly regret," said Margery. 
 " It would have been kinder to warn him." 
 
 "On the contrary," said Violet. "-In the case, far 
 kinder to delude. I have taken the precautions to annex 
 another doctor in advance."
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 189 
 
 " But, my dear ! " protested Margery. " Won't he be 
 hurt?" 
 
 " Desperately," said Violet, " and so relieved. Father 
 would be quite too nervy for anything; and I am bad 
 enough, goodness knows. There would be a pair of us. 
 Consequently, darling, I have circumvented Sir Claude, 
 and he will hate me." 
 
 " What a satisfaction," said Margery, since that was 
 the affectionate tone. 
 
 " Isn't it? He will rather love it, though," said Violet, 
 her harassed look softening. " He does so like it all, in 
 his heart. I have often thought, dear, that Father would 
 really have liked there to be another of me, only, consid- 
 ering my general want of attraction, Mother really 
 couldn't see the necessity. So Father resigned himself, 
 and concentrated. What is it, dearest ? " 
 
 " You have such a way of putting things," said Mar- 
 gery, laughing hopelessly into the sofa cushions, for she 
 was still kneeling at Violet's side. "You are madder 
 than usual to-day." 
 
 " Well, really ! " said Violet. "If you had sat here for 
 an hour thinking about it, before you came! Since you 
 came, owing to Bobbin and such things, I have been much 
 happier." She put her delicate hand across her face. 
 " Picture Mother, for instance, her pleasure and surprise, 
 she has so dreamed of being a grandmother, hasn't she ? 
 for years. She will be ready to tear my eyes out," 
 said Mrs. Shovell dreamily. " Father must break it to 
 her really, I can't." 
 
 " Darling," said Margery, getting anxious, " are you all 
 right ? You know, I don't like leaving you now, and yet 
 I ought to go. Oh, why didn't you tell me an hour ago ? " 
 cried indignant Margery, " then we might have got some- 
 thing done." 
 
 " But not Bobbin," said Violet. " Yes, go to him, dear : 
 I am better alone. . . . Tell me, Margery, did you 
 ever dream of spiders? Large black hairy ones, clam-
 
 190 DUKE JONES 
 
 bering about, walking all over some lovely little saintly 
 thing?" 
 
 " What do you mean, my dearest ? " Young Lady 
 Brading, shocked and moved, put her arms round her. 
 " You really must not think of things like that. What 
 can you have been doing, Violet? " 
 
 " Nothing. I am learning to do nothing, it is the only 
 way. It only happens after she comes in for a pleasant 
 evening's talk, my mother, I mean. She doesn't do it 
 
 often, but She will talk of domestic matters, you 
 
 understand, Charles, I cannot bear it. I wish she 
 would keep away. Don't tell anybody. I only thought 
 you, I only hoped, nothing was wrong." 
 
 Lady Brading clasped and kissed and soothed her, 
 talking from her higher plane of happy maternity and 
 natural good sense. She made things better too, a good 
 deal, before she departed ; but she did not like it. Turning 
 it over, and Violet's looks, in the carriage, she even 
 thought seriously of diverting her course to Harley 
 Street, and getting a few words there with her uncle 
 Claude; only well, there was Bobbin at home, so Mar- 
 gery did not. 
 
 That authority heard the next morning. He assured 
 Violet he had breakfasted when he came, after Charles' 
 departure, at half-past nine; but she treated him with 
 calm contempt. 
 
 " I know. A cup of cold coffee in the study, while you 
 scribble lists of sickening drugs for Hubert Ford. If 
 Mother does not dismiss that girl soon, I shall. You are 
 breakfasting with me, and you sit down there. I am not 
 good for much," said Violet, with intensity, " and Charles 
 has no letters to his name at present, but hot coffee I can 
 arrive at, without breaking either myself, or him. It's 
 quite fresh, and I made it. Now, behave." 
 
 Sir Claude behaved. " I am sorry you are not good 
 for much," he said politely.
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 191 
 
 She was daintily clad and finished as usual, Violet 
 was not a person to whom trailing draperies in the morn- 
 ing hours appealed ; but she was pale and large-eyed, and 
 had the little desperate look he knew. Nor did she meet 
 his eyes, affording him at most a gray flash at intervals. 
 
 " Charles," said Violet, folding her hands on the table, 
 " had the most terrible toothache yesterday. It lasted 
 just an hour by my watch. It went as suddenly as it 
 came. We sat taking notes of the phenomenon." 
 
 " Was that why I was asked to drop in ? " asked Sir 
 Claude. 
 
 " You dropped in to breakfast," said Violet, surprised. 
 " What are you talking about ? Surely you filed the 
 invitation ? " 
 
 " Ah, to be sure. Yes, I filed it." He drew his cup to 
 him it smelt extremely good, and looked round the 
 pretty table, with its new linen and old silver, with un- 
 conscious pleasure, and relief of the eye. " This is de- 
 lightful," he said vaguely. " I wish we had a little more 
 time." 
 
 " Are you still thinking of a consultation ? " asked 
 Violet warningly. " We have plenty of time : all the 
 morning if I wish. Charles' toothache was not sympto- 
 matic, it was a domestic incident, of thrilling interest to 
 us both. We used laudanum, and thought of our latter 
 ends. I thought of his, you know. ... So few 
 things happen in our house." She leant her head on 
 her hand. 
 
 " I am happy to hear it," said Sir Claude. He began 
 to let anxiety go, he had rather a habit of anxiety, and 
 enjoyed himself. He found to his surprise he was hungry, 
 having worked for two hours before Ford came; above 
 all, the sensation of being managed pleased him. Like all 
 persons formed and created to organize, he delighted in 
 being himself taken in hand. Organizing anything, even 
 breakfast, was not a thing that suited Eveleen's genius, 
 in short, the circumstances in his daughter's house were
 
 192 DUKE JONES 
 
 agreeable. Presently Violet made him laugh, and just 
 afterwards, he made her. Then, since his cup was empty, 
 and he was examining the china absently instead of 
 regarding her extended hand, she rose and walked round 
 to his side. 
 
 " A little more coffee, grandpapa ? " she said lightly. 
 
 " If you please," said Sir Claude, and then sprang up 
 like a shot. 
 
 After that, Mrs. Shovell had exactly the diversion she 
 had promised herself, and enjoyed it to the full. 
 
 Leaving all question of coffee in the background, he 
 followed her to the hearth, torn between his two capac- 
 ities, all his capacities, indeed: since intimate friend, 
 and honored guest, were included ; acutely eager to hear 
 all details, terribly afraid of annoying the susceptibil- 
 ities known to him from childhood, anxious above all 
 things to be calm, considerate and correct. It was alto- 
 gether a faultless performance on Sir Claude's part, and 
 highly discreditable on Violet's. She managed to tell him 
 nothing at all, while she talked with the greatest freedom 
 and friendliness. 
 
 " I have such a nice doctor," said Violet. " Rather a 
 special line, you know, ancient and deliberate. Not a 
 hydra-headed all-round man, rather too young-looking to 
 be safe. The sort that knows his job, and is rather 
 bored with cases, and wears a ring round his tie. He 
 thinks me like anybody else, I notice, and agrees with 
 me in detesting fuss. He certainly will not take me seri- 
 ously. We talk about the Housing Problem, and get on 
 capitally." 
 
 " You mischief ! " he said hopelessly. " Pussy, lis- 
 ten : just one thing, necessary " 
 
 " No," she assured him ; " it's not done. Rise to your 
 part, I beseech you. Think, hard, what a mere father 
 does on these occasions. He is gravely pleased, in a 
 dressing-gown, on a hearth-rug, to hear this news." 
 
 " Well, I am not in a dressing-gown : and I am not
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 193 
 
 gravely pleased, I am distractedly. Nor does he hear 
 first-hand," pursued Sir Claude, rousing. " A mere 
 mother, I mean, hears first. Regard me as a mere mother, 
 Violet, at least: surely that will work." He looked be- 
 seeching. 
 
 " No, my precious, it will not : for the reason that you 
 are not feminine. ' Whatever my Pa is, Ma, he is not a 
 female,' " quoted Violet from the favorite author. 
 " Didn't La vinia say that? Do look up Lavinia. All the 
 proprieties, and my nice nature, forbid me to speak to 
 you. You have only to look to see how shy I am." She 
 looked delicious and wicked, nothing else. " Take it 
 standing up, Father dear: or rather, sitting down and 
 drinking your coffee. It is far the best, believe me." 
 
 She finished facing him, and earnestly. His real dis- 
 tress, mixed with about equal embarrassment and amuse- 
 ment, reached her eye. He was being teased delightfully, 
 and she loved it ; and so, in spite of everything, did he. 
 
 " Oh, I will tell you one little thing," she cried, " be- 
 cause your face is so nice and miserable. Sit down, on 
 your knee, yes, listen eloquently, now. Do you mind 
 informing my mere Mother, at home? And if she is 
 gravely displeased, on a hearth-rug, or wherever it is, not 
 telling me? Because I can't. . . . And keep her 
 there, Father, do you mind ? When the littlest thing goes 
 wrong, these days, I am a perfect fool. . . . And 
 promise to remain my mere father to the end, to the 
 end," she repeated, evidently serious and anxious about it. 
 
 So, seeing no other way to compose her, he promised ; 
 and they agreed after a little nonsense to return to break- 
 fast. 
 
 Being a society man, and a subtle scientist, Sir Claude 
 proceeded to mislead his daughter utterly. Violet had put 
 the incident behind her, as was evident, but he had not. 
 He was profoundly moved by an occurrence anyone, and 
 especially he, ought to have foreseen, but Violet saw 
 nothing of his emotion, and she grew calm. Calmer at
 
 194 DUKE JONES 
 
 least, for he noticed several nervous tricks of her slight 
 hands that were new to him : and he much suspected the 
 immense breakfast she had already had, with Charles, was 
 a fraud. So was the immense breakfast she was going to 
 have, with Father, while Charles was discussing his at 
 eight o'clock. These things can be managed, by simple 
 art, but they can also be detected. 
 
 Violet and her father talked about Honoria Adden- 
 broke, who was to arrive that evening. Violet wondered 
 if Father had any of those horrid little books with head- 
 ings, on the subject of the Higher Branches; including 
 some delightful things called logarithms, which had al- 
 ways especially attracted her. She foresaw a long and 
 happy discussion upon logarithms, with Honoria, at din- 
 ner. Afterwards, smoking with Charles, Honoria would 
 probably be content with the calculus. 
 
 " Coffee and calculus," said Violet, " are sure to go well 
 together. Don't you think ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to disappoint you," said Claude, on exactly 
 the same level of absurdity, " but I fear such minute 
 alliterative attentions will be wasted. Miss Addenbroke 
 has long since forgotten all about the calculus; she will 
 prove a wrangler but in name." 
 
 " Oh," said Violet, " how interesting ! I forgot, now 
 I can get an opinion from the other shop. (That is 
 Charles, don't blame me.) Pray proceed: what is the 
 true dark-blue feeling about Wranglers ? " 
 
 " They are excellent and intelligent people," said the 
 doctor, now upon his guard. " All I have known. But 
 one does not address them on their subject in the even- 
 ings. They usually have some other simple taste, say 
 beetles." 
 
 " Beetles," pondered Violet, pulling at her curl. " Well, 
 I could do that, for Honoria, as it happens. I met a beetle 
 in here this morning, walking about the floor, a black 
 one. Annette screamed, and startled me. Perhaps they 
 do not have them in her home."
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 195 
 
 Claude played with his spoon and said decidedly, " Kill 
 it: kill them all." 
 
 " Being the first, I did not," said Violet. " I treated it 
 as a caller, wedding call. I just explained gently with 
 my shoe that this was not its house and it had better 
 go back again." 
 
 " Is that how you treat callers ? " said Claude, turning 
 his dark eyes upon her face. 
 
 " Yes." The girl laughed suddenly, and recovered un- 
 certainly. " You don't amuse me, Father, so you needn't 
 think it. This is no time to jest. It is a season to be 
 serious now, for all the world. I am terribly nervous of 
 Honoria, terribly. Talk of beetles " her voice shook, 
 " she will crush me like a worm." 
 
 Sir Claude got up, no jesting look upon his face. " Just 
 so," he said. " That is what I was trying to find out. I 
 will telegraph to Miss Addenbroke at once and she 
 will come to me." 
 
 " No, no," said Violet, much alarmed. She caught him 
 with her hand. " It is like you to propose it, Father dear, 
 but it will not save me. Mother will hate her horribly, 
 don't you see ? It will make it twice as bad for me, trust 
 my word. I want her really, I wasn't serious, I asked 
 her here. Oh, good heavens ! " she stopped, furious. 
 " Why, why are you so good always, and I quite unable 
 to repay? It is frightful for me, frightful! I had 
 sooner you washed your hands of me, a little bit, some- 
 times. It would be so much easier, do you mind ? " 
 
 She stopped, still furious with the situation, and her- 
 self. For he was looking at her gravely, the doctor-look 
 she most feared. He must not be anxious until this inter- 
 view was over, until she had Honoria flattered, and 
 cajoled, and chained, as it were, away from her mother's 
 throat. Eveleen had betrayed her suspicion and fear of 
 Lisette's sister, whose persistence in coming looked like 
 suspicion on her side. That meeting Violet feared fever- 
 ishly, above all. Both women of violent natures, under
 
 196 DUKE JONES 
 
 a cool front, it might well be abominable, for witnesses. 
 Violet had been learning her mother a little too well of 
 late, had almost doubted her reason, at times, she harped 
 on one idea so strangely. Her father must not be al- 
 lowed to see the unhealthy quality of her fear. She 
 dropped her eyes, swerving from him. 
 
 " Since I am not attending to you, my dear," he said, 
 after a pause, " will you let me send for the gentleman 
 who is?" 
 
 " No." Violet broke suddenly into nervous sobbing. 
 " Stay yourself, I love you. It is not that, at all : my 
 soul, I think. This is not your daughter, simply a fool. 
 Let be a moment." 
 
 He let be, watching her with the same still gravity. He 
 knew only too well, only too surely, where the blame 
 should lie for this. He blamed himself, now that he 
 knew, for not keeping her mother off her, he should 
 have known enough of Eveleen to have thought of it. 
 That they were withholding something from him now he 
 could not doubt: nor whom it concerned. At moments 
 Claude was very near the truth; but much as he loved 
 truth, he barely wanted to reach it. Whatever Eveleen 
 had done, it was not her fault, nor the judgment of it on 
 him, but the effects on Violet he feared ; and that was the 
 thing that, with all his wit and wisdom, he could barely 
 touch. He himself was the link between the two: the 
 wife who clung to him for it was so now for the com- 
 forts he could give her ; and the child to whom he clung, 
 for consolation and confidence' sake. Yet he would have 
 carried Eveleen, thus bound to him, to the furthest Pole, 
 sooner than see this. He must feel responsible for every 
 instant's nervous anguish in this girl whose nature was his 
 own. 
 
 " You are torturing me, Violet," he said at last, quite 
 simply. " Let me go. The commonest fool of a prac- 
 titioner in this town could help you with a simple pre- 
 scription. You are mistaken, this is not your soul. It is
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 197 
 
 folly least of all. It is the least futile thing in the world, 
 by far. It is hardly fair to tie my hands when I can help 
 you so easily. I have borne a good deal, these months 
 past, but this ! " Torture was hardly too strong a word 
 for the expression of his face. 
 
 "Just for this morning," gasped Violet, "help me 
 then." 
 
 And " just for that morning," Claude did. He put off 
 a personage of note for her, carelessly. Hubert Ford 
 came round, and was sent back, rather pink in the face, 
 with the coolest and most cutting of all Sir Claude's well- 
 graded list of excuses. So the duke, or the duke's foot- 
 man, had to wait. 
 
 IV 
 
 After lunch Claude spoke to his wife quietly, told her 
 the fact, and that her maternal cares were not wanted. 
 
 " You must go elsewhere for conversation," he said, 
 " or stay with me. I am not to be her doctor, she says, 
 so heaven knows I shall want diverting. We had best 
 amuse one another, till she is safe." 
 
 For years now he had not spoken to her so seriously, or 
 in such a friendly tone. He thought it just worth trying, 
 in the case. Eveleen, staring at him, marveled what he 
 was " after." 
 
 " A child? " she said slowly. " Violet? " 
 
 "Your grandchild. Can you face it?" 
 
 She turned away from him, and said, " Why didn't she 
 tell me, last night ? " 
 
 " What did you say to her, last night ? " he asked, 
 strenuously quiet, since his quest was for the truth. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, I teased her a bit. . . . She's 
 such a little silly about Charles. Violet always was high- 
 falutin, great feelings and so on. It's absurd to have 
 them, about a man like that." 
 
 " You suspect him of not repaying them? Upon what 
 ground ? "
 
 198 DUKE JONES 
 
 Eveleen smiled slowly, very slightly, a look he hated 
 and feared. He had known it appear of old, in countless 
 cases, when she had set a snare. He kept his temper with 
 an effort, an immense one, and went up to her. 
 
 " Eveleen," he said, " would you trust me on the sub- 
 ject of disease?" She just looked at him, moving an 
 eyelid. " You are diseased with vanity, that is all. You 
 always flatter yourself, since it has been true in a few 
 cases, that no man can resist you. Well, let me tell you 
 a thing to save your pains, since you regard labor-saving. 
 It is far too late for Charles." 
 
 " Thanks," said Eveleen, and laughed. " I know it is. 
 Claude, you are funny, really ! Why should you think I 
 meant myself? You have just told me I am going to be 
 a grandmother." Smiling as she was, the vanity he had 
 challenged lay in every line of her face. 
 
 " Whom else should you think of ? " said he, rather 
 low. 
 
 Lady Ashwin made a struggle, but idle mischief con- 
 quered, and she cut herself adrift. It was like her too, 
 what she said, a piece of magnificent audacity, tempting 
 fate. 
 
 " Did you know they had seen Lisette, down at that 
 place?" 
 
 He started, just visible to her eye. " Lisette? On the 
 tour, you mean? You are dreaming." 
 
 " I am not. Ask Violet. She stayed at their hotel. She 
 told them some lie or other, and they supposed it was all 
 right. They knew nothing about her business, of course ; 
 but she was there." 
 
 " Well," he said, after a long pause, turned away from 
 her. "What then?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I thought I'd mention it." 
 
 Thought she would mention ! That was how Eveleen 
 worked : threw down a bait in her snare, and watched it. 
 
 " No doubt you also thought you would mention it to 
 Violet," he said steadily, " or the next thing that came.
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 199 
 
 May I know the next thing also? Excuse," he added, 
 " my curiosity." 
 
 " You're really anxious to know," said Eveleen. She 
 had flashes of fearful penetration at times, among her 
 random impulses. " Really, I forget I said a lot to 
 Violet last night. Well, you know John found out she 
 stayed at the Langham here, Lisette, I mean. I thought 
 that nonsense, the Langham, though I said nothing 
 to John. I rather hoped he was on a wild-goose chase, 
 it looks so stupid, limping round, where police and 
 people have been before. Doesn't it, Claude? But he 
 wasn't perhaps you heard. She had been there." 
 
 " Well? " he said, still intent. 
 
 " Well, it appears, Charles knew where she was, all 
 that day. He didn't let on to Violet, but he had known. 
 I suppose Lisette told him." 
 
 " And whence," said Claude, " do you get that valuable 
 information ? " 
 
 " From Violet. Ask her. She found out. . . . 
 And she told me herself he had admired her," said Eve- 
 leen reflectively. 
 
 Claude stared at her, quite hopeless. She never failed 
 to impress even while she shamed him. She was giving 
 herself away, right into his hands, to glut a passing spite ; 
 if it were passing, and not a need of her nature, this 
 vengeful jealousy of an innocent bliss. 
 
 " And did Violet do you the honor of taking you 
 seriously ? " he said, resuming the seat he had quitted 
 facing her, he could hardly stand. " For I cannot." 
 
 " Ah, you are a man. . . . You think yourself so 
 clever, Claude, and so does she. There are no such fools 
 as clever people, I tell you, I know it. Honoria has 
 proved it too." She paused, looking wonderful. " Violet 
 is quite too awfully superior," she said low. " She 
 laughed, you know the way. She didn't believe a word. 
 Except just the facts, I mean ; of course she knew those 
 were true." As he did not speak at once, she added,
 
 200 DUKE JONES 
 
 " There was that other girl before his marriage he went 
 off his head for, you remember ? She did, I saw." 
 
 " You reminded her of that ? Ghastly ! " he said be- 
 neath his breath. " Poor child, and at such a time ! Of 
 course, I see it now." 
 
 " I wouldn't, if I had known," explained Eveleen, 
 seemingly sincere. " It was only teasing, because I can't 
 always do with her airs. It is such nonsense, really : to 
 have airs about men." 
 
 On that great article of Eveleen's faith there was a 
 pause. 
 
 " Listen," he said, coming back, for he had risen again 
 and walked right across the room. " I am trying to treat 
 you as a reasonable being: sometimes I think you are 
 mad." 
 
 She laughed again, interrupting him. " It's too funny," 
 she murmured, " you are so like her. Violet said that." 
 
 " Then I am the surer of it. ... Listen, if you 
 can. That boy Charles worships the ground she walks 
 on, as you were never worshiped in your life. You 
 have never known what it is to be loved for your mind, 
 you have not asked for it. Violet is pretty and enchant- 
 ing " she winced, " Oh yes, you know quite well 
 
 she is; and he loves that as we all do, we other men, 
 Eveleen, he is a man like us. But her mind, which he 
 has only recently come to realize, he adores : her thoughts, 
 interpretations, creations, for she can create. Did you 
 see him while he listened to her music, the other night? 
 I suspect you did not, since you are so basely blind." 
 He stopped, almost voiceless : yet it was grateful to him, 
 a solace, to speak out all his thoughts for once. " It 
 is only jealousy," he resumed, " and that is a disease. I 
 bear with diseases I cannot cure, I have to: and Violet 
 must. She is patient, heaven knows. She said nothing 
 of your cruelty, when I held her, sick and shaken, this 
 morning, except that you had given her hideous dreams. 
 . . . Well, I suppose I must tell you one more thing,
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 201 
 
 which you as a woman should not need to hear. She is 
 creating now, these next months, making a life. And 
 for that, mind as well as body is necessary 
 
 " Oh no," said Eveleen. " I created her." To this 
 disconcerting subtlety she added, " I dare say you will 
 say you did. You needn't talk so finely, Claude. Of 
 course I know all that. I've been through it, haven't I? 
 You talk too much." 
 
 She was fighting splendidly, he could not but admit; 
 rising to his level, carelessly, as he rose. Once more he 
 admired, bethought himself, and turned. He had the 
 humility that is said to be the highest quality of intellect : 
 the quality which, at least, since it implies suppleness, wins 
 the great intellectual battles. 
 
 " I believe I am a fool to use such arguments," he said. 
 " An emotional fool, doubtless, you are right. It is 
 simpler just to forbid you to go there. I believe, as a phy- 
 sician, I can do that." 
 
 " You aren't hers ; you said so," remarked Eveleen. 
 " And I'm her mother. I could go to-day if I wanted to, 
 but I don't pai cicularly. I dare say you are right; she 
 had better be quiet. And I hate Honoria," she appended. 
 
 " Ah," he said, picking truth from its disguises. " And 
 you have given Honoria reason to hate you, have you 
 not?" 
 
 " Violet's been talking," said Eveleen, slightly recoiling, 
 paling as slightly. 
 
 " Are you really not aware," he returned, approaching, 
 " that you have told me ? " She looked at him quite 
 blankly. " Aren't you at all aware what you have told ? " 
 
 " What have I told ? " she said, frightened. It was clear, 
 at least, that she had dreaded his knowledge. 
 
 " Bah ! " He snapped his fingers. " Couldn't I argue, 
 if I chose, from your senseless tormenting of one girl you 
 would be capable of brutality to another? If Charles 
 knew she was at the Langham, would not Violet have 
 learnt of her flight ? Would not both have done all they
 
 202 DUKE JONES 
 
 knew? Where would they have turned? Why should 
 I hear nothing? Why, at the very name, should that child 
 look ill and drawn as I saw her to-day? My theory of 
 our children," he repeated, " is not the same as yours. 
 My theory of the man is what I said. The girl, in all 
 modesty, is myself. They are nobly happy together. I 
 diagnosed it " he looked at her oddly, " in your pres- 
 ence, that first night, as something higher than health. 
 But they are healthy " he struck his foot down, " and 
 shall remain so, in spite of you. I worship health, Eve- 
 leen: it is my god, for this life. I may find a better in 
 the next, but such as I regard it, it is a god. Well, 
 healthy happiness, as I regard it, is progressive, not shut 
 in itself. It gives just in proportion as it receives. I 
 am lecturing you, and I beg your pardon, for you can 
 know nothing of it. But the fact remains, for our pres- 
 ent purpose, that I assume, cheerfully assume on that 
 ground if no other, that they did their utmost for that 
 poor child. And I assume, by that same reasoning, that 
 you did not. You are unprogressive, unprofitable, un- 
 healthy to my mind. You had better take remedies, and 
 soon. I warn you. I am fit to warn." 
 
 He faced her, his whole brilliant presence challenging, 
 holding, as his daughter had done on a like occasion, his 
 sword. But it was the other sword of science, the one 
 he had sharpened by a life's devotion. Right through the 
 rapid speech, Claude had laid the smaller weapon of his 
 wit aside. Curiously enough, she seemed to feel the con- 
 viction more keenly for the lack of wit : it may have been 
 another greatness in her. 
 
 " I have never seen you like this," she murmured. 
 
 " Ah, no, for I have never doctored you. Even when 
 you were as Violet, I never did. Did I ? I dared not. 
 Strange ! " He stopped with a smile from which she 
 shrank still more. " Do you wish me to doctor you, Eve- 
 leen? Have you the smallest desire for health, I won- 
 der? That health?"
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 203 
 
 " I don't see why you are so horrid, Claude, talking 
 of health! I am quite well, I'm sure." Her beautiful 
 lips quivered as he watched her. " Don't I look it? " 
 
 "Not afraid? Not of anything?" He pressed her, 
 still smiling keenly. " No feeling here? " 
 
 " No ! " Then her lips broke their line, and suddenly 
 laying her head in her hands, she wept. " I wish you 
 wouldn't talk like that," she sobbed. " You oughtn't to, 
 to me." 
 
 " Touche!" he said to himself, as a fencer does; and 
 turned, light as a fencer, on his heel to leave the room. 
 
 He had made Eveleen cry, that was something. Medic- 
 ally, it was a spark, a remnant of life to work on. It is 
 very hopeless work to reason with such as she, but it is 
 just worth reasoning; at least Claude, who was reputed 
 to be persistently obstinate in desperate cases always, 
 thought it was: and he had, in such cases, snatched a 
 life or two. 
 
 But leaving her, he laughed at himself: realizing the 
 futility of such efforts, feeling the strain of the interview 
 recoil, and the genuine horror he had resisted, return. 
 He had been out of himself, Eveleen was right. He 
 knew very well he was excited, childishly excited, to- 
 day : and he very well knew why. It was as a " mere 
 mother " possibly ; for the healers of the world may be 
 allowed to claim something of the maternal triumph, 
 since they share it. 
 
 Violet made Charles promise to say nothing of what 
 she called the " circumstances " to Honoria. Charles 
 did not see the point himself, since he wished to publish 
 the glorious circumstance to all the world; but since 
 Violet was henceforth to be humored in her smallest 
 whim, kept under a glass shade, and there worshiped at 
 intervals, he promised. But her next delicately ex- 
 pressed desire, that he should " behave," that they
 
 204 DUKE JONES 
 
 should comport themselves as a really ancient married 
 couple, in Miss Addenbroke's stately presence, made 
 him laugh. 
 
 " Shan't," he said lightly. " You can." 
 
 " It takes two to do it," reasoned Violet. " No, don't 
 be foolish. Listen, I will try to explain. You ought to 
 see without explanation. But for Lisette, Honoria 
 might herself have been married now. Well you 
 understand ? " 
 
 " No," said Charles, in his cheerfully disobliging man- 
 ner, as though the word had been " yes." 
 
 He was " tiresome " evidently, and Violet sighed. She 
 was so anxious to have things nice for Honoria: and 
 Charles could be nice, when he chose. She said no more 
 for the time. Presently he came to her repentant, said 
 he had been thinking it over, and he saw the point. He 
 would treat the lady as a new-made widow, with care. 
 By his subsequent remarks, Violet much feared he was 
 still thinking of Lisette's wicked caricature of Honoria's 
 suitor in the train ; but the general result was better than 
 nothing, so she let him be, trusting that Honoria's awe- 
 inspiring personality would do the rest. 
 
 So, for a time, it did. Miss Addenbroke was tall and 
 broad, and deep of voice, and that goes for something. 
 Charles showed himself, as his wife had expected, a 
 capital host, and both he and the household rose in style 
 to the advent of the first visitor. No other had yet slept 
 beneath their roof, and the guest's room on the highest 
 floor was but lately finished. Violet, seeming more fragile 
 than usual beside her burly cousin, escorted Honoria to 
 her room, and made excuses for such finishing touches 
 as were lacking to it. 
 
 " When shall I see Cousin Eveleen ? " said Honoria, 
 taking off her gloves, having glanced once round without 
 remark. 
 
 " Oh, I hope soon," said Violet. 
 
 Honoria's manner was condescending, as though she
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 205 
 
 spoke to a schoolgirl who was merely acting proxy for 
 her natural hostess. She thought little of her quarters, 
 evidently, and Violet felt small. She knew well she had 
 never been loved by Honoria, who, though she admitted 
 no rivalry with such a paltry, home-bred product as the 
 " Ashwin child " seven or eight years her junior, had been 
 somewhat pricked, nevertheless, by her readiness and wit, 
 when she first stayed in her father's house. Honoria had 
 classed her on that occasion as a conceited little girl, and 
 still preserved the attitude. 
 
 "Would you like to rest?" said Violet. "Dinner is 
 at eight." 
 
 The question semed to be an offense. She had asked it, 
 since it was public property that Honoria had been enjoy- 
 ing a " breakdown " in health for several months : in- 
 deed, ever since her sister's disappearance. It is true, 
 there are many possible interpretations of a "break- 
 down," more every year; still, so far as it went, it had 
 been regarded as creditable by the Ingestres. However, 
 whatever may be the full philosophy of breakdowns, 
 Honoria had evidently morally conquered hers; and her 
 remarks on the subject made her cousin, who had re- 
 mained tired since the morning, feel smaller yet. 
 
 Honoria Addenbroke was not a pleasant person: of 
 some characters, after all, it had better be confessed. In- 
 numerable people had tried to like her, and failed. She 
 had all the Ingestre faults, with none of their virtues 
 and they had very striking virtues, as we have striven 
 to show ; all their assumption, with none of their charm ; 
 and some added roughness that was probably an Adden- 
 broke heritage. She could hardly speak without tram- 
 pling, deliberately, on people's corns. Her claims to 
 intellect consisted almost exclusively of that singular 
 mathematical bent, which is a special genius, like the 
 musical, like music, approaches to mania sometimes, 
 and like music, seems to be independent of either char- 
 acter, or of real dignity or agility of thought. She had
 
 206 DUKE JONES 
 
 no delicacy, and gloried in it: not like her little sister, 
 from idle mischief, but from a genuine love of seeing 
 her fellow-creatures wince, which implies self-indulgence, 
 and inclines to cruelty at the worst. Last, she had the 
 extra hardness which lifelong unpopularity imparts, 
 since it is too true that from him who has not, is taken, 
 in life, and owned no real friends, unless one counted 
 a few hunting-men, who admired her " form." Natu- 
 rally, she had consorted with them largely, which fact had 
 not improved her drawing-room style. She despised 
 drawing-rooms, as Mrs. Shovell learnt to her cost, 
 extolled " nature," and " natural methods," and her age 
 was twenty-nine. It is really quite unnecessary to refine 
 further on the character of the lady whose " muzzling," 
 under peculiarly difficult circumstances, Violet had under- 
 taken. 
 
 All the same, Violet was convinced she would, sooner 
 or later, have been able to manage Honoria, had it not 
 been for Charles. She dressed for dinner in black, out 
 of consideration for her guest: her afternoon robe of 
 black velvet, since Violet did not wear what she called 
 " cold black " very willingly. The " warm black " of 
 velvet suited her clear complexion and dark hair par- 
 ticularly well, though she had a strong idea the less be- 
 coming choice would have been more sympathetic towards 
 Honoria. She argued this delicate point with Charles 
 while she was dressing : and Charles, who looked his own 
 best in " cold black," but disliked it profoundly for her, 
 considered that he scored. He had very strong and 
 rather singular ideas about Violet's clothes, and she oc- 
 casionally deferred to them experimentally. However, 
 to-night his frivolous and heartless suggestion that she 
 should wear her wedding-dress showed that his opinion 
 was not for the moment worth regarding, and should 
 have prepared her for what was to come. Yet, where a 
 girl like Honoria is concerned, one cannot possibly be 
 prepared for everything.
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 207 
 
 Honoria had arrived at the house in black; but that 
 proved by subsequent events to be misleading. She 
 appeared at dinner in emerald green, flashing with irides- 
 cent trimmings, cut very low. She really looked well in 
 a certain style, for, like all Ingestre offshoots, she was 
 well-built, with a beautiful skin. But she startled 
 Annette, Violet's small Swiss maid, almost into dropping 
 the sauce ; and she clashed with Dr. Ashwin's benevolent 
 scheme of color in the dining-room so painfully that 
 Charles feared indigestion might eventuate, to others, 
 fortunately, not Honoria, all the same. 
 
 For a time he tried not to look at her, and looked at 
 Violet. Then having, as we have said, conducted him- 
 self as an able host, with most elegant propriety, for half 
 the meal, the full possibilities of Honoria seemed to break 
 upon his consciousness as by a light from heaven. She 
 was vain, it dawned upon Charles, without being attract- 
 ive : an opportunity almost irresistible to a man of parts, 
 and personal advantages as well. He resisted virtuously 
 for a time, being reminded by Violet's pale and pensive 
 appearance that abstract " behavior " was desirable ; but 
 she refused to catch his eye even after his best answers 
 to the Wrangler, which piqued him; so, just about the 
 cheese course, he abandoned the effort, and began to look 
 instead, far too engagingly, in the direction of the lady- 
 guest. 
 
 Honoria, at the time, was telling him about Cam- 
 bridge : and it struck Charles, in a new flash of enlighten- 
 ment, that she thought he was an Oxford man. If 
 Honoria did think so, she shortly became convinced of it, 
 because Charles was intensely curious to learn all about 
 Cambridge manners from Miss Addenbroke. They were 
 such remarkable manners, it appeared, in many ways, 
 that he rather wondered what the Newnham authorities 
 had been about, in Honoria's time : he was only thankful 
 that time was past ; for Charles liked the modern college 
 girl, and had known a number of her, intimately.
 
 208 DUKE JONES 
 
 Violet, on the noble understanding as to nonsense which 
 they shared, which they had practiced almost from the 
 first meeting, and which was one of the foundation- 
 stones of their love and confidence, did not give him 
 away, though she took every other liberty their mutual 
 convention allowed her of snubbing him, dodging him, 
 and diverting his victim's attention. She failed miserably. 
 Honoria flatly ignored her: her rather protruding eyes 
 were fixed on Charles, and that gentleman, summoning 
 all his graces to his aid, made a dead set at her, and 
 before the close of the meal conquered her completely. 
 Memories, no doubt, of Lisette's graceless skit upon the 
 other man came to Mr. Shovell's assistance. He could 
 not but think, if he gave his serious mind to it, he could 
 cut out that bandy-legged bounder somehow; though he 
 hardly hoped for such prompt conquest as was actually 
 his. 
 
 Violet was in despair: for every minute, as his ab- 
 surdities increased, she thought Honoria must see through 
 him, and the fury she dreaded break upon them both. 
 She cut the dessert-period short, by Miss Addenbroke's 
 reckoning, much too soon, rising before the guest had 
 drained her wine. While she paused to let Honoria pass 
 in front of her, Charles, who was holding the door for 
 them, paid simultaneously a flagrant compliment to 
 Honoria's dinner-gown, and pinched Violet's neck. But 
 she was really too displeased to look at him. His be- 
 havior was most unfeeling, considering Honoria's situa- 
 tion, and his real inability to console her. If Charles 
 had been able to console Honoria, it would, of course, 
 have been different. If Violet had known she was open 
 to consolation she would naturally have asked another 
 man. As the circumstances stood, she held her velvet 
 skirts with care from Charles, and passed in abstraction 
 in Honoria's ample wake. 
 
 " What a delightful boy Charles is," said Honoria, 
 lying down upon the sofa, which had been conveniently
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 209 
 
 placed sidelong to the fire, that same morning, by Sir 
 Claude Ashwin, for his daughter's benefit. It seemed 
 Honoria felt more friendly to her late breakdown after 
 dinner than before, she had, like Lisette, a fine appe- 
 tite, for she proceeded to close her eyes against the 
 lamplight with a pained expression. 
 
 Violet, seeing no possible answer to the remark, un- 
 less to thank her for not saying Charlie, made none. 
 She moved the lamp away from Honoria's eyes, and 
 sitting down near it, prepared to make the coffee, a duty 
 she kept in her own hands, since she had done so at home. 
 Charles was by no means as particular as his father- 
 in-law, but that made no difference to an Ashwin, granted 
 the ideal once rooted in her mind. So she made ideal 
 coffee daily, and the occasional guest approved. She lit 
 the little copper lamp, and while it boiled, purring gently, 
 took up the minute piece of needlework she had laid 
 aside on Honoria's arrival. Her back was half-turned, 
 and a mere look at Honoria's hands had sufficed to show 
 Violet she was not a needlewoman, and unlikely to be 
 curious, so all was safe. 
 
 Honoria, as the silence grew marked, opened her eyes 
 and took a very keen survey of as much of her cousin 
 as she could see round the corner. She could only per- 
 ceive her swathed dark hair, the nape of a very pretty 
 neck, unadorned, since even the pearls were discarded 
 to-night, and the occasional glimpse of an active hand. 
 Violet had not, at dinner, appeared happy to Honoria: 
 rather mopy for a new-made wife. She had shown no 
 sign of courting her husband ; far from it, she had flown 
 at him more than once; and her peaceful manipulation 
 of fine white materials just out of sight from the sofa, 
 was probably feigned. 
 
 " You look sweetly domestic," said Honoria. " Would 
 it be too awful to smoke ? " 
 
 " Please," said Violet. " We always do. Only won't 
 you wait for coffee first ? "
 
 210 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Oh, I never take it till later," said Honoria. " Old 
 college trick Aunt has learnt my ways. I burn the mid- 
 night oil, you know." 
 
 Mrs. Shovell blew out her little copper lamp at once, 
 and recurred to her sewing. " You have been able to get 
 on with your book, then ? " she queried. " I am so glad." 
 Honoria had been writing a book about something quite 
 beyond everybody, for years. Connections inquired after 
 it at intervals, fearfully. 
 
 " Don't you take coffee ? " said Honoria : who did not 
 intend to discuss her book with a " kid." The girl shook 
 her head. 
 
 " I must live on the savors at present, Father says. 
 Charles will clamor for some presently, though. Per- 
 haps you will have a cup with him." 
 
 Honoria, elaborately smoking, did not reply, or thank 
 her. That may also have been a college trick, of course. 
 " I suppose," she said pleasantly, " you have been dosed 
 and dieted all your life, haven't you, Violet? You look 
 it." 
 
 "Do I? In what way?" 
 
 " Washed out and jumpy. What Felicia called a dying- 
 duckish expression." 
 
 Violet blushed deeply, not at the personality, and her 
 hands dropped suddenly in her lap. Miss Addenbroke, 
 still spying at her, saw it and laughed. 
 
 " You think me heartless, don't you, my dear," she 
 said. " And soulless too, I shouldn't wonder. But per- 
 sonally, I should warn you, I have no religion. I can't 
 pray over Felicia, like Aunt. It's foreign to my nature. 
 I prefer to face the facts, and to regard it as the fate of 
 personality. Everyone to the life that suits them, is what 
 I say, not to Aunt, of course, she can't stand it. I own 
 Felicia, though a fool, was a perfectly consistent one. I 
 saw that clearly as soon as I came to think it out. Her 
 ideal was always a bit divergent from mine, that's all. It 
 needed testing a little by intellectual standards, which she
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 211 
 
 hadn't got. But she did the best she knew," added Hon- 
 oria, weightily pondering. 
 
 " You talk as though she did not suffer," said Violet. 
 
 " She would not suffer long," said Honoria calmly. " I 
 know it sounds bad, to finicky people, but I happened to 
 know Felicia. I thought the whole thing out during that 
 awful period of mental strain I had. One must be philo- 
 sophical about such things: no other course is open. 
 Felicia could not suffer long." 
 
 " You mean she would die ? " said Violet. 
 
 " No, I don't, my dear little bit of sentiment. That is 
 a very old-world view." 
 
 " As old as Goldsmith, I know. If yours is the newest, 
 I prefer his." 
 
 " Don't interrupt me," said Honoria. " Felicia had not 
 the moral force, nor the mental, to suffer really. She did 
 not know what suffering was. She simply followed her 
 instincts, worked out her nature, fulfilled herself, in 
 short. That is right, by the modern standards. Her life 
 with us was the unnatural one, I mean. She is probably, 
 at this minute, far less miserable than sentimentalists like 
 Aunt are in her interest, and not ashamed at all. . . . 
 There are moments when I envy her," said Miss Adden- 
 broke: and Violet, by a tell-tale drop in her tone, sus- 
 pected it was true. 
 
 " And her letters her letter to you ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, that, " the lecturer had just winced in the 
 
 pause, " written in a fury, at red-heat. Her temper was 
 vile, of course. Only I, probably, knew what it could be. 
 When she lost it, she cursed like a bargee, give you my 
 word. She wasn't quite as pretty as she looked, Felicia. 
 . . . Not to mention she had no idea of wording 
 things," the author added contemptuously. " She wrote 
 like a baby. You could never go by her letters, what she 
 thought." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Violet, just as she would have 
 spoken again, " I must ask you to hold your tongue."
 
 212 DUKE JONES 
 
 " What's that ? " rapped Honoria. " Talking down to 
 me? " 
 
 " It's simply I am not able to bear it. I dare say it is 
 all very true, and beautifully modern. . . . Will 
 your book be published soon ? " 
 
 Whereat Miss Addenbroke, rising a little, by the aid 
 of her elbows, on the sofa, said what she thought of Violet, 
 her mother and Lisette. 
 
 When Charles came in, Honoria, in a luxurious attitude, 
 with cigarette ashes freely strewn about, was lounging 
 with a book. She looked somehow as though she had had 
 a field-day ; which was the fact. Violet had brought the 
 light back to her, and was seated herself in her old posi- 
 tion, without the lamp's illuminated ring. Charles ex- 
 changed a few bright nothings with the guest, and made 
 her laugh rather loudly; and then, since Violet did not 
 turn, nor move to serve him, though the coffee boiled, he 
 walked up to her, still chaffing Honoria, and from behind, 
 laid his hands to either side her face. 
 
 " Might a fellow have some coffee, missus ? " he re- 
 quested. " It smells so nice." Violet served him mechan- 
 ically, passing the cups in turn across her shoulder, 
 without changing her position otherwise. 
 
 " Two ? " queried Charles. " Hasn't Miss Addenbroke 
 been regaled ? " 
 
 " I'll take it later on, thanks," said that lady calmly. 
 
 " Then I must drink 'em both," remarked Charles, of 
 the two little cups. " She's been cut off by her Pa." 
 
 He stood, holding both cups, on the hearth for a min- 
 ute, admired by Honoria, as was evident. Charles had 
 no objection at all to being admired, though the Wrangler 
 seemed an ungainly object to his passing glance. He 
 stood, as though for his portrait, before her. Then, look- 
 ing beyond, he saw Violet move her hand, saw it clench 
 on the tray beside her, and her head sink. He put the 
 cups down hastily.
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 213 
 
 " My blessing, what is it ? " He was behind her, using 
 a voice Honoria had not heard. "Cold hands?" His 
 warm one was over it. " Faint, are you ? " He was 
 kneeling beside her. " Tell me did I vex you at dinner ? 
 I was only fooling she understands." She was in his 
 arms completely, her dark head close to his, but languid 
 utterly : she did not move. Honoria stared, her cigarette 
 suspended, and its ashes dropping on the couch. 
 
 " She won't speak," said Charles, after a pause. " What 
 happened ? What did you say to her ? " He flashed blue 
 lightning round the corner at the guest. " Oh, I'll have 
 no more to do with your horrible family," he muttered, 
 rising. " You'll kill her among you, won't be satisfied 
 till you do. Get up ! " 
 
 Honoria the Wrangler rose hastily. He threw the 
 cushions she had crushed into place with a practiced 
 hand, careless temper in every gesture. He was really 
 more than ever attractive to the eye, though he was not 
 thinking of it now. 
 
 " Don't touch her," he said fiercely, turning. " Keep 
 off! Do you hear? You've done enough for one 
 evening." 
 
 " I've done nothing, I can tell you," said Honoria. 
 " She's been bred too soft." 
 
 " Well, it's something to have been bred at all," mut- 
 tered Charles. The remark hardly reached Honoria, but 
 Violet stirred. 
 
 " Don't," she murmured, as he reached her. " She'll 
 do it again." 
 
 " She won't, she'll get no chance. Come along." He 
 practically lifted her with his arm. 
 
 " I'll go up, it's best," the girl said, wincing visibly from 
 the fuller light. " Head aching rather, I am sorry, 
 Honoria. Please go back, he should not have disturbed 
 you, if I had thought." 
 
 " I couldn't stop her," she explained wearily to Charles
 
 214 DUKE JONES 
 
 upstairs. " She has been saving it up for months, prob- 
 ably. I said a thing that annoyed her, rashly, so she let 
 loose before the time. Not having Mother, she talked 
 to me. I doubt if before she had thought I was worthy 
 of it." 
 
 "Didn't you talk, Violet?" 
 
 " I couldn't, somehow, to-night. I only thought things, 
 eloquently. I interrupted her about twice, I think. She 
 said I had not been sufficiently slapped in the nursery, or 
 I should know how to speak to my elders. Something like 
 that. She had offered to do the same kind office by Lisette 
 too, I gathered, before she left. It is the schoolmistress in 
 her, above all," said Violet, gathering force, " I can't bear, 
 because I respect the profession. If she had taught me, I 
 certainly should have made faces at her, all the time. 
 Lisette probably did sweet faces. . . . Oh, Lisette 
 shines in comparison, Charles, a star, a flower. It was 
 it is an infinitely sweeter nature, healthier too. Not 
 simpler, because Honoria is simple; she only learnt too 
 much at college, much too much. Mother is refined com- 
 pared with Honoria, for Mother is vulgar only when she 
 wants to be. Mother is a queen, born and trained to rul- 
 ing. Her manner quite often excuses the things she 
 says. Honoria rules by violence, it is the scullion-na- 
 ture, no, no, scullions clean things," she put her hand 
 to her head, " the scavenger's. I believe they clean 
 things too, and if so I beg their pardons. I have lost all 
 my words to-night." 
 
 She rested against him for some minutes silently, one 
 delicate hand still to her brow, the other in his possession. 
 
 " Will you sleep, love ? " said Charles. 
 
 " Oh yes, I think so : presently. You must go down, 
 master of the house, you know. Make my apologies 
 with the necessary negligence. One of my headaches will 
 do. I was always so proud of not having the thing, but 
 I let myself in, didn't I ? " She put her arms suddenly 
 round his neck. " Be nice to her, dear. She has suffered
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 215 
 
 really, you can tell. She must have been through a 
 terrible time, and that embitters people. Will you ? " 
 
 " It's not necessary to kiss me, you know," said Charles, 
 " for me to do all you want." 
 
 " I won't then," she laughed. " I hate waste in a house." 
 But he had felt her soft lips all the same. 
 
 " I didn't know this was a doll's house," said Honoria, 
 in a marvelously unpleasant tone. She was again on the 
 sofa, of course, though in a slightly better attitude. 
 
 Charles, who read his classics, got all the way. " I 
 must make her excuses, Miss Addenbroke," he said, his 
 back turned to her, and his hands clenching the chimney- 
 shelf. " She is not extra well just now, and Sir Claude 
 has warned us to be careful. Perhaps she did not tell 
 you ; he was here all the morning." 
 
 " Oh, do you know," said Honoria in confidence, " I 
 shouldn't pay too much attention to that. He always 
 spoiled her, an only lamb, you know. I noticed how she 
 was coddled that time I stayed in the house. If Violet was 
 left alone a bit, she would probably get all right." 
 
 Charles could not resist. " She will get all right after 
 next May, the doctor gives us reason to hope," he dryly 
 observed. 
 
 " May?" Honoria gaped for some instants. "Oh, 
 what a way to tell me," she said, rather offended. 
 
 " I was forbidden to tell you at all. I respect the letter 
 of the law, that's all." 
 
 " Oh," said Honoria. " Forbidden, were you ? Why 
 didn't she want me to know ? " 
 
 " I suppose because she imagined it might pain you. 
 That is her reason, usually." 
 
 " What fussy futility," said Honoria, reddening. She 
 added " And how characteristic." 
 
 " Isn't it ? " said Charles heartily. Violet had told him 
 to be polite, so he was, whenever Honoria gave him the 
 opportunity. He turned round soon, looking charming, a 
 thing he could do with ease. 
 
 " Is it time for your coffee now ? " he asked, alluding
 
 216 DUKE JONES 
 
 to it like a prescribed draught on purpose. " I think I 
 can tackle that machine. If I make a mess of it, don't be 
 too hard on me." 
 
 "You could heat up the cold," remarked Honoria, 
 watching his proceedings at the coffee-tray. " That would 
 earn the wife's approval best." 
 
 Charles just refrained from throwing a cup at her, 
 because the little cups were valuable. No other reason 
 deterred him. 
 
 " On the contrary," he said blithely. " I'm a bit of an 
 economist, but I shouldn't venture to do that." He had set 
 the thing alight again, quite cleverly, Honoria noticed. 
 Personally, she was one of the hopelessly awkward 
 women, who barely know how to hold a thing, still less 
 to handle it. 
 
 " I've burnt a hole in your sofa-cover, I'm afraid," she 
 observed after a period, looking at her cigarette. " Don't 
 tell on me." 
 
 " All right," said Charles satirically. 
 
 "Is she squeamish about things?" 
 
 " Violet ? My dear Miss Addenbroke, it's not the 
 word." Nor was it, being a word Charles loathed. 
 
 " Do you let her sit on you ? " said Honoria, getting 
 happier. 
 
 " Yes : and the sofa, when she will," said Charles, " and 
 can. Ah I hope that's all right, not too strong." He 
 brought the cup to her side. 
 
 " Thanks," said Honoria, since she could hardly avoid 
 it. " I shouldn't have said, on sight, that you were hen- 
 pecked," she added, looking at his nonchalant bearing with 
 a smile. Charles, thinking how he hated prominent eyes, 
 sat down before the fire thoughtfully. 
 
 " I have not had time to show the marks," he said. 
 " Haven't been married long enough, you know. She's 
 only given me a general idea of the sort of thing, to be 
 filled out in our subsequent numbers. Rather like the 
 first lecture of the October term. You feel vaguely op- 
 pressed after a first lecture, if I remember right, solemn,
 
 THE INGESTRE ATTITUDE 217 
 
 bored in advance, ready to take any fun that comes 
 to forget it." Nothing, not even Violet's exhaustion, could 
 excuse the glance Charles cast at Honoria. Charles was 
 an actor, unfortunately, and was getting interested in his 
 part. He drank a cup of cold coffee cheerfully, remarked 
 that it was quite decent, and that he would have another 
 of the same sort. He had an objection to waste in a 
 house, caught from Violet : and besides, the coffee, though 
 cold, was of her making. 
 
 Honoria, meanwhile, flattered herself she was hearing 
 the confidences of an over-married man. His scene with 
 the girl, when she came to reflect, had been rather over- 
 acted. His manner now, to her eyes and ears, rang true. 
 Possibly because she wished it so much to be so. 
 
 " You are a ridiculous boy," she said kindly. The last 
 century would have said a " naughty man." 
 
 " It's such a blessing to be in uncritical company," said 
 Charles, leaning back. " You can say what you like. The 
 Ashwin level is pretty lofty, don't you know. You have 
 to watch your words." 
 
 She laughed, gratified. " But I'm far from uncritical, I 
 ought to tell you," she remarked. 
 
 " Oh don't say you are a word-watcher too ! " He 
 over-did his surprise, with care. " Then I must buck up," 
 he added languidly. " How beastly ! " 
 
 Charles modeled himself, in thought, upon some of the 
 people Honoria had probably known at Cambridge, whom 
 he remembered vaguely. He had before now taken them 
 off. It was true, he had been down for some years, but 
 she had been down longer still. He had an idea that the 
 type always persisted, and that he could still do it if he 
 tried. Considering some of the things he was urged on, 
 by Honoria's capital replies, to say, he was really rather 
 glad his wife was not there. 
 
 Having toned and fixed this ancient pose, he colored it 
 by degrees with what he thought might be an Oxford 
 manner, rather decadent. Then, recollecting Studley at 
 his honeymoon hotel, he tried a little of that, mixed in.
 
 218 DUKE JONES 
 
 The result was really immense: and Honoria, so-called 
 clever, swallowed it whole. 
 
 " I was as polite as they make 'em ! " he said later, with 
 the most unholy glee, to Violet, whom he discovered still 
 awake. " It's the stable, really, not the scullery. She's 
 the hard-riding variety of Wrangler, ours. My aunt, what 
 a brute she is ! " He walked about the room. " She's 
 frightfully gone on me, darling. I shall go on till she's on 
 the edge of leaving, and then let her have it, hot and 
 strong, on the steps. I shall, you shut your little head ! 
 I shall do it. She burnt a hole in the new covers, blast 
 her!" 
 
 "Charles dear!" 
 
 " Well, I did think at least the type knew how to smoke ! 
 Can't you give her a lesson to-morrow ? She was all over 
 ashes, beastly. A black hole, right in the middle ! " 
 
 Charles came back to that. He had a particular affec- 
 tion for Violet's chintzes, they were so exactly like herself. 
 " And I couldn't let her know," he finished, coming to a 
 stand with passionate accusation, "owing to you!" 
 
 He was more violently excited than she had often seen 
 him. She heard him out without much comment, still less 
 did she attempt reproof. He had evidently borne a good 
 deal, in her service, for all the relief of comedy by the 
 way ; and Honoria, clinging to her college habits, had not 
 released him till very late. He looked worn now, for all 
 the laughter she had heard below; and he had watched 
 a black hole for three hours and more, and said nothing 
 about it. 
 
 " I will say a spark from the fire did it," Violet observed 
 for his consolation. " Father pushed the couch too close. 
 A wood spark is respectable, isn't it ? nice and clean." 
 
 But Charles could not forget or forgive that hole, for 
 weeks. He said something improper every time he caught 
 sight of it. The result was that Violet had to lie upon the 
 sofa more than her custom was to conceal it : even when 
 she assured everybody she felt quite well again.
 
 THE TALISMAN 219 
 
 II 
 THE TALISMAN 
 
 MRS. SHOVELL, as a lightning-conductor, fulfilled her office 
 with marked success. She had received already from 
 either contending party the worst of the vituperation, and, 
 as she had trusted, her father's household was spared the 
 storm. Honoria and her Cousin Eveleen, during their 
 private interview the following day, were terribly and 
 tranquilly frank with one another, as was to be expected, 
 but the worst Violet had anticipated did not occur. They 
 even found one subject of sympathy, which may possibly 
 be divined. 
 
 Meteorological conditions in the interview, to pursue 
 the image, were moderating, and, needless to add with 
 Ingestres, were masculine. Eveleen, owing to Claude, 
 whose singular behavior she had not yet fathomed, and 
 who had succeeded yet once more he was always doing 
 it in catching her attention amid the crowds of men 
 jostling in her path, was more passive than her custom. 
 Honoria, owing to Charles Shovell's agreeable trifling at 
 breakfast, where they had again been tete-ci-tete, was 
 almost sunny. And, by a happy miracle, as soon as she 
 and her cousin chanced upon this latter most interesting 
 question, they agreed. 
 
 Yet we must do the pair of ladies justice: rather, we 
 must do Lady Ashwin justice, for, as her daughter de- 
 clared, she was by far the more important and interesting 
 personality of the two. When Honoria, smiling, told 
 Eveleen that the Shovell boy was a flirt, implying care- 
 fully that he was more, Eveleen's attitude in accepting the 
 suggestion was much the more respectable and sincere. 
 Eveleen really did doubt Charles: she thought she had 
 good reason for doing so, and Claude's fine phrases had
 
 220 DUKE JONES 
 
 had time to affect her fundamental conviction but little. 
 It took time and repetition, in Eveleen's case, to affect 
 such convictions; also, such gifts of penetration as she 
 possessed all helped her incredulity. Charles had lost his 
 head once before his marriage, and if he were " that kind," 
 might lose it again. The reports she had put together 
 concerning Lisette, the arch allusions of Honoria, all fell 
 into her conception of the case, and fell before it had had 
 time to be shaken seriously. It was a comfort not to have 
 to disturb her conviction, anyhow : because when Eveleen 
 did evolve and adopt an idea, all of her own, she liked to 
 dwell on it at intervals, unvexed by doubts. 
 
 By the time Honoria had left her, she had few doubts 
 left, few, that is, as to Charles' being " that sort." She 
 did not for an instant credit that he was serious in admir- 
 ing Honoria. Eveleen was a woman of sense, and, granted 
 Charles had admired Lisette, it was impossible that he 
 could admire Honoria, even idly. He just played with any 
 girl that came, and it was likely to be hard on Violet, but 
 was probably Violet's fault for talking too much. 
 
 This, we may point out, was precisely the attitude of 
 her original letter to her daughter, the one that had so 
 infuriated Charles: which only proves once more Lady 
 Ashwin's remarkable tenacity of the few ideas she had. 
 Eveleen, though she was occasionally amused by some- 
 thing Violet said, perhaps a spark of Ingestre cropping 
 out, had long been certain that, especially in excitement, 
 she said a number of unnecessary things. She was very 
 careful to do the contrary when Charles, as not infre- 
 quently, came in of a Sunday evening to talk to her in 
 her own charming little room. He was really a very nice 
 boy : bright, entertaining and ordinary, and Eveleen liked 
 him. She just showed her sympathy with him, on the sub- 
 ject of Violet, now and then. She had suffered from 
 Ashwin chatter herself, for twenty-three years now, very 
 nearly, so she knew. And Charles, who liked Lady Ash- 
 win in the life considerably better than in her letters,
 
 THE TALISMAN 221 
 
 gave her no reason whatever to doubt that he was per- 
 fectly content with her own style of conversation. 
 
 Honoria's attitude was infinitely less agreeable and ex- 
 cusable, and it is probably waste of time and pains even 
 to touch upon it. Her uncle, John Ingestre, in publishing 
 abroad his hint to Violet that she had " lost her man," and 
 in adding a little more to it in the same style, would have 
 simplified a biographer's labors immensely. We prefer to 
 put it in Violet's manner : that Honoria had been through 
 a " terrible time " of disappointment and sullen self-re- 
 proach, and that she was wretched enough to seize any 
 consolation to her defrauded affections. The fact that she 
 had determined to dislike Violet, to dislike her power- 
 fully, to the extent of threatening physical violence, for 
 the few keen things she had said across her shoulder from 
 beside the coffee-tray the night before, assisted her atti- 
 tude hugely. She seized the first method of stinging that 
 came to avenge her outraged dignity. 
 
 Nor did Charles fulfil his threat of disillusioning 
 Honoria " hot and strong " upon the doorstep at her de- 
 parture, since Violet was down by that time, grasping the 
 social reins with her accustomed skill. He only stood 
 upon his threshold, markedly tamed and tractable, with 
 Violet's hand through his arm, and let her do the talking, 
 while he gazed absently over Miss Addenbroke's shoulder, 
 his eyes just missing her face. Nothing in the world can 
 look so vague as really blue eyes when they choose ; and if 
 Charles' were a little remorseful too, Honoria's own pro- 
 tuberant pair did not perceive it. She thought him charm- 
 ing, if abstracted, to the last. 
 
 " Thank goodness," said Violet, with heartfelt relief, 
 when she was gone. " I think now Cousin John may do 
 his worst, in that quarter. I shall suggest as much to 
 Cousin Agatha, when I write to-day." 
 
 Violet was writing to refuse, with regret, a most courte- 
 ous invitation from Mrs. Ingestre, the owner of the 
 poisoned lap-dog in our first chapter, the mistress of
 
 222 DUKE JONES 
 
 Ingestre Hall. The girl did not feel fit for such festivity 
 herself, either in health or spirits ; but she had suggested 
 to Charles that he might go, and have some dancing and 
 skating. Charles' manner of replying showed that he was 
 tempted, for the Hall at Christmas was delightful, stocked 
 with appropriate festivities and pretty girls. Violet de- 
 scribed it all to him, in most attractive detail, for she had 
 visited there as a child; but at the end of all he replied, 
 in a pretty formula that she never forgot, that he liked a 
 little house best in bad weather, and he stayed at her 
 side. 
 
 Violet, in bad or at least uncertain weather, was only 
 too happy to have him, for she needed sorely to divert her 
 thoughts. She was haunted perpetually, as no girl should 
 be at such time, by the phantom of Lisette, the tortured 
 phantom of those desperate letters; and equally by the 
 phantom in her father's house, the skeleton behind his 
 doors. She grew to dread even a casual meeting with 
 her mother, who showed an aptitude for playing with 
 certain subjects that was exactly in proportion with her 
 perception of the girl's shrinking from them. In the 
 interval after such an ordeal, Violet's saner judgment 
 persuaded her of a mental twist that must account for it ; 
 and she teased herself wondering if her father recognized 
 the condition also, and how much of her own suffering 
 from it it was right or loyal to betray. It was wrong to 
 brood, anyhow, she knew : yet she could not avoid it, at 
 least when she was alone. 
 
 But with Charles to fall back on, it was different. She 
 told him little or nothing of her vexations, but he was 
 always there for her to look at, healthy and handsome 
 and serene. He had innumerable friends, and it was 
 " kind " of him, Violet considered, to stay with her as 
 much as he did. Violet repaid kindness with kindness in 
 the walks of daily life, and she spent herself upon his 
 entertainment, though it was not the least necessary. 
 Charles had long thought her one of the most amusing
 
 THE TALISMAN 223 
 
 people of his acquaintance, and he did not change such 
 opinions easily. 
 
 " Cousin Agatha " at the Hall did not reply again to 
 the little note of explanation she received about the 
 Christmas visit, tossing it to John in silence, and noting 
 his grunt, half of regret and half of approval, when he 
 had twice read through the words. But when the family 
 Ingestre came up for their short season in town in March, 
 she proceeded with remarkable promptitude to call upon 
 the pair. John's description of them had interested her; 
 and though she disliked Eveleen Ashwin for several 
 reasons, some very remote, she saw no immediate reason 
 to dislike Eveleen's daughter. She was indeed very kind 
 to the daughter : brought her masses of hot-house flowers, 
 even primroses from the country since she preferred 
 them, talked to her about indifferent things, while she 
 closely watched her face, and took her several drives, 
 according as she could stand it, in London or beyond. 
 
 " There's Eveleen with two carriages," she remarked 
 to John, " heaps of time on her hands, of course, and 
 never takes her out. The girl must have quarreled with 
 her, John, it's nonsense. It's hardly decent, otherwise." 
 
 " Indecent if you like," said Mr. Ingestre, " it's not the 
 case. They are still on terms, owing to the men. Dear 
 Eveleen has done all she knows, I haven't a doubt, to 
 make the girl dislike her as much as she dislikes the girl. 
 But Eveleen likes Shovell, and Ashwin likes his daughter, 
 more than a little, and there they stand." 
 
 " Well, I call it disgraceful," said Agatha, who had 
 been moved. " You should have seen her little pathetic 
 face, when I proposed it. Can't rise to a carriage at pres- 
 ent naturally : nervous of hired ones, goodness knows. 
 Nothing to call a garden, some way from the Park, 
 loves the air. The air ! You'd have said that was a cheap 
 enough commodity, even for that selfish woman to offer ; 
 but she won't." 
 
 " How does the boy strike you ? " said the head of the
 
 224 DUKE JONES 
 
 family, who took his consort's opinion occasionally. Be- 
 ing a downright lady, she invariably had one, though Mr. 
 Ingestre stamped it underfoot now and again, just to 
 show her her position. On her opinion of Eveleen, John 
 did not think it worth while to stamp : knowing all about 
 it for twenty years back. 
 
 " The boy's devoted at present," she said shortly. 
 " Can't say if it will last. He looks as if he could be a 
 rogue, on occasion." 
 
 " Somebody won't suggest who is putting it about 
 London that he is." 
 
 " Contradict it then, it's nonsense ! Contradict it, 
 John, do you hear? It's not tolerable that girl should be 
 teased, more than she must be in any case. If anyone 
 can hold a man of that sort, I back a girl like that, once 
 give her a fair chance. It's absurd to decry intellect in 
 such a case. If someone would murder the mother 
 heaps of men must be longing to do it, her chance would 
 be better, naturally." 
 
 John merely raised an eyebrow and scratched his jaw. 
 Intellect was not a word he ever granted to women, 
 though he had known some clever ones. Claude's daugh- 
 ter was cleverish, and John personally enjoyed her com- 
 pany; but he would not have given a penny for her 
 chances, with one of Charles' name, had they depended 
 on her wits alone. John had taken the trouble to look 
 up the Shovells, after he left his cousin's house ; and he 
 had come to the conclusion oddly matching Eveleen's, 
 though entirely independent, that Claude had been hasty 
 in the alliance. Not that it mattered, fortunately, to 
 John : it was off the direct line ; he only drew Agatha and 
 others about Claude's little girl, persistently, at every 
 opportunity. He did so now. 
 
 " I touched the subject of Felicia, foolishly," said 
 Agatha. " I hadn't meant to. I tried to move from it 
 again, but she wouldn't let me off. She stood with her 
 back turned, and talked to me. Her feeling's exagger-
 
 THE TALISMAN 225 
 
 ated, of course, silly little thing, but she showed me 
 it all, in words. In words, John : I did not see her face 
 while she spoke at all, and the tone's like the father's, 
 soft and slight. I should have thought," said Mrs. 
 Ingestre reflectively, " of all the women I know, only the 
 Duse could make me cry, turning her back. The girl 
 could have made that sort of actress, granted a better 
 presence and a bigger voice." 
 
 " I disagree about the presence," said John. " She 
 has it, when she likes. So has Ashwin, on occasion, for 
 all his restlessness. I must really sometime go into 
 the origins of that stock." 
 
 This short conversation was significant of the stride 
 made by the Ashwins that season in the Ingestre estima- 
 tion. They had become suddenly more interesting, fas- 
 cinating almost, to the other " lot." Claude, ridiculously 
 busy always, only caught society's attention by flashes, in 
 odd times. Everyone admitted he was worth having, if 
 you could get him, that was all. But that was a good 
 foundation ; and Violet promised to build upon it rapidly. 
 Violet happened to hover just at the verge of several 
 " mondes," and they all accepted her ; the smart, the in- 
 tellectual, the artistic, the old true-blue to which the 
 Ingestres belonged, even the useful people, who cannot be 
 ignored nowadays, all were allowed at least a shot for 
 Mrs. Shovell, and put Mr. Shovell in their pockets by the 
 way. That Charles was naturally sociable, and Violet 
 naturally shy, is all their biographer really means by this 
 expression. 
 
 Before what Agatha Ingestre called her " chance " 
 vanished that season, she was seen and admired a good 
 deal; though the majority of the visitors to her pretty 
 little house in the far-west, unlike Agatha in the carriage, 
 came more for their own sake than hers. She had in- 
 numerable new friends, and various well-established old 
 ones; and among the old, when she least expected him, 
 faithful to his word, came Jones.
 
 226 DUKE JONES 
 
 ii 
 
 He surprised Violet very much when she found him 
 sitting in her drawing-room one Sunday afternoon in the 
 early winter, just before the coming of that New Year 
 which now enshrined her highest hopes. Among the 
 many un-English tricks of Violet's little maid, from which 
 her mistress had to wean her by slow degrees, was that 
 of overlooking, when she admitted a visitor with the 
 most anxious friendliness and a fascinating smile, the 
 little matter of the name. In this case she told Madame 
 that the gentleman had " bans yeux " and resembled a 
 " pasteur" in his responses. (The gentleman should 
 not, of course, have had anything to respond to, but 
 Annette's taste for conversing with the more sympathetic 
 guests was past praying over, according to Violet.) The 
 result was that Mrs. Shovell very nearly refused him: 
 which would have been a matter of lasting regret to 
 both. 
 
 As it was, she swept into the drawing-room with her 
 finest air, prepared to be bored by a new curate, stood 
 a minute with her brows up in a manner he remembered, 
 and then skimmed in an impetuous flight to his side, 
 and gave him the welcome, sweet and emphatic, of which 
 he had dreamed. 
 
 He brought no news, he hastened to warn her lest she 
 should be disappointed ; but her radiant look of welcome 
 did not change. It seemed she really wanted to see him, 
 not merely his quarterly report on Miss Lisette's affair. 
 Asked whence he came, Marmaduke confessed he came 
 from home, where he had been resting quietly for several 
 weeks. But it emerged by degrees that he had been to 
 Paris more than once, and once to Belgium, on a false 
 scent. His secretaryship Jones had abandoned mean- 
 while, having found a " fellow he knew " (probably called 
 Brown) to conduct his " show." This probable Brown 
 helped his researches by keeping his eyes and ears alert
 
 THE TALISMAN 227 
 
 for news in London, while Jones made raids, at intervals, 
 upon the foreign centers. All kinds of " fellows," ter- 
 riers of his own breed, were helping Jones in the more 
 likely spots, and one or two women in Paris, of whom he 
 spoke with deep respect. He did not yet despair, Violet 
 gathered, and always for the same reason: because of 
 Miss Lisette's loveliness, he harped on that. The thing 
 that was a lure to others was to Jones' simple mind a 
 light, a light unquenchable, that might ultimately lead 
 him to her hiding-place. It was certainly a defensible 
 point of view, but it struck Violet as peculiar in the man 
 who held it: and it was one of the oddities in their con- 
 versation which she stored for Charles. 
 
 The purposes of Jones' call came to light by degrees, 
 he had no idea of paying calls without a practical pur- 
 pose, and would have been mildly surprised to hear that 
 anybody ever did so. First, he had brought Mrs. Shovell 
 a Christmas offering, which he produced in the most 
 shamefaced manner from an inner pocket. It was a little 
 box containing one of her lost jewels: or rather, part of 
 one. As Jones' " luck would have it," it happened to be 
 the oldest and dearest of all. It was the central opal of 
 a lovely pendant she had worn during her honeymoon, a 
 thing full of milky mystery and colored flashes, with a 
 shimmering blue light at its heart which had seemed to 
 Violet's childish mind miraculous. Violet, naturally, 
 having had it in childhood, would have recognized it any- 
 where, in its setting or out. So would her father, Sir 
 Claude. And even so, it appeared, did the well-trained 
 terrier Jones. 
 
 " How could you remember? " said Violet, cuddling it 
 in her two hands, stars in the gray eyes lifted to him, 
 infinitely pleased. Before she addressed him, she had 
 been talking to her opal, it should be mentioned, as though 
 Jones had not been there. " I thought I should never see 
 that little moving sun again. I wore it on Sundays in 
 the country sometimes, and when it came about the Spirit
 
 228 DUKE JONES 
 
 moving on the waters in what they read, I used to think 
 of it and watch it all the time. I am sure that is how the 
 Spirit moved. I do love chipped stones, it is rather 
 idolatrous really. To worship it in church was naughty, 
 but I was young. How did you remember, Mr. Jones? " 
 
 " I couldn't be sure," said Marmaduke, a trifle flushed. 
 " But it looked to me like yours, and I thought it worth 
 trying. I found it by a fluke, turning over some other 
 things, you know, not in Paris, but here. The fellow 
 could not tell me how they got it, they never can. You 
 showed me it once," he added. 
 
 " Did I ? And you remembered ? You must have a 
 natural eye for jewels, like Father. Oh, I should like to 
 introduce you to my father, Mr. Jones. He would thank 
 you for this, at least as much as I. It's silly how we 
 love little bits of color, both of us. It makes us rather 
 mad at times, in the opinion of our sensible acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 But Jones, distinctly of her sensible acquaintance, did 
 not think her mad merely because she made little remarks 
 to a ray of light in a stone, and asked it where it had 
 been, and embraced it with gentle lips when she thought 
 his eyes were off her. These proceedings, mad or sane, 
 earned him the purest pleasure he had known for months, 
 as well as some relief. For he had not been perfectly sure 
 the thing was hers until he watched her unpack it and 
 saw her face. Of course, even had it been a stranger 
 opal, she might have accepted it ; but it was far preferable 
 that it should be her own, and so no uncomfortable ques- 
 tions asked. It never even occurred to Mrs. Shovell, 
 " mad " as she was, that he had paid money to recover it : 
 and for that oblivion Jones thanked his gods. The people 
 who forget, in a natural rapture, the rapture of a child, 
 an artist or a religious devotee, all about money oc- 
 casionally, were the people who in life appealed to Jones. 
 It only showed once more, had such a thing needed 
 demonstration, that she was all he thought her: and she
 
 THE TALISMAN 229 
 
 was even lovelier than he remembered, in her soft-colored 
 winter clothes. 
 
 He had " no luck " in his call, really, for it seemed 
 Mrs. Shovell was going out. 
 
 " What a pity you did not come earlier ! " she said, 
 for the second time; and he learnt that in spite of the 
 frozen fog, through which he had groped to find her 
 house, she was walking some distance, to take tea with a 
 Lady Brading. Jones would have liked to assure her 
 that the weather, in his opinion, was unfit for her or her 
 clothes either; but he only said " Oh, yes," and looked 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 Personally, he had come on business, of course ; to see 
 if Shovell was at home, to return the jewel, and for one 
 other little matter he proceeded modestly to mention. 
 Had Mrs. Shovell, or Lady Ashwin, by any chance, got 
 a good photograph of Miss Lisette ? The police had one, 
 but it was not, in his judgment, a good one: would not 
 identify her beyond dispute. Since he happened to be 
 there, he had thought he just might 
 
 " Of course," said Violet, in her definite tone, her eyes 
 dreaming the while on Jones' blushing face. " Yes 
 
 . . . I was only thinking " She seemed to be only 
 
 thinking for a minute or two, then she spoke clearly. 
 " I really have nothing the least worthy, nor Mother, 
 except the miniature. Ledger, her father's master, did 
 that, a very good man. She sat to him often, too, which 
 makes it safer as a likeness, doesn't it? Mother gave it 
 me when she was changing the pictures in her room one 
 day, and I have kept it by me ever since." 
 
 The statement thus made to Jones was colored slightly, 
 for Violet had found the Ledger miniature, banished 
 from the boudoir, face downward in a drawer. She had 
 assumed it without scruple, for she knew well it would 
 never see the light again by Eveleen's choice ; and it stood 
 by her bedside, in company with another portrait, 
 that of a friend she had loved and lost in childhood.
 
 2 3 o DUKE JONES 
 
 " I am just going to put on my hat," she observed to 
 Jones, " and I will bring it down. Are you going towards 
 the town, by any chance ? We might walk together across 
 the gardens." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Jones. " Thanks : that would be rip- 
 ping." He gasped, when she left him alone. He was a 
 creature of habit, to a really absurd degree. Just because 
 it chanced she had generally talked to him, walking at 
 his side, his highest ambition was to repeat the ex- 
 perience. And in London, he had told himself severely, 
 to cherish such a hope was absurd. 
 
 It was some time before she returned to the drawing- 
 room, the miniature portrait in her hand. She had had to 
 detach it from its frame, she explained; a double one, 
 containing another portrait, with which she need not 
 trouble Mr. Jones. He wondered foolishly, frantically 
 indeed, if the other portrait had been hers. Of course, 
 when one comes to think it over, a young woman does not 
 keep her own portrait in her room, but Shovell might. 
 Jones was genuinely sorry not to see Shovell, because 
 that way, he might have heard something worth hearing. 
 This way, he only heard of Miss Lisette. 
 
 All the same, when he took the little painting in his 
 hands he exclaimed in involuntary admiration. It was a 
 beautiful thing, and very like, especially as to the lovely 
 coloring. That was what no photograph could ever give, 
 a commonplace, but Jones said it, and Violet earnestly 
 agreed. She left it in his hands after a minute, and 
 walked away, looking back at him once or twice from the 
 window, as he pored over Ledger's portrait of Lisette. 
 He pored long, as a lover might, or a connoisseur of fine 
 painting, or a sleuth-hound who had rather forgotten 
 the original. But of that latter alternative, Mrs. Shovell 
 (being a sentimentalist) did not think. 
 
 " Please keep it," she said definitely, as he would have 
 handed it back. " It couldn't be in better hands, and it is 
 some slight return for this." She was clasping her opal
 
 THE TALISMAN 231 
 
 still, nursing it unobstrusively in one hand, up near her 
 breast. 
 
 " You mean I may have it? " said Jones, amazed. 
 
 " Please. Let me pack it for you." 
 
 She packed it, while he wondered, in layers of soft 
 paper and pink wool, for it was evidently dear to her. 
 She was giving him a thing that was dear to her, an 
 intimate thing, over which, perhaps, she had dwelt herself 
 a little, every night. Prayed ? Marmaduke was not sure : 
 but all the thoughts of such a girl were as good as 
 prayers, he believed. That was an article, a late article, 
 of his belief. The stiff aunt who left him the fortune 
 might easily not have approved of it at all. Yet Jones 
 believed, he had thought so more than once, his own 
 mother would have loved Violet. 
 
 After that they started, when she had assumed a feath- 
 ered hat, not the same one, thrown some furs about 
 her, and put the jewel in her muff " to show Margery." 
 She also apologized nicely for wasting so much of Jones' 
 valuable time, and walked light-footed beside him for at 
 least a mile; for, since we have turned back in history a 
 little, this was the period when Violet was still active, at 
 her most sociable, conquering the world. 
 
 He did not hear her news, naturally ; but she heard all 
 his, since her questions about France happened all to be 
 easy ones to answer. Jones had noticed this about Mrs. 
 Shovell's way of questioning before: that any fellow 
 could talk to her, and satisfy her curiosity. What she 
 wanted to know was what he could tell her, and she could 
 enlarge upon the most ordinary things, as once she had 
 enlarged upon the weather, entertainingly. Besides, 
 when one enjoys a soft tone, it matters little what it says : 
 and Jones, his ear still vexed and jarred by the hard 
 Parisian voices, and their perplexing speech, was the 
 more easily charmed by hers. 
 
 He confessed to her as they walked this recurrent 
 trouble about the foreign language. That and his appear-
 
 232 DUKE JONES 
 
 ance were against him when he haunted the places in 
 Paris where Lisette might be. They found him amus- 
 ing, and Marmaduke, who had always taken himself 
 rather seriously, was surprised. Mrs. Shovell laughed into 
 her large muff, laughed at him, evidently, but somehow 
 he did not mind that. She asked his pardon the instant 
 after, and explained why she had laughed. 
 
 " I don't think you are at all especially English in ap- 
 pearance, but they are so funnily quick to see. Some- 
 times I think it is ouf expression, our way of taking 
 things. We can't look careless and comically critical, 
 which is the proper Parisian attitude. Even Father, with 
 all his practice, hardly can. We we mind much too 
 much." 
 
 We ! She included herself. She " minded " then, as 
 well ! Still, of course her father had never taken her to 
 those places which Jones had been haunting during his 
 autumn visits to Paris. The idea was outrageous: and 
 Sir Claude, though he had been a medical student in his 
 time, would be careful, exquisitely. It was a consolation 
 to Jones to think so, anyhow. He had an idea Sir Claude 
 would have exactly his own views about women, girls, 
 at least. He had shuddered at times even to think of 
 Miss Lisette, with her shell-like English coloring and clear 
 strange eyes, in some of those places. But in the case of 
 Miss Lisette, who has passed into the pitiful department 
 of Jones' being, he did not shudder often. The shudder 
 was general, so to speak. It had been shuddered once 
 for all, years since. Work was what applied to a case 
 such as that of Miss Lisette, vigorous work, not whimper- 
 ing. 
 
 At the Lancaster Gate they parted, since their roads 
 diverged; each with their little packet, they went their 
 ways. They exchanged no promises or protestations at 
 parting: it was not necessary, since they were of one 
 mind. Violet took for granted if she could be of any 
 assistance he would let her know. Jones took for granted
 
 THE TALISMAN 233 
 
 her claim, immediate claim, to whatever news he had. 
 He seemed to have her peculiar sympathy, too, in his 
 self-imposed quest, by the kind way she looked him in 
 the eyes. 
 
 " It's so much nicer, dear Margery, don't you think ? " 
 said Violet, when Lady Brading's crowded tea-party had 
 dispersed, and with no more serious obstacle than the 
 baby to divide them, Violet had leisure to tell her the 
 latest edition of Jones. " More comforting, in the case, 
 when you consider it, pathetic as it naturally is. I had 
 always rather people were human, not humane. Here's 
 Robert, I'm sure he'll agree with me." 
 
 Robert evidently thought it probable, but he needed to 
 pick up a few details before he would commit himself, 
 even to agreement with Violet. Opinions, in the case of 
 Robert, were serious and weighty things, and women 
 tossed them about far too freely. He heard details 
 solemnly, while Margery, across the head of his son and 
 heir, served him with tea. Luckily he had foundations 
 to work upon, very luckily, since Violet was in an 
 erratic mood. The Bradings shared nonsense with the 
 Shovells, as a rule, that is, when Charles did not go too 
 far ; and Robert and Margery had long since been treated 
 to the narrative of Marmaduke Jones. 
 
 " I can't really believe in loving humanity," said Violet, 
 walking about the room, and coming to a halt at intervals 
 to argue with one or the other, as seemed most appro- 
 priate and desirable. " One does not, it is impossible. I 
 don't love the people I meet in 'buses or trains, I deeply 
 disapprove of their expressions generally, and the selfish 
 way they keep the window shut. If one in the corner is 
 nice-looking, I love her naturally ; or if another begs my 
 pardon, or picks up my purse, I love him instantly, al- 
 ways, I watch his face affectionately till he gets out. 
 . . . But the bulk, no, I reject them. Though I al- 
 ways supposed people like Robert or Mr. Jones would
 
 234 DUKE JONES 
 
 hold the broader view, and snub me for personal particu- 
 larizing, wouldn't you ? " 
 
 " Not necessarily," said Robert, looking at Bobbin and 
 Margery. " Proceed, Violet, only do sit down." 
 
 " I can't," said Violet, " when my emotions have been 
 stirred ; you ought to remember that. Bobbin, on the top 
 of Mr. Jones and my opal, is really quite too much. 
 . . . I never hoped to discover the personal element 
 in Mr. Jones, Margery; he always seemed to me, with 
 his eagle glance, from an eminence, to embrace humanity. 
 He watched from his mountain-walls, like Robert." 
 
 " Do leave Robert alone," said Margery. " He's hav- 
 ing his tea." 
 
 " In Charles," said Violet, changing the issue, " the 
 personal element is strong, and the eminence impercept- 
 ible. In Margery, the personal element is exaggerated 
 and delicious. I shall kiss it in a minute. In Robert, it 
 seems to vary according to the time of day. In Mr. Jones, 
 it seemed to me to be wanting altogether, he would not 
 ever particularize the sea-gulls, I remember. They were 
 just birds, to be admired en masse for their grace, or 
 condemned for their greed. He would not except my 
 sea-gull, or his sea-gull, though they were quite different 
 in the expression of their wings. I noticed it as a symp- 
 tom in him at once. ... I passionately admired Mr. 
 Jones, of course, so did Charles, really, but he had not 
 quite come close to me, if you understand, till this after- 
 noon. Then, for the first time, over that lovely Ledger 
 thing, it struck me, with what relief I need not say, 
 that he was acting in this beautiful manner, not in the 
 cause of Humanity, but oi himself." 
 
 " Isn't she awful ? " murmured Margery into her baby's 
 curls. " Isn't she a perfectly shocking step-aunt, 
 Bobbin?" 
 
 " D'you mean the little fellow was in love ? " de- 
 manded Robert, calmly eyeing Violet from where he sat, 
 broad-shouldered, in his chair.
 
 THE TALISMAN 235 
 
 " In love, yes. . . . Almost in adoration. Beauti- 
 fully unconscious of it, one of the most tragic figures 
 I have ever seen. . . . Though I believe some of 
 our great tragedians were short men," added Violet 
 dreamily. She had reached the window in her perambu- 
 lation, and finding the street-lamps through the fog par- 
 ticularly beautiful, she stopped there, pondering. Behind 
 her back the Brading pair exchanged a glance, humorous 
 and indulgent. 
 
 " Relieve our minds," said Robert, after a pause. 
 " Shovell's oldest friends are trembling, Violet." 
 
 "Are they? Why? Robert, really! You might be 
 Charles. Don't make that kind of joke, I warn you, 
 it's not your style. Charles does it better, though even he 
 gave it up quite soon. I am quite prepared to find this 
 evening that Charles has accurately grasped Mr. Jones' 
 condition, for ages past." 
 
 " He has," said Robert. He reached for the tea-pot, 
 since Margery was engaged. 
 
 "What? You mean you know? Both of you?" 
 Violet swung from one to the other, reproachfully. 
 " Well, I do call that horrid of you all, to leave me out! 
 It's nothing to laugh at, Margery. A convention is a con- 
 vention, I consider; ask your husband. We shall never 
 get anybody's private affairs straight unless we work 
 together. People will call us gossips, and all sorts of 
 nasty names, and they'll be right." 
 
 " Spare your severity," said Robert. " Spare Margery, 
 anyhow, and let me explain. You didn't happen to be 
 present when we were last on the Jones tack, you were 
 seedy. We thought, naturally, Shovell would go home and 
 share with you. Even if he hadn't done so already," 
 added Robert. He shook the tea-pot, his eyes still on 
 Violet. As there seemed to be nothing within, he put it 
 down, regretfully. 
 
 " Well, you have taken the wind out of my entire nar- 
 rative," said Violet, having stood for some moments be-
 
 236 DUKE JONES 
 
 tween them, in pallid desperation. " I might just as well 
 sit down in that other chair." 
 
 " Do, darling," said Margery. " Even Marmaduke is 
 hardly worth so much exertion." 
 
 " The truth is," said Violet, breaking out suddenly 
 again, after an interval of painful thought; then she 
 ceased, as suddenly. " Robert, you're thirsty. I shall 
 make you some fresh tea." 
 
 " I'd rather you sat down," said Robert, mechanically 
 protesting, as he delivered up the tea-pot. " It's Margery's 
 
 job, really, only " he glanced at Margery. " I could 
 
 do it myself, only " 
 
 " Only she's looking," said Violet. " That's Charles' 
 excuse as well. Charles made tea in perfection, at Cam- 
 bridge, for the men. Sometimes I wonder, considering 
 his cowardice of the kettle, what it was like." 
 
 " Not like this," said her host, in duty bound, accepting 
 her ministrations ; for, rapidly as she talked, Mrs. Shovell 
 acted more rapidly still. " Awfully good of you, really, 
 Violet. Thanks. Now go on with Jones ; we're listening." 
 
 " Where was I ? " said Violet. 
 
 " At the truth," said Robert, with a twinkle. " We'd 
 just got there. The truth is " 
 
 " Oh yes. The truth is, Robert and Margery, I was 
 rather worried, fussing internally, when Mr. Jones talked 
 about Lisette to me. That's what it must have been. I 
 really could not notice his expression much, though of 
 course I should have guessed. Charles' mind was at 
 leisure, quite, it generally is for that sort of thing. Why 
 he did not convey his discovery at once to me," said Vio- 
 let, her brow knitting, " is a more serious question, 
 much. I shall go into that this evening. Considering the 
 beautiful confidence that exists between you two, and 
 the way you betray your inmost thoughts, invariably, to 
 one another, you're doing it at this minute, it is too 
 humiliating to attempt it here. . . . There is, ad- 
 mittedly to the best of us, a kind of free-masonry
 
 THE TALISMAN 237 
 
 amongst men, yes, married men, Margery, as well. I 
 do Charles the justice to believe" Violet's utterance 
 grew more painful as the pain of her subject increased, 
 " that he did his level best to share Jones fairly with 
 me. But when it came to the climax, the really ex- 
 quisitely touching climax, of another Man's narra- 
 tive " 
 
 " Well ? " said Robert, smiling, as she paused. 
 
 " Charles' sex was plus fort que lui. That's all,- 1 mine 
 is at times. I forgive him, Robert." She smiled wanly 
 herself, and turned aside. 
 
 " This is really a funeral oration," said Robert to 
 Margery. " Her image of Marmaduke Jones is shat- 
 tered really, she is mourning a lost ideal. That's as far 
 as I've got, where are you ? " 
 
 " I'm at Lisette," said Margery gently. " I have stuck 
 there, I do whenever the name comes up. You never 
 saw her, Robert." 
 
 " No," said Violet, in the same soft tone. " Robert 
 never did." 
 
 Sir Robert raised his brows. He had no earthly desire 
 to look at girls like that, if only these two nice girls would 
 believe him. Women will run men into classes, but really, 
 he did not belong to that class at all. He liked and 
 admired Violet, and he loved Margery, once for all. He 
 had no sisters, and had known few young women well, 
 except these two. He had simply no wish to look at 
 others, unless to interview a nursemaid occasionally. 
 That fell under his duties, according to him, when his 
 son and heir was in question, at least from time to time. 
 
 " Sit down, Violet," he said, almost sternly. " You 
 look so tired. Never mind Jones, what can Jones 
 matter, compared with you ? " 
 
 " It isn't Mr. Jones she minds about," said Margery. 
 " Is it, love ? " Violet stood near her, absently dangling 
 her fur tails for Bobbin's diversion. " We don't think 
 about Mr. Jones."
 
 238 DUKE JONES 
 
 The girls' eyes met, and Robert saw it, and had im- 
 mediately a new lease of his late thoughts. He added to 
 them rapidly, like a clever builder. The intervention, so 
 to speak, of Margery's mind, recognized as a mother- 
 mind, made it clear to him. That, then, was how these 
 two girls, the girls of his little world, thought of that 
 other, Lisette. It brought Lisette into his ring at once, 
 that pitiful look in Margery's soft eyes, that patient bend 
 of Violet's graceful neck. 
 
 " They're not wanting any help for that business, I 
 suppose ? " he said abruptly, breaking the silence. Mrs. 
 Shovell, without turning, shook her head. 
 
 " Money, you mean ? they have heaps. There's 
 Father, and the Ingestres now, not to mention Mr. 
 Jones." 
 
 " Oh, he's well-to-do, is he? . . . He would be, of 
 course, to get that stone back for you," Robert added 
 reflectively. 
 
 Violet turned about, and, brows up, gazed at him. 
 
 " Don't insult my opal, Robert," she said, very gravely. 
 " Fortunes could not buy it, or bring it back to me. 
 Money could never do it, Something Else was necessary. 
 I am talking to Bobbin now, because he understands. I 
 believe, Bobbin, that now the opal has returned to me, 
 Lisette will. There is a finger pointing to it, inside me. 
 It is not a heavenly prompting, the least, it would shock 
 Mr. Jones, and your good father, most deeply. Your 
 cousin is a superstitious stone-worshiper, and it is as 
 well for your precious soul," said Violet, pensively swing- 
 ing her fur, " that she is once-removed." 
 
 Sir Robert and Lady Brading, when Mrs. Shovell had 
 gone, relaxed their pose of grave attention, and laughed. 
 
 " Shovell's not let on, then," said Robert. " Why is 
 that?" 
 
 " Jealous, I shouldn't wonder," said Margery. 
 " Charlie is perfectly capable of being jealous, even of a
 
 THE TALISMAN 239 
 
 Jones. You kept your face splendidly, Bob, I was 
 laughing into Bobbin's hair. Something else necessary! 
 Dear thing, I should think so! She lectured us so 
 nicely, didn't she ? I do like to see Violet make herself 
 really ridiculous, it's not her way." 
 
 " I wish she didn't look so white," said Robert, still 
 rather sternly. " If I were Shovell, I should be anxious. 
 Why can't she let other people's interests go, and rest ? " 
 
 " Because she wouldn't be Violet if she did," said 
 Margery. " I wouldn't have her different, anyhow, and 
 I doubt if Charlie would, in his heart. Besides, she does 
 make time to rest ; she's very good. She has made simply 
 the most heavenly little clothes you can imagine, Bob. 
 Baby and I are jealous since we saw them, aren't we, 
 love?" 
 
 " She's a kind of professional, isn't she? " said Robert. 
 
 He alluded to Mrs. Shovell's pursuits before her mar- 
 riage, known to him and Margery, since their romance 
 and hers had coincided. But still, in spite of such right- 
 eous activities on Violet's part, Robert remained anxious 
 about her. She was not, to quote the formula of her 
 friends when challenged as to such vague disquietude, 
 a common girl. 
 
 in 
 
 Marmaduke Jones succeeded. 
 
 Whether it was by virtue of his steady purpose and 
 self-devotion, of the moving light in Violet's opal, or, 
 more probable than all, by virtue of the radiance of that 
 rarer jewel, beauty wellnigh perfect in our working-day 
 world, Lisette was heard of before that winter quite ran 
 out ; and from being heard of to being seen, and from that 
 to being saved, were steps for such as Jones and his fel- 
 lowship comparatively simple to take. 
 
 It is no more than plain fact that beauty, such as the 
 Ingestres at their best attained to, is not easy to cover 
 up: so far Jones' curious faith was justified by common
 
 2 4 o DUKE JONES 
 
 sense. Eveleen Ashwin could not conceal her name in 
 one of the most populous hotels in London : and Lisette 
 Addenbroke failed in the same manner to hide her face in 
 a more curious and critical community, the half-world of 
 Paris. Involuntarily, wherever she was, her odd little 
 personality came to the surface, and her beauty shone 
 there, a light to the distant seeker. 
 
 Jones wrote to Charles, neatly as usual, but in terms 
 that betrayed both excitement and exasperation. News 
 had come to him second-hand, in his home near Leather- 
 head, that a girl like Lisette had been seen in an art- 
 gallery in Paris, some time since, towards Christmas. 
 She had been noticed, as it chanced, by a young artist, 
 friend of a " fellow " Jones knew in Paris. The " fel- 
 low," struck by the friend's description, had sent for the 
 Ledger miniature, and the friend had instantly declared it 
 the same girl. He could not be mistaken, he said, because 
 of the lovely hair. Being a painter, and an impression- 
 able party as well, the young man had been able to 
 describe his discovery in some detail, and he had also 
 made a few inquiries. Fragments of the friend's en- 
 thusiastic description were handed to Jones, who in his 
 turn picked out the more salient features for Charles. 
 They were certainly arresting, even to the cynical mind. 
 
 She was clad in plain black and rather pale, but had 
 been seen to smile more than once, biting her lip between, 
 when the man who appeared to be on guard over her 
 addressed her remarks. She herself was painting, copy- 
 ing a picture, and she worked with great ease and deft- 
 ness while she talked. While she answered, rather, for, 
 listen as he would, the by-stander could not catch a 
 phrase long enough to determine her nationality. He 
 had had a look at the man, however, and described him 
 as neither old nor young, well and quietly dressed, quite 
 a decent-looking fellow. The girl had addressed him as 
 Edmond once, pronouncing it French fashion. Since the 
 man did not move away, but kept at her elbow looking
 
 THE TALISMAN 241 
 
 round him jealously, Jones' fellow's friend had had to 
 go, with some hope of finding her the following students' 
 day, since her painting was in the early stages. Needless 
 to say, she had not returned, and the baffled friend pro- 
 ceeded to inquiries, quite as though he had been a sleuth- 
 hound in the making. Counting upon her unusual ap- 
 pearance, he was not disappointed. The fair-haired girl 
 had been noticed by the vestiaire at the entrance of the 
 hall, who said she had come twice with the same man. 
 They knew the face of the man, and believed he was a 
 young " collectionneur " of some importance. Without 
 the hall, the policeman at the gate had also noticed her, 
 Frenchmen, Jones observed in passing, seemed better 
 than English in this way, and thought she had arrived 
 by a certain line of omnibus. This fixed the side of the 
 river, and the southeast quarter, very vaguely ; but vague 
 or no, wild or not, Jones was going straight to Paris to 
 interview the " fellow," examine the friend, scour the 
 quarter, and watch the public places, picture-galleries 
 above all. It had evidently not struck Jones in any defi- 
 nite form before that it would be well to look for Lisette 
 in the world of art: he had only thought, with the prej- 
 udice of his kind, of the fashionable theatrical: yet, of 
 course, it was more probable, as a hunting-ground, since 
 both actively and passively, as craftsman and model too, 
 Lisette's natural endowment was so remarkable. 
 
 At the time when Jones' letter came, Violet's nervous 
 state had been vexing her father's mind ; and, though her 
 own doctor made nothing of it, with an experienced shrug 
 and smile, Charles decided, on reflection, to tell her noth- 
 ing of this report. It was too vague, and already of old 
 date. The fact that it had been sent to him, and not to 
 her, suggested that Jones also was modest as to its 
 worth. Merely to learn that her cousin was in Paris 
 would be small solace to Violet, only added torment to 
 an imagination already overstrained. No more might 
 ever be heard of Lisette, quite easily; especially if she
 
 242 DUKE JONES 
 
 were being so closely guarded. That it was not the same 
 guardian was reassuring, so far as it went. She might, 
 by a happy chance, have fallen into good hands: but 
 even there the evidence was frail. 
 
 However, Violet's talisman, or Jones' luck, held good. 
 About a fortnight later, Charles called one night at the 
 house in Harley Street, and inquired, with a particularly 
 harassed face, for Sir Claude. , 
 
 The footman, to his astonishment, muttered rapidly: 
 " Not Miss Violet, sir? " and had to be reassured by a 
 brief word before he went his stately way. Evidently the 
 electric influence that had overset the footman's dignity 
 passed on through the house. The doctor's secretary 
 swung brusquely out of the study into the hall. 
 
 " Sir Claude's engaged," he said, drawing himself up 
 unconsciously, head back, like a young soldier facing 
 fire. "Is it anything?" 
 
 " No," said Charles, looking at his eyes. " I've got to 
 see him, though, somehow, privately. When can I get 
 him, Ford?" 
 
 " Sit down," said Ford, pointing to the chair he had 
 quitted. " I'll go and see. He told me not to disturb 
 him, if the heavens should fall. He's writing against 
 time for the Press." 
 
 " If you get the sack, I'll make it up to you," said 
 Charles, dropping into a seat. " Or she will, anyhow. 
 It's got to be to-night." 
 
 He waited in a quiet house, growing ever more anxious ; 
 for the doctor was as hard as royalty, in these days, to 
 see. Charles had never, since his schooldays, felt so nerv- 
 ous as he felt in that long interval; except on one other 
 occasion, an interview he had undergone in this same 
 room, and then Violet had been backing him. He had 
 a vision, as he waited, of the sprite she was, thought of 
 his girl at home, and bowed his head in his hands, his 
 purpose strengthening. She was right within the sanctu- 
 ary of his temple: no unsightly miseries of the outer
 
 THE TALISMAN 243 
 
 world, by any negligence of his, should touch her now. 
 The gods themselves would hold her above the storm. 
 So thought Charles unwitting, or having forgotten since 
 his schooldays, what the gods were like. 
 
 After some twenty minutes, his father-in-law came in. 
 Charles sprang up, flushing, with an apology. 
 
 " You have spoilt my article," said Sir Claude in his 
 soft tone with composure, " and I used an unhallowed 
 word. I recommend Ford for the Victoria Cross to-mor- 
 row. Now, out with it, Charles." 
 
 " I'm going behind Violet," jerked Charles in agitation, 
 his back half-turned. " For the first time. I've not told 
 her a thing about it, but I must cross by the early boat 
 to France to-morrow. I've got to, I simply see no 
 other way." 
 
 " There is no way, but by boat," said Claude, with his 
 most serious air of attention. " Pussy's not worse ? " he 
 added. 
 
 " You know she's not," said Charles resentfully, " or 
 you wouldn't talk like that." 
 
 " I know she is not, from Ford's complexion. Take it 
 easy, then, can't you? Sit down." 
 
 "Aren't you in a hurry?" said Charles, surprised. 
 The doctor was always in a hurry. 
 
 " No. I tell you the article is spoilt and posted. I 
 condensed it, and the asses will miss the points. You've 
 all night if you want. Sit down." 
 
 " You really are awfully kind." Charles sat down, and 
 revised his thoughts. " It's like this. I opened one of 
 her letters to-night, because I knew the handwriting." 
 
 " Man or woman ? " said Sir Claude. 
 
 " A young man, friend of hers." 
 
 " Very good, that's the beginning of the end. You 
 naturally come to me about it, but I can't do anything." 
 
 " Shut up ! " snapped Charles. " No, really, it's too 
 bad. I'm not fooling, it's serious." He looked at the 
 doctor's eyes, and saw at once that he was serious too,
 
 244 DUKE JONES 
 
 whatever his tongue might say. He was simply, on in- 
 stinct, managing Charles' nerves, and Charles felt better 
 for the treatment. 
 
 " You always have," he said earnestly, " been awfully 
 good to me. I can't think why. The more I know of 
 her, the more I wonder." Claude snapped his fingers, 
 merely. " The letter, as I guessed, was about that poor 
 girl, Miss Addenbroke." 
 
 "Miss Honoria?" 
 
 " Lisette." Charles looked aside, for neither he nor 
 Violet knew exactly where her father was in the Affaire 
 Lisette. 
 
 " Ah," he said simply. " Have they news of her? " 
 
 " More than news. They have herself. This man has 
 got her with him, in his hotel. It's really almost a 
 miracle," said Charles dubiously, " when you come to 
 think." 
 
 " Miracles occur," said the scientist, " granted the man. 
 Who is he?" 
 
 " The secretary of the S.P.X.Z. We met him on our 
 wedding journey." 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! " The doctor dropped into a chair. 
 " Hold on a second, Charles." He plunged his head in 
 his hands. During the interval before he lifted it again, 
 he dived into memory, brought up an inconspicuous sec- 
 retary, placed him, took his measure, and linked him on 
 to John Ingestre's reports, and on to another talk with 
 his daughter in this room. 
 
 " That's the man who did not take Violet's trinkets," 
 he observed pensively. " Yes. ... It was Lisette 
 who did. Naturally. . . . You all came up together 
 in the train that night. I wonder why I never thought 
 of that ! . . . I wish to heaven you'd post me at the 
 time," he snapped, " and not six months after. I'm get- 
 ting too old for such a strain." 
 
 " On my word, sir, I wish I had. It would have saved 
 a lot of wretchedness. But Violet thought "
 
 THE TALISMAN 245 
 
 " I know she thought. We might have stopped her 
 thinking. That would have been clear gain to all, and 
 most to her." He hung silent again, considering wearily. 
 It struck Charles he looked older and more disheartened 
 lately, bright as his eyes still were. 
 
 " I suppose you know everything," he modestly sug- 
 gested. "Don't you?" 
 
 " I suppose I do, yes : and it's just worth the effort of 
 compiling. But Pussy has been bothered rather hid- 
 eously, I am afraid." Another weary pause. " Charles," 
 he said suddenly, " will you let me ask your forgiveness 
 for lending such a torment to existence, your first year? 
 It's only the shreds of the old; she will soon get rid of 
 them, when the new arrives. But it remains hard on you 
 to have lost so much." 
 
 " Don't, for Lord's sake ! She has not let me lose 
 anything. You're as bad one as the other. There's 
 simply nothing I can say." Charles took the extended 
 hand, overcome for a moment by real humility, an emo- 
 tion he seldom felt. " You are simply too awfully good," 
 he repeated, wishing earnestly as he spoke that some- 
 one would shoot his mother-in-law, soon, that night if 
 possible. But since it seemed an unlikely consummation, 
 he saw nothing for it but to pursue, with the facts. 
 
 " This little fellow name of Jones had a good look 
 at Lisette can't help calling her that, 'cause V. does, 
 sorry, saw V.'s anxiety about her, and, from the min- 
 ute we left her, stuck to her like wax. Little Jones do 
 anything in the world for my wife," said Charles ; " like 
 most of us. You may laugh. I told Brading, anyhow, 
 and he was not the least surprised. Ford wouldn't be 
 either, you just try him. He he'd chuck you for her, 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Thanks," said Sir Claude. " I had suspected it, but 
 I hope he won't." 
 
 " He won't now, like to see him ! Confound you," 
 jerked Charles, "you're on to everything. I say, I
 
 246 DUKE JONES 
 
 oughtn't to speak to you like this." He seemed a little 
 surprised at himself, and stopped. Sir Claude sat, 
 " watchfully blinking," liking him better every moment. 
 So very few people in the world " cheeked " Dr. Ashwin, 
 or had ever cheeked him, that he appreciated the sensa- 
 tion. Violet did, of course, but to have it from a man 
 was better fun. You will meet a few superior minds, up 
 and down the world, that adore to the end the insolence 
 of healthy youth, and Claude's was one. 
 
 " How did Jones find Lisette ? " he said, gently goad- 
 ing Charles. 
 
 " Goodness knows. He doesn't go into it. Some 
 extraordinary stroke of luck. . . . He heard she'd 
 been seen somewhere, and roped her in, bit by bit. Then 
 he saw her in a crowd on Sunday, in a park, I don't 
 know Paris, Mont " 
 
 " Monceau," said Claude : and corrected instantly, 
 " Montsouris." 
 
 " That's it, one to you," said Charles kindly. " There 
 was a big crowd some sight or other. Jones dodged 
 some men it was a whole crew and got a word with 
 her. She chaffed him, you know, for following her, 
 she would : she's the devil's own pluck, that girl : but she 
 noticed the address he gave. That's clear by what hap- 
 pened later." 
 
 " Did nothing happen at the time ? " 
 
 " Yes, a row happened. A row generally does with 
 French fellows, doesn't it? One of the men saw Jones 
 speak to her, followed him to a quiet place, and went for 
 him. He's spunk enough," said Charles, stretching his 
 fine limbs unconsciously, " but not much else. He got 
 bowled over, and broke his ankle. Beastly bad luck on 
 the little chap, I call it. They were two or three to one. 
 If that's what they call fair fighting " 
 
 " They don't," said Claude. " Leave the French alone, 
 if you don't know them, I advise you. There's too much 
 cheap talk, by far. Does Mr. Jones need help, now ? "
 
 THE TALISMAN 247 
 
 " No." Charles stared rather. " Money, you mean ? 
 He's got heaps. It's help for the girl he wants. You see 
 she has come to him." 
 
 "Ah, that's bad. They'll be after her. Beauty is 
 notorious over there in no time. There would be a 
 hundred spies along the streets." 
 
 Charles bit his lip. "That's it. He's horribly both- 
 ered, and tied by the leg. Hardly knows the language 
 even, awfully handicapped. It's not fair on him, 
 that's why I must go." 
 
 "Why not Ford?" said the doctor quietly. "He's 
 capable." 
 
 " Thanks awfully, sir, but it's Violet's business, do 
 you see, and that means it's mine. Besides," said Charles 
 awkwardly, " I've a notion a married man is best." 
 
 Claude opened his mouth to scoff, saw his son-in-law's 
 face, and swallowed the words unuttered. " Is the girl 
 ill?" he said. 
 
 "Almost off her head and a child coming. It's a 
 woman's work," said Charles. 
 
 A dead pause while the doctor thought, his brow fur- 
 rowed in its darkest lines. He ran through his female 
 relations, the Ingestres being one by one dismissed as 
 hopeless. Margery Brading was too young, John's wife 
 too old. 
 
 " Your mother, Charles," he then said. 
 
 " Mother's in Sicily for the holidays, I thought of 
 her." He dared not look up, in the next pause. Claude 
 balanced Eveleen finally, and dismissed her. 
 
 " Violet would have gone," he said, as if to himself. 
 
 " Like a shot, yes. She'd go at this minute if I let her 
 see the letter. That," said Charles, " is what I mean. At 
 the worst, she'd have sent me, wouldn't she? I mean, of 
 course, barring you. You're too busy," he added quickly. 
 
 " Business," echoed Claude, " that always bars the 
 essential thing. All the important offices of life go by 
 me, have for years. Now I can't even take your place
 
 248 DUKE JONES 
 
 at Violet's side. She won't have me, Why? I've lost 
 my nerve, for the things that matter. She's too much to 
 me, and I show it, and she suffers. I'd better go to 
 Paris for her, Charles. I know the tongue." 
 
 Charles sat awed : such fierce suffering, past and pres- 
 ent, came through the tone in those few short phrases. 
 It had not struck him to consider, ever, what lay behind 
 the mask of easy languor the doctor turned to the world. 
 
 Before he could speak " I can't, of course," his 
 father-in-law resumed : " I'm speaking in dreamland." 
 He got out his engagement-book, glanced through it, and 
 tossed it on the table. " I'll send Lady Ashwin to Vic- 
 toria," he said, smoothing his hair back with one fine 
 hand. " To Dover, if she'll go, to meet you. You are 
 right, of course, a woman should be there. Poor little 
 solitary, no belongings worth the name. Eveleen will 
 bring her back here, naturally." 
 
 Charles made one of the efforts of his life, and said, 
 " Good, Lisette likes her," in a tone that rang true. 
 
 " Likes my wife ? " said Claude, bitterness vanishing 
 in pure surprise. 
 
 " She said so, in her letter to Violet. She liked her 
 better than her own people, she said. I think she was 
 really attracted. She would be glad to see her, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Ah ! . . . Thank you, Charles. That's useful, 
 and very probably true." He paused, lost in thought. 
 " She's nice to look at, of course," he said absently ; 
 "that's something." 
 
 Charles did not smile. " Anyone," he declared, " would 
 like to see anybody so beautiful. Especially at that hour 
 of the morning." 
 
 " Night boat ? " Claude looked at him ruefully. " Oh, 
 Lord, well, I'll have her roused at five. She may get 
 off, with luck." After a pause, having risen, he added, 
 " How are you managing to shirk yourself, by the way ? 
 Have you the chief in your pocket to that extent ? "
 
 THE TALISMAN 249 
 
 Charles told him details, and the talk passed grad- 
 ually to other things. There was only one further allu- 
 sion to Eveleen in the conversation, all very friendly 
 and soothing to Charles: when the doctor asked if she 
 had come, as directed apparently, on such a day, to take 
 her daughter for a drive. Charles had to admit Mrs. 
 Ingestre had come once or twice, but not Violet's mother. 
 " Oh well," said Claude, " it may be better so." 
 Better, he meant, if his wife held off altogether from 
 Violet at this stage, as she had seemed inclined to do of 
 late. It certainly simplified things, for both households, 
 if she chose that course ; and it spared her husband per- 
 petual double thinking, as it were, which, in the present 
 stage of his professional business, he could hardly tol- 
 erate. 
 
 IV 
 
 But there is no reckoning with a sense of injury, in 
 man or woman either; it spurs even such idlers as Lady 
 Ashwin to do unaccustomed and distasteful things. To 
 seek her daughter's society out of kindness may well 
 have been remote from her habits at this time ; but to seek 
 her, even to seek her promptly, when she found herself 
 in need of anything her daughter could supply, was no 
 more than an ancient habit revived. 
 
 Claude, expert in her mentality as he was, by reason 
 of other distractions, just failed to follow her mind on 
 this occasion. He was caught in the season's fullest rush, 
 seeking ways and solutions for innumerable problems in 
 other lives besides his own: and it just did not strike 
 him, in the few serious words he spoke to his wife on 
 the subject of the girl Lisette, that he put a new means 
 of attack on Violet into her hands. He had once, in the 
 stress of argument, called her mad, but, student of the 
 diseased will as he was, he did not reckon to the full 
 with her formless mania. Eveleen's quiet and rather 
 cowed reception of his brief directions to rise early,
 
 250 DUKE JONES 
 
 drive to the station, receive and bring back the girl, was, 
 so far as it went, reassuring. She was decidedly reduced 
 by his sweeping methods of late, and would never com- 
 pletely meet his eyes. She knew, somehow, as even the 
 stupidest and most selfish wives may know, that she 
 had cut Claude to the heart by refusing his hospitable 
 roof and capable protection to Lisette in her sorest need. 
 She had shamed and almost stupefied him by her con- 
 duct, and killed the last spark of faith in her he had. 
 Now he dragooned her simply, rode her down with a 
 force of will he could exert at need, had exerted all his 
 life on the dull and physically inert, though never yet 
 on her. In this case, she learnt, she was to say no word 
 to a soul, a simple matter for Eveleen usually, but 
 she was to rise and dress at that unheard-of hour, and go. 
 
 " Of course I will," said Eveleen crossly, " if I must. 
 You needn't talk so much about it." 
 
 And so she diverted him, successfully. He mentioned 
 the girl had no woman with her, and why she was in 
 need of such countenance. He mentioned she was being 
 escorted to London, adding no names expressly, that 
 her wandering thoughts might not be distracted from the 
 duty in hand. And so leaving her, Claude flattered him- 
 self the spring of action he had stimulated in her, or 
 transferred to her from his own overflowing energy, 
 would work without mishap. 
 
 But it occurred to Lady Ashwin, by some quite nat- 
 ural and easy processes of thought, since she needed an 
 outlet for complaint, to drop several other small engage- 
 ments, and go to tea with Violet. Nobody ever listened 
 so well as Violet, really, she had always been sympa- 
 thetic with her mother's petty grievances, at least in 
 words. At times her soft voice and neat expressions, 
 even though they were oddly-chosen Ashwin expressions, 
 filled a gap for Lady Ashwin that no other could so 
 well supply. Then, even Violet's chatter found its uses,
 
 THE TALISMAN 251 
 
 since it expressed the benevolent, ingenious thoughts be- 
 hind. 
 
 Besides, as the time approached, it did seem too hard a 
 dispensation, that Eveleen should be practically driven, 
 by Claude's sharp phrases, the full injustice of which 
 sank into her grieved soul by degrees, to get up before 
 six o'clock on a cold spring morning, in order to meet, 
 with the least possible show of sympathy, the girl she 
 had wronged. It did not exactly occur to Lady Ashwin 
 that Violet might just as well do it: but that had so 
 often been her attitude of mind in a like case that it was 
 at least an easy position to take up, at need. 
 
 The need, however, did not immediately arise, for she 
 was softened by a kind reception. The little maid being 
 a dense foreigner looked doubtful at her inquiry and 
 went to see, but Violet did not refuse her. It had not 
 even entered Eveleen's ideas that she might, since she 
 walked through life on the assumption that she was wel- 
 come everywhere, exactly as a queen would walk. If 
 the question had come up at all, it was decidedly kind of 
 her to call on Violet, on an afternoon when she had 
 heaps of other things to do, and hand her such matters 
 of gossip as she might, through her recent quiet life, 
 have missed. 
 
 Her condescension was repaid by the consideration it 
 deserved. Violet, who had a nice little room she called 
 drawing-room, slightly larger than Lady Ashwin's 
 boudoir, gave her mother a very good tea, though she 
 chose to languish on the sofa while she dispensed it. 
 She was particularly pleasant, too, and mild, she did 
 not fuss at all. It was true, she was well-served, so 
 that the necessity of fussing hardly arose. Lady Ash- 
 win remarked with some resentment, in the matter of 
 the attractiveness of the little meal, and the attentive- 
 ness of the little maid, that her daughter, " had things 
 very nice " in her new home. Since Violet had left her 
 mother's house, things had stopped being as nice there
 
 252 DUKE JONES 
 
 as Lady Ashwin could ideally have wished. She had 
 always had an idea that, granted the right person at the 
 head, a large house like hers worked itself. Claude and 
 Violet had never allowed her to think otherwise, and it 
 was a gratifying article of Eveleen's faith that most of 
 the comforts of life came automatically into being. Now- 
 adays, the faith was shaken slightly, since Claude was 
 frequently too busy to scold the erring footmen, not to 
 mention selfishly refusing the services of his secretary 
 for his wife's errands, and Violet was unable, appar- 
 ently, to look in every morning at a house a couple of 
 miles away, to do the food, the flowers, and the fruit. 
 For some time past her daughter had not offered her 
 assistance, even on the occasion of the larger dinner- 
 parties, to which she was not asked. 
 
 On inquiring pleasantly after Charles, Eveleen learnt 
 that he had gone to Paris, for twenty-four hours, for the 
 firm. She sat over this piece of information quite a long 
 time, dwelling upon it in its threefold bearing : the place, 
 the period, and the excuse. She saw the explanation at 
 once as an excuse, of course. " For the firm," of all 
 futility! Lady Ashwin saw quite a number of things, 
 indeed, having full leisure, and a comfortable chair, in 
 which to ponder upon the evidence. It had an awaken- 
 ing quality for her make of mind. While she turned it 
 over, letting all its suggestions sink slowly in, her eyes 
 were on her daughter's face, so unusually pensive and 
 tranquil in the shadow of the room: a tired little face, 
 for all that, as though she had had too much of life, 
 all told, of late. It occurred to Eveleen that it was 
 hard on Violet. From her former position that it was 
 likely to be hard, her thoughts now moved on a stage. 
 In the child's present situation, it really was. 
 
 So far, so good : a most maternal attitude. Next, Lady 
 Ashwin had to calculate what the men were " after," in 
 thus misleading her, and the girl, of course, by the way. 
 Such calculation of motives, in her husband's case, was
 
 THE TALISMAN 253 
 
 apt to be complicated, and tiresome to pursue. Claude 
 had omitted to state that Charles was the person who 
 had brought the news of Lisette, and who had gone, 
 without an instant's delay, to meet and bring her home. 
 Claude had omitted it deliberately, no doubt, being fond 
 of Violet: for the fact was hardly creditable to Charles. 
 
 So far Eveleen could struggle, easily : all that lay along 
 the line of her capital interest. On the point as to why 
 Claude had granted his wife the information, and the 
 mission, which he expressly withheld from his daughter, 
 Eveleen's awakened intelligence did not dwell. Claude's 
 elaborate efforts to spare Violet all forms of excitement, 
 during the weeks past, had not, of course, escaped his 
 wife's notice, though he might think so. They made her 
 smile, though she frowned at times, when he betrayed 
 his anxiety over the girl too rashly, in her presence. At 
 the period, which Lady Ashwin remembered very well, 
 when she herself had been in Violet's case, Claude had 
 not shown himself a quarter so careful, though, of 
 course, he always fussed, it was his nature. 
 
 Lady Ashwin diverted, with relief, to Charles. What 
 Charles was " after " was likely, in any case, to be simple. 
 Charles was the kind of man Eveleen comprehended, 
 whom she had encountered, in her own experience, by the 
 score. He fell into a class, and that the commonest class 
 of all, the aboriginal. Charles' motives, in his so-called 
 journey " for the firm," could be all too easily unraveled, 
 especially in the light of his mother-in-law's previous 
 comfortably-established convictions about him. It all 
 fitted on to a nicety : indeed, it would hardly be straining 
 truth, Eveleen's truth, to say she had predicted it. 
 
 Eveleen's mind recurred to Lisette, vivid and graceful 
 and seductive, as she had been that memorable morning 
 at the Langham hotel; and her eyes shifted again upon 
 her daughter, just to compare. Violet was profiting by 
 her mother's unusually prolonged meditations, as it 
 seemed, to go to sleep. She had curled herself a little
 
 254 DUKE JONES 
 
 on the sofa. Her cheek rested sidelong on her folded 
 hands, her favorite posture of sleep in childhood, as 
 Eveleen happened to remember. She had not seen much 
 of Violet in childhood, she had left her to the nurses; 
 but she had, once or twice, when her weekly orbit 
 touched the nursery, noticed her sleeping like that. She 
 looked at her now, rather curiously, she was conscious 
 of a new curiosity. Her dark hair was drooping low on 
 her brow, that fine brow, so like Claude's, and her 
 dark lashes were also lowered languidly. Her lips were 
 shut in a melancholy line, as always in repose. That 
 miserable look was Ashwin again, it meant nothing nec- 
 essarily, Eveleen knew. Yet she seemed extremely 
 young lying there, delicate, helpless, rather disturbing. 
 Lady Ashwin, desirous at once of erasing the picture the 
 girl made, and the scruples it evoked, had an idea, and 
 held out her cup to be refilled. It proved a good idea, 
 for Violet roused, uncurled herself, and attended to her 
 natural duties as hostess, in her invariable meticulous 
 manner. 
 
 " When will Charles be back ? " said Eveleen, with 
 quite a kindly intonation, watching Violet's proceedings 
 with the cup, and admiring her fine little hands. She 
 was suddenly able to admire her, for reasons which 
 we really despair of interpreting successfully : we prefer 
 to submit the fact. 
 
 " To-morrow, early," said Violet. " He has to go on 
 to the office, poor boy, since he has only the one day off. 
 He shall have the best breakfast I can manage first." 
 
 " Goodness ! What sharp work," commented her 
 mother. " He'll only get an hour or two in Paris, then. 
 I shouldn't have said it was worth it." 
 
 " I suppose," said Violet gravely, " that Charles' pub- 
 lishing people think it is. Or they wouldn't send him, 
 would they ? " 
 
 " I should think not," said Eveleen. " Lucas Warden 
 knowing about you and all." One of Charles' " publish-
 
 THE TALISMAN 255 
 
 ing people," Mr. Warden, was Violet's old friend. She 
 laughed at the remark, and looked at her mother, laugh- 
 ing still, as she handed back the cup. 
 
 " You do think the world turns round women, don't 
 you, Mother dear ? " she said. " You are one of the few 
 people I know who are quite sure of it. It is rather a 
 comforting view, sometimes. . . . That's right, is 
 it ? or more cream ? " 
 
 Lady Ashwin took the cream, and considered the ques- 
 tion, slightly rolling out her lower lip. " Lucas Warden 
 never married," she observed. " So he probably still 
 talks high-flown stuff about women, but is not really con- 
 siderate. I don't think it really considerate, I mean, to 
 pick out Charles. There must be plenty of men about 
 the place who would enjoy going to Paris rather than 
 otherwise." 
 
 " Suppose," said Violet, looking sidelong under the 
 fingers she had laid to her brow, " Mr. Warden trusts 
 Charles." 
 
 " Suppose you trusi Charles," said Eveleen, with a 
 laugh. " I shouldn't." 
 
 " Explain," said Violet, with the same lingering, side- 
 long look. It melted even Eveleen, for an instant. 
 
 " No, I shan't," she declared, leaning back. " You're 
 not fit for teasing. And, besides, your father says I'm 
 not to. I caught it like anything from your father the 
 last time I did." She looked most beautiful and serene, 
 and the idea of her " catching " anything was attractively 
 ridiculous, or would have been in more mixed society. 
 Yet its immediate audience was not impenetrable. 
 
 " Poor Mother, did you? I'm so sorry. When was 
 that?" 
 
 Lady Ashwin was very nearly vanquished at this point. 
 She had not reckoned on the charm mastering her that 
 she had never let herself feel before. Really, for a 
 moment, she saw what Claude meant, the " enchant- 
 ment " was there. There was something in the spirit of
 
 256 DUKE JONES 
 
 this house, this hearth, the look and tone of this languid 
 girl who was her daughter, linked to her by the nearest 
 earthly tie, that nearly overset her selfish scheming, 
 drifted her from her obstinate preconception, once for 
 all. Her dearest theories were in danger at that moment, 
 and her uncertain look betrayed it. 
 
 " You can't stand it," she said, her eye wavering, drop- 
 ping involuntarily from Violet's face to the couch on 
 which she lay. " Talking about him, you couldn't be- 
 fore." She added " I shouldn't let him burn holes in 
 my sofa-covers, anyhow." 
 
 " I did not," said Violet. " He let Honoria, when I 
 was not there. She never apologized, either: nasty 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh, she wouldn't," said Eveleen. " Charles flirted 
 with Honoria, didn't he ? " 
 
 " Shamefully," said Violet. " He was an absolute dis- 
 grace, at dinner. I had no idea Charles could be like 
 that. You ought to have heard him, Mother." 
 
 " I have," said her mother, without a smile. 
 
 " You mean he does it with you ? " She laughed 
 again. " That's how he keeps in practice, is it ? And 
 you don't sit upon him? Mother dear, how unfeeling! 
 You might think of me." 
 
 Eveleen's fine eyes fixed her, rather blankly. Really, 
 the girl's behavior put her out. She had expected, 
 naturally, from Claude's fussy accounts, to find her 
 excitable, brilliant in consequence, and rather a bore to 
 deal with. She was nothing of the sort; merely friendly 
 and playful, what Eveleen called babyish, quite pas- 
 sive under this unasked intrusion upon her peace at the 
 best hour of the day, quite obvious, even to her mother's 
 understanding, in all she said. She was everything Eve- 
 leen could best comprehend and appreciate, to-night : 
 and she was pretty as well, surprisingly, in the spring 
 dusk that became her like a garment, shrouding her and 
 her hopes together.
 
 THE TALISMAN 257 
 
 " Your father says," said Eveleen slowly, when all her 
 instincts had warred for some moments in a disagreeable 
 manner, and nothing had resulted, " I have got to get 
 up early to-morrow, go and meet them. It is a great 
 bore." 
 
 " Meet whom ? " said Violet, tolerant of accustomed 
 divagation. "Visitors? Can't the carriage go ?" 
 
 " I should have thought so," said Eveleen, relieved 
 by the sensible suggestion. " Joliffe could find them just 
 as well. It's the early train, night boat, isn't it ? " 
 
 The question, in three words, was the betrayal. 
 
 " You mean Father is sending you to meet Charles ? " 
 said Violet, her vague look concentrating, her smooth 
 brow knitting and lifting, just like Claude's. " Why ? 
 You have not heard there has not been an accident, 
 has there, Mother?" 
 
 " No, child. Lie down, do you hear? " 
 
 Eveleen spoke sharply, for the change in face and 
 voice was startling, even to her. In a rush, she regretted 
 everything, and just too late. In that instant, too, she 
 realized that, as always, Claude was right. The girl was 
 excitable, ill, abnormal, anything you would: every- 
 thing that her mother had just comfortably denied. 
 Worse, Violet was clever still, in spite of all: there was 
 no evading her, now she had blundered so far. As in a 
 hundred cases with Claude, she thought she had not 
 touched the limit, and could still retract if she would: 
 and found she had crossed it for ever, and could not. 
 Lying itself was useless, Eveleen's lying, that is. Lying 
 is an art like other arts, needing study, and Lady Ash- 
 win had never spared the necessary attention to perfect 
 it and keep it fit for service at a sudden need. 
 
 Hardly knowing how it came about, under a perfectly 
 relentless shower of keen soft questions, she told her 
 daughter what an hour's reflection, at this stage of af- 
 fairs, would certainly have decided her to conceal. She 
 had no choice but reticence, really; it was too late, by
 
 258 DUKE JONES 
 
 far, for any other course, even had she had the wit to 
 conceive another course open in the first instance. Stupid- 
 ity, or rather partial thought, is the scourge of our 
 society, much more so than immorality in its franker 
 forms. Half the educationalists recognize the supreme 
 danger, and half do not. Our foggy immorality is, and 
 will be to the end, more ultimately harmful than the 
 intelligent immorality of the French. No Frenchwoman, 
 it is fair to conceive, of Eveleen's caste and upbringing, 
 would have committed the exact crime her sluggish 
 ideas permitted her that night, the thing that was done, 
 effectively, before she left the house; for the simple 
 reason that she would have foreseen, a few minutes be- 
 fore speaking, results which Eveleen refused to realize 
 or recognize until weeks had passed. 
 
 " He should have told me," the girl said, fighting her 
 weakness, between gasps that were not sobs. " It is 
 nothing but that I mind. Of course, of course, I will 
 do it, Mother dear. . . . This is nothing, the sur- 
 prise, I am quite well. No right to be otherwise at 
 present. It is Lisette. . . . She will want me, is 
 wanting me now. It hurts, really, to be treated so. I 
 I am not quite an imbecile, not yet, if they would believe. 
 . . . Oh, Charles, stupid ! How could you ? " 
 
 She covered her face, quite overcome, shaken from 
 head to foot by the shock, the revulsion of feeling so 
 heartlessly produced, on a mind which Charles' careful 
 acting and cheerful words that morning had left com- 
 pletely at ease. That made it worse for Violet now, of 
 course, the memory of that parting softness. She could 
 but envisage it as deceit; well-meant, doubtless, but so 
 undiscerning of her spirit's needs. To leave her with a 
 lie like that, and let her hear now, from such a quarter, 
 her pride was hurt as well. Did they really think her 
 a fool? Had she really given them cause, during her 
 desperate strife with intolerable odds, these latter days, 
 to think so?
 
 THE TALISMAN 259 
 
 Her mother's admirably-timed proceeding made it just 
 as bad for her as possible, tore her peace into tatters, 
 and there was the night ahead. One cannot govern one's 
 thoughts always, during the night. She might have slept, 
 with the thought of Charles coming back to her, with that 
 same face, in the morning. Now where was she ? She 
 had, being what she was, first to go all the way with her 
 mother's base suspicion, no particle of which, knowing 
 her mother so well, she could escape; and then cast it 
 fiercely from her, when she did not want at all to think. 
 No grace of partial thought, or half-hearted dallying, 
 possible to Violet. When she was least capable she must 
 stir, seize her discarded weapons anew, and fight to the 
 death, for Charles' honor and her own. To stop her 
 thinking, as Claude said, would have been the only chance 
 of relief; not to set her divining and contradicting, in 
 thoughts that assumed words as they rose, a baseless libel 
 on her husband's love: contemptuously, passionately, 
 loyally rejecting it, thenceforth and for the whole night 
 long. 
 
 " Your father knew," observed Eveleen, who had risen, 
 discomposed by the storm she had aroused. She folded 
 up and put away her suspicion hastily, with an admir- 
 able resolution to say no more. She was glad she had 
 not gone further, indeed, considering the shock the girl's 
 looks had already caused her. That shock soon passed ; 
 but it was evident Violet, in her easy formula, was " not 
 fit for teasing," so she desisted from further experiment. 
 She was " upset," for the moment : but if her mother 
 did nothing, gracefully, for a time, she would soon get 
 over her emotion. 
 
 " Your father had heard," she repeated, turned away. 
 
 " Yes, yes, but Charles had seen. How Lisette clung 
 to me, and her letter. . . . I let him read it with 
 me, Mother, I shared with him. I only ask my share, 
 to be allowed to judge. I need not have gone all the 
 way : of course, the sea is bad. I would have been patient
 
 260 DUKE JONES 
 
 sensible if they had let me think at all." She bit her 
 lip, her eyes tight shut against tears, still striving for 
 mastery, for the most ordinary means of speech. " A 
 child ! that baby ! oh, of course I must go ! Poor little 
 bespattered thing, just from the storm: and frightened, 
 a night journey, she so hates the dark. If I had 
 known, she should not have had that. It is the sun, 
 all the sun possible, now to the end." 
 
 When she was calmer, she added " You must not 
 trouble, dear Mother: of course I will go to meet the 
 boat. There is a good train, nine, I think. It is only 
 to tell Joliffe to fetch me, would you mind? I should 
 like Joliffe, I am sure of him." 
 
 " I don't suppose you ought to, really," said Eveleen, 
 taken with a scruple, as she glanced at the exhausted 
 young face. " You ought to have someone with you." 
 
 " You," said Violet, lifting her gray eyes. " You are 
 the person I ought to have. Mother dear, will you take 
 me to Dover? Baby Lisette would like it. It would be 
 so nice." 
 
 It was a very cunning stroke, as Eveleen decided after- 
 wards. She had hardly thought Violet was so sly. For, 
 slipped in like that unexpectedly, it almost upset her into 
 agreement, on the spot. It did, in truth, seem so " nice," 
 so eternally right as well, that her own mother should 
 take her in charge on such an occasion. Why should she 
 not go with Violet to Dover, when it looked so well, when 
 it would divert Claude's wrath, not to mention satisfy 
 Eveleen's own tiresome family, once for all ? There was 
 nothing but habitual inertia to prevent her, and for a 
 second even her lazy instincts played her false. It abso- 
 lutely seemed easier to stoop and kiss this child of hers, 
 who made requests so rarely, say " yes " with a laugh, 
 and take all the ensuing consequences, good and bad. 
 
 " I don't see the point exactly " she began mechan- 
 ically, pondering it with a pouting lip. Whereupon, fur- 
 ther pondering was spared her, for Violet interrupted.
 
 THE TALISMAN 261 
 
 " No point, nonsensical : you mustn't mind what I say. 
 I am going to be extremely wise in my actions, to make 
 up. If Father should get asking, you will tell him that? 
 I don't want Father to be angry, anxious even, there is 
 no need. Don't let him fuss about me, will you, Mother 
 dear? I am taking Annette, first-class, everything 
 proper and prudent in the case. It's only Father allows 
 me to be a case at all. My own man thinks me a hum- 
 bug, I can see it in the corner of his eye." She laughed 
 a little as she lay quiet, gazing through the mysteries 
 of the twilight, away from Eveleen. " He practically told 
 me yesterday that women had better go back to religion, 
 less burden to others and themselves. He may be 
 right, though why we should vex the high Heaven with 
 our mortal fidgets, I rather fail to see. Wearying heaven, 
 isn't that the term ? It certainly would I " She laughed 
 again, though her hands were clenched tightly on the 
 cushions beside her, and her brow knit as tightly above 
 her averted eyes. 
 
 Lady Ashwin heard out this and other chatter in 
 silence, thinking it best. She stood at the girl's side 
 looking on, magnificent in her physical power, blankly 
 uncomprehending. She was bored mildly, as usual, yet 
 reassured as well, since Violet had dropped that unusual 
 phase of drowsy idleness, and was talking eagerly, un- 
 necessarily, and like herself again. She did think once 
 " You'd better take it easier than that, less words at 
 least." But she did not even say it, she was buttoning 
 her glove. 
 
 She had no idea, all the same, of giving Violet's father 
 the opportunity of a like mental exercise, as the child 
 rather amusingly suggested. Claude's embroidery on 
 the subject his wife could do without. Claude, dashing 
 about London all day, interrupted even at meal times 
 with telegrams and messages, could be dodged in his own 
 house very easily, had been dodged before now. It 
 was distinctly better for the peace of that house that
 
 262 DUKE JONES 
 
 he should remain in oblivion of his wife's change of 
 plans, her change of his plan, a thing of which Claude 
 was apt to disapprove. 
 
 Eveleen could manage the servants without his inter- 
 vention, the men-servants, at any rate. Feminine service 
 occasionally kicked in Lady Ashwin's god-like grasp ; but 
 the excellent chauffeur, and the admirable footman, had 
 never given her an instant's uneasiness. She was obeyed 
 softly and swiftly, unquestioningly, which in cases like 
 the present was more important. The fact was provi- 
 dential. She had but to tell Joliffe, in her idle fashion, 
 that she had changed her mind, and would not want him 
 in the morning after all ; and add, that he could call for 
 Mrs. Shovell, in the small car, towards nine o'clock. 
 Eveleen might even mention an hour with minutes at- 
 tached, since Violet was particular, and was looking up 
 the train. " Towards nine o'clock " Claude would be 
 still at dinner; and Eveleen could, at need, detain him 
 there and divert his mind. At need real need Lady 
 Ashwin would accomplish this with any man, her hus- 
 band not excepted. With commendable foresight, even 
 while she still buttoned her glove beside the couch, 
 Eveleen decided it would be as well to put on her newest 
 gown. When she left Violet, with the train-hour noted 
 for Joliffe, on a card, she went home, very fairly at 
 ease, to do so. 
 
 The glare of the great lamps caught Violet's attention 
 as, almost obliterated under her heavy furs, she came 
 out to the gate. 
 
 " The big car ? " she lightly queried, as she settled the 
 storm-collar under her chin. 
 
 " Yes, Miss," said Joliffe : who, even at this stage of 
 things, would not give up the ancient appellation. Since 
 all the other servants followed Joliffe, like sheep, this was 
 rather serious, and Mrs. Shovell had had to tell him so,
 
 THE TALISMAN 263 
 
 in her most definite fashion. Joliffe had received her re- 
 proaches gravely, and called her " Madam " once ; where- 
 upon the thing had become hopeless, because Miss Violet 
 laughed herself. 
 
 " I'll take you to Dover," the man added quietly, to 
 explain. 
 
 " Oh, but ' " her ungloved hand went up to her 
 breast, in equal uncertainty and relief, " won't it mat- 
 ter ? Does Father know ? " 
 
 " No, Miss," said Joliffe. " I shouldn't be here if he 
 did." 
 
 Sitting at his post, he looked straight ahead of him at 
 the water-streaked, wind-swept road. It was a stormy 
 night, with sharp gusts of wind at intervals, absurd for 
 so slight a thing as she seemed to be abroad. Even with 
 a bear-skin to ballast her, she was almost blown away. 
 She had laid a hand, unconsciously, upon the gate. 
 
 "Joliffe! But you, your wife! Won't it matter? 
 It's all night, the boat comes in at three o'clock, you 
 know." 
 
 Joliffe knew well, and his wife also. His wife, indeed, 
 had heard the whole of his opinions that evening, when 
 he returned from the doctor's house, and his decorous 
 interview with her ladyship in her private room. Mrs. 
 Mason, in her ladyship's kitchen, had heard his opinions 
 too, since Mrs. Mason and Mrs. Joliffe were intimate 
 friends; though he had spoken in the kitchen more dis- 
 creetly, for there were younger ears about. And it was 
 in direct consequence of these opinions, offered and ex- 
 changed, that Joliffe had stolen his master's traveling-car, 
 filled it with rugs and comforts from the kitchen quar- 
 ters, and prepared calmly for an all-night run. 
 
 " I could find Mr. Shovell, if that's all," said Joliffe, his 
 expression a trifle grim as he glanced round at her. He 
 was not half sure, considering what Sir Claude was, that 
 he was not risking his place by this proceeding, and being 
 naturally a cautious person, he would have been glad to
 
 264 DUKE JONES 
 
 be assured there was occasion for such risk, all round. 
 Not that he doubted Miss Violet had her reasons, she 
 invariably had reasons for what she did. There was no 
 doubt the mission was important, delicate probably as 
 well; only, she was more delicate and important too. In 
 this case, she required strong measures, in Joliffe's 
 opinion : over-bearing, sweeping into the house and her 
 warm bed again, as Sir Claude would have swept her, 
 even while he kissed her on the way. Joliffe had seen 
 him so " sort " Miss Violet before now, her nature being 
 so like his that even while his tongue raked her with 
 satire, at its keenest, she had laughed and understood. 
 
 " It's not all," she assured him, approaching. " Miss 
 Addenbroke is with Mr. Charles, and she is ill. You 
 remember the little Miss Addenbroke, the pretty one? 
 I think, that day we drove to Glasswell, she sat beside you 
 and made friends." 
 
 Joliffe nodded, his lips still grim: but it was with an 
 effort he kept them so. He might be risking his place, but 
 it was worth it: more than worth it, when she stood at 
 his side, her bare hand on his sleeve, and spoke like that. 
 
 " We have plenty of time now, haven't we ? " she said, 
 her brows lifting as she debated. " Joliffe, will you 
 come down and talk to me a moment? I will be virtuous 
 and sit inside." 
 
 She was virtuous accordingly, and Joliffe enveloped 
 her in several rugs with minute attention. She sent the 
 girl Annette back to the house, directing her to wait, in 
 a few quick French sentences. Then, while the chauffeur 
 stood beside her at the carriage-door, she leant forward, 
 clasped her hands over all the rugs about her knees, and 
 talked to him. 
 
 He was hardly astonished by the matter of what she 
 said, having half suspected it already. He was in one of 
 the positions of confidence in which one is bound con- 
 stantly to overhear, he was also intelligent and expe- 
 rienced in the life of at least three classes, as skilled
 
 THE TALISMAN 265 
 
 mechanicians of his age and standing are apt to be; but 
 the manner of Miss Violet's talk overcame him com- 
 pletely, as did the sympathetic knowledge she displayed 
 of a world not her own. 
 
 She gave him his dues, to begin with ; she grasped his 
 position, the position that was Joliffe's secret pride, since 
 he held the most important office in the house, rivaled 
 only by the secretary's, that of saving his master's time. 
 When time has the value of Sir Claude's, it could be no 
 small responsibility, and so Miss Violet admitted, in 
 what she said. Joliffe's family friendship with Mason 
 the cook was no secret to her either, nor the power he 
 wielded over the younger man, and, through Mason, 
 over the younger women of the staff. 
 
 Well, Miss Violet " wished him to know," in conse- 
 quence, of course she did. It was no more than a 
 characteristic piece of foresight in a mind that ever, like 
 her father's, swept needfully ahead, to guard, by quiet 
 explanation in advance, that unfortunate young lady, the 
 pretty little Miss Addenbroke, from probable miscon- 
 ception; to shield her from backstairs whispering, and 
 the slights that superior servants know so well how to 
 deal when they catch their so-called betters in fault. It 
 was a thing, too, that she must have known Sir Claude, 
 with all his benevolence, could hardly attempt to do, and 
 which Lady Ashwin was bound, in the nature of things, 
 to overlook. She was the only one to speak, then, as 
 Joliffe was the best to hear, and so she seized the oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to him in private, while she could. 
 
 That was Miss Violet's view, very simple to her mind, 
 evidently. But to Joliffe it was striking and significant to 
 a degree of which she could hardly be aware, not realizing 
 to the full the light in which Joliffe's world regarded her. 
 She had always been more than "their young lady," 
 though that was much. She had done more, even, than 
 make up to them by heedful kindness for her mother's 
 exactions ; she had interpreted her father to his servants'
 
 266 DUKE JONES 
 
 intelligence. Claude was frequently formidable when he 
 least wished to be : it was a penalty due both to his habit 
 of concentrating his thoughts and utterances, and to nat- 
 ural shyness as well. Violet's sympathetic feminine ver- 
 sion of the same character showed them what it meant, 
 and lent more value to both in their idea. She used his 
 expressions in a manner they understood. She talked 
 of him in a fashion to make him familiar. They were 
 proud of "the doctor," and loyal to him, while they 
 trembled: her they adored. It was simply the habit of 
 the household to adore her, and though she had perforce 
 become a tradition rather than a fact, the newer and 
 perter of Lady Ashwin's importations had to fall in with 
 the domestic rites : Joliffe and Mason saw to that. 
 
 But to-night she went a step further in the conquest of 
 this unknown kingdom of hers than ever before. Know- 
 ing how she stood, for of course the elder servants 
 knew, that she should speak on such a theme at all, 
 above all to such as he, stirred the man to a kind of angry 
 devotion which he was quite unable to express. To say 
 that Joliffe would have laid his life down, that night, for 
 his master's daughter, is to fall short of the truth. The 
 English tradition of service is very fine, criticize who 
 may, and excellently creditable both to masters and serv- 
 ants in the past. Even those who, like Joliffe, have 
 fought themselves free, by their natural talents, of the 
 obligation to serve, often come back to those terms of 
 their own free will, to demonstrate how dignified, on 
 either side, that tradition is. Yet the difficulties of fair 
 communication between served and serving grow every 
 day more considerable, and the obligation is chiefly on 
 the former to discover the particular formula required. 
 There is a manner, hardly more than one exists, of 
 conversing across our comical but convenient hedges of 
 class distinction that is infinitely preferable, at least to 
 the small owner, to breaking the hedge down. That proc- 
 ess is rarely natural, and, by the peculiar tenets of
 
 THE TALISMAN 267 
 
 English servants, rather impertinent as well; since why 
 should a landmark be suppressed that they see fit to trim 
 and guard? Now, Miss Violet had no appearance of 
 blandly dropping to Joliffe's intelligence, which was, as a 
 fact, nearly as keen as hers. She hardly even cared to 
 translate her own queer language to his ears. A phrase 
 or two was too much for him, for she was rather absent 
 at intervals, and, over the central circumstances, rather 
 shy. Joliffe, with ten years' married experience, could 
 have saved her some trouble there, but, needless to say, 
 he did nothing of the sort. 
 
 " I see, Miss," he said briskly, in the successive inter- 
 vals she left for him, and, while she spoke, stood in his 
 most rock-like manner of attention: the same he used 
 when Sir Claude, of an evening, rattled off times and 
 places for the car, each one essential, the next day. 
 
 " Right, Miss Violet," he said finally. " That will be all 
 right. There's a big dinner on to-morrow, and my wife's 
 going in to help." 
 
 "Early? Oh, that's luck, isn't it ? But you will hardly 
 see Mrs. Joliffe before she goes, at this rate." She 
 laughed. " I should warn you, perhaps. Coming back 
 you will have us both, no scorching possible on that 
 lovely road." 
 
 " It's no distance," said the man contemptuously. 
 " With the easiest going, I daresay we shall get up before 
 the train." 
 
 " So long as you don't race it," she said, still smiling 
 with a nervous brow. "If you do, I shall fly at you, 
 probably. I'm cross in the morning, I can tell you, 
 ask Mr. Charles." 
 
 " You can take me up sharp, Miss," said Joliffe 
 solemnly, " I'm used to it." He tucked one of her rugs 
 a little further in. 
 
 " Yes, well, you shall not be for this, I promise. It 
 was kind to think of it, you and Mason too. It's the 
 quiet, you know, and the friendliness, infinitely nicer
 
 268 DUKE JONES 
 
 than a train. I could go to sleep here almost." She 
 looked beyond him an instant vaguely, then gathered to 
 decision. " Good, then," she said, " that's understood, 
 one thing off my mind, anyhow." She gave him her lit- 
 tle bare hand, adding no further word, of caution or of 
 thanks. She knew when a thing was done, and never 
 hammered uselessly on a well-driven nail. " We had 
 better get off, hadn't we, and rest at the other end. The 
 
 sea will be frightful " she shivered, " poor things ! 
 
 Will you tell my maid that I am ready now? She 
 understands English very well." 
 
 That was how Violet began her ride to the coast in her 
 father's stolen car.
 
 UNDINE 269 
 
 III 
 
 UNDINE 
 
 VIOLET was justified in her premonitory shiver that 
 stormy night. Charles, at about the same time, started 
 on a weary journey, with a terrible charge. Words could 
 hardly express how he dreaded it beforehand, for the 
 girl he escorted was barely reasonable, though tractable 
 enough in her helplessness, and quiet; following all his 
 directions mechanically, moving where he pushed, and 
 resting where he placed her, though he could not leave 
 her for an instant alone, so great was her unreasoning 
 terror of all. He simply dared not look ahead through 
 the weary hours of darkness before he could have her 
 safe, as he felt, on English ground. Lisette was longing 
 for England, but he wondered, at moments, if he should 
 ever get her there. His spirit revolted at his position 
 now and then, when he was able to think of himself at 
 all. Charles was a very child in the things of life, quite 
 unused to hardship, to the neighborhood of suffering, or 
 to feeling its claims upon him. He could only attempt 
 the most elementary consolation to the sick girl he 
 guarded, addressing her kindly but timidly, as a well- 
 nurtured child would speak. 
 
 He had admitted once for all, in this kind of business, 
 the superiority of Jones. He had had to admit it, since 
 Jones, for all his persistent anxiety and genuine suffering, 
 for his foot was much swollen, and had been ill-tended, 
 so Charles heard, was swimming in his native waters, 
 and Charles was a fish most miserably out of his. Charles 
 had always left such things to other people, carefully. 
 He had never, as he would have said, felt such a fool, 
 so useless, as during the first hour of his arrival at 
 Jones' small hotel in the Madeleine quarter. He had
 
 270 DUKE JONES 
 
 but four hours there all told, from five to nine, but it 
 was enough to realize his rashness, completely. He had 
 not gathered, from his hasty reading of Jones' cautious 
 phrases in the letter, composed for Violet's eye, what 
 the girl's state of cerebral excitement and bodily ex- 
 haustion was, in fact. Further, he was so patently, in 
 the eyes of both Lisette and Marmaduke, not the person 
 who was required. It was so patent who was. Charles 
 was immediately on the defensive before both, to explain 
 the step which had seemed natural, and rather creditable, 
 in England. Nor was it of any use explaining to Lisette. 
 
 " Where's Violet ? " said Lisette, having embraced 
 Charles in an amicable manner, and clinging instantly 
 to his arm. She remembered him, as was evident, and 
 linked him to her cousin in her mind. And, so questioned 
 and clung to, Charles must confess, with that lovely mask 
 of fear before him, that Violet was not there. 
 
 "Didn't she hear?" said Lisette, only half attending, 
 heedless, it seemed, of the words he used. " Why didn't 
 she come, if she knew ? Duke said he would tell her." 
 
 Charles glanced across the room for assistance. He 
 had already explained to Jones what was necessary, 
 and Jones, a decent little fellow, had accepted it without 
 too great an insistence on details. 
 
 " He did tell her," he explained to Lisette, " but she 
 couldn't come. She isn't very well, you know, it's the 
 doctors." 
 
 " 111? " said the girl. " That's a lie. You'd look at me 
 if you meant it. Violet thinks me awful, I know. I told 
 Duke she would. Who's right ? " She looked across 
 the room in turn, with her beautiful strange eyes. " She's 
 gone in with the stodgy lot, Aunt and the rest. Violet 
 hates me now." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " Charles muttered, helpless. " Jones, 
 can't you tackle her ? " 
 
 Jones was ready. 
 
 " Come here, Lisette," he said, for he could not move
 
 UNDINE 271 
 
 from his chair. He took her hands. " Look here, listen 
 now. Mrs. Shovell " 
 
 " Who's Mrs. Shovell ? " said Lisette, her eyes not 
 taking him in, though their light lay round him. 
 
 " Violet," said Jones, his eyes apologizing to Charles, 
 while the color ran up his pale face, " your cousin. She 
 is at home, waiting for you, quite ready. She has been 
 wanting you all this time, I told you about that, didn't 
 I ? Now she has sent her husband on, to let you know." 
 
 " Charles ? That's Charles ; she called him that. I 
 call people by their names, quicker, see? She wouldn't 
 like it if she heard. Violet thinks a lot of him, I expect. 
 He's gone on her awfully, anyhow, bad as Edmond was 
 on me. Edmond '11 be swearing now, my goodness! 
 But it was no good telling him, was it? I had to get 
 away." ,.; 
 
 "You were bound to," Jones assented quietly. "The 
 only honest thing." 
 
 "I'm honest, you think?" she said, handling him 
 affectionately, as she had handled Charles. 
 
 " I think so, yes." 
 
 " I'd had to have told Edmond," said Lisette. 
 
 " Shouldn't I ? And then, my God " She ceased, 
 
 biting her lip. " He was a good fellow," she said. " Bon 
 gargon, that's what they say. Gave me things, called 
 me a lot of funny names. I understood the way he 
 talked." She bit her lip again. " It's awful to have to 
 choose." 
 
 " Awful," Jones agreed again. " But it's always hap- 
 pening, and it's got to be done. She, your cousin, had to 
 choose. And she chose this way, of sending him for you, 
 because they wouldn't let her cross the sea." 
 
 " But she'll be on the other side," said Lisette. " At 
 Dover. That's England, isn't it? Shall I see Violet at 
 Dover?" 
 
 So it went on. She could be distracted for a time, 
 by Marmaduke's expert efforts, but she always came
 
 272 DUKE JONES 
 
 back to it, the conviction that Violet should be there. 
 Why, this good little man of hers, " Duke," had told her 
 she was coming, in the manner Felicia believed. She did 
 believe him, fully, when he spoke in a certain way. 
 She did not believe this Shovell man at all. And she 
 did not care for seeing either of them, really, had they 
 known. Lisette was " sick " of men, utterly. She could 
 get on for a time without them, even nice clean English- 
 men like these. She wanted a hand to hold, an arm to 
 cling to, such a light decided hand as that which had 
 once caught her wrist back from the wine, at a crowded 
 table, such an arm as she had grasped in the dark tunnel 
 on the long train, and during those minutes at the station 
 when, still intending to tease Violet by snatching the 
 jewels, she had kissed her on the seat. It was those soft 
 tones, remembered now in her need, she wanted. She 
 was frightened, anyone could see it, equally scared of 
 what lay behind, pressing upon her, and of the unknown 
 inexorable she had still to face. She looked all ways, 
 and found no outlet. It was worse than any tunnel, 
 since tunnels have an end. 
 
 " It's a woman she wants," murmured Jones, with his 
 habit of saying the obvious; and Charles, by his gloomy 
 silence, agreed. So far as man alone could be of use, 
 Jones had been. Charles was amazed by his resources. 
 The situation itself was unheard of, incredible, to 
 Charles' young-University ideas. These two, the young 
 man and the beautiful girl, barely mistress of herself, 
 and quite dependent upon him, had been alone in a couple 
 of rooms, constantly together in the closest intimacy, for 
 a week or more. Yet she had no claim upon him at all. 
 It was not even as if he knew her, by the social standards : 
 Jones knew nothing of Lisette. He had put together a 
 little, very cautiously, of her recent life in talking to her; 
 but essentially (thought Charles) she was not his sort at 
 all. She was essentially a girl of high breeding, lordly 
 ancestry, ill-educated and ill-regulated, no doubt, but her
 
 UNDINE 273 
 
 claims were there, showing constantly in her tones and 
 her fine pale face. It was only at one point her sphere 
 and Jones' could touch, on the side of Jones' pity, 
 because Lisette needed, and he could supply. Jones had 
 supplied freely. He had supplied her with comforts, 
 warmth, and food, not to mention friendliness, to dilute 
 his more solid charity. He had found her a doctor, a 
 doctor who took her condition with a lightness that had 
 surprised him; who said that, though fatiguee and 
 enervee for the time, she would be all right, in the 
 event. He had next proposed sending Lisette to certain 
 kind ladies of his acquaintance in Paris; but she, learn- 
 ing that the ladies were French, and religious, would not. 
 She grew so excited, especially on the subject of their 
 religion, that Jones had to abandon the idea rather 
 hastily, and fall back on his own wits again. He had 
 bought her everything for her personal need, even clothes, 
 with the assistance of the obliging maid at the hotel. 
 He had even supplied her with a position, according to 
 his decorous little middle-class ideas. 
 
 He explained to Charles, when by chance it became 
 necessary, the chance of a servant addressing Lisette 
 as Madame, that she was staying that week at the 
 hotel under the title of Jones' wife. This had been his 
 first step on her arrival : such an obvious first step to the 
 mind of Jones that he had not thought of mentioning it 
 to Shovell until nearly the moment of the girl's departure. 
 Charles himself was her brother, he added, come over to 
 fetch her, did Shovell mind ? 
 
 Naturally, Charles had no objection when he turned 
 his mind that way. It struck him, vaguely, the thing 
 was in character, just like Jones: might be tacked on 
 to the ancient narrative, stored among honeymoon records 
 in the back of his mind one of these days. To tell the 
 people at a French hotel that this lovely little frantic 
 creature was his sick wife, joining him by appointment, 
 and to fail to observe how they smiled ! It was, or would
 
 274 DUKE JONES 
 
 be, some time in the future, should Charles ever find him- 
 self, with mind at ease, at Violet's side again, an excellent 
 joke against Jones. 
 
 For the moment it was a useful fiction enough, and 
 served their turn. Charles was fair in his coloring, like 
 Lisette, not to mention that all English types look alike 
 to the French. He called her by her pet name easily now, 
 having spoken of her so with Violet ; and she called him 
 Charles, when she used any name at all. At times she 
 lost the connection with him, and seemed puzzled, until 
 he reminded her by some reference to their common past, 
 so short a past after all, merely those three days. 
 When he touched the sleeve of what she was wearing 
 once, and smiled at her his charming easy smile, connec- 
 tions seemed to adjust, and she smiled back with a spark 
 of her original mischief. 
 
 " It's hers," said Felicia softly. " Oh, weren't you in a 
 temper about it, too ! I've worn it a lot since then. Some- 
 body Gaston put it in his picture. He didn't get the 
 shadows right though, I told him. They all said it suited 
 me, in the ateliers." 
 
 She threw in a scrap of history like this from time to 
 time, gradually propping their conjectures. They dared 
 not question her about it. Charles was calm. 
 
 " It doesn't suit you," he asserted, " not so well as her. 
 I like her best in it." 
 
 Whereat Lisette laughed sweetly and Charles would 
 have liked to cry. He was very soft-hearted, and the 
 look of her, certain gestures and turns of phrase, dragged 
 him back into the past, the evening when he had been 
 rude to her, and she had played with the pearls. She 
 had been such a baby, a naughty baby, lying across 
 that chair. Her face now, when she was not thinking, 
 had the untroubled lines of childhood still, any man 
 would have said, unscathed. It was incredible, un- 
 thinkable, and so Charles struggled not to think.
 
 UNDINE 275 
 
 ii 
 
 " I suppose she got among a painting lot, then, did 
 she? " said Charles to Jones, just for the relief of ordi- 
 nary speech between man and man, when they had made 
 the girl rest a little before her journey. All was ready, 
 for she had very few things to prepare. " I say, it's 
 rather odd none of us thought of that." 
 
 " Cuckoos, weren't we ? " said Jones. " She must have 
 been there quite a time, and anybody might have heard 
 of her. It's quite a small quarter that covers the studios, 
 really. They must have been painting her night and day, 
 to judge by things she's let fall, now and again. I can't 
 make out all of it, don't suppose anyone ever will. She 
 forgets herself so quick you see." 
 
 " That's luck for her," said Charles, " I should think." 
 
 Jones agreed. " The worst came at the start," he said, 
 " no doubt of that. She tries not to talk of it, but when 
 she tumbles on it by mistake well, you should see her 
 face. That's the man, beast ! she can't stand him. He 
 must have been a fair devil," said Jones, and his tone 
 gave the word its full meaning. 
 
 " Is that the one she calls Edmond ? " 
 
 " No, no. Edmond's the last, the same she was seen 
 with in the gallery. I fancy he got her clear away from 
 the other, settled it behind scenes, perhaps, I hardly 
 know. She was pretty well off with Edmond, by what 
 she says. I'd like to get hold of that fellow," said Jones 
 thoughtfully, " before I leave. I've an idea he's all right, 
 somehow." 
 
 l_ S ay ! " said Charles. " Look out ! " 
 
 He meant he would not have done himself what Jones 
 was calmly proposing. The sheer physical courage of 
 this small and simple " man in the street " was what was 
 coming home to Charles. For the sake of his notions of 
 honor and fair play, he would undertake anything. He 
 had an idea, now, that something was owing to this
 
 276 DUKE JONES 
 
 second fellow of whom he spoke. " Edmond," for whose 
 second name, which Lisette could not tell him, Jones 
 had been searching lists of artists and art-collectors 
 vigorously, had withdrawn the girl, it appeared, from the 
 gypsy existence she was leading in the studios, lifted her 
 right above it, into security and comfort, in the course 
 of a single day. It was love at first sight, for Edmond, 
 certainly, and for Lisette, it was sufficient liking, so that 
 she hesitated not to jump on Edmond's cushion, when 
 advanced. 
 
 Not that she had been exactly unhappy in the studio 
 phase, Jones gathered; only constantly uncertain, tor- 
 mented by dread of the black phantom behind of the 
 man from whose clutches she had fled, eperdue, at the 
 first opportunity. It was he, that " first," who had put 
 the fear upon her originally, from the backwash of which 
 her reason was almost shaken now. Him she had come 
 to dread with the exaggeration of nightmare, the night- 
 mare her letters had suggested. Her face, when his 
 shadow fell across the dialogue, said Jones, was well, 
 Charles had seen. Charles had once, and bit his lip. 
 
 " She'd have killed him, if she'd had a chance," said 
 Marmaduke, in his calm and commonplace tone. " I'm 
 pretty sure of that. Except for consequences to herself, 
 I wish she had." 
 
 Charles rose to his feet restlessly ; he could not sit still 
 when people talked like that. It was hardly decent. He 
 turned Jones' attention to the other part again, the transi- 
 tion period in the ateliers, which at least had a semblance 
 of comedy, on the surface. Lisette, it appeared, talked of 
 a whole gang of young artists in a pleasant and sisterly 
 fashion by their first names, or nicknames, and talked of 
 their doings not unwillingly. She had just drifted that 
 way instinctively, by right of her birth and blood, finding 
 friends and admirers among them immediately. It was 
 really only returning to a former life, that of her child- 
 hood, with differences, of course. She was " on her
 
 UNDINE 277 
 
 own " in Paris, and had to " look out." She had " looked," 
 Jones gathered, quite capably, with the curious aptitude 
 of the Ingestres for holding her own amid the cross- 
 claims and jealousies of the other sex. The blood of 
 Lisette's ancestresses served her there. They would do 
 anything for her, she gaily said, and Jones did not doubt 
 it. She had been dumb when she arrived among them, 
 blankly uncomprehending the language spoken about her, 
 but these two men easily imagined that must only have 
 added to her unearthly charm. She had doubtless made 
 a sensation in the studios, not by her beauty alone. She 
 had talked by means of her pencil, and retaliation was 
 ready instantly for those who libeled her ; for her humor 
 and decision of touch in caricature was one of her most 
 marked endowments. Masters and students alike roared 
 with laughter at her productions, and her proceedings, 
 her friendly demeanor, and comical efforts to talk. She 
 must have been an unequaled toy, indeed. Funny, 
 naughty, and pretty, all the little nursery words which 
 translate quite aptly into French, were the birthright 
 of Lisette. They used her pet name, too; it amused 
 them, and made sonnets and songs for her. She admit- 
 ted herself she had had fun with the " boys," laughed 
 and wrinkled up her nose when she alluded to parts of 
 it. All told, it was " not bad," but the fear was always 
 there. Her enemy had found her once, in London, and 
 might find her again. She lived in a bubble that might 
 burst from day to day. 
 
 Only with " Edmond," in quite another rank of life, 
 she had for a time escaped that fear; but she had small 
 respite, poor child. It was but a short interval before 
 a worse came upon her, the complicated swarm of doubts 
 and dreads that were tormenting her at the present time. 
 For a week or two she had lived the ordinary bourgeois 
 life with the art-collector. He was " gone on her," as she 
 innocently repeated, utterly, and quite ready to marry her 
 if she would. He would have refused her nothing, it
 
 278 DUKE JONES 
 
 was she who refused. She was drifting into a life that 
 a thousand others live in peace and comfort in the capi- 
 tals, in charge of a man who was kind to her, spoilt her 
 even, and studied her every whim when the bubble 
 about her broke. She was cut off from Edmond, from 
 the niche of rock on which his friendly arm had lodged 
 her, and tossed a chip on the waves again : helpless, since 
 the child would not be his, and she could not tell him. It 
 was her enemy's child. Too proud to confess her shame, 
 for this was shame to her, this badge of a bondage 
 she had not chosen, too honest to live upon her bene- 
 factor longer than she must, in the circumstances, she 
 could only turn, at bay, and seek with hunted eyes for 
 any corner to hide in. At the point of utter despair, her 
 eye had lighted upon Jones in the garden ; she had teased 
 him at the time, but a few days later found herself driven 
 to apply to him, and surrendered. 
 
 " She'd never have come without," said the young man. 
 " It's only a mercy I got the address through to her when 
 I did. She's proud, I can tell you, I've found that out 
 these last days, anyhow. But there she was! If that's 
 not being stranded, I'd like to know what is. With a face 
 like that, in a state like that, a girl alone ! She couldn't 
 earn even, she earned as a model in the studios. I can't 
 see what she could have done but what she did." 
 
 " It's ghastly," said Charles resentfully. He would far 
 sooner not have talked of it, really, Jones seemed to 
 him unnecessarily frank; but he felt, for Violet's sake, 
 he must know the facts. He very, very much wished 
 Violet were there to listen instead of him. 
 
 So did Jones. 
 
 No one would have suspected the crushing blow Violet's 
 absence was to Jones by his countenance, though, of 
 course, ten times over in Shovell's hearing, he " quite 
 understood." He had really been so sure she would come, 
 even while, in duty bound, he drew up lists of likely things 
 that might detain her: other claims such as a popular
 
 UNDINE 279 
 
 young woman, at this spring season, in town, must have. 
 He had composed his long letter, the letter she had never 
 seen, with care, so as to disturb her as little as possible : 
 touching lightly, in a set of concise business phrases, on 
 the perfectly obvious steps he had taken, and their per- 
 fectly ordinary results, just showing her the case, Li- 
 sette's and his, as simply and barely as possible, and 
 proposing nothing. Heaven defend Jones from propos- 
 ing, suggesting even, to such as she ! 
 
 And straight upon the letter's departure he had pic- 
 tured her coming, one cannot chain one's fancy in these 
 things. Wise arguments have nothing to do with it. She 
 would come to that hotel she had herself recommended, 
 " impetuous " as the spring breezes, sweet and sane as 
 his own spirit had always found her, bright-eyed, swift 
 of hand and foot, all her quick wits strung to their need, 
 dressed, of course, in a feathered hat and furs, ready to 
 direct their willing efforts, to console and comfort his 
 charge. She might even have touched his swollen ankle 
 in passing, and given him a word of pity and a laughing 
 glance ; it would be so like her to do so, that it slipped in 
 among his other conjectures, unaware. All that foresight 
 and common sense alone could do, Jones had done, he 
 believed. The police, the hotel folk, the station folk were 
 warned, every prudent precaution had been taken. But 
 it was not enough. The best that poor mankind could 
 do, racking his brain during feverish nights of pain, was 
 not sufficient. Another thing was wanted, the first best 
 influence in Jones' world, the woman, as he said. 
 
 Lisette kissed Jones at parting. It hardly struck Charles 
 as singular, since that was the way, for the moment, she 
 treated all the world. She coaxed them with eyes and 
 lips to be gentle with her, and clung simultaneously with 
 one hand. She would do it to the railway-conductor, 
 very probably, thought Charles, unable to smile at his 
 own fancy ; and, as probably, the conductor would under- 
 stand, pity, and adore her when she did. She scattered
 
 28o DUKE JONES 
 
 pity and adoration about her as she went, Lisette. She had 
 always done so, to sensitive hearts : that was her " upset- 
 ting " quality. And if she had been " upsetting " in her 
 virginal carelessness, how much more now! She was 
 intolerable. 
 
 She called Jones " Duke," as Charles had noticed 
 already. Now Jones himself must have suggested that, 
 because no feather-headed girl like Lisette could have 
 guessed, unaided, what Jones' mother's name for her son 
 had been. She must have been helped by a suggestion, 
 it seemed also by a jest. 
 
 " He said he'd make me a duchess, for this week," said 
 Lisette to Charles. " I've married him, see ? That's 
 his idea, I didn't care. I talked once to a duchess with 
 a thin nose, but I didn't think much of her. She didn't 
 care for me either," said Lisette reflectively. " Do you 
 think I'm like a duchess ? " she appealed to Charles. 
 
 " Not the least," he said with fervor. " Any more than 
 a Lady Alicia; Jones remembers that." 
 
 Lisette laughed, her pretty vacant laugh, and looked 
 down at " Duke," her latest guardian. " I like him better 
 now," she observed, just to encourage Jones. 
 
 Lisette was still sure " Duke " was in love with her, 
 she had picked up that conviction just where she left it, 
 her mind being constructed, in the matter of convictions, 
 like her cousin Eveleen's. In virtue of that conviction, 
 Jones' behavior during this peculiar week had been 
 exquisitely entertaining, had he known. It was a pity 
 that Lisette, for various reasons, had been quite unable 
 to enjoy the really enormous joke he was. There was 
 faint drollery in her expression as she gazed downward 
 now, but there was more kindness. 
 
 "Bon garqon, that's what he is," said Lisette, with a 
 little wrinkle of her nose to tease him. " That means a 
 good old sort. He's treated me like a duchess, anyhow. 
 I hope that'll soon be well." 
 
 She patted the wounded foot, genuine grace and grat-
 
 UNDINE 281 
 
 itude in the passing tone and gesture. A duchess could 
 not have done it more prettily, distracted by her multi- 
 farious miseries as she was. Even Jones could not have 
 doubted Lisette was a " lady " at such minutes, some- 
 thing of a great lady too. 
 
 " I tied it up for him," she remarked to Charles, " bet- 
 ter than the doctor. That doctor was a fool, couldn't 
 make him comfortable, could he? Poor Duke." 
 
 " She would make a capital nurse," said Jones. " She's 
 got the hands." He was holding one of the hands in his, 
 quietly; it was white and soft as ever, for all she had 
 passed through. 
 
 " I can do lots of things," said Lisette with conviction. 
 " I only didn't at home, because of Aunt. Aunt supposed 
 I wouldn't, so I didn't, see ? People must ask for what 
 they want." Having laughed, she bit her lip. " I'm not 
 going there," she said suddenly, with a flash of almost 
 panic doubt. " That's not where I'm going ? " 
 
 " No, no," said Jones. " You know we promised, not 
 your aunt." 
 
 " I'm going to Violet," observed Lisette. " To her 
 house." 
 
 " That's it," said Charles, to whom she appealed. He 
 consoled himself with the thought that it was true. It 
 was to Violet's house, and to the father's arms that had 
 once protected her, that this poor little homeless " duch- 
 ess " was bound. He did not deceive her utterly when 
 he stated it. 
 
 All the same, the journey was awful. 
 
 It was not a night, to begin with, that a strong man 
 would have chosen to cross the sea. It was wild, with 
 floods of furious rain against the glass of their carriage, 
 as they traversed Paris from west to east, along the 
 glittering boulevards at which the girl hardly glanced. 
 Charles looked out mechanically, for Paris was new to 
 him, and it was amazing to find himself there, for this
 
 282 DUKE JONES 
 
 flash of time, and on such business. He had no wish but 
 to escape as soon as possible, and, though he gazed at the 
 shifting brilliance of the streets, no impression remained 
 upon his mind. 
 
 The crowd at the station, largely men, since the local 
 trains were filling, was a nightmare to Lisette. She had 
 come to fear the sharp Parisian voices, and dark faces, 
 even those that looked at her kindly ; and many did. The 
 fair young Englishman, with his beautiful, too obviously 
 souffrante wife, was equally envied and compassionated, 
 on all hands. The task, to take her traveling in that 
 state! The corvee! Heaven guard those Frenchmen 
 from such a night's disquiet as that would be, for ex- 
 ample ! Only sheer necessity, some frightful news, must 
 urge it, so they told themselves. Perhaps the illness of a 
 child, another child, at home. Yet, one and all, and in 
 spite of everything, they envied Charles Lisette. 
 
 One man, a small one, recognized her. She saw it, 
 and clung frantically to her escort's arm. 
 
 " The other," suggested Charles, with an easy smile. 
 " Take the other side, do you mind ? I want the right 
 arm free." 
 
 But the little man did not approach, nor venture near 
 to the freed right arm. He was too naturally modest to 
 do so, and contented himself with a single weasel-smile 
 at Lisette, disagreeable in itself, but unproductive. He 
 evaporated in the press about them, and they entered the 
 train without interference offered or the faintest offense. 
 It was only the effect of the rencontre on the girl was 
 unfortunate. Her beautiful eyes searched the crowd till 
 the moment of starting, in perpetual apprehension, above 
 a bitten lip. Then she subsided, still uncertain, on the 
 cushions, and looked at Charles. 
 
 " You're better than Duke," she remarked to him. 
 " Gaston smashed him easy, that day by the pond." 
 
 "Was that the one that bowled Jones over?" asked 
 Charles.
 
 UNDINE 283 
 
 "That?" She nodded backward. " Oh, no. He's a 
 bit of dirt that's what they called him anyhow. Gaston 
 was better, a bigger man. I wasn't there when it hap- 
 pened, you know; but I heard." 
 
 That was about the last piece of personal evidence 
 Charles, or indeed any other, extracted from Lisette. 
 In the present confusion of her thoughts, these random 
 memories were dragged from her, but her whole desire 
 was against looking backward, England her one vague 
 hope of peace ; and the entire French episode was blurred 
 on her mind, as unreal as a dream that is past, after the 
 illness towards which her fate was sweeping her now, 
 as surely as the train was sweeping, in that dear direction, 
 towards the coast. 
 
 The passage was bad. Lisette was ill, and Charles 
 was terrified. What man would not have been, with 
 such small experience of life and suffering to help him? 
 The women in the cabin were kind to Lisette, but they 
 shook their heads. 
 
 " You're being met, I suppose ? " said one of them to 
 Charles, and, at his negative, looked faintly impatient 
 and contemptuous of such arrangements, as though they 
 regarded him as a schoolboy rather than as a full-grown 
 man. Charles began to think it would be months before 
 he could successfully build up the dignity of his sex 
 again. Even Lisette seemed a little sorry for him when 
 the nature of things allowed it. Her pluck, even in ex- 
 tremis, amazed him, throughout the night. 
 
 " I shall be all right," she told him, collapsed completely 
 on her upper berth in the hot and crowded cabin, looking 
 like a corpse, blue-lipped and pallid under the tangle of 
 her pale gold hair. " I've no head. I always got giddy 
 at dances told 'em so Honoria never believed it 
 thought I did it to get into corners with 'em but fact! 
 Couldn't let Father swing me even saw for himself he'd 
 better not. I shall be this way all the way to London, 
 very likely. Lord, you needn't be scared by this ! " And
 
 284 DUKE JONES 
 
 curling up again, away from him, she buried her fair head 
 in her arms. 
 
 But Charles was scared, horribly, and he had the 
 leisure to be. The boat was late, delayed getting into 
 port by the terrible seas, and the light was coming as they 
 neared the English shore. Charles, gray with sheer anxi- 
 ety in the morning light, for he was an excellent sailor 
 and, but for Lisette, might have enjoyed the adventure, 
 began to see nothing for it but to stop at Dover and wire 
 his father-in-law to come down to their assistance. It 
 looked poor-spirited, but he was long past considering 
 appearances. It seemed the only course of safety, the 
 only way to avoid all risks. For his trouble was the usual 
 one, of course : that among so many, he knew not which 
 risks to take. Women are more used to this choice in life. 
 
 It was not required. All risks had been taken, for 
 Lisette, in advance. The face he loved best, dreamed 
 of at intervals all through that wretched night, was on 
 the salt-swept quay to welcome them, when the belated 
 boat came in. As he strode off the vessel of his torment 
 on to solid English soil, he saw her suddenly, in the 
 mingled lights of night and day. Selfish relief first, and 
 then fury as selfish, swept across Charles' face. 
 
 " Violet ! How dare you ? " he gasped. He seized and 
 shook her, the clash of feelings was so extraordinary. 
 Such a night as he had passed brings the elemental man 
 to the surface, or rather, leaves it bare. " How dare you 
 think of it? How did you hear? Oh, Lord, darling, 
 I'm thankful. I've had the devil of a time." 
 
 " Is she here ? " said Violet, her gray eyes, under a gray 
 veil, searching the press behind him. 
 
 " She's here all right, but awfully ill. That woman's 
 bringing her off, a decent sort. Here, stand still. No 
 one's looking. Curse the veil ! " 
 
 Rough with her almost, in his rage and joy, he tried 
 to snatch a kiss, there on the open quay; but owing to
 
 UNDINE 285 
 
 the veil he execrated, or her own elf-like faculty, she 
 eluded him, and he only reached her cold rainy cheek. 
 She shrank away, slipped through his fingers, it was as 
 though, for the moment, she was not his. 
 
 " I'll give it you for this when we get home," he mut- 
 tered, still holding her to him forcibly. 
 
 "So will Father," said Violet. "I'm in for it, all 
 round. All right, goose," she answered all his questions, 
 still looking beyond him with steadfast eyes. " Go and be 
 useful, will you ? Joliffe's there. Tell him which things 
 to take, no time to lose. We have lost enough, needn't 
 have hurried so." Then her face changed, as it had not 
 for Charles. " Lisette ! Darling, what is it ? Won't you 
 look at me? I have been waiting such a time." 
 
 " I I saw you," observed Lisette with curious tran- 
 quillity, lifting her strange eyes to Violet, as she gripped 
 her arm. " He needn't think I didn't see him, because 
 I did. Violet, will you give " 
 
 " Look out, sir ! " said Joliffe, sharply, behind Charles. 
 " Not Miss Violet, the other " 
 
 Charles, reckless of all beside, caught Violet, and held 
 her up against a strain that was making her stagger where 
 she stood. " The other " Joliffe and another man just 
 failed to catch; for Lisette slid, with soft obstinacy, 
 between them, and fainted full-length on the slippery 
 quay, almost dragging her cousin, to say nothing of her 
 cousin's husband, down with her in her fall. 
 
 in 
 
 Jones had gone back, still limping a little, to his home 
 near Leatherhead, in Surrey, his work being done. His 
 housekeeper there was glad to see Mr. Jones back at last, 
 something like permanent, and Jones assured her that 
 he had had enough of foreign places for the present. The 
 curate was glad to see him too, for without Jones, in the 
 small village where fate had placed him, the curate was
 
 286 DUKE JONES 
 
 bored. Jones and the curate, both having a passion for 
 physical culture, and very little natural physique to work 
 upon, were friends. There is no common pursuit, per- 
 haps, which binds men more than this, as was proved in 
 the case; for Jones and the curate, in the matter of re- 
 ligious dogma and practice, did not at all agree. But they 
 let those differences slide, being the only two young men 
 of education in the village, and played tennis and golf 
 together, plodded the lanes side by side on Sunday after- 
 noons, or, if the curate could be urged to such frivolity, 
 discovered a world beyond Surrey, in Jones' car. 
 
 The curate was inclined to think that Jones should sell 
 all that he had, i. e. the motor, and follow himself and 
 the nearest path of charity by presenting the village with 
 a public room. Jones said he would think it over, but he 
 had not proceeded to action yet, because he was convinced, 
 owing to the curate's dramatic propensities, the room when 
 presented would be used for theatrical entertainments, 
 and of those he could not in his heart approve. He was, 
 however, righting clear of his father's prejudices by de- 
 grees; and the curate had some hope that his sojourn 
 in Paris had put the finishing touch to the process, and 
 that the room might yet be his. He prayed for this happy 
 consummation sedulously. When pressed, Jones even 
 confessed that he had attended " something resembling " 
 theatrical entertainments in the French capital: only, 
 fortunately for his understanding with the curate, he 
 did not go into detail. 
 
 The curate, naturally, wanted to know if her friends 
 had found the unfortunate young woman ; and Jones said 
 yes, luckily her friends had. The curate said too late, 
 he supposed; and Jones said, well, that depended how 
 you looked at it. The curate was rather silent on receipt 
 of this response, and Jones had, for the sake of honesty 
 and friendship, to trespass a little further on Miss 
 Lisette's private affairs, and explain himself to Mr. 
 Freshwater. She was not married, he said, but he had
 
 UNDINE 287 
 
 every reason to think she would be, quite soon; and she 
 was a kind and beautiful girl, and had been very hardly 
 used. The curate, who was particular, would have ac- 
 cepted these rather incomplete explanations more unre- 
 servedly if the word " beautiful " had not occurred among 
 them. However, if she was really to be married, that was 
 so much to the good, best thing under the circumstances. 
 Jones, who was cleverer than the curate, and knew it, 
 though he never disclosed his class at Oxford, said he 
 was so glad Freshwater agreed with him. After that 
 they left the subject, and talked with earnest brows of 
 the cricketing prospects. 
 
 During the interlude while he resumed these healthy 
 habits and rural activities, as need not be said, everybody 
 for whom Jones had worked forgot him completely, 
 always excepting one. 
 
 Charles Shovell, acting under orders, sent him a line 
 from his publishing office, which missed Jones in Paris, 
 and followed him to Leatherhead after an interval. 
 Charles had a particularly pretty fine hand, almost fem- 
 inine, and for an instant Jones' heart leapt but it was 
 not so. That is, it was so, but not directly. 
 
 " DEAR JONES " [wrote Charles], 
 
 " I don't know if this will catch you, I have rather 
 let things slide. I ought to have let you know sooner, 
 but my wife's health has been causing some anxiety. She 
 met us at Dover with the doctor's car, so that was all 
 right, and we got the girl home between us by degrees. 
 She (L. not V.) was pea-green at the port, and I never 
 thought we should get beyond it; but my wife got some 
 brandy down, about a quarter of a pint before she had 
 finished, and Lisette was cheeking us again before we 
 got to Canterbury. Brandy seems to suit her nicely, 
 she was awfully pleased to have a drive, as she called it, 
 and seemed to be on terms with the chauffeur. Glad to 
 say he sat on her, nobody else could. At Canterbury we
 
 288 DUKE JONES 
 
 got breakfast, Violet had wired a Dean in advance, 
 said he was a friend of her uncle's and an early riser, just 
 her style, and Lisette drank his Reverence's coffee as 
 if she had been born to it, sitting in his Reverence's chair. 
 Mashed the old boy awfully too, but that's by the way. 
 I warned V. to keep an eye on the spoons, L. seemed to 
 like the look of them. However, we got off safely without 
 her even asking him for one as a keepsake. She is safe 
 now in the hands of her relations in Harley Street, and 
 Dr. Ashwin says after a rest she will be none the worse. 
 None the worse! they must be a hard breed. I was 
 pretty well done for myself, I can tell you, by the time we 
 got the little monkey off our hands. 
 
 " I am told to make Violet's apologies, but I prefer to 
 make my own. She would have replied to yours, if she 
 had ever read it. I did what I thought best, anyhow, 
 it was hard enough to do. Now she is cut off writing, 
 but I am to express her very particular thanks, in her 
 name and that of her mother's family, for all you have 
 done for Miss Addenbroke. Yours, she says, is the only 
 faultless performance; everybody else has muckered it 
 somehow. (Last expression not hers, but I translate.) 
 We hope to see you at home when things go better; at 
 present nobody dares stir a finger to excite her further, 
 that's the fact. Excuse haste, dashed busy, 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " CHARLES SHOVELL." 
 
 A lively, friendly, forthcoming letter, and like the 
 writer, Jones must admit. For all the anxiety into which 
 it plunged him, he was thankful to have it. He pored 
 over it often, picturing every stage of that Canterbury 
 pilgrimage of theirs, pondering Charles' careless phrases, 
 reading between the lines. She was not " pea-green " at 
 the port, possibly, but she had been white enough when 
 Jones had last seen her, weeks since, to cause him a pass- 
 ing pang. Lisette had " cheeked " her, doubtless, he
 
 UNDINE 289 
 
 had memories of how she had done it in the train, 
 taunted her, tired her too. Shovell was " done for " at 
 the end of the journey, was he? Well, what of her? 
 
 Of Lisette, the center of his best efforts for so long, 
 no further news for weeks. Then he was remembered 
 in the other house by the only person likely to remember 
 him, since, according to Marmaduke's experience, it is 
 invariably the busiest people who make time for the 
 smaller kindnesses. He was honored by an autograph 
 scrawl from the doctor, directed to him under his old 
 title as secretary of the S.P.X.Z., and forwarded from 
 that society's office, by his successor, Brown. 
 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 " My daughter pronounced your name last night, 
 and it recalled to me a neglected obligation. You have 
 every claim to be kept on a level with our news, after 
 your remarkable devotion in Felicia's cause. She gave 
 birth on Thursday morning to a healthy son, and con- 
 ditions are smiling for both. She is recovering fast, im- 
 patient to see you and exhibit the child, but I stipulate 
 for a week's rest. Thereafter we shall be delighted, and 
 if you will name an hour, I will try to fall in with it. But 
 I am much tied for the moment, so in case of absence, 
 Ford, who says he knows you, has kindly undertaken to 
 represent me. Please believe, however, that I am anxious 
 to congratulate you in person on a distinguished piece of 
 work, amply justified by results, as you will see. 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " CLAUDE C. ASHWIN." 
 
 Again, just what Jones would have expected of the 
 writer: generous and gracious and clear, remarkably 
 clear concerning Lisette. His face glowed as he deci- 
 phered it, for Jones was a born hero-worshiper, and he 
 knew more about this particular man, on a side he did 
 not display much to the world, than the bulk of the
 
 290 DUKE JONES 
 
 doctor's fashionable connection knew. This was a recog- 
 nition of his pains worth having, worth preserving all 
 his life. It was noteworthy too, in its resemblance to 
 another message, only that said a " faultless perform- 
 ance," and this a " distinguished piece of work." The 
 expressions alike surprised Jones, who had not been 
 conscious of aiming at artistic finish in what he under- 
 took, having merely " stuck to it," in his phrase. But 
 father and daughter evidently suspected him of native art 
 rather than native obstinacy. Jones might have been an 
 actor fresh from a triumph in a new part, to judge by 
 the form of their compliments. It amused him, just as 
 Mrs. Shovell had often amused him before, by a fresh 
 unlikeness to all his own gray-clad ideals; and he con- 
 tinued to turn over these ornamental Ashwin formulas 
 for some time in his mind before he returned to a more 
 painful investigation. 
 
 She had " pronounced " his name, by night. 
 
 That was the phrase that struck his heart in passing 
 it. Why did those words, in a doctor's hand, suggest 
 at once the demon-grip of fever, the utterance that is 
 unconscious and uncontrolled? Why was the writer 
 " much tied " for the moment ? Tied by what ? to 
 whom? Why, knowing, as he surely must, that Jones 
 was acquainted with his daughter, did he offer nothing, no 
 definite reassurance as to her state, only Felicia's ? Was 
 it not clearly because he could not, because he was himself 
 under the stress of an anxiety like Jones', yet more 
 crushing, perhaps, since she was his only child? 
 
 They would tell him, Marmaduke supposed, if she 
 died; that was all. It was all such a stranger to the 
 family could expect. But it was wearing suspense wait- 
 ing that prescribed week to go to Harley Street and learn 
 the worst. To the other house, the little house in the 
 west where she lay, he did not even think of going, he 
 dared not approach it, pass its sacred gate. He was 
 guilty of flat moral cowardice in the matter. His eye
 
 UNDINE 291 
 
 skipped the first column of the morning paper, and passed 
 to dwell on the prospects of cricket, vacantly. The curate 
 saw that something was wrong, when Jones excused him- 
 self from tennis, asked him to tea instead, very kindly, 
 and tried, as is the habit of black cloth, to extract by 
 soothing and subtle methods his subject of preoccupation. 
 He heard that a " friend," not a " fellow " for once, 
 was dangerously ill, no more. Jones' housekeeper ex- 
 tracted that it was the wife of a friend, the young wife, 
 and thought it " like his kind heart " to take such an 
 interest. 
 
 Several times he asked his conscience, fearfully rather, 
 but never guiltily, what had come to him that this girl, 
 casually met and barely known, should, beyond all others, 
 so possess his thoughts. It was the manner in which he 
 had encountered her, he supposed; the way in which, 
 owing to the chance of Miss Lisette, their eyes and hands 
 had joined as fellow-workers over her case. Marmaduke 
 had never worked with a woman before; it had barely 
 occurred to him that young man and woman could work 
 in this way. It was the novelty and natural charm of 
 such co-operation, doubtless, that had struck the impres- 
 sion so deep. 
 
 And then her situation: it could not be, evidently, 
 having crossed her path at such a period, that he was 
 uninfluenced by that. She was a light, a torch to the dull 
 heart of man, or woman either, such days as that when 
 she had been drunk with the sun and the salt breezes on 
 the beach. To the warmth of his own compassion for 
 her cousin, which her generous compassion had stirred, 
 she had added a glow from her own happiness by the 
 way. Jones, during that memorable journey when his 
 pity had first aroused, had felt the glow strongest in him 
 while she slept, abandoned to her husband's arm. Was 
 that not dear proof of the nature of her influence upon
 
 292 DUKE JONES 
 
 him? What should it be but the life-giving, life-restoring 
 ray from the hearth, the family, well-recognized as an 
 inspiration in life or art? Which a sensitive heart retains, 
 like one of those little Rembrandt pictures over which 
 Jones had pored in the palace of the Louvre, the central 
 facts of love transfigured, when all detail, local or topical, 
 has been blackened out by time. 
 
 Jones, most modest about his own experience, had told 
 himself several times that in that unknown garden of 
 girls, London society, there were probably, well, pos- 
 sibly, plenty of others like her; like Mrs. Shovell, for 
 he carefully substituted the name for the familiar pro- 
 noun in his thoughts, as he had done in his letter to 
 Charles, with the instinct of personal propriety and clean- 
 liness which was Jones, which constituted his individu- 
 ality so far as he possessed one. He loved her quaint, 
 soft-syllabled name; it suited her, he considered, better 
 than the man from whom she had borrowed it. He had 
 not forgotten how she had first pronounced it to him, 
 just to make things easier at table d'hote, when it became 
 clear some name was needed, blushing in that imper- 
 ceptible rose-leaf manner of hers, as though it were still 
 strange to her lips, and she were shy of publishing her 
 title to it, in the face of a heartless world. Further, and 
 above all, to Jones' type of mind, that name that was 
 another's enthroned her, set her apart, out of reach of 
 degrading or covetous suggestions. Perhaps by virtue 
 of the double moon of bliss when he had been privileged 
 to know her, in all his images and recollections, Charles 
 was there, just beyond, her safeguard; even though, in 
 the stress of involuntary comparison (which Marmaduke 
 endeavored to suppress), Charles should drop to the posi- 
 tion of a mere appendage, a pleasing ornament, though 
 he should be no more than the gold band on her finger, 
 or one of the glimmering, glinting things that encircled 
 her neck, rose or fell upon her breast, those enchanted 
 summer evenings when Marmaduke still had her near.
 
 UNDINE 293 
 
 It is not credible, it will be contended, that a man 
 should reach this state and not be conscious that he was 
 a prey to the old passion, so over-written and over-sung 
 that its naked apparition is disconcerting, all but un- 
 hinging, to the virgin mind. It is by its terror love is 
 known, and it was by that terror, undoubtedly of his 
 sentiments, that our hero should have known it. But 
 note, that just when the urgent thing began to stir him 
 first, to push among his tranquil array of daily feelings, 
 another impulse of his being, almost equally strong, and 
 much more familiar, had begun to threaten convulsion 
 too. Marmaduke had been unable to confuse his love 
 and his compassion, love human and divine. During 
 that long railway journey, which had been emotion's 
 battlefield, the first feeling had ministered to the second 
 so rapidly, so naturally, that it was easy to think, looking 
 back, he had been urged throughout his quest by the 
 passion of pity alone. 
 
 The test came now, when Lisette was safe, triumphant, 
 protected, when charity, satisfied, fell back a little, 
 and compassion could be put away. Small wonder that, 
 in the new resulting tumult on the inner field of his 
 emotion, Jones should be amazed, perturbed, though 
 still unconvicted by conscience, over what remained! 
 
 IV 
 
 He went to London by a carefully chosen train, timed 
 respectably between four and five o'clock on a chilly 
 afternoon of early May. He had brought the morning 
 paper with him, one which he had not read; for Jones 
 had a conscience as regarded newspaper reading; even 
 though its result should merely be to disqualify a Govern- 
 ment party's whole policy as " rotten," it seemed to him 
 worth while. He took the " Times," and shared it with 
 the curate, who showed a persistent preference for his 
 parochial journal and local gossip, which daily application 
 of the larger periodical was, according to Jones' reckon-
 
 294 DUKE JONES 
 
 ing, eventually to cure. It had not yet cured it, but it 
 might in time. 
 
 The paper he held was the Saturday's, the day being 
 Monday, since the Saturday issue contained a correspond- 
 ence of interest, which he had missed. He did not read it 
 for long, he watched the fields. Then, when the fields 
 became hatefully overgrown by a fungus-brood of ad- 
 vertisements, when raw-colored factories, and the rows 
 of unworthy plastered dwellings which are London's 
 claws began to seize the country from his eyes, he took his 
 paper up mechanically, glanced down, and caught her 
 name on the first page. 
 
 With a thrill such as he had never experienced or 
 imagined, he recognized it was in the first division of 
 small announcements, not the third he had so feared. 
 
 " Shovell, on the fourth inst, the wife of Charles " 
 
 That was three days since, he thought mechanically, 
 Friday; Shovell's child was three days old. And he 
 might have been relieved for the same period had he 
 followed the announcements steadily! His cowardice 
 served him right. 
 
 All well! Jones woke to life again. He could carry 
 her in his protecting thoughts, right across the horror 
 of suffering and uncertainty, of which he had not dared 
 to think, into a new world of happiness, more exquisite 
 than honeymoon idling even, the very best of all. Jones, 
 dowered fatally with a soft heart, all but cried from sheer 
 relief as he thought of it, she and her son, or daughter 
 was it ? son. Shovell, he thought, would have preferred 
 a daughter, Jones would have done so in Shovell's place, 
 that is. But women had an amiable weakness for the 
 masculine, and he allowed her that weakness, smiling to 
 himself. He did not allow her many, but, since it granted 
 her a desire, that. 
 
 He must congratulate the family, he supposed. That 
 was invariably done; and the chances were he should
 
 UNDINE 295 
 
 see Lady Ashwin, since he was to see Lisette. That is, 
 unless Lady Ashwin had altogether abandoned her young 
 cousin, for her young daughter, a desertion quite to 
 be commended, on her part. It was a delightful choice 
 for her, certainly: two infants, both charming probably, 
 all women care for that. Jones had some curiosity to 
 see Violet's mother, though he confessed to shyness as 
 well. Lady Ashwin had sounded so very magnificent 
 and remote that evening he had conversed with her at 
 the telephone. Since then he had heard little of her, 
 except as having presented her daughter with the Ledger 
 portrait, he remembered; and, by the same token, ought 
 he not, in this happy consummation of everybody's af- 
 fairs, to have brought that precious portrait back? 
 
 Then he wondered, having investigated that point 
 of conscience, whether he ought not to postpone his call 
 altogether. He had warned Ford, the secretary, by a 
 card, that he meant to come; he had thought that pre- 
 caution best, since, with a young mother, one cannot 
 be sure. Some people might have found it strange that 
 the young mother should summon him at all, but that 
 was just Lisette. Nobody knowing Lisette at all would 
 be the least astonished; even Sir Claude's reference had 
 suggested a humorous and indulgent view, half paternal, 
 such as none in Lisette's neighborhood, not even a great 
 doctor, could resist. She had probably clamored for 
 " Duke " instantly, on the child's arrival, to come and 
 see how well she had done it, and what a nice baby it was ; 
 and the doctor had been severe with her, dry like his 
 daughter, rather cutting, his eyes laughing, like his 
 daughter's, all the time. 
 
 Jones' imagination, as may be judged by the speci- 
 mens, was rampant ; but that was excitement merely. He 
 had to go on to Harley Street, he could not keep away. 
 Besides, he must inquire. That, like the congratulating, 
 was always done. It may be readily deduced, from these 
 innocent reflections offered in succession to the patient
 
 296 DUKE JONES 
 
 reader, that such events as the present one had not often 
 entered upon the stage of Marmaduke's life. He was, 
 indeed, working on a single precedent, the memory of his 
 cousin's wife's first child. It was a good precedent, both 
 gratifying and amusing to reflect upon, because Jones 
 had been sponsor to the little girl, and still sent her toys 
 at intervals. He remembered all about it very well ; and 
 how particularly ugly the small baby had been, and how 
 hysterically pleased the mother had seemed about it. 
 He quite imagined Mrs. Shovell would be more sensible, 
 though perhaps a little surprising in her phraseology on 
 the subject. But then, as her baby would be beautiful, 
 white, as white as her own white pearls, or the lovely 
 little neck they guarded Jones stopped thinking there, 
 and returned to Lisette. It was easy for a bystander to 
 rhapsodize on Lisette, who was also beautiful, fair as 
 the day. 
 
 A young fellow with a pleasant though rather expres- 
 sionless countenance, footman probably, told Jones at 
 the door of the grand house that Sir Claude Ashwin was 
 not at home. Whereupon Jones, distinctly relieved, 
 inquired modestly for Mr. Ford. 
 
 " Mr. Jones, sir ? " returned the expressionless young 
 man. " Yes, sir. Mr. Ford's engaged for the present, 
 sir, hopes soon to be free. Very happy to see you, sir, 
 but would you care to see Lady Ashwin first? " 
 
 Jones would naturally care, since it was suggested so 
 respectfully, to follow out the program offered him. 
 On entering, it struck him the house had a business-like 
 atmosphere. He heard voices through a baize door in 
 the hall, where he waited for five minutes, while his 
 escort went ahead to see if Lady Ashwin had changed her 
 mind about graciously receiving Mr. Jones. That, at 
 least, was the case in full, though Francis the footman, 
 dexterous discretion personified, stopped short in stating 
 the case at the word " see." The hall was well but con-
 
 UNDINE 297 
 
 ventionally furnished, and, owing to the dim light, rather 
 solemn. The men's voices Jones heard were discussing 
 rapidly and keenly, though low, and he thought he recog- 
 nized that of his unknown friend the secretary. " Busi- 
 ness," once more, spread its grave atmosphere abroad ; it 
 was one Jones was accustomed to breathe, and approved. 
 
 But upstairs, things changed. Things underwent a 
 miraculous transformation, even on the stairs it began, 
 for they were spaciously designed, and softly carpeted. 
 Business sank into the background, faded, vanished away. 
 Jones tried to imagine Mrs. Shovell flying up these stairs, 
 and just succeeded, but her spirit seemed strangely lack- 
 ing in this luxurious quarter of the house. He followed 
 Francis up more soft steps, along soft passages, to a door, 
 which the footman opened, all his dexterity and discretion 
 seeming to concentrate in the single action of turning 
 the handle. 
 
 " Mr. Jones, my lady," said Francis, and let in Mr. 
 Jones, all unprepared and in his ordinary clothes, upon 
 the Golden Age. 
 
 Not that he called it that consciously, but the effect 
 was the same upon his mind. Everything, time and all, 
 slid back into a simpler, sunnier period. It was merely 
 two beautiful women, and the child of one, but they 
 were all Ingestres, to the smallest, and so the ensemble 
 they made touched perfection. Nothing unless Titian 
 endeavoring to be devout, and in a purely pagan revel 
 of rich color, failing utterly could have rendered the 
 group worthily to an admiring world. St. Anne and 
 the Maid-mother, according to Titian, might have equaled 
 it; and since no devotion would have been expressed, 
 there can be no offense in the comparison. 
 
 The setting was beautiful, to begin with: it was quite 
 the most charming and comfortable room Jones had ever 
 seen; even Mrs. Shovell's drawing-room, hitherto his 
 ideal, paled before it. He had no idea how the effect 
 was worked, not being either an artist or an upholsterer,
 
 298 DUKE JONES 
 
 but the general background tone was blue. Blue was 
 Eveleen's color, a certain thick cloud-blue, not Violet's 
 clear tint of the twilight sky; and her color grew into 
 her surroundings, as into her dress, with no conscious 
 determination on her part. As a fact, Claude had dressed 
 this room for her, " ages " since, Eveleen reckoned all 
 time by " ages," and she had only improved, refurbished, 
 and added to it. She had filched most of her paintings 
 from Claude's collection, he had snatched back one or 
 two, but as water-color painting was one of the few 
 tastes they had in common the warfare had been agree- 
 able. Some of the best remained with Eveleen, since 
 Claude himself admitted they suited the room. There 
 were a few flowers, the flowers of summer or summer 
 lands without exception, though conditions were still 
 wintry out-of-doors. A mass of white roses in a glass 
 stood near Lisette. There were a few portraits, minia- 
 tures, and photographs. Jones, with his commonplace 
 middle-class instincts, was a little surprised that neither 
 husband nor daughter figured, so far as a discreet eye 
 could discover, among the family represented. But, how- 
 ever regrettable this omission, there was certainly a 
 large proportion of handsome people. 
 
 The Ledger miniature was not there, but then, 
 Ledger's model was, and nobody would have had eyes to 
 spare for a portrait. Yet, glorified as she was in beauty, 
 the first thing that struck Marmaduke in Felicia was that 
 she was different. Something, some essence in her, had 
 altered. It was inexplicable, like the beauty of the room. 
 One more ready in expression would have said that 
 Lisette had materialized, with no depreciatory signifi- 
 cance. She was certainly as real now as she was lovely, 
 full to the brim of rapture, life and wickedness. She 
 teased Jones instantly on his apparition, even in intro- 
 ducing him to her cousin, drawing him into the family 
 group by tone and pretty gesture, though she did not stir. 
 Her free treatment of Lady Ashwin really paralyzed
 
 UNDINE 299 
 
 the visitor who looked on at it; but, oddly enough, Lady 
 Ashwin seemed to like it, or at least, showed no signs of 
 disapproving. She lay in a low chair, her head sidelong 
 upon a velvet cushion, idly watching mother and child. 
 She was dressed in loose draperies, as was Lisette; with 
 sleeves that slipped above the elbow at every movement, 
 leaving their beautiful arms bare. They were both in 
 varieties of white, into the infinite details of which Jones 
 dared not enter, except to mark that Lisette's was thin 
 white, her rosy tints glowing through, and Lady Ashwin's 
 was thick, as became maturity. But, mature or no, she 
 was so elegant in form, and untroubled of aspect, as to 
 astound Jones, who would certainly never have conceived 
 her, at sight, a grandmother. Indeed he could, while he 
 watched her in shy flashes, in the intervals of Lisette's 
 demands upon him, have laughed at the idea. 
 
 They both, though pleased to see Jones, as they assured 
 him, had an agreeable manner of ignoring his presence, 
 in what they said. He felt very much like the spectator 
 of some scene almost too intimate and too exquisite to 
 be watched. It was only, it seemed, that they were both 
 very happy, perfectly contented and amused, and were 
 not inclined to put themselves out to entertain the visitor, 
 since all life was such a liberal entertainment. 
 
 Lisette was amused by the baby, immensely. She 
 was, when she could spare a minute from this overmaster- 
 ing and novel diversion, passingly amused by Jones. She 
 was perfectly at ease, displaying herself and her infant 
 before him, and glanced at him in a friendly and confi- 
 dential way from time to time. " Don't you wish he 
 was yours ? " said Lisette's look, and Jones very nearly 
 did. 
 
 Eveleen was amused by Lisette, vastly; and by the 
 shameless way in which, armed with her baby and her 
 beauty, she faced the outraged world. There was no 
 further question now about the other parent, that ques- 
 tion had vanished. This baby was Lisette's. He was her
 
 300 DUKE JONES 
 
 business only, nobody else need interfere, since she knew 
 all about it. She knew better than her cousin, contemp- 
 tuously; indeed, Eveleen's criticisms were a little vague. 
 She knew so much better than the nurse, that the nurse 
 gave notice, instantly, and was not replaced. She knew 
 a good deal better than Sir Claude, telling him with con- 
 descension what to think about various little matters ; and 
 Claude accepted most of her suggestions, since she was 
 so astonishingly well, obviously, as to put all the common 
 reckonings out. The baby was in her arms at this moment, 
 competently held, and, as was evident, generously nour- 
 ished. She made her little private grimaces downward, 
 in the direction of its eager little hands and mouth. 
 
 " Going to grow up greedy, like me," she confided to 
 Eveleen. " No hope for him." She gathered her son 
 more closely to her breast. 
 
 " He's an Ingestre," said Eveleen, gazing at the child's 
 fine limbs. " In twelve years, perhaps fourteen, I 
 shall be sorry for you, Felicia. About then it will begin." 
 
 " It won't," said Lisette. " We'll see who's mistress, 
 him or me." She wrinkled her nose with a little sniff, 
 lying back in her low chair. " I'm glad he's a boy," she 
 said. " I wouldn't have cared for a girl, no fun. Wouldn't 
 you have liked a boy as well as Violet ? " 
 
 " No," said Eveleen, examining the screen she held, 
 " I should not. Instead of her, perhaps, but even so, 
 I doubt it. It would have been more bother than the 
 girl." 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder," said Lisette, with a laugh, glanc- 
 ing at Jones. " I expect the girl gave in to you a bit ; she 
 did to me. She tickles you up with the things she says, 
 but her eyes are good-natured all the time, aren't they ? " 
 She appealed beyond. " I like Violet's eyes," she informed 
 Eveleen. " So does he," nodding to Jones, " I asked 
 him once." 
 
 " He couldn't have said he didn't, if you asked," said 
 Lady Ashwin.
 
 UNDINE 301 
 
 " Oh, yes, he could," returned Lisette. " He's not that 
 sort of man." 
 
 These calm contradictions were what amused Eveleen. 
 The girl was quite unable to offend her, and suited her 
 at all points singularly well. She had even regretted, 
 several times, since Lisette appeared among them, that 
 she had not taken the child Violet's suggestion originally, 
 and had her in the house all this time. Only, to be sure, 
 in that case, there would not have been a baby to complete 
 the picture; and the general scandalous absurdity of the 
 situation, which suited Eveleen's sardonic humor so 
 perfectly, would have been wanting. 
 
 Jones, of course, had his opportunity, at this, the first 
 introduction of Mrs. ShovelFs name. The congratulation 
 and the inquiry, both on his lips, would have been in 
 place, could he only venture to speak them; but he felt 
 shy. Something seemed vaguely to forbid the subject, 
 or hold it at arm's length, even while they talked, using 
 Violet's name. It puzzled him at first, until Felicia 
 herself enlightened him, and then he was only thankful 
 he had not plunged too rashly. 
 
 " I am going to show him to Violet to-morrow," ob- 
 served Lisette carelessly, when she had concluded her 
 exhibition of the baby, in detail, to Jones. " She hasn't 
 seen him yet, not been well. Not ever since I gave her 
 such a time of it in the carriage. Rank luck on her, isn't 
 it? Now she'll be the last. Even you got in before her, 
 little man. To-morrow she's coming, Cousin Eveleen 
 said." 
 
 " I said, possibly," said Eveleen. 
 
 That was it, then! This girl-mother was still fragile, 
 for all her looks ; and the other mother, admirably careful, 
 had not broken to her the news of her daughter's parallel 
 case, which had doubtless caused more intimate anxiety. 
 Lisette did not know of the existence, had not grasped 
 the advent even, of the other child. Jones, watching 
 Lady Ashwin's calmly-leveled eyes, was rather glad he
 
 302 DUKE JONES 
 
 had not spoken, since the scheme was evidently hers. It 
 was an escape; for it slipped into his mind that Lady 
 Ashwin could, at need, become formidable. It was hard 
 to say how he gathered it, from her perfectly tranquil 
 attitude. He asked Lisette if Charles had seen the baby, 
 and Lisette assented, making a face. A week since Charles 
 had had a look at it in passing, and had proved himself 
 quite unworthy of the privilege. He had seemed to think 
 it like any other child. Jones smiled to himself, picturing 
 Shovell's present expression, in a like situation. His mind 
 kept traveling to the other and smaller house, since the 
 ladies allowed him leisure for such excursions by their 
 interludes of private talk. 
 
 " I shall have to go soon," the mistress of the house 
 observed, as the small clock chimed above her ; so saying, 
 she settled a little lower in her chair. " If I go, that is ; 
 perhaps I won't." 
 
 " You said that before," said Lisette. " You'll go on 
 saying it till Joliffe calls, and then none of us could stop 
 you if we tried. You're a bit like Honoria in some things, 
 putting it on. You're keen to get into that dress and your 
 diamonds really." 
 
 " I am not, the least," said Lady Ashwin, quite child- 
 ishly. " I'd sooner stop here." 
 
 Felicia ignored her, and looked at Jones. " You can 
 stay with me when she goes to dress, see? She'll go 
 soon, 'cause she knows she's got to. It takes time, even 
 with two of 'em at it. She's got a maid French. She 
 says I ought to have one too. Likely, isn't it? Likely 
 I'd want a maid to tumble over, bad as that nurse. 
 Great Scott, that nurse! Didn't know where to look 
 when I'd done with her, stuck-up thing. I say, Duke, 
 you're not going ? " 
 
 Lady Ashwin, still with a nonchalant air, had risen 
 in two stages, both very graceful, from her chair, and was 
 regarding herself in the mirror over the fire-place, and 
 patting her disordered hair with one white hand. Jones
 
 UNDINE 303 
 
 rose too, half in respect, since when she was up he could 
 not well remain seated ; half with an idea of following her, 
 at least for an instant, when she left the room, and so 
 getting a chance to address her privately. He felt he must 
 ask, hear something. They would hardly think him well- 
 bred without. She surely could not be surprised that he 
 should show that much interest in the daughter of the 
 house, for all his supposed exclusive devotion to her 
 cousin. But Eveleen discomposed his plans by not pro- 
 ceeding on her way to dress. On the contrary, she leant 
 one arm on the mantelpiece and waited, looking towards 
 Lisette. 
 
 " It's a swell house," said Lisette ; " a duke's, friend 
 of yours." She wrinkled her charming nose at Jones. 
 " She's got a dress like you never saw. I should say going 
 a bit far, but she says that's the style. It's the stage 
 is doing it, I saw that in Paris, knocking out people's 
 eye for color, as if the stage could be like a room! 
 Why, the flesh-tints are quite different in a room 1 I told 
 her so, but she won't change it. Backs herself to carry 
 it, you know." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Eveleen tranquilly. 
 
 " She wants to smash somebody to-night," said Lisette. 
 " That's the fact, we won't ask who. Your friend, per- 
 haps, if he isn't too old. Did you know she " 
 
 At that point of Lisette's chatter, which was the kind 
 of chatter Lady Ashwin understood and appreciated, 
 Francis, the footman, reappeared. 
 
 He entered dexterously and discreetly, as before, but 
 the mask of his impassive face had changed. There was 
 human emotion in it, quite perceptible. It was a man 
 who entered, to Jones' eye, a rather apprehensive young 
 man, endeavoring to remain a footman merely. 
 
 " Mr. Shovell, my lady," he said. 
 
 Eveleen did not shift her eyes from Lisette, though 
 she left a pause, as usual. 
 
 " Very well, bring him up," she replied.
 
 304 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Mr. Shovell is downstairs, my lady, would be glad 
 to speak to you." Francis repeated a message, clearly. 
 " He is sorry, but he's in a hurry. He is downstairs with 
 Mr. Ford." 
 
 " I heard," said Eveleen. " I can't come down like this, 
 can I ? I'm half-dressed. Ask Mr. Shovell to come here, 
 if he wants me." 
 
 Francis hesitated, looked at Miss Addenbroke, and 
 opened his mouth again ; then, crushed by a glance from 
 his mistress, departed. The trio in the room remained as 
 they were, Lisette deeply engaged by the baby, which 
 was just falling asleep in a fascinating manner; Eveleen 
 rigid, her fine mouth slightly set. Jones, disconcerted by 
 her obstinate pose, as though she occupied an entrench- 
 ment, and had no intention of abandoning it, had taken 
 a seat again, though uncertainly. 
 
 Silence sank, the little clock ticking away Lady Ash- 
 win's minutes, nothing stirring in the room. Then there 
 were quick firm steps along the corridor, the rapid hand 
 of business, Jones recognized it on the latch, and the 
 secretary Ford entered in his turn. Jones guessed him 
 easily, since it was a young man of Charles' sort, but not 
 Charles. Marmaduke himself rose quietly and promptly 
 to his feet again, for he knew trouble when he saw it if 
 Lady Ashwin did not. He had scented it vaguely in the 
 footman's aspect, now it stood before them personified ; 
 and the Golden Age cracked about their heads. Sir 
 Claude's secretary and he joined hands in mute recogni- 
 tion, though Ford's face did not relax. He was pale, and 
 his lip bitten before he spoke. 
 
 " Shovell had to go, Lady Ashwin," he said. " He left 
 word for you, that's all, if I may ask you to come a 
 minute." He held the door still open behind him with 
 his hand. 
 
 " He might have come up," said Eveleen. Her hand 
 gripped the mantel-shelf, quite visibly. 
 
 " He couldn't," said Ford. For an instant their eyes
 
 UNDINE 305 
 
 crossed, and there was battle in both. " I was asked to 
 make his apologies. Might I ask you to come out ? " 
 
 But no, Mr. Ford might not. Eveleen's whole attitude 
 sullenly combated such pretensions. No mere secretary 
 should presume to move her from where she stood. 
 
 " Is the child worse ? " she said. 
 
 " Dying." Ford gave in, and his voice broke its guard. 
 " That's the message. Can't live through the night." 
 
 " Violet ? " said a soft, vacant voice beyond. Lisette, 
 clasping her baby, had turned her strange eyes upon the 
 messenger. 
 
 " No, no ! Oh, tell her, Jones, for Lord's sake. I 
 can't." The young man, suddenly overcome, swerved 
 aside. " It shouldn't have been here, of course, any- 
 where else," he muttered. 
 
 " The baby is dying," Jones interpreted, as Felicia 
 turned her frightened eyes to him. " Your cousin has a 
 little baby too, born three days ago. I think they didn't 
 tell you." 
 
 " Three days ? " The child, too tightly clasped, began 
 to whimper. The mother was gasping slightly. " Does 
 Violet know?" 
 
 Hubert Ford's head was turned from them, bowed 
 on his hand ; but he shook it, and Jones interpreted. 
 
 " She doesn't know, she is too ill, much too ill to be 
 told anything." 
 
 "Dying?" 
 
 " No, no, please God. Don't be frightened, my 
 dear." 
 
 "How dare you frighten her?" said Eveleen sharply. 
 " You had better go, all of you. There is no sense in 
 coming to disturb her. If Violet has fussed that child 
 to death, it is not her affair, what did you say ? " to 
 the secretary, who, without stirring from his pose, had 
 spoken one word. He did not repeat it, and blank silence 
 descended. But it seemed to echo on the silence, 
 shame !
 
 306 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Why didn't the boy come up ? " Lady Ashwin broke 
 the silence, her fury, a singular white fury, mounting 
 steadily. " He ought to have come straight, he knows it, 
 such nonsense ! " 
 
 " He couldn't," Ford doggedly repeated. 
 
 " Couldn't come up the stairs ? " 
 
 " No. . . . Shovell's dead beat. They only sent 
 him round because nobody else could be spared." 
 
 " They needn't have troubled," said Eveleen. " I could 
 have told them a week ago how it would be. Is Shovell 
 vexed ? " a typical Ingestre query, put mechanically. 
 
 "Vexed? He's in agony, will be till she is safe." 
 
 Another electric pause in this alarming dialogue. 
 Lisette had collapsed backward, pallid, into her chair, 
 attending to her child again with shaking little fingers. 
 She looked ill, but nobody heeded her, not even Jones. 
 Jones could hardly interview his own feelings, for sheer 
 dread of something happening between these two. They 
 had met, doubtless, on the question before, during the 
 past week of strain. Eveleen's smile, at the last answer, 
 would have hastened a crisis had Ford seen it, but he 
 did not. The smile passed, and another expression took 
 its place. Her tone was lowered too, when she spoke: 
 less certain, by many degrees. 
 
 "Where's Claude?" 
 
 " With her. The fools have let him go to her at last." 
 
 " He wasn't attending her," said the doctor's wife. 
 " They've all been wrangling, I suppose. Is Angus 
 gone?" (That was the specialist, Jones learnt after- 
 wards. ) " Then he will not be back to-night, Claude, 
 I mean. Not to dinner, anyhow." 
 
 She seemed speaking for her own reassurance, rather 
 than questioning him. 
 
 " Really, I can't tell you, Lady Ashwin," said young 
 Ford, lifting his head, and turning towards her, as though 
 at bay. " Shovell might have known. I did not examine 
 him in detail, I admit it."
 
 UNDINE 307 
 
 " Bah," said Eveleen, turning a little away, to escape 
 the contempt of his eyes. " They never know anything 
 about it, men like that. He didn't want to be asked, 
 probably: that's why he turned tail." Ford, a man like 
 Charles, was silent. "Francis, are you still there?" 
 Francis was, apparently, hovering just without the door, 
 with a stricken face. " You needn't wait about like that," 
 said his mistress. " I suppose Joliffe got my message. 
 Has he come back?" 
 
 " Joliffe's there, my lady," stammered Francis, his eyes 
 turning to Ford, as though for help. 
 
 " Well, tell him eight-thirty for Elkington House. No 
 mistake, do you hear? And tell Mason, dinner early. 
 And I'm ready for Leontine at once, I want her here 
 for Miss Addenbroke. That's all." 
 
 Francis, after one helpless look about him at the circle, 
 went. 
 
 How Jones got away from the room he hardly knew. 
 Lady Ashwin, attending to Lisette, did not notice him 
 again, or appear to be aware of his existence, not that 
 he could have found anything to say to her. Lisette, 
 piteously white and languid, gasped his name after him, 
 but even for her he could not, dared not, wait. He fol- 
 lowed Ford, since man clings to man in these emer- 
 gencies. All the world had changed for Jones, he could 
 not imagine now how he had taken so much for granted. 
 Without, the sublime calm of the great house was broken, 
 shivered in all directions. As they passed the head of 
 the staircase, two maids, conversing in undertones, sep- 
 arated. Both were weeping, it was a house of mourn- 
 ing beyond the sanctuary of its mistress. One of the 
 young women appealed anxiously to Ford, who stopped 
 to listen to her question. He was treated by all much like 
 a son of the house, with a slight difference : a difference 
 of more, not less, respect, since he was Sir Claude's con- 
 fidante and representative. 
 
 " I can't tell you, Edith, I'm sorry," were the finishing
 
 308 DUKE JONES 
 
 words Jones caught. " Mr. Shovell couldn't talk of it. 
 We shall none of us know till the doctor comes, prob- 
 ably." And they went on down the last flight, and 
 through the swing door to the peace of Dr. Ashwin's 
 little study. That was the quarter where Jones, on enter- 
 ing the house, had heard the voices that should have 
 warned him, in his flattering dreams, of tragedy. 
 
 Ford begged him to be seated, but there was barely 
 any chance of a tete-a-tete. They went out of the back- 
 water now, with a vengeance, and in the very vortex 
 of the great doctor's affairs. The telephone bell went 
 incessantly; all London, Jones would have said, was 
 engaged in ringing up Sir Claude. 
 
 " Excuse me," said Ford blandly to Jones, at intervals. 
 " This is the way it goes on all day. I've perjured 
 myself up to the eyes in excuses for him for a week 
 past, and now it's going to be worse. He says he can't, 
 or he won't, more commonly, and I have to find them 
 pretty reasons. Nearly all women, you know, that makes 
 it worse. They can't understand being neglected. But if it's 
 a fact Angus has handed the case to him Well, 
 Francis ? " 
 
 Having got clear of the telephone, just as Mr. Ford 
 was settling in his chair for a well-earned rest, came a 
 knock. 
 
 " Please, sir," said Jones' acquaintance, the young 
 footman, " would you mind going to Lady Ashwin about 
 it? Joliffe won't." 
 
 " Good Lord," groaned Ford, " here's revolution ! 
 What next ? " He got up once more to face the new 
 complication. " Nonsense, Francis. Joliffe must, if 
 Lady Ashwin wishes it." 
 
 " He won't, sir," said Francis. " Joliffe says, Mrs. 
 Gibbs said Sir Claude might want him, any time up to 
 midnight, and he won't."
 
 UNDINE 309 
 
 " That's Shovell's mother, she's down there," Ford 
 mentioned aside for Jones' benefit. He stood considering 
 a second. " Joliffe must manage something," he said with 
 finality. " It's absurd, with two cars, you know. I sup- 
 pose I shall have to see him." He turned back to the 
 man : " Did you give Lady Ashwin's other messages, 
 about dinner and so on ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, Mason's not there," said Francis, looking 
 ever more sheepish and less like a footman as he pro- 
 ceeded. " Miss Violet needs careful feeding, sir, and Miss 
 Violet's Alison is not quite up to it, Mason said. Knowing, 
 since she taught her, sir. So she took some wine and 
 cream, and Joliffe took her down there at five o'clock. 
 Probably Mason meant to return, sir," he added, with an 
 effort in excuse, " but she's not." 
 
 "Do you mean we are to get no dinner?" said Mr. 
 Ford, gazing upon him with a humorously hopeless ex- 
 pression, suggesting that he was quite prepared for the 
 worst. He knew these old servants. 
 
 " I don't know, sir," said Francis vaguely. " They 
 can manage something downstairs, I expect." 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Ford, after a pause. Francis con- 
 sidered. 
 
 " There's Leontine, sir ; she's nearly off her head in 
 the servants' hall. I don't know if you could " 
 
 " No," said Ford with energy. " I won't tackle a hys- 
 terical Frenchwoman, anyhow. I draw the line. I've 
 often been doubtful, Francis, as to what my job really is 
 in this house, but I'm sure that doesn't come under it. 
 Leontine must speak to Lady Ashwin herself." 
 
 " She will, sir," confided Francis. " That's it, if you 
 understand me. That's what we're afraid of, if she once 
 goes up. And Mason's not there to manage her. She 
 can't stop herself easy, Leontine. She's using awful 
 terms, sir, in her language." 
 
 "Vive la France!" said Ford beneath his breath. 
 " She'll say some of it." The hand by his side was
 
 3io DUKE JONES 
 
 clenched, Jones saw, and he looked elated. Ford had had 
 to look on at much in that house, both in the new times 
 and the old, and he had suffered himself from Eveleen's 
 insolence. " Very good," he said to Francis. " Leontine 
 must take her risks. Her law's not ours, or barely. Send 
 Joliffe along here, will you, if he can leave the car? 
 though it's little good," he added to Jones, as Francis shut 
 the door. " We're in for it, if Joliffe leads the way. De- 
 termination's not the word for Joliffe ; he's bedrock ob- 
 stinacy when he likes. . . . They worship Mrs. 
 Shovell, the whole gang of them," he added, in elucida- 
 tion of the politics this comparative stranger, perforce, 
 was studying. 
 
 It was not necessary to tell Jones that, and yet he 
 loved to hear it. He had discovered her at last in the 
 atmosphere that had so blankly lacked her presence. 
 He only needed to plunge through the upper layers to 
 find her at every turn. She was even in this room, in 
 bridal clothes, on the chimney-piece, ousting her mother, 
 or at least claiming a place from her, in a like array. The 
 larger portrait was framed, a permanency, hanging 
 against the wall ; the smaller, in the softer tinting of mod- 
 ern photography, was leaning un framed against it, sug- 
 gesting a recent acquisition, still handled by a proud 
 father, and handed about to a curious world. Jones' eyes 
 were on the faces, comparing them, during much of the 
 ensuing dialogue. 
 
 " Joliffe look here ! Can't you do it ? " Young Ford, 
 sitting down upon the table, adopted a new manner, 
 friendly almost, and somewhat appealing. " Elkington 
 House is no distance, and you can come back in be- 
 tween." 
 
 " I can't help it, sir," said Joliffe, in the tone of conde- 
 scending explanation to an ignorant world. " Orders' 
 orders, you see, sir. I was told to wait." 
 
 " It wasn't Sir Claude told you."
 
 UNDINE 311 
 
 " It was Mrs. Gibbs," said Joliffe, " and she, knows 
 what she says. Mrs. Gibbs has managed all the doctors, 
 first and last." 
 
 "You don't draw your salary from Mrs. Gibbs, come 
 now," said Ford. 
 
 " I do not, sir," said Joliffe gravely. " But the ques- 
 tion, to my mind, hardly enters the case." 
 
 " I merely mean, Lady Ashwin's orders are orders 
 too." 
 
 A pause, while Joliffe looked tolerant of this quibbling, 
 on the part of young Mr. Ford. Joliffe's duty, as the 
 secretary well knew, was not to her ladyship but to the 
 doctor. 
 
 " There's the other car," remarked Ford. 
 
 " There is," said Joliffe. " But if you imagine Lady 
 Ashwin will be seen at the door of Elkington House in 
 the other car, I must undeceive you." 
 
 " Well, you could have it, couldn't you ? " 
 
 " I could not, Mr. Ford, excuse me, since it might be a 
 question of speed. Sir Milford Angus lives some way 
 out, and if they should want him again after the offices 
 shut " 
 
 " Pray heaven they won't," said Hubert involuntarily. 
 
 " Heaven or no, I'd sooner have .the car ready," said 
 Joliffe. " After the week we've had, we're not so sure 
 of heaven as that." Joliffe reckoned himself in among 
 the doctors, evidently. " Anyhow, I'm not taking her 
 out to-night," he added simply. " Sir Claude wouldn't 
 like it." 
 
 " It's not your place to say what Sir Claude would 
 like," observed Ford, " or mine." 
 
 " No, sir," said Joliffe unperturbed, " but we may 
 know." 
 
 " But, my good man," said Ford, slipping into confi- 
 dence, and bending towards him, " she'll go in any case. 
 She's been talking of it for a week back." 
 
 The chauffeur joined his gloved hands behind him.
 
 312 DUKE JONES 
 
 " She may go anywhere for me, Mr. Ford, in a hired 
 hack. She doesn't come with me to-night. Who sent 
 Miss Violet down to Dover in that weather by her grum- 
 bling when she wasn't fit to stir? Who teased her into 
 this fever she never should have had with proper han- 
 dling? I married a wife, Mr. Ford, and I know better 
 than you. Sir Claude knows well enough himself who's 
 answerable, he'd not blame me, he didn't before. In 
 any case, I risk my place. Who never even sent to in- 
 quire, playing with that new doll of hers, not that I've 
 a word against Miss Addenbroke," said Joliffe hastily. 
 " They kept the whole from Miss Addenbroke on pur- 
 pose, that's Sir Claude. She suffering like that for a 
 week past, between life and death these two days, and los- 
 ing her baby to-night. It's past hope when Mrs. Gibbs 
 gives up, I know that I saw it in her face. She loves 
 Miss Violet, she's done all a woman could. And her own 
 
 mother It's not to be thought of by decent people," 
 
 Joliffe summed up his oration, " and I won't. That's the 
 long and short of it. Good night, sir." 
 
 " She'll sack them all," said Ford thoughtfully, when 
 the chauffeur was gone. " And what Sir Claude will say 
 when he comes we'd best not ask. The only hope is, 
 I may be sacked myself by then, so it'll no longer be my 
 business. Not that it is in any case, of course, but there's 
 literally no one else to do it. Joliffe's a ripper, fellow 
 in a thousand, isn't he ? I like the way he broke out and 
 stamped on me. Married a wife! it was scriptural." 
 He added after an interval, seeing the direction of Jones' 
 eyes, " That's Mrs. Shovell, the smaller one. You have , 
 met her, haven't you ? " 
 
 Jones, at the permission granted him by the words, 
 got up and crossed to the portrait. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I met them down in Cornwall, same 
 time as I met Miss Addenbroke, on their wedding tour. 
 Couldn't see much of her in the nature of things, you 
 know, but still "
 
 UNDINE 313 
 
 " Shovell's friendly," said Ford. " He doesn't abso- 
 lutely cut you out, I mean, does he? Good-hearted, I 
 was beastly sorry for him to-night." 
 
 They were both giving themselves away, of course, 
 hand over hand, and quite unaware of it. Once more 
 the mighty powers of love and pity were mercifully con- 
 fused. Pity reigned supreme for the moment over this 
 house where Violet had dwelt ; and under the shelter of 
 that presence any little love that was lurking could air 
 itself unashamed. They both talked of little else for 
 nearly an hour, since the telephone gave Hubert a respite, 
 and it was an exquisite hour to Jones. He had not 
 realized, having the business mind, a private secre- 
 tary's position, still less the position of a secretary in 
 this house, for it was certainly exceptional. 
 
 Lately, noticing the attitude of the household towards 
 his present host, Marmaduke had begun to suspect his 
 privileges. Now he became convinced of them rapidly, 
 as he picked up Ford's casual confidences. Ford had 
 known her long before marriage, since she was sixteen. 
 He had had innumerable chances of her company in her 
 own family circle, even tete-a-tete in intimate talk. He 
 had stories of her by the dozen, laughable and serious, 
 for she had always stirred laughter about her, he per- 
 ceived, as well as love. Ford, infinitely blest, had dined 
 with her, danced with her, disputed with her very fre- 
 quently ; he had played and sung with her in the winter 
 evenings, and on the summer mornings lifted her upon 
 her horse. He spoke of her like a little sister almost, 
 since such men as Ford speak of their sisters with re- 
 spect. It was both charming to listen to and fortifying 
 to Jones' inner case as well. 
 
 For, you will observe, other men felt as he did to- 
 wards Shovell's wife, and were not ashamed of stating 
 their opinions aloud, at least in times like these. Thus 
 what followed may be guessed. The movement of Mar- 
 maduke's heart towards her was justified, and he need
 
 314 DUKE JONES 
 
 have no further misgivings. She just produced eddying 
 circles of such eager devotion, he supposed, wherever she 
 walked about the world. And fifty " fellows " in Lon- 
 don, perhaps a hundred and fifty, would be feeling 
 just like Jones, under the shock of this overmastering 
 news, as well. 
 
 As for details of her present state, Ford could offer 
 little to supplement what Jones' sympathy had already 
 collected. The secretary had only seen his chief by 
 flashes for ten days past ; for it seemed Mrs. Shovell had 
 been seriously ill for a week before the premature birth 
 of her child. Charles, when he brought the last news 
 that afternoon, had been too exhausted, physically and 
 mentally, to impart, as Ford had been too stunned by the 
 central fact to inquire. They had hoped to save that child 
 for her, after all she had suffered for it; it was a cruel, 
 crushing disappointment for all concerned, for the grand- 
 mother had been hopeful the first two days. Charles' 
 disappointment was the worst, as Jones well under- 
 stood, owing to his peculiar, almost childish confidence 
 in his mother and the doctors. Yet it was his mother 
 herself who had shorn his hopes to the ground that even- 
 ing ; so Charles, as is the way with the so-called sanguine 
 temperament, had dropped straightway to the other ex- 
 treme, despairing of Violet and all; and none of Ford's 
 suggestions, gathered from a not inconsiderable med- 
 ical experience, had been able to reassure him. 
 
 " Sir Claude will be late, I suppose," said Marmaduke, 
 looking rather shy, when he finally rose to go. 
 
 " Any hour up to midnight, obviously. He couldn't 
 say himself, I expect, when Joliffe left. He'll be sorry 
 to miss you," said the representative, remembering his 
 charge. 
 
 " Thanks, but that's not what I meant. You won't 
 see him yourself, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I shall wait, till midnight if necessary. 
 I've lists of questions, anyhow," said Ford in his own ex-
 
 UNDINE 315 
 
 cuse. " You'd like a line, perhaps," he added, almost 
 instantly. (Blessed be the business habit, which makes 
 room for the claims of all!) 
 
 " It's adding to your work," said Jones. " You'd be 
 awfully good. Can't help thinking of her, you know, 
 and Shovell too." 
 
 " It's the worst time of a man's life, they say," said 
 Ford. They were both very sorry for Charles, now and 
 then. 
 
 " Well, you'd be awf 'ly good," said Jones. " Like to 
 show you round my little place some time. Do you 
 bicycle ? " 
 
 "Rather!" The secretary laughed. "Couldn't live 
 long without, the way the doctor Behaves. He's like 
 quicksilver to catch, soft and sudden. Always round the 
 next corner by the time you're at the last." 
 
 " I know what you mean," said Jones, who found the 
 image most apt, though not to Sir Claude. " Well, some 
 Sunday, then. Don't bother to write, must be sick of 
 writing. Take your chance, what ? " 
 
 " Thanks awfully," said the other young man ; and 
 they parted, as if they had known one another for years, 
 on the steps. 
 
 VI 
 
 Sir Claude came home towards midnight. He looked 
 very tired, though less ghastly than Charles. For one 
 thing he had had the work, and Charles merely the wait- 
 ing ; for another he was always pale. He appeared absent 
 too, to the man who let him in, as though he dragged him- 
 self with difficulty from another world. Francis, the 
 footman, knew instinctively from that look, at once lofty 
 and vague, what had occurred. It was more terrible by 
 far than any severity could have been, and as he took the 
 doctor's thick coat, for Claude had been driving himself, 
 he was absolutely trembling ; but his master did not seem 
 to notice it. He heard the news of his wife's absence,
 
 316 DUKE JONES 
 
 Francis told the awed circle in the kitchen afterwards, 
 without a sign, looking through the man with his dark 
 eyes, as though he followed with an effort. 
 
 " Elkington House ? " he repeated. " Ah, yes, that 
 was to-night." He reached the hall table, and rested the 
 fingers of one hand upon it. " Mr. Ford is gone, I sup- 
 pose," he said, still absently. 
 
 " No, sir ; in the study," said Francis. " You've dined, 
 sir?" he added, fearing literally that he might drop 
 where he stood ; for their doctor had barely the strength 
 of one man, though he commonly did the work of three. 
 
 " Yes no I can't remember. Tell them to send 
 something to the study, will you? anything there is. 
 And, Francis " His back was turned, by the table. 
 
 "Yes, sir?" 
 
 " Tell them Miss Violet's baby died at nine o'clock. 
 They will be sorry." 
 
 " Yes, sir." The man was almost voiceless. " Miss 
 Violet, sir?" 
 
 " Better, a trifle, but very weak. Milford Angus said 
 she would do, before he left. Mrs. Gibbs is wonderful, 
 she and Mrs. Mason are taking the night. Alison, 
 isn't it? will come here in Mason's place in the morn- 
 ing." He moved, and turned aside in the direction of the 
 study door. 
 
 Francis made a mighty effort, and stopped him. 
 
 " Beg pardon, Sir Claude. Miss Addenbroke " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " She's not so well, sir, in Miss Violet's old room. 
 Leontine's been trying, since Lady Ashwin left, but she 
 won't speak to her." 
 
 " Has she heard ? " Claude came to life, looked him- 
 self almost, and spoke sharply. 
 
 " I believe her ladyship " Francis was cut off. 
 
 " Put dinner back half an hour, will you ? And tell 
 Mr. Ford I must not keep him, simply that." 
 
 Francis told Mr. Ford in the study " simply that," and
 
 UNDINE 317 
 
 Mr. Ford did not even change his lazy attitude by the 
 fire. He remarked that there would be time to get the 
 food hot, and the man agreed. 
 
 " What's he look like ? " said Ford in confidence. The 
 footman shrugged. 
 
 " The baby died at nine," he confided in return, as he 
 knelt to make up the fire. " She's better, God bless her ; 
 round the corner, they think." 
 
 " He wouldn't have come home, otherwise," said 
 Hubert. " A jolly house for him, oh, Lord ! " After 
 a short interval of consideration, he swung himself up, 
 and wrote to Jones. 
 
 " Tiens, le docteur ! " said Lady Ash win's maid, an ele- 
 gant young female, rising lightly from beside Felicia's low 
 chair. " Elle est navree, monsieur, la pauvre petite. Voila 
 bien quatre heures que Miladi est partie, pas un mouve- 
 ment, pas un signe. Pas moyen de la faire pleurer, 
 regarder son enfant, rien! Elle parait accablee, com- 
 ment dirai-je? prosternee, ane"antie! Elle a un si ex- 
 cellent cceur ! " 
 
 This flood of eloquence, which Leontine's feelings had 
 been storing up for hours, broke its bounds suddenly at 
 " le docteur's " appearance, since here was at last a 
 person who could comprehend both the feelings them- 
 selves, and the language in which they were conveyed. 
 
 Leontine, it should be mentioned, being without the 
 circle swayed by Joliffe and Mason, had been the one 
 party in opposition, when the household staff fell into 
 line, by Miss Violet's command, with the necessary atti- 
 tude to Miss Addenbroke. Leontine, with her Gallic in- 
 dependence, swung impudently clear of the prescribed 
 attitude, and told anybody who would listen to her, 
 perpetually and in detail, what she thought. 
 
 Now Leontine's private pose had modified into one 
 more friendly, though equally French; for since Lady 
 Ashwin, in a hired motor, had finally departed to dine
 
 318 DUKE JONES 
 
 with friends, Leontine and Lisette had been tcte-a-tete. 
 An " excellent cceur " will excuse you at the gates of 
 purgatory, if not from all items of retribution, at least 
 from much. Leontine, who had herself wept quarts, for 
 hours, over her loved Miss Violet, and used terms about 
 her mistress that had alarmed all the servants, had 
 proved herself beyond all question the only person of 
 heart in the servants' hall. Now Lisette's still whiteness, 
 over her fretful baby, seemed at once more striking and 
 more commendable, even than her own copious meed of 
 tears. The scene on which " le docteur " entered, in the 
 room that had once been his daughter's, was very mov- 
 ing, certainly. Leontine was sure Sir Claude, whose 
 taste was so perfect, would be impressed, and waited 
 breathless for his commentary. 
 
 Unfortunately, Monsieur showed no sign of admira- 
 tion, either of Lisette's condition, or of Leontine's ef- 
 forts to improve upon it. As soon as his eyes fell on the 
 girl he sent the attendant packing, firing off a list of 
 orders in her own language that it took all her attention 
 to remember, and the quest for which carried her flutter- 
 ing, first to the distant kitchen, and then into every corner 
 of the house in turn. 
 
 By the time she came back, Monsieur, by some occult 
 means known to him, had roused the little mother to some 
 show of life, and her beautiful strange eyes were follow- 
 ing his movements about the room. She still looked 
 frightened, but more composed. Leontine, paralyzed 
 with admiration on her side, having quite given up ex- 
 pecting it on his, stood transfixed in a beautiful attitude 
 to watch him feed her. Monsieur did it like a mother 
 almost, his gentleness was divine. What was more, 
 Mademoiselle received it divinely. It had not occurred to 
 Leontine that, since Mademoiselle refused food in words, 
 she might still take it, if produced beneath her nose in 
 appetizing quantity. Felicia did, she took any amount, 
 all Claude would give her, and her color began to return.
 
 UNDINE 319 
 
 " Kindly remember in future," said Monsieur, in his 
 softest voice and most freezing utterance, speaking over 
 her fair head to the maid, " that since emotion implies 
 exhaustion, food is the first thing. Sentiment and sym- 
 pathy come some distance after, though excellent in their 
 place. Conversation comes last of all. You must know 
 this in your own case, I think, thus it would have been 
 simple to transfer it to hers." 
 
 " En effet," murmured Leontine, surprised. She had, 
 as a fact, discovered that appetite and emotion were 
 allied. She had consumed, still weeping, an enormous 
 dinner, and marveled how Monsieur should know it. 
 
 " You might have added to it," said Monsieur, in the 
 same weary tone and perfect accent, " the somewhat 
 obvious fact that, whereas you are nourishing but one 
 individual at the present time, as I trust sufficiently, this 
 child is nourishing two; which makes it, especially to a 
 woman sutb-as you, a matter of mere duty to be prompt." 
 
 " Miladi " began Leontine. He cut her off. 
 
 " Lady Ashwin probably thought it so obvious that 
 she did not mention it. She is the last person who would 
 have overlooked the necessity. Now leave us, if you 
 please, alone." 
 
 Leontine made a graceful withdrawal, reflecting that 
 Monsieur was tired. Besides, he was an ill-used husband, 
 and a charming man, and besides, the last observation 
 was true. Lady Ashwin would never have overlooked it. 
 It was singular how, knowing " Miladi " as he did, and 
 with the attraction he could exert at will, he yet allowed 
 her freedom to mock herself of him at all points so 
 completely. Leontine, it may be observed, found life in 
 this English household most interesting; though her own 
 part of the work with Lady Ashwin was at once more 
 arduous, and less amusing, since Mademoiselle her be- 
 loved had quitted it. 
 
 " That's coming right again, isn't it ? " said Claude,
 
 320 DUKE JONES 
 
 touching the smooth brow beneath Felicia's tangled hair. 
 Her strange eyes were spent with weeping, as he saw. 
 He had thought Eveleen would have had the sense to 
 spare her, but Eveleen was beyond all prevision and pre- 
 diction now. " Will you have the baby? " 
 
 Lisette nodded, and watched while he fetched it, 
 critically. But she could not deny he knew how to deal 
 with it, and he laid it very cleverly in her arms. As he 
 bent down with the child, though, something in the atti- 
 tude seemed to strike her, awakening a memory; and 
 she clung to him with one hand, tugging a little to draw 
 him near. 
 
 " I want you to stop, you know," she observed, frown- 
 ing slightly. " There's something else." 
 
 " Surely not," said Claude, smiling upon the lovely 
 group. That did little good, however, for he was like 
 Violet when he smiled. 
 
 " I want you," she insisted. " Here." 
 
 So he gave way to the coaxing hand, and let her take 
 possession of him completely, since that was her desire. 
 Lisette had no idea of a man, even though it might be 
 a doctor, dividing his attention. Besides, for all his need 
 of instruction in nursing matters, she had grown very 
 fond of Violet's father during the period, now happily 
 past, of her terror and pain. Sir Claude, on his side, 
 had succumbed with pitiable ease to Lisette, as his daugh- 
 ter had prophesied. Whenever life needed improvement, 
 Lisette had applied to him with unfailing success. He 
 had dismissed the stuck-up nurse for her, for instance, 
 with praiseworthy decision and promptitude; he had re- 
 furnished and adapted this room for her and the baby, 
 with an elaborate attention she could not but approve; 
 he had already given her a number of pretty things for 
 her personal use and adornment ; and she had good hope 
 of the pearls, in time. 
 
 " It's not dead," she murmured, pushing her fair head 
 against his sleeve, just as though by coaxing she could
 
 UNDINE 321 
 
 persuade. She could not, though ; nothing could persuade 
 him. Lisette looked up at his face several times in the 
 next few minutes, but its inexorable gravity did not 
 change. She swallowed the truth with a little gulp, her 
 face twisting slightly with the effort. 
 
 " Did she cry ? " she asked him softly, still fingering 
 him with one hand, while the other fingers guided 
 instinctively her beautiful infant to her beautiful 
 breast. 
 
 " She hardly realizes what has happened, my dear ; 
 she is too weak to understand. She is worse than you 
 were," said Claude. " Has been throughout." 
 
 " Oh ! " A gasp. Lisette had considered her own suf- 
 ferings unequaled, a disgrace to whatever Authority 
 was in command. So had Eveleen done, Claude remem- 
 bered, though both were ideal cases. He was not quite 
 sure, at times, in his progress through the thickest of 
 the skirmish, they were not right. 
 
 " Who will tell her? " pursued Felicia. " You? " 
 
 " I, or Charles' mother. She might do it best." 
 
 " No, you," ordained Lisette. " Violet would rather ; 
 she's keen on you. Promise you will tell her." 
 
 He promised, holding her close. Her little efforts at 
 sympathy, over the edge of her nature, as it were, were 
 infinitely lovable; as her beauty was, in his weariness, 
 pure consolation. Claude thought of his Violet, as she 
 had been when he reached her side at last, wrecked 
 and prostrate, as though the wheel of life had passed 
 across her; and the marvelous wisdom and depth of her 
 gray eyes, before they recognized him that night, and 
 the infantile trust and sweetness, when they did. It was 
 wonderful for a scientist, a privilege he recognized in his 
 pain, to be allowed to study two such types of woman- 
 hood, in a like crisis, side by side. 
 
 Lisette abandoned herself to the child for a time, con- 
 tentment spreading slowly, like the light up the morning 
 sky, across her face. Then it clouded faintly.
 
 322 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I can't show him to her now," she murmured. " Can 
 I?" 
 
 " In time," said the doctor. " He will only grow better 
 for waiting a little." 
 
 " Yes," Lisette agreed. Then suddenly, with a most 
 sensitive gesture, she drew the shawl right across the 
 little face. 
 
 " Do you mind ? " she inquired, biting her lip, and 
 glancing at him. 
 
 He shook his head, and his hand uncovered the child 
 again. But Lisette had seen, she had the quick artist 
 eye. He looked tormented, just as once she had made 
 Violet look, when she told a brutal story in her presence, 
 in the train. 
 
 " You saw it, didn't you ? " she ventured soon, her 
 hand still coaxing him to be happy. 
 
 " Yes. Don't worry about our cares, my dear. You 
 should go to sleep." 
 
 But she persisted. " What was it like ? " 
 
 " Pretty and small. Beautiful little limbs," said Claude. 
 
 "Like her?" 
 
 " I thought so. Charles' mother thought like Charles." 
 
 " Yes." She nodded, knowing about that. Light and 
 shade, for some minutes, struggled in her face. Her 
 thoughts were working, he was sure, with the fingers 
 working on his sleeve. Claude watched her intently, wit- 
 nessing, he was aware of it, one of the miracles of life. 
 Felicia was feeling for a soul, like the fabled Undine. 
 Being Claude, he was not at all sure that he wished it; 
 he had seen the wraith she was at sixteen, and Claude 
 loved wraiths. He longed to entreat her not to struggle 
 with them further; but she did. 
 
 " I oughtn't to have teased her in the carriage, you 
 know," she murmured. " It was beastly, really, but I 
 felt beastly, see? I'd have kissed her instead if I had 
 known. I meant to wheri I saw her standing on the pier, 
 but I was sick and tumbled. After that I forgot. I'd
 
 UNDINE 323 
 
 like to now. She's done a lot for me, she and 
 
 Duke, " Her voice was failing, from sleep as much 
 
 as emotion. 
 
 " I will kiss her for you to-morrow, shall I ? " said 
 Claude. 
 
 " Yes ; that'll do." She patted him, approving, with 
 her hand. To get the thing off her mind so easily was 
 delightful, and the last clouds from another's sorrow 
 soon passed. Her lashes were drooping already, before 
 the confession was completed; and she was asleep soon 
 after, in his arms.
 
 PART III
 
 JONES' proposal came as a shock to the world. Dramatic- 
 ally, Jones was a complete success on this occasion, for 
 he surprised even the curious compilers of his narra- 
 tive, and he had the honor of flabbergasting the Ingestres, 
 who refused, for some time, to believe in Jones' existence. 
 They had a vague idea somebody had invented him in a 
 story-book ; and when Charles Shovell, facing John 
 Ingestre's wife in his own dining-room, swore solemnly 
 to Jones' existence, in the life, at Leatherhead, Agatha 
 seemed still to suspect Charles' extravagant imagination 
 of carrying him away. 
 
 " Men don't do those sort of things," argued Agatha. 
 
 " No men do the kind of things Jones does," said 
 Charles, with pride. " Look at his record up to now, 
 astonishing ! " 
 
 Agatha had come, in the first instance, on family 
 business for John; and secondly, to do the proper thing 
 by the poor little people, as she kindly called them; and 
 thirdly, with the fixed intention, for her own sake, of 
 seeing Violet. She had good hope now of succeeding 
 in all her objects, except the fixed intention; and that 
 disappointment was only due to the unlucky chance of 
 having found Violet's doctor on the premises. Agatha 
 was confident she could, but for Claude, have accom- 
 plished it. As it was, having been tranquilly defeated by 
 the professional manner, which baffled her in a person 
 like Claude, who had always been very polite to her 
 before, accepting her sadly, as he did most of his wife's 
 
 327
 
 328 DUKE JONES 
 
 relations, Agatha intended to take her revenge upon 
 him later on. She had, as the emissary of the family, 
 some questions to ask of him as well, when she had, so to 
 speak, drained Charles. Charles lent himself to the 
 inquisitor easily, almost too easily. He talked too 
 much. No efforts of Agatha's could restrict him to even 
 probable-sounding facts, in the matter of Mr. Jones. 
 One would have said, on this subject, Mr. Shovell's 
 tongue was in practice. 
 
 " From the first moment my eye fell on him," said 
 Charles, " perhaps I should say our eye, never mind, 
 I marked him down. I said, a mystery. She denied it, 
 but then, she hasn't my flair. Besides, she always con- 
 tradicts me in the first instance. I said his colorless 
 appearance was against him, and he could be no common 
 man. I said, my dear, something lurks beneath that 
 drab disguise. If you don't believe me," summed up 
 Charles, " ask her." 
 
 " I can't," said Agatha resentfully, looking across the 
 room at Claude. " That's what I came for, naturally, 
 not to sit here listening to your fairy-tales." 
 
 " Jones as a fairy," said Charles dreamily. " Mrs. 
 Ingestre, you may be right." 
 
 Charles sat on a corner of his dining-room table, gently 
 swinging his foot, and watching his mother, who, con- 
 tributing little to the conversation, though her expres- 
 sion seemed critical of her son's absurdities, was engaged 
 in darning his socks. 
 
 Mrs. Ingestre cleared her throat. Taking her time, 
 since nobody seemed in a hurry, fortunately, or inclined 
 to turn her out, she looked about her through her lor- 
 gnette at the room. It was an extraordinarily pretty room, 
 and in exquisite order: but so was all the house. Such 
 comfort and cleanliness, in a house so lately convulsed 
 by illness, was gratifying to a good house-mistress like 
 Mrs. John, who had " backed " the young Mrs. Shovell. 
 No signs of storm were to be seen ; on all sides the place
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 329 
 
 was pretty and peaceful. The aspect of the maid who 
 admitted her alone would have proved good management, 
 the composure and alertness combined which suggests at 
 once, to one of Agatha's training, a firm hand upon 
 the reins. The same unobtrusive competence breathed 
 in the atmosphere of this room. The little garden through 
 the window was orderly too, though hardly larger than 
 the table on which Charles sat. Tulips of sedate design 
 adorned it, daintily dressed in white and pink. Their 
 faint fragrance, with that of the warm wet earth, drifted 
 in from time to time through the open window. They 
 were at their proudest moment, the very climax of their 
 effort to redeem the London garden, and please the 
 careful gardener: and it seemed a pity that the garden- 
 er's eyes, in her upper room, were turned away. 
 
 Charles' eyes were on the tulips, too, when he grew 
 tired of watching the interesting way in which his 
 mother's needle wriggled through his socks. He had 
 already informed her that she did it as well as Violet, 
 very nearly : but she seemed less gratified by the compli- 
 ment than one would have expected. Mrs. Gibbs had 
 darned Charles' socks for twenty-four years, and her 
 daughter-in-law not yet for one, which may have been 
 the reason of her imperturbability. Charles had always 
 worn them out with shameful rapidity, and Mrs. Gibbs 
 had strongly advised Violet, before her marriage, not 
 to undertake the task. 
 
 Agatha, moving her attention, and her eye-glass, from 
 the room to the people in occupation of it, found them 
 also worth study, in their way. The attitude and be- 
 havior of all three gave her the impression of that rather 
 languid idleness which is the reaction from prolonged 
 strain, physical and mental. They were pleased to rest 
 and chaff a little with the first comer, and touch, through 
 Agatha's medium, the outer world again. That languor 
 was what gave the house also, on entering it, a little the 
 air of a sleeping palace, none within its precincts daring
 
 330 DUKE JONES 
 
 to stir: although, as the visitor was thankful to think, 
 the princess had been aroused, and with her awakening, 
 life must flow back to it soon. 
 
 Claude looked ill, simply: but then Agatha, having 
 heard of Eveleen's latest proceedings on all hands in the 
 town, had been more or less prepared for that. Eveleen 
 was dragging her husband into notoriety, and he detested 
 and shrank from it, the more that he was bound, in the 
 nature of things, to face it daily. Agatha, as has been 
 said, postponed that part of her investigation till she 
 could catch him privately. The young master of the 
 house seemed fighting lassitude all the time he talked 
 with his customary careless freedom. Half Charles' 
 mind seemed elsewhere, or mislaid completely. He was 
 also conspicuously submissive to direction in the person 
 of his mother, and Agatha could see Mrs. Gibbs watch- 
 ing him from time to time. She suspected that, far from 
 assisting the workers, he had very nearly added another 
 case to Violet's. That is the habit of cheerful characters 
 like Charles. Mrs. Gibbs herself, who seemed to have 
 both these wandering husbands in hand, and to be acting 
 as Eveleen's most efficient substitute in everything that 
 concerned the girl, showed signs of the past campaign 
 only in the guarded calm of her comely features, and the 
 lips she set oddly in repose. Mrs. Ingestre liked the 
 look of the Rector's wife, a woman of her own stamp, 
 and intended to get some truth out of her as well, before 
 she left the house. At present, having this incredible 
 business of Felicia's to finish for John, she must stick 
 to her colors, she supposed, and try to extract something 
 from the men. They must know something, after all, 
 though they both trifled persistently. 
 
 " Do you mean," said Agatha, " that the young fellow 
 means to marry the girl, as a fact? Is that what you 
 wish me to believe? " 
 
 " It would seem to be his intention," said Claude, 
 with caution. " He is constantly at my house."
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 331 
 
 " Would seem ! I beg you to observe, Claude, that 
 you are in charge of her. Has he proposed it?" 
 
 " To her? I can't say. She is certainly," said Claude, 
 " leading him the life of a man who is under vow. But 
 that may be her ordinary method." 
 
 " And yet',' said Agatha incisively, " you say I am to 
 believe he is not the father of the child ? " 
 
 " I say nothing heaven forbid ! Address yourself to 
 Charles." 
 
 Agatha addressed her eye-glass to Charles. 
 
 " Completely and utterly impossible," said Charles. 
 
 " Why impossible ? These quiet little men, one never 
 knows their lives. He might have known the Adden- 
 brokes before. You met him quite casually, did you not ? 
 Why shouldn't he have been deceiving you ? " 
 
 " Because he is as incapable of deceiving," said Charles 
 superbly, " as we are of being deceived." 
 
 " Have you made the least attempt," challenged 
 Agatha, " to find out any facts about him ? " 
 
 " Perpetual attempts," said Charles. " Violet and I 
 practically devoted ourselves to that, during the latter 
 half of our honeymoon. Ask her if " 
 
 " I shan't ask her, I can't. I wish you would step 
 talking about it. Besides, you do her injustice. Violet 
 is not at all that sort of girl, gossiping and inquisitive. 
 She has a thoroughly nice mind." 
 
 " Oh thanks," said Charles. " You little know." 
 
 " I shall advise John to investigate," said Mrs. Ingestre. 
 
 " Violet and I," observed Charles, " might have in- 
 vestigated Jones to the Judgment-day and not damaged 
 our nice minds in the smallest degree. We were con- 
 vinced at least of that before we lost him." 
 
 " He met the girl when you did, I presume ? At the 
 same hotel, and so on ? " 
 
 "Lisette?" 
 
 " Whom else should I mean ? You're half asleep," 
 observed Mrs. Ingestre, looking at him closely.
 
 332 . DUKE JONES 
 
 pardon." Charles roused. " Yes. Jones sat 
 next Lisette at dinner. He supplied her with a laughing- 
 stock, and innumerable pieces of bread. He watched her 
 face like a lover in the train. He abandoned his just 
 share of the sandwiches to her, and was her most un- 
 willing model. I seldom saw a fellow more uncomfort- 
 able, for so long a time, as Jones. From the instant we 
 parted with him," said Charles, warming to his work, 
 " he followed her, and never left the trail. He must have 
 spent fortunes on her, first and last. Blameless as he is, 
 himself, from birth, Mrs. Ingestre, I might say by birth, 
 considering his origin " 
 
 " What do you know of his origin ? " said Agatha. 
 
 " Any amount," said Charles cheerfully ; " and all to 
 his credit. His ancestry is an open book to us, I may 
 mention by the way. Blameless, I say, as Jones is, I 
 never heard him criticize Lisette's morals, except on 
 one occasion." 
 
 "Well?" said Agatha patiently. 
 
 " When she sneaked a blouse of my wife's, and would 
 persist in flaunting it on every occasion, appropriate and 
 otherwise. I bet she does it still." Charles suddenly 
 turned round. 
 
 " She does," said his father-in-law thoughtfully, " if 
 you mean a garment the color of stage moonlight. I 
 wondered why it seemed so familiar." 
 
 " There you are," said Charles to Agatha, as though 
 proving all his points. " The girl has no moral sense. 
 And still this misguided man will lead her to the altar- 
 rails." 
 
 " You are a pair of very frivolous people," said 
 Agatha. " Mrs. Gibbs, I appeal to you. Can you give 
 me any facts about this case ? " 
 
 " All of them," interposed Charles. " Mother knows 
 them all, don't you, Mother? She had the last and most 
 thrilling chapter last night. Jones was Mother's night- 
 cap," he informed the visitor. " He lasted six evenings
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 333 
 
 with care, half an hour a night. . . . No, you 
 don't." 
 
 He stretched a hand, apparently to shut his mother's 
 mouth, but Mrs. Gibbs took hold of it calmly. 
 
 " Charles is a silly boy," she said to Agatha. " He 
 does not believe the young man really cares for the girl, 
 that's all. He thinks he is urged by duty in offering to 
 marry her. Odd notion of duty," commented Mrs. 
 Gibbs. " What ordinary people would call a piece of 
 moonstruck romanticism. Only I do not call it that, be- 
 cause I think it more than likely Charles exaggerates 
 the state of things altogether, to say no worse." 
 
 " And what is the state of things ? " said Agatha. " I 
 must get some facts, for my husband, if possible. John 
 has not Mr. Shovell's taste for fairies, he will call them 
 fiddlesticks. Do you mean he wants, in the good old 
 phrase, to make the girl respectable ? " 
 
 " By shutting the stable-door," said Mrs. Gibbs, with 
 equal irony. " So I made out, with some trouble, from 
 Charles' nonsense." She patted the hand in her lap. 
 
 " He wrote me a letter about it," said Charles, with 
 dignity, " and wished to know if we approved. " 
 
 " You? " said Agatha. 
 
 " Us," said Charles. " He seemed to need a lead in 
 the matter, or a light from heaven. Ours very truly, 
 E. M. Jones." 
 
 " What on earth have you to do with it ? Why didn't 
 he write to John ? " 
 
 " That's what I wondered," said Charles politely, " at 
 the time." 
 
 " Did Violet approve of him ? " said Mrs. Ingestre, 
 with a gleam of hope, after a pause. 
 
 " Immensely," said Charles. " She even went so far 
 as agreeing with me, once or twice. And she thinks his 
 idea of marrying Lisette is quite beautiful. Those were 
 her words, I asked her yesterday." 
 
 " I forbade the subject," observed Claude in the rear.
 
 334 DUKE JONES 
 
 " She started it," said Charles, half-turning, " on my 
 honor. There is something so irresistibly captivating 
 about Marmaduke to us both. We cannot keep off him 
 long." 
 
 " Marmaduke? " ejaculated Agatha. 
 
 " We rather like it now," said Charles. " It takes 
 time and practice, but you get into the way. When he's 
 our cousin, we shall call it him quite fluently." 
 
 As Agatha sat, endeavoring to see through Charles by 
 means of the eye-glass, he finished dreamily " Violet 
 would prefer a Marmaduke to a Michael, any day. It's 
 a handier breed." 
 
 " Don't be vulgar, Charles," said his mother. " A 
 handy breed ! You know Violet would never say such a 
 thing. Try talking sensibly for a change. You are 
 wasting Mrs. Ingestre's time." 
 
 " Claude," said Mrs. Ingestre, abandoning Charles. 
 " I have heard you called a man of sense. Is there any 
 sense at all in what your son-in-law is trying not to con- 
 vey to me ? " 
 
 " He is trying not to convey a fact that abashes him," 
 said the doctor, " naturally ; that a man may act purely 
 on principle in the matter of his marriage. Not pick up 
 the first decent-looking girl that comes." 
 
 " Look here," said Charles, rising. " If you have had 
 enough of me, mention it. Mother's quite ready to take 
 me back, aren't you, Mother?" 
 
 " Quite, my dear. Keep quiet now, for a little, Sir 
 Claude is going to explain." Obeying her hand on his 
 arm, Charles sank down cross-legged at her feet, and in 
 that modest attitude gazed respectfully at his father-in- 
 law. So placed, he had the air of a school-boy, and Mrs. 
 Gibbs evidently thought he was one, for she spared a 
 hand from her work to put the hair straight on his 
 forehead. The brow beneath the hair she lifted was 
 furrowed slightly, Agatha noticed then: his eyes were 
 clouded with arrears of exhaustion and sleeplessness, and
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 335 
 
 she could see, owing to his change of posture, the black 
 band upon his arm. Mrs. Ingestre had always seen this 
 young fellow as a father, easily. Charles had that look 
 of a child-lover so fruitless to define. His were the kind 
 of eyes that smile on children, and he had the form of 
 nonsense at call that entertains them. She felt suddenly 
 very sorry for this little household, shorn of its natural 
 completion. It was hard, cruelly hard, upon them both : 
 upon him as much, since he had doubtless seen his child. 
 
 " Well, Claude," she said, as the pause was pro- 
 longed. " It seems to take some consideration." 
 
 " It does," said Claude. " It is actually more in 
 Charles' line than mine. It is lyrical, rather than 
 scientific." 
 
 " Jones is lyrical," said Charles, dropping his head 
 back. " That is the word I wanted, Mother." 
 
 "Hush! "said Mrs. Gibbs. 
 
 " This young Jones has a turn for humanity, I gather," 
 the doctor proceeded, with obvious unwillingness, 
 " and like all instinctive humanitarians, he objects 
 to waste in the world. He wants to knock his nails on 
 the head, and finish a work off neatly when he has begun 
 it well." 
 
 " Aren't you confusing a humanitarian and an artistic 
 cabinet-maker ? " asked Charles, still lying with his head 
 back on his mother's knee. 
 
 " No," said Claude, " where was I ? If it were 
 merely to make the girl respectable, Agatha, Violet 
 would certainly not approve the match. I have not 
 asked her, I ban all subjects of controversy, particularly 
 that, but I am sure. We are both with you as to that. 
 But we believe, Pussy believes, it is a compact of 
 security, and for mutual happiness as well. She is mis- 
 taken only as to one thing, the man's own feeling. He is 
 doing it for her." 
 
 "What? For whom?" 
 
 "My daughter. For her reassurance and peace of
 
 336 DUKE JONES 
 
 mind. He knows what she has been through about it. 
 .They are in er natural sympathy over the case." 
 
 " But this won't do," said Agatha, shifting her chair. 
 " What are you talking about ? Claude, come ! you 
 are an upright man." 
 
 " No, np," he laughed, looking straight at her sud- 
 denly, " that's what I am not. I'm prostrate ; so's 
 Charles. We are helpless, all of us. We simply have 
 not the courage to undeceive her, she is so contented 
 about it. It seems to her the correct ending to the quest, 
 you see, and the hero's just reward. She's in the condi- 
 tion being fit for little else, of blessing them both " 
 
 " Whereas both are in the condition of blessing her," 
 said Charles, with a laugh. " Well, Mother, doesn't it 
 come to that ? We worked it out last night." 
 
 Mrs. Gibbs did not encourage him in words, but her 
 expression over her darning suggested that there was 
 little in such a condition to surprise her. As for Agatha, 
 she looked at one face after another, comically hopeless. 
 
 " It is really too much," she murmured. " Not in love 
 with her, Claude?" 
 
 " There's my authority," said Claude. " I really will 
 not be responsible. Charles has all the documents." 
 
 "And you think I should take his word for it?" 
 Agatha swung round. " On his honeymoon, too ? Of 
 all arrant absurdities! Mr. Shovell, you have invented 
 the whole thing, confess, come! If you confess, I will 
 own it is well invented, and a perfectly natural mis- 
 take," she added slyly. 
 
 " It's a poor case," the doctor admitted, amused. " Up 
 with you, Charles. What have you to say ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Ingestre," said Charles, with solemnity, clasp- 
 ing his knees, " you do me wrong, indeed you do. I 
 am not mistaken, I wish I were. Unluckily, there's 
 only one witness I can produce, and that's my wife. 
 She's already in the dock, of course, so it's a little hard 
 to manage. But since you're all so beastly hard on me,
 
 THE NARRATORS AT. FAULT 337 
 
 I shall jolly well make her convict herself. She is 
 capable of it, really. Violet is not such a fool as she 
 looks " 
 
 " Charles ! " his mother ejaculated. 
 
 " In this case, Mother. She does look one in this 
 case, you know, considering her reputation. She's rather 
 smart as a rule, about any other than Jones she'd have 
 been level with me, easy, bet you she would. It's care- 
 lessness, chiefly, absence of mind. She never really 
 gave her mind to Jones as I could have wished." 
 
 " You ought to thank your stars she didn't," said 
 Agatha. 
 
 " I don't," said Charles. " It worries me when she's 
 absent like that, a bad sign. You never know what 
 she'll be up to next. It's not for want of hints, either, 
 I've given her heaps. Besides good Lord! the fel- 
 low's condition was pitiable." 
 
 "You only mean yours was," said Agatha, who had 
 abandoned everything now for the pleasure of teasing 
 him. 
 
 " Mine wasn't," said Charles, ruffling. " Any of our 
 common acquaintance been pitying me, Mrs. Ingestre?" 
 
 " Plenty," said Agatha, smiling. His innocence was 
 charming, and glancing at Claude, she found him faintly 
 smiling too. Agatha was scoring, internally, over John 
 at every word. John, like Eveleen, took the line that 
 Violet had lost a chance, her best chance, of holding her 
 husband, in losing the child. It was the Ingestre view, 
 quite inevitable. John had sworn a round oath when the 
 news came, as the head of a great house should swear at 
 hearing of a son or daughter's failure. Not that this 
 Shovell child would be in the direct line, of course: it 
 had not that gravity to John. But it was bad, bad man- 
 agement, probably ; though being fond of the girl he did 
 not like to blame her directly. That was John's general 
 attitude, which his wife had not tried, in words, to com- 
 bat. But she felt a kind of triumph now at finding
 
 338 DUKE JONES 
 
 Charles, " rogue " as she called him, still hopelessly 
 beneath the spell. 
 
 " She clean bowled him," pursued Charles gravely, all 
 unaware of his elders' entertainment, " under my very 
 eyes, upon the beach one day. What's more, I told her 
 so. She simply wouldn't attend to me, wasn't inter- 
 ested. It's a moral lesson against what I can only call 
 subconscious flirting. It's really awful for a fellow to 
 be responsible for a girl who flirts subconsciously, 
 isn't it, Mother?" 
 
 " It's your imagination," said Mrs. Gibbs, calmly 
 darning over his head. " They were probably talking 
 very nicely, Violet never flirts." 
 
 " However," said Charles, returning to Agatha sud- 
 denly, " I don't despair of her yet. Once give her a fair 
 look-in with a free mind, and without my presence to 
 distract her, and she'll get there, I back her to. I bet 
 Margery Brading five shillings on it yesterday " 
 
 "What?" cried Margery's stepmother. 
 
 " Yes, Mother, Margery took me. She's gone down- 
 hill a bit since she left your place. Margery took me on 
 the spot, because her theory is that Jones, given the same 
 fair chance, without my presence to distract him, will 
 lose his head, and give himself away before Violet can 
 assume the cool, critical and impartial attitude that is 
 essential to the " 
 
 " I am ashamed of you," said Mrs. Gibbs with energy, 
 folding up his socks with an air of closing the conversa- 
 tion. " Ashamed of you both. I had not thought it of 
 Margery, really. You have no right, either of you, to 
 talk about Violet like that. And as to making bets about 
 her " 
 
 " I told Margery I didn't quite like it," said Charles. 
 " She leads me on. You shouldn't send us walking to- 
 gether if you don't want my nice mind to be corrupted." 
 
 " Get up," said Mrs. Gibbs simply. " I think Mrs. 
 Ingestre would like to see the garden."
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 339 
 
 " May I go now ? " inquired Charles in confidence, 
 having got up as far as his knees. 
 
 Mrs. Gibbs glanced at the clock. " I have a great mind 
 not to let you, after this," she said. She was grave, but 
 Agatha saw she was teasing him too. " Well," she said, 
 glancing at his face the instant afterwards, " you may, 
 if she's awake. Go quietly, and take Mrs. Ingestre's 
 flowers from the hall." 
 
 II 
 
 In the garden, Charles' mother apologized to Agatha 
 for his childishness in her pleasantly impassive manner. 
 
 " He will never grow up," she said. " Certainly, if he 
 has not this last month, he never will." 
 
 " Has he been ill ? " said Agatha. 
 
 " Not really. His nerve gave way for a time. He 
 has not much staying power, though quite good at a 
 pinch. It lasted so long, you know, that was what 
 finished him. I was glad to be there," she added quietly, 
 " not only to keep an eye on him." 
 
 " You have done wonders, Claude says," said Mrs. 
 Ingestre politely. " Is that pretty little Lady Brading 
 your daughter ? " 
 
 " My husband's daughter, and Sir Claude's niece on 
 the mother's side." 
 
 "Really? Had Claude a sister, then?" Mrs. Gibbs 
 found she had to give the history. 
 
 " Charles is fond of Margery," she concluded, " and 
 she is a good walker, so she comes to take him out. He 
 used to walk alone in the country, but now he will not. 
 I am afraid Violet has spoiled him, he is quite lost 
 without her. I even told him yesterday to get a dog. 
 I cannot see," said Mrs. Gibbs gravely, " why a wife 
 should include the duties of a dog, can you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Ingestre, whose duties in her husband's house 
 distinctly did, had no direct retort, but she proceeded to 
 a systematic examination of her companion: who, drop-
 
 340 DUKE JONES 
 
 ping her reticence by degrees, as they patrolled the patch 
 of grass, gave her all the details she required. Mrs. 
 Gibbs, being a partisan, as was natural, of the Ashwin 
 contingent, had suspected Agatha at first of indifferent 
 " fine-ladyhood " ; but she soon found she was unjust. 
 
 " It was by the merest luck," she said, " that I was 
 back from Italy in time. Margery, little silly, said Violet 
 was well; so I was taking it quite easily. There was 
 still a good month, you see, before we thought we need 
 be anxious, and I trusted my son to warn me, rashly. 
 Charles is not observant, and her acting deceived her 
 father almost. My first hint of warning came from Sir 
 Claude. I called here to see her one day, and well, I 
 sent for my things, and stayed. She was certainly not fit 
 to be alone. She had not told Charles a thing, I got it 
 all out of her in an evening. Haunted absolutely, help- 
 less, furious with herself, cut off all her active occupa- 
 tions, even letter-writing, which would have relieved her, 
 and the doctor talking down to her, like a child or an 
 imbecile, neglecting the worst signs. Providentially 
 she trusts me ; there was a time when she was nervous of 
 me as a child, but that has passed. She was sweet as she 
 always is, full of gratitude, surprise at my kindness, 
 most anxious for my comfort, not to mention my hus- 
 band's, quite ready to be confident, even over-patient, 
 as I told her, courage itself. The idea of treating that 
 like a hysterical schoolgirl! I bore a good deal, first 
 and last, from the specialist's rudeness," said Mrs. Gibbs, 
 " but at least he put that man in his place." 
 
 Which led naturally to the battle of the doctors, those 
 inner workings of which Lady Ashwin had had an 
 inkling too. 
 
 "Why did Claude not attend her?" Agatha de- 
 manded. 
 
 " She had made him promise not, anxiety for him 
 again. He kept his promise, too, though it nearly killed 
 him; until Angus himself gave way, with the worst pos-
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 341 
 
 sible grace, and made room for him. That was the day 
 of the child's death, much the worst we had." Mrs. Gibbs 
 set her lips. " A lot of babies they are themselves, 
 backbiting! It was all I could do not to tell that surly 
 Scotchman what I thought, I had the pleasure of hear- 
 ing his opinion of Sir Claude behind his back. As 
 though as a father he had not a perfect right to be 
 anxious, quite apart from the fact that he proved right 
 about her at nearly every point ! It would be a madden- 
 ing position for any man, but you would say they had 
 no blood in them. I heard Angus when he capitulated, 
 huffy like a child, and on his dignity to the last. ' It 
 is our opinion, Ashwin, that you may as well replace us. 
 Mrs. Shovell seems reasonable, should manage now/ 
 Reasonable! They ran away from her reason, that was 
 the long and short of it. They took good care to leave 
 the breaking of the news to him. Personally, I have 
 seldom been so thankful to anyone, I thought that 
 would be my part. . . . Angus was just as disagree- 
 able," Mrs. Gibbs concluded her account, " in refusing 
 Charles' money. On stilts at once, Ashwin's daughter! 
 would not hear of it, after having insulted him up 
 and down. Attitudinizing to the last, and a man like 
 that sitting down under it, that's what incensed me," 
 said Mrs. Gibbs. 
 
 " Claude's too well-bred," said Agatha. " Pernickety. 
 It's a drawback in his profession, and he admits it. He 
 can't conceal the fact he is several other things besides a 
 doctor, and the old stagers such as Angus don't like it. 
 So they treat him as a dabbler, to pay him out. It's 
 natural, if you come to think." 
 
 " He's too modest," said Mrs. Gibbs. " He said it was 
 not his department when I entreated him to interfere. 
 Well, it may not be, though really I doubt it. In any 
 case, I can't help thinking, at the crucial points of our 
 existence, a brain and a heart are the things that mat- 
 ter, and he is over-burdened with both. So is she."
 
 342 DUKE JONES 
 
 " You've gone under to Claude," said Agatha, glancing 
 at her. " But I don't call it a virtue to let yourself be 
 put upon. Men can't afford it in these days. My theory 
 is, Claude's had such practice at home in keeping his 
 temper, that now it's become a habit, and he can't let it 
 go when he should. He has one, thunder and lightning, 
 or used to have ; but it's so useless, with Eveleen, that 
 he has discarded it. He seems lifeless to me now, com- 
 pared with what he was five years since." 
 
 Mrs. Gibbs was silent : but the name had been spoken, 
 and her foot pressed the grass. Agatha waited a moment, 
 and then swung on her. 
 
 " How far," she demanded, " can Eveleen be regarded 
 as responsible? John will slay me if I cannot tell him 
 that." 
 
 " Really," said Mrs. Gibbs, " I cannot say I have felt 
 curious. She dislikes me particularly, which may be why 
 I have seen no sign of her. She was not content with 
 leaving undone the things she ought to have done, she 
 completed the Prayer Book. She made the girl wretched, 
 that's a certainty, and I hear, it may be a lie, she 
 slandered Charles." 
 
 "Just so," said Agatha, with one glance at her face. 
 Agatha also was the mother of a single son. " Well, we 
 had best not speak of her." A pause, while she kept this 
 excellent resolution. " John says Eveleen's unique, and 
 I answer I hope she is. She's made enough misery for 
 two women, anyhow. You have not perhaps the ill- 
 fortune to know the grip she has, or had. I should 
 expect to see half London in mourning if Eveleen died, 
 flags at half-mast, and so on. On my word, I believe 
 it is her genuine indifference does it, she never was what 
 I call beautiful at all. She imposes, in all senses. . . . 
 Now I understand," broke out Agatha, still not speaking 
 of Eveleen ; " a man making a fool of himself about a 
 fine horse: he gets something for his money. But a 
 woman like that, shorn of brains and principles from
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 343 
 
 birth, wallowing in comfort at the expense of a first-rate 
 man whose life she's ruined, no, I can't see it if John 
 does. Perhaps," said Mrs. Ingestre thoughtfully, " I am 
 prejudiced too." 
 
 " Anyhow, we are free of her for the moment," said 
 Mrs. Gibbs quietly. " She has gone abroad." 
 
 " Won't face her husband," said Agatha. " So they 
 say in the town. She must know what she's done, then, 
 it's a flat confession. I mean if it's the case she has 
 not been back since the night." 
 
 " It is the case. I only hope he is quit of her for good, 
 but I greatly doubt it." 
 
 " John doubts if he wants to be," said Agatha dryly. 
 
 Once more Mrs. Gibbs fell silent, and set her lips in 
 that self-contained manner of hers. Those who pass 
 through trouble in company grow intimate perforce, and 
 she had got a long way in the Ashwin affairs, much 
 further in all directions than the Ingestres, who, in spite 
 of all, were interested in Eveleen chiefly. Mrs. Gibbs 
 had found Eveleen's husband worth study as well. She 
 had never really known him before, and had herself 
 rather repelled him by her manner. But now they had 
 Violet between them as interpreter, which made all the 
 difference; a common anxiety and a common devotion 
 had united them. Once his shyness was broken, Claude 
 talked easily, and what he omitted from modesty or 
 diffidence Violet supplied. 
 
 He had told Mrs. Gibbs, with the simplicity of a de- 
 cision long-made, that if his wife obliged him to divorce 
 her, not otherwise, he would immediately retire. When 
 she protested, horror-struck almost, as anyone who knew 
 his great reputation would protest, she discovered it was 
 not only his desire, but his dream to do so. His book, 
 quitted in bulk at the time of his marriage, and only 
 touched from time to time as his professional work grew 
 thicker, had now lain fallow for years, and his single 
 ideal of happiness was to return to it. He could not bear 
 
 t
 
 344 DUKE JONES 
 
 consulting really, Violet told her that, to her equal 
 amazement. , Violet informed her, when they discussed 
 the subject, that he spent himself, literally, on personal 
 interviews, his pulse altered, he had confided to his 
 daughter, during a delicate one. The common human 
 exchange, exaggerated to his sensitiveness, exhausted 
 him more than the most critical operation to perform. 
 No one but Violet had ever had it so stated in words, 
 though a few of the more friendly suspected it. It was 
 the student-nature, forced into the battle against its will ; 
 and it was his wife, the sheer necessity of making a 
 position for her in the world's eye, that had forced 
 him. Custom had eased it, to a certain degree. Fame 
 had come to sweeten it, to use the trite phrase, as surely 
 as wealth had come. But he loved neither, it was not, 
 and never had been, the fame of his desire. He had 
 talked of the society who pampered him, for a whole 
 evening to Mrs. Gibbs, with the bitterness of a man who 
 knows himself wasted. And he knew where his talents 
 lay. There is no altering the book-maker, he had said 
 with his slight laugh to her at parting, even though the 
 book is never made. He had a strong persuasion now 
 that it never would be, for all Violet's entreaties. She 
 and Hubert Ford had both promised, with a like ardor, 
 to save him all the drudgery, but still he remained skep- 
 tical. Eveleen had entered the lists against that book, 
 and she suffered no rivalry. Eveleen was still in the 
 world and all was said. It was a singular, to Mrs. 
 Gibbs most significant, acknowledgment of Eveleen's 
 power. 
 
 Mrs. Ingestre know nothing of all this: nor would 
 she, at that time, have been interested to know ; and her 
 companion had no thought of telling her. It was Mrs. 
 Gibbs, after an interval, who returned to Violet. 
 
 " I was to thank you for the flowers," she said sud- 
 denly. " I am forgetting my commissions, and manners 
 too." She considered a minute. " It is so kind," she
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 345 
 
 said, " to send colored flowers. Nobody else did. Color 
 keeps the soul awake, I think that was it. She cannot 
 bear blank things resignation." 
 
 "Thank you," said Agatha. "That's herself: I shall 
 tell John. She shall have all the colors in my conserva- 
 tory, I know that. . . . Look here, why can I not 
 see her ? I shall do her no more harm than the boy." 
 
 " I am not sure," said Mrs. Gibbs composedly. 
 " Charles is rather clever. Sir Claude lets him see her 
 for a quarter or half an hour a day, according as she 
 can bear it. He saves up the wildest nonsense to tell 
 her I think he must have been practicing lately. Charles 
 always did have a taste for romancing, but I never 
 thought he would find a use for it. It is absolutely 
 useful, for she is accustomed to following him, and it 
 does not tire her over much. Besides," said Charles' 
 mother, " she supposes he is happy, for the time." 
 
 " Just so," said Mrs. Ingestre. " She was apologetic 
 to your son ? Perhaps I should say remorseful ? " 
 
 " Apologetic is much better," said Mrs. Gibbs. " The 
 finest kind of apology, kings and queens. Charles told me 
 after the first time that he could not bear it, and I saw 
 he could not, so I warned her against the manner. Then 
 she became more careful of his feelings. She probably 
 trusts now she is excusable, in Charles' eyes. . . . 
 It may be natural," said Mrs. Gibbs, after a pause. 
 
 "The manner? It is, John believes. That 'grand 
 air ' is, in the rare cases, not a manner of speech but a 
 manner of thought: though it will be banned as affecta- 
 tion," said Agatha, " to the end of time." 
 
 " I always considered her a little affected," said Mrs. 
 Gibbs; but Agatha thought she used the past tense 
 deliberately. She was a woman who saved words, and 
 Agatha had been at some pains to draw out even the in- 
 formation she had now collected. But it was, as she 
 expected, the useful information ; she had at once, in this 
 quarter, the things she wanted.
 
 346 DUKE JONES 
 
 She would gladly have talked longer and discovered 
 more, but soon after this, three people simultaneously 
 demanded Mrs. Gibbs' presence in the house, and Mrs. 
 Ingestre, finally worsted in her private quest of an inter- 
 view with the girl, had to go. 
 
 On the doorstep she encountered Claude, who was 
 leaving also, in the direction of his next engagement, and 
 inveigled him, with some difficulty, into her carriage ; but 
 in the course of a couple of miles' drive she got nothing 
 of value out of him. The subject of Lisette he treated 
 lightly: the subject of his wife he dodged with an ad- 
 dress that, to Agatha's overwhelming curiosity, seemed 
 absolutely fiendish. He did not appear to be aware that 
 all London Agatha's London was talking of him, and 
 that it was serious. Serious for the Ingestres, of course, 
 momentous, since Eveleen was no casual offshoot of 
 the tree. Eveleen's husband remained polite throughout, 
 which was more than could be said for Agatha ; and she 
 dismissed him finally from her equipage at the gate of 
 the park with the information that he was hopeless. 
 
 " Not yet," said Claude, with a spark of chaffing de- 
 fiance that told her more than all the elaborate fencing 
 that had preceded it, and went. Agatha, half-offended 
 and half-diverted, went home, considering him. 
 
 " He's doing everything for Felicia," she said to John, 
 when retailing the results of these interviews ; " admires 
 her, you would say, but he will not take her seriously." 
 
 " What's the young fellow, solvent ? " said John. 
 
 " Solid," said Agatha. " Solid all round, Claude says. 
 But he barely seemed to regard Lisette as an element in 
 the case, hardly as a person at all. He might have been 
 talking of one of his pictures, rather a good one, 
 when he alluded to her. He certainly doesn't want to 
 give her up to anybody. His expressions," said Agatha 
 pensively, " were extraordinary. I never know what 
 Claude's at when he gets into that mood, impish and 
 idle. He seemed to say the first thing that came up,
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 347 
 
 and the first thing was frequently very good. He evi- 
 dently did not want to drive in the park, the crowded 
 end, looked shockingly ill, and seemed to enjoy the 
 scenery. At least, he made remarks on it when I asked 
 him about other things. Any other man, I should have 
 said he had been drinking. I told him so. It may be 
 simply relief at Eveleen's departure, of course, and 
 Violet's society. But " 
 
 " But it is hardly the bearing to adopt to us," was what 
 Agatha thought, though she avoided the ill-taste of utter- 
 ing it in words. Eveleen's family could never quite 
 escape from that attitude to Claude Ashwin, which they 
 had assumed with such freezing effect at the time of his 
 marriage. It was hardly worthy of the man they had 
 allowed to marry Eveleen, to treat her abandonment of 
 his hearth and protection so easily, if he did; nor to 
 show such arrogant indifference to the question, thrilling 
 all the echoes of Lady Ashwin's haunts in town, as to 
 which of many possible rivals held the field. The fact 
 of her sudden flight, almost unprovided, immediately 
 after her brilliant appearance at the Elkington reception, 
 was public property: and it was hastily assumed, by all 
 those who had Eveleen's dignity at heart, tha*t some man 
 was backing her. 
 
 That this shadowy man did not exist John would be 
 sincerely sorry to believe; yet, as he gathered up the 
 evidence on this immensely important question, limping 
 down the steps of one well-instructed authority and up 
 the steps of another, doubts began to assail him that his 
 cousin's dignity was involved. It was borne in upon 
 John that Eveleen was " shirking," and, in private with 
 Agatha, .he went so far as to use the term. He had 
 noted here and there about her life that his cousin Eve- 
 leen was " slack," useless to deny it : and from " slack- 
 ing " to " shirking " is not really so long a step. Yet 
 between the two, for an Ingestre, there is a deep gulf 
 fixed, not least when what she shirks is the fruit of her
 
 348 DUKE JONES 
 
 own misdoing. At moments John had a sharp fear, as 
 bad as a twinge of his gout, that Eveleen, oblivious of 
 all she owed to herself and him, would yet drag his name 
 in the dust, as little Lisette, for all her recklessness and 
 misfortune, had failed to drag it. These were anxious 
 moments when they occurred. 
 
 " I'd like to take that little girl into counsel," said 
 John at the window, thoughtfully scratching his chin. 
 " She probably knows a thing or two, and she's as sharp 
 as the deuce for an expedient." 
 
 Agatha did not suppose he was alluding to Lisette; 
 but she threw copious cold water on his hopes of seeing 
 Violet. So John had to take the remaining alternative, 
 far less palatable, and consider whether at the worst he 
 could lay his majesty aside for an hour or two, drive to 
 Harley Street, and appeal formally to Claude. It had 
 struck John while he stayed in their comfortable house 
 that the man who had married Eveleen, and suffered so 
 freely at her hands, knew her quite as well as he did 
 himself, even better perhaps on certain sides; and he 
 had a curious conviction that, even now, when she had 
 turned her back on him publicly, leaving him a prey to 
 all the flies of gossip he most detested, Claude could 
 whistle her back at will. 
 
 Agatha's recent description of his nonchalant bearing 
 in the carriage strengthened this suspicion in John's 
 mind ; exactly how, he could not say. Whatever might 
 be said of it from their own point of view, it was not 
 the bearing of a man who had any doubts of his mastery. 
 Besides, Claude had such a tiresome way, in John's expe- 
 rience, of suddenly disclosing his mastery of subjects by 
 no means in the direct line of his life's business, why 
 not of his wife, who certainly might be said to be ? Once 
 more, it was, for Eveleen's admirers, an uncomfortable 
 thought. 
 
 " She's got used to him," reasoned John, when they had 
 left the subject and come back to it about a dozen times. 
 " And that means a lot, to Eveleen."
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 349 
 
 " She has also got used to his motors," said Agatha, 
 " and his money. That means still more." 
 
 " She could get them elsewhere," said John. " I've 
 an idea the man's harder to find, and I've an idea that 
 she knows it, d la fin. Eveleen always had an unearthly 
 flair for her own interest, at a crisis look at the way 
 she stuck to her notion of marrying him, in the first 
 place. We didn't exactly give her an easy time. . . . 
 She'll think it out, if he gives her leisure, in the water- 
 places: she'll have a few other men to look at there. 
 Then it will be a truce, I greatly fear, with honors to 
 him. All the honors. ... I greatly fear it," said 
 John, limping about quite nervously. 
 
 And John was right. The great house of Ingestre 
 had, in virtue of the ultimate proceedings of Lady Ash- 
 win, to admit flat defeat. It was long, many years, 
 before they realized how complete and crushing, in all its 
 bearings, was their defeat at Claude's hands, for he was 
 careful of their feelings; but Eveleen's first action was 
 enough for John. Her own interest became so clear 
 to her, as he prophesied, in the leisure of the various 
 watering-places, that, after lengthy pondering, frequently 
 postponed and interrupted, upon the important theme, 
 Eveleen did an absolutely unheard-of thing, a thing she 
 had not done for a dozen years. She wrote to Claude. 
 
 in 
 
 He brought the letter to Violet one spring Sunday 
 morning, as she lay in the idleness of convalescence by 
 the open window of her room. He entered quietly as 
 his manner was, and she did not disturb her peaceful 
 attitude, for she was well-accustomed by now to his 
 noiseless, rapid visits, observations of her, so to speak, 
 between his other duties, and to his presence about the 
 room. His tricks were quite unlike the tricks of all her 
 other doctors, Violet had told him several times ; but 
 they were not objectionable to the patient, evidently, 
 since she took no account of them.
 
 350 DUKE JONES 
 
 As he advanced to her side, still without a word, and 
 extended the letter, she turned with a little start. Her 
 faint color just showed as she saw the writing upon it. 
 
 " I am to read it ? " she said, looking at his face. 
 
 " To be sure. It is your affair." 
 
 "Mine, Father?" 
 
 " Read it," he said simply. " You will see." 
 
 She read it through, her color wavering ; for it seemed 
 to her an exquisitely intimate proceeding, to plunge, thus 
 unforewarned, into the worst problem of his life; the 
 problem which she had only dared at intervals, and 
 always when he led the way, to touch. 
 
 The letter was equally stupid and stately, stately as 
 she could not avoid being in her superb egoism, her un- 
 feigned indifference to the opinion of God and man. It 
 was that, as Agatha said, that mowed the world down 
 in front of Eveleen; for, poor things that we are, we 
 can none of us avoid the belief, the hope at least, that 
 the truly indifferent have the secret that we look for in 
 vain. It was a confession too; for, in three or four ill- 
 framed childish sentences, she convicted herself, in the 
 effort to clear, of the crime with which he had never 
 charged her. She knew what she had done by some in- 
 stinct, brute instinct if you will. She had known it long, 
 known it in essence since the night when, having shifted 
 her responsibilities finally upon a girl whom she admitted 
 in words to be unfit to bear them, she left Violet's house. 
 
 Having so confessed, she repeated the original offense. 
 She insulted her daughter by the form of her condol- 
 ences, and could not keep her pen, which followed her 
 thoughts, away from Charles' name. Her chaffing, 
 pleasantly done in life, became incredibly awkward, vul- 
 gar and brutal upon paper, at least to Claude's idea ; and 
 observing Violet from his station at the window, he saw 
 her delicate brows set once or twice. 
 
 Lastly, Lady Ashwin complained, grumbled. In the 
 concluding portion, she said she was not well, sleeping
 
 ,THE NARRATORS AT FAULT. 351 
 
 badly. She had seen a doctor at Pau. That was really 
 why she had come abroad, people chattered about such 
 things in London. She supposed Claude would say he 
 was too busy or something to come out, though lots of 
 people they knew were there. If he refused to move, 
 she did not see how she could do otherwise than return 
 to London again. She would go to John's, if he wanted. 
 Things in general were a great bore. . . . 
 
 " It is mania," said Violet at the end. She used her 
 definite tone, because the thing had become clear to her, 
 and folding the letter neatly, laid it down. " It is far 
 better to admit it, and be done." 
 
 " I have long admitted it," said Claude, " but I am 
 not done. The admission does not help." 
 
 " I think it helps. Personally, I would loosen you in- 
 stantly, Father, it is incredible you should be asked 
 to bear it, except for that." 
 
 " The honor of the profession," he said, with a faint 
 smile, glancing round at her. 
 
 She nodded. " The thing before your name, and the 
 things after it. All the things we are proudest of." She 
 seized the hand hanging in reach. " Most unluckily, 
 darling, you can help." 
 
 " Most unluckily, I can. I had already thought of it. 
 It was the last of my thoughts, so I might guess it would 
 be the first of yours." 
 
 " Is that flattering, or otherwise? I'm afraid it doesn't 
 bear looking into. Tell me what your first thought was." 
 
 " What should it be ? " he answered, turning brusquely. 
 " You, my love, and Charles. I have more than once 
 felt guilty towards him." 
 
 " You wasted your pains, then," said Violet. " Let us 
 alone, please. We don't want you, we shall do. You 
 will see, Mother will get used to us as well. It is not 
 insoluble, Father, there are always ways." She took 
 up the document again, to consider ways, and laid it 
 down suddenly. "You can't leave her like that, it's
 
 352 DUKE JONES 
 
 not to be thought of. You must be very happy, quickly, 
 in a scrawl. Mustn't you? It is the only way." 
 
 " You think so?" he said, pondering over the lines. 
 
 " I do, yes. I am feeling impatient about it, bad for 
 me. It's bad for me, Father. . . . No, give it me 
 again. You know it all by heart by this time." 
 
 Once more she went through the thing, sentence by 
 sentence, considering it. 
 
 " It is very, very difficult," she said dreamily. " As 
 bad as the most fearful sum. I wish Honoria was here 
 to help me, but I can see one thing. She is not safe 
 without you, and she knows it. I can't see beyond that." 
 
 "You think she knows it?" he asked, laying hands 
 once more, quite mechanically, upon the evidence. It was 
 comical almost, their fine brains beating themselves 
 against those blunt, ill-considered phrases in turn, and 
 returning baffled every time to consult with one another. 
 
 " Of course she does. The whole text of that, the 
 fact of her writing, even, is a confession of weakness, 
 for Mother. Pitiable, horrid! She has been alarmed. 
 I am afraid, dearest, whenever the last time was, you 
 alarmed her. You trampled a little, didn't you? You 
 do when you forget." 
 
 " Whenever the last time was," he said, " I intended 
 to trample, and alarm her too." 
 
 "Oh, did you lose it, really?" She laughed up at 
 him sidelong, her cheek upon her hand. " Lose it quite ? " 
 
 " All of it," said Claude, " and there was more than I 
 thought. It was all gone before I knew. It was before 
 seven on a cold wet morning, which may be some ex- 
 cuse." 
 
 " Had you slept badly, poor man ? " 
 
 " No, well," he said vigorously. " That was it. And 
 you had been out all night." His voice grew fierce at the 
 recollection, and he laid a protecting hand upon her as 
 she lay. 
 
 " Don't scold me any more," she said beneath her
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 353 
 
 breath, " for the things I did before I grew up. I really 
 didn't know. I never should again." 
 
 "Would you not?" he said, his fingers caressing her 
 absently. " I am not so sure. You have not grown up 
 so completely yet, I trust." 
 
 " I am very old," said Violet, with gravity, looking 
 very young. Mrs. Gibbs had tied her hair back in the 
 fashion of her girlhood, which delighted Claude. He 
 had always declared it was the only fashion that suited 
 her, those drooping, nymph-like lines. She had exactly 
 her old elf-look again, as she lay sidelong on the pillow, 
 her cheek on her folded hands. It was a pale cheek 
 still, but it had regained its pretty contour, by dint of 
 Mrs. Gibbs' and Mason's vigorous efforts. The terrible 
 sharp look that had haunted Charles in the first weeks of 
 her recovery had departed, with the other unnatural signs 
 of the long agony, during most of which, as she was 
 under drugs, they could not feed her, only keep her alive. 
 
 Now Violet was quite contented with life again, she 
 told them, and enjoyed her dinner immensely. She had 
 found some trees to gaze at, by means of careful search- 
 ing among the chimneys, and the tulips below her win- 
 dow were looking beautiful, though faded in parts. 
 Charles said they were a disgusting sight from the din- 
 ing-room, and threatened daily to cut them off with his 
 dinner-knife: but from Violet's point of view they were 
 quite effective still. She had just made up her mind, 
 during an hour of laborious thought, to set white crocuses 
 in the grass next year. Charles said yellow ones, for the 
 sake of contradiction ; but she had quite determined upon 
 white ones, with heavenly orange tongues amid delicate 
 shadows when you looked inside. She had also talked 
 at length to Charles about the weather: having refused, 
 at his request, to save it up for Jones. 
 
 Now, since her father was with her, and seemed to be 
 thinking, she started the theme afresh, dreamily. 
 
 " It's Sunday, isn't it? it ought to be."
 
 354 DUKE JONES 
 
 " It is," said Claude, in a tone to match. " You ought 
 to be out, my dear: right out in the country. It is 
 incredible." 
 
 " Incredible," said Violet. " It was just as incredible 
 last May, but we have forgotten. I remember a day, a 
 nice one, I drove with Mother to hunt clothes. Mother 
 hunted my clothes extremely well, when she gave her 
 mind to it. We dawdled a little, because it was so 
 delicious, looking at the ducks in the park. We did noth- 
 ing to speak of before lunch, Mother is rather nice to 
 do nothing with. . . . Poor Mother." 
 
 " Well," said Claude, after a pause, " that means I am 
 to relent to her, does it, that last remark? Open my 
 doors to her, at least. Forgive her, I will not." 
 
 " Yes, you will, Father darling : by degrees. Don't 
 speak in that tone, it annoys me." She put a hand over 
 her ear, which was really not visible, owing to the elf-like 
 hair; and once more Claude laid his protecting hand right 
 over hers, ear and all. 
 
 " I will not," he repeated, less violently. " There are 
 things a man should not forgive. But you are welcome 
 to." He bent to look into her shy gray eyes, which slid 
 sidelong once, and slipped instantly again from his. 
 
 " Don't talk to me any more," she said in confidence. 
 " I'm thinking." 
 
 " I don't allow it, not real thinking," he answered as 
 gently. " Give your mind to the sun." 
 
 Violet tried this prescription. She thought of the sun 
 for five minutes, nothing else at all. 
 
 " Your book, dearest," she then observed. 
 
 " I have thought of that," said the doctor hastily. 
 " You need not. I will write it in odd times." 
 
 " You haven't many, have you ? " said his daughter 
 delicately. She tried the sun again, for inspiration. " I 
 think the best thing for you," she said, in the voice of 
 dreams, " would be to have a breakdown, like Honoria's. 
 A solemn one, for a year. Nobody would be the least 
 surprised, considering what you have looked like these
 
 THE NARRATORS AT FAULT 355 
 
 last weeks. The King would be sincerely sorry, second 
 or third-hand, the newspapers would learn of it on good 
 authority, and the book would get ahead." 
 
 " Thanks," said Sir Claude. " That is ingenious. But 
 I have my doubts if your mother would approve." 
 
 " Mother would stay with Cousin John, meanwhile. 
 Some of the nicest doctors of your acquaintance would 
 tell her you were much too ill to be disturbed, and she 
 would take good care not to go near you. The nicest 
 doctors would come to tea with me first, Father, just to 
 learn the facts." 
 
 "Milford Angus?" said Claude. 
 
 It was a legitimate subject of scoffing in the house- 
 hold that Sir Milford Angus had called to see how Violet 
 was, and had remained to tea with her, and been taught 
 for at least an hour, according to Violet, how to behave. 
 She said, like most intolerable people, he was only intol- 
 erable on the surface, and heavily sentimental under- 
 neath. How she discovered this interesting fact Charles 
 could not extract from his mother, nor Claude from her. 
 Violet still disliked Sir Milford Angus, as she explained, 
 on principle: but it was too evident that his principles 
 did not prevent him from liking her. 
 
 " Can't you work a breakdown ? " coaxed Violet. " Do 
 try. Honoria and heaps of people do it impressively. 
 And after all, you must know better than anyone the 
 way to start." 
 
 Sir Claude did not seem to see his way to a break- 
 down, however; or rather, he saw his way so well that 
 he could avoid it, and had been doing so for some months 
 past. Doubtless he was thus able to avert other people's 
 breakdowns with the more signal success during the years 
 of his work that ensued. He looked pensive, to Violet's 
 eyes, or rather eye, turned slyly on him through her 
 hair at intervals, distinctly serious, gazing from her 
 window, but not so miserable as he had on entering. He 
 was possibly planning the development of the book, with- 
 out the assistance of a breakdown, in an infinite accumu-
 
 356 DUKE JONES 
 
 lation of odd times. He folded up Eveleen's letter as 
 he pondered, and put it carefully away. 
 
 " I wish I could get you out, Puss," he said. " But I 
 suppose, as things are, I had better go myself." 
 
 " As things are," said Mrs. Shovell, " it is Sunday : a 
 day of relaxation for the wicked, and rest for the good." 
 
 " I am relaxing," Claude assured her. " Shall I read 
 to you, darling ? " 
 
 " No. I am resting, as you see." She shut her eyes. 
 " But you may stay about, if you want to, and think out 
 some short, really clear sentences for Mother until 
 Mamma comes in." 
 
 Her father laughed, being taken unaware by the con- 
 clusion : exactly as Violet had intended him to laugh, so 
 she was pleased. She immensely enjoyed obliging him to 
 laugh, and often planned her sentences in advance with 
 that intent. Her brain was just beginning to move again, 
 and lift her from the inconceivable morass of stupidity 
 which had made her practically useless, from the social 
 point of view, during the weeks gone by. Since they all 
 came and talked to her charmingly, especially Charles, it 
 was humiliating to be unable to produce the smallest 
 sparkle in return. She said " no " and " yes " to their 
 remarks, with great decision : and told them all that they 
 were clever, or kind, as the case might be, they were 
 frequently both ; but she felt she was wanting, at the 
 time: and it was regrettable that she generally thought 
 of the right answers, afterwards, when they were gone. 
 
 Thus it was gratifying to be able, even with an effort, to 
 make people laugh again : and the sun in the garden was 
 to be thanked, most probably. It was the only thing 
 worth doing in life, Violet thought at times ; especially as 
 laughter, like mercy, is twice blest : and he who presents 
 it, even the smallest smile, among the overpowering sor- 
 row of the world, is lifted out of sorrow too. 
 
 So she made them laugh, as had always been her way: 
 and cried in secret, when she was " a fool."
 
 MAUD 357 
 
 II 
 MAUD 
 
 CHARLES always won his bets with Margery, unless he 
 won them for her, as on a certain celebrated occasion 
 when he discomfited the scoffers by becoming engaged to 
 Miss Ashwin sooner than anyone thought at all probable, 
 and the wager about Marmaduke Jones was no excep- 
 tion to this excellent rule. In the private interview be- 
 tween Marmaduke and Violet, over the preparation of 
 which Charles spent the most elaborate and unnecessary 
 pains, since it might easily have happened casually, with- 
 out any pains at all, Jones did not give himself away, 
 but Violet saw through him. The only thing that did not 
 fall out quite in accordance with Charles' benevolent 
 scheming, was Violet's instant humiliation before him, 
 her husband, when this culpable oversight of hers was 
 brought home to her. She dodged Charles in the most 
 unworthy fashion, and compelled him yet once more into 
 a state of unwilling admiration of her natural guile: as 
 shall be seen. 
 
 Jones, touchingly innocent, a lamb for the shearing, 
 the mere aspect of whom should have made Charles 
 ashamed, called at the hour suggested, at the house of 
 his dreams, and was told Mrs. Shovell was in the garden. 
 Jones had not been aware there was a garden before, 
 but since there was only one way to it, through a green- 
 painted gate, he discovered it without difficulty. He 
 could also, on his emergence into the so-called garden, 
 see all there was of it at once, not to mention all its occu- 
 pants. Eavesdropping, on this interesting occasion, even 
 had Mr. Shovell proposed it, would have been impossible : 
 even the shameless manner of eavesdropping practiced 
 on the stage would have been difficult within its bounds.
 
 358 DUKE JONES 
 
 The occupants of this garden, or stage, were three, 
 four, rather. Mrs. Shovell on her knees, Jones saw her 
 first, engaged with a trowel on a border-edge; Mr. 
 Shovell on his feet, his back turned completely to her, 
 and partly to Jones, engaged very deeply, as was evi- 
 dent with an extremely pretty young lady, of a counte- 
 nance vaguely angelic, in walking costume and strong 
 shoes, who was lying carelessly across a deck-chair. The 
 fourth occupant was a young terrier-dog, of Irish extrac- 
 tion, in a perfectly idiotic condition of excitement and 
 hilarity, engaged deeply in every sense in frantic 
 researches for a lost ideal, possibly a bone, in every cor- 
 ner of the garden. It appeared, by the subsequent 
 dialogue, to be one of the terrier's mistaken ideals that 
 Mrs. Shovell was replanting in the bed. 
 
 " I am sorry," said the angelic young lady in the chair, 
 who had tears in her eyes. " He will do it. I can't 
 manage him in the least." 
 
 " It's only his fun," said Charles, consoling her. " He 
 thinks he's useful, digging potatoes. Don't cry, anyhow, 
 darling." 
 
 " He was so funny," said Charles' companion. " It's 
 Violet who ought to cry." 
 
 " She will, when we're gone," said Charles. " She 
 never does, in public." Jones was petrified with indig- 
 nation at the words. 
 
 " He's doing it again," said the angelic young lady. 
 " Over in that corner, I feel he is, I daren't look. 
 Charlie, you really might " 
 
 " She'll see to it when we're gone," said Charles. 
 " That's what she's good for, making the best of a bad 
 job, you know." 
 
 " You ? " said the young lady. " Poor Violet ! Charlie, 
 don't be a goose." 
 
 Exactly in what manner Shovell was a goose Jones did 
 not see, or want to, since it was too evident by his tone 
 that he was flirting outrageously. His own appearance,
 
 MAUD 359 
 
 at that juncture, broke the scene short, and seemed to put 
 both the actors in it out of countenance, as was natural. 
 You would have said a bucket of cold water, at least upon 
 Margery and Charles. 
 
 " Er how are you, Jones ? " said Shovell, rather form- 
 ally, with a face of gloom. " Violet " 
 
 " Oh, what a comfort ! " She had shot in front of her 
 husband before he could look round, and, trowel in one 
 hand, laid the other on Jones' arm. " I am sure you 
 know about dogs. Would you terribly mind calling that 
 little dog of Lady Brading's, at once? She can't man- 
 age him, and Charles is afraid. It does look like rabies, 
 but it's only youth, and being such a heavenly day, I 
 do feel for him. But " 
 
 Her dramatic hand showed the devastation: a row of 
 springing sweet peas laid low. 
 
 Now Marmaduke was not only an amateur gardener 
 of the frenzied description ordinarily known among Sur- 
 rey residents, but the owner and trainer of several most 
 orderly young dogs: thus, quite apart from everything 
 else, he must instantly have vowed himself to her service. 
 But beyond that, she appealed to him personally as a 
 " comfort " ! And beyond even that, she was pale, and 
 her lovely eyes piteous, and her voice tragic even to 
 exaggeration, and her husband carelessly devoting him- 
 self to another girl, who was, too evidently, laughing at 
 the catastrophe ! In all these accumulating conditions to 
 drive a simple man distracted, all Jones could do was to 
 take nine steps, which exactly brought him to the end of 
 the garden, dodge that terrier-puppy, seize him with one 
 skilled hand by all his loose skin, which means most of 
 the dog,, as the friends of puppies know, extract from 
 his dripping jaws a half-gnawed lily-bulb, and bring both 
 bulb and dog back to Mrs. Shovell, to deal with as she 
 should think fit. 
 
 " Do beat him for me," said Lady Brading, handker- 
 chief in hand. " I so hate it, and Charlie is afraid."
 
 360 DUKE JONES 
 
 Their accumulated insults had not the faintest effect on 
 Mr. Shovell, who was looking on at Jones' efforts with a 
 complacent smile: much as though Jones was his prop- 
 erty, and was behaving rather neatly on his trial trip, 
 as Charles expected. 
 
 " Come along, Margery," he remarked, when the puppy 
 had not been beaten, " don't slack about. We have 
 leagues to cover ere set of sun, not to mention a train 
 to catch in eleven minutes. By the way, I haven't intro- 
 duced you, have I ? People get up, to be introduced." 
 
 " I needn't," murmured Margery, but she rose. 
 
 Of course, neither Jones nor Lady Brading had the 
 slightest need of an introduction, beyond the mention of 
 the name. Everything of that sort had been done in 
 advance. Margery knew everything of note about Mar- 
 maduke through Charles, more than she wanted. Jones 
 knew all that was necessary about her, namely that she 
 was Shovell's stepsister, and Mrs. Shovell's first cousin on 
 the father's side. Her name had been flung about during 
 the railway journey from the West, when he compiled, 
 quite involuntarily, Violet's family history. Of course, 
 if she was a kind of sister, it justified Shovell's manner 
 to her more or less, even the way he was holding her 
 arm. Besides, her soft eyes were seraphically innocent 
 of all wrong, and when Mrs. Shovell insinuated her hand 
 into the other arm, she shook Charles off at once; so 
 Jones forgave her, by degrees. He tried not to listen to 
 the girls' conversation, but owing to Charles' rapt admira- 
 tion of his stepsister, and the view, and anything but 
 Jones, he heard it all. 
 
 " Come back and see Maud," said Mrs. Shovell in 
 confidence, straightening Margery's tie, which hilarity in 
 the chair had discomposed. " Charles told you she was 
 coming, didn't he ? Isn't it breathless ? " 
 
 " It's miraculous," said Margery, and her tone was 
 awed. " How on earth did you do it, darling? " 
 
 " I am really not quite sure," said Jones' hostess, still
 
 MAUD 361 
 
 in earnest confidence. " I think it must be what Charles 
 calls a conjugation of the stars. She refused me twice 
 in the autumn, with absolutely no excuse. The fowls are 
 not, you know : they would lay their eggs tidily, just the 
 same. They couldn't help it, since Maud has brought 
 them up and taught them manners. Nor is the fact that 
 Maud has no clothes, that is a reason to come and see 
 me. Now it's the third time, just like a fairy-tale, 
 and she is coming ! Maud is to rise on London to-night." 
 
 " The Maud will rise in the extreme west," said 
 Charles in the background, " paralyzing the astronomers." 
 
 " I could never get her," said Margery, " even for a 
 night. Excuses wasn't the word. She suspects snares, 
 even when Bob is away. When he's at home, of course, 
 she thinks we shall take her to Court every day, and ask 
 the Prime Minister to meet her. It's a real miracle, 
 Violet, just like you." 
 
 " I simply stared at the post-card," said Mrs. Shovell. 
 " I thought I must have overlooked a negative some- 
 where, but Charles looked too." 
 
 " Bet you she'll be prevented at the last minute," said 
 Charles in the background. " Take either of you two 
 to one." 
 
 " Charles doesn't want her," said Violet. " He says I 
 can't want looking after any more, and he is sick of 
 female fusses, and that it's rot. Those are some of the 
 things he says. But, of course, unless Mamma had said 
 that to Maud about my necessitous condition " 
 
 " Exactly," said Lady Brading, nodding secretly. " She 
 knows her." 
 
 " She may, of course, go straight back to Glasswell by 
 the evening train," said Violet, looking piteous, " when 
 she finds how exuberantly capable I am. I shall have to 
 put it on, I am afraid, a little. Only if I do, Charles 
 will instantly give me away. That's the worst of him 
 lately, he calls it nerves. I can do what he calls the 
 sofa-trick beautifully, though the bed-and-breakfast has
 
 362 DUKE JONES 
 
 got rusty a little. Yet I think, for Maud, I must. Don't 
 you, Margery ? Just one morning, to cheer her." 
 
 " Do, darling," said Margery earnestly. Jones noticed 
 that her seraphic eyes were very tender, as she clasped 
 the slighter girl. 
 
 " It is only the debut that matters," said Violet, " to 
 get her well-planted, like a pea. After that, Maud will 
 grow nicely in my drawing-room, for weeks." 
 
 Jones listened to all this, astonished. It was not the 
 presentation of Maud that astonished him, he knew all 
 about the lady. She was Lady Brading's sister, the elder 
 Miss Gibbs, the daughter of a clergyman in the country, 
 somewhere in Kent, Jones believed. It was Mrs. Sho veil's 
 references to herself that astonished him, for, personally, 
 he thought she was looking far from exuberant, hardly 
 even well. It was true, she was not wrapped in a shawl, 
 as he vaguely expected, and reclining with languid eyes 
 fixed on nothing particular in the distant landscape, her 
 eyes were very bright indeed, and she spoke with her 
 accustomed neat rapidity. She was not even, he noticed 
 it with a nameless thrill, wearing mourning. Shovell 
 wore the badges of sorrow in their simplest form, but 
 she was welcoming summer in delicate gray. There was 
 not a touch of black on her from head to foot, unless her 
 own dark hair: for her little feet were shod in a dusky 
 color, the color of peaty soil, that made Marmaduke 
 think at once of the velvety sweet-pea seeds he had been 
 putting in the earth that morning. Margery remarked 
 on them too, just before Charles dragged her away. 
 
 " Dear, what ducky little shoes. Where do you find 
 things ? I should never think of shoes that color " 
 
 " Which is why you don't find them," moralized 
 Charles, pulling at her gently. " Shoes the color of every 
 woman's thoughts are to be found in London, stockings 
 too. You never saw anything like her stockings " 
 
 " Will you be quiet, Charlie ? He's too awful, isn't 
 he, Mr. Jones? That's the way he's going on, I expect, 
 and I shall be quite helpless."
 
 MAUD 363 
 
 So Margery, still protesting, was practically lifted out 
 of the garden by Mr. Shovell, in the direction of the 
 train they must have missed. Jones was certain he was 
 too familiar, and sensitive witnesses must be pained ; but, 
 obedient to direction, he went with the pair to the gate, 
 listening to their intimate converse all the way, and 
 carrying Lady Brading's puppy by a section of his volu- 
 minous scruff. The puppy had exhibited a strong inclina- 
 tion to stay with Mrs. Shovell, or at least in the neigh- 
 borhood of her seedlings and her peat-colored shoes. 
 Jones understood it very well, and he drove the puppy 
 on the path of duty with marked benevolence before he 
 returned himself to her side. 
 
 Charles and Margery, as eventually appeared, missed 
 the train they wanted, but caught another, which proved 
 to be the one they should have taken. This was illus- 
 trative of the way Charles went through life, fortune 
 assisting him at every turn. They had a thoroughly de- 
 lightful walk, and thought themselves extremely clever 
 into the bargain. 
 
 Between Marmaduke and Violet, left on the grass 
 together for two hours and more, nothing happened of 
 any moment, except in the inner workings of her mind. 
 A great deal happened there, as usual; but we do not 
 intend to weary the reader with it, since it was very 
 quiet and private thinking, as usual, at top speed. Jones, 
 close to her as he was, saw none of it; and yet he saw 
 every detail of herself and her doings, all the time. 
 
 It was not what is called a confidential dialogue, though 
 easy, as their talk had been from first meeting, with the 
 ease of natural understanding and mutual trust. On all 
 the essentials of life and living, these two extremely 
 dissimilar persons, man and woman, were at one. They 
 knew it so well that they barely touched upon essentials, 
 ever. They talked of passing things with their tongues, 
 as people do, and their spirits conversed meanwhile. He 
 did not commiserate her even; he could not, when the 
 other lively pair were gone, and, sitting near her, he saw
 
 364 DUKE JONES 
 
 the expression of her face. The effect of anguish and 
 sorrow on a young face is to add no lines, she seemed 
 to Marmaduke in many ways younger than ever ; perhaps 
 because she had been obliged to submit to compassion 
 and assistance, to lay, at least for a period, her anxieties 
 in other hands. But for all that, sorrow's seal was there ; 
 whenever her mouth lay still for a moment, he saw it 
 clearly, not the weak thing resignation, but the proud 
 line cut by grief. And lightly as she chattered to him, 
 doing more than her share of the entertainment, as usual, 
 and smiling readily, the shadow of sorrow's close 
 acquaintance was in her eyes. 
 
 He saw her eyes rarely: for she was sitting parallel 
 with him, and during the pauses of their talk she was 
 reviewing the beds in front of her. They were talking 
 of gardening, since she had instantly tracked down his 
 fad. He was boasting all gardeners boast, even Marma- 
 duke of his country triumphs : so it was natural that a 
 Londoner should dream. The hopes of that season for 
 a town garden were already over. Little would come in 
 any case, Violet knew, of those seeds the puppy had dis- 
 turbed. But she did not want, she assured Mr. Jones, 
 to be reminded too frequently of her limitations and the 
 fate that was in store. 
 
 " You are right, to discourage me," she assured him 
 crisply, at one point. " You mean extremely well. . . . 
 But remember, please, I am living my first year. I never 
 had any garden at all before, to ponder about. The first 
 year, you make silly plans, and hope for impossibilities, 
 and learn by black experience." She lifted her gray 
 eyes once to the chimney-pots, and dropped them on the 
 beds again. 
 
 Jones was silent, incapable of speech. Who could have 
 answered that? the hopes of a first year: and yet she 
 was simply talking of her flowers, no shadow of other 
 complaint. It was Jones who complained. What " silly 
 plans " had she not made, for that first child ? Whither
 
 MAUD 365 
 
 had her deep thoughts, her delicate imagination, not 
 conveyed her? What, even to his knowledge, had her 
 fingers, those lovely little fingers clasped about her gray 
 skirts, not prepared? Jones knew all, he knew far too 
 much, and he could only pray that, as ever, she would 
 speak again and save his utterance. 
 
 She did. Slipping from flower-land by a natural prog- 
 ress, she talked of Lisette. She told him, rather shyly, 
 how pleased she and her father were at his idea; and 
 she praised Lisette, as she had praised the flowers, with 
 words of which Jones could never have thought; words 
 which suggested color, reached the velvet texture of life, 
 like the incomparable touches of Ledger's paint-brush 
 on the ivory. And then she said, he was sure it was 
 herself speaking, not Sir Claude, how well it would 
 be for that boy to feel he had a name and a father, from 
 the first ; and how he might be saved by Jones' proceed- 
 ing from the bitterest grudge a human soul can bear, a 
 grudge against the unalterable laws of society ; and from 
 that viler thing, a dim resentment, never failing, strength- 
 ening with his own strength, against his mother's weak- 
 ness. 
 
 "I'd thought of that," said Jones. "I mean, I'd 
 thought of it more or less. I think I could do it all right, 
 see that he never knew, I mean. Of course, he'd take 
 the name." 
 
 " And she's so lovely ! " said Violet, as a climax to all, 
 relapsing into her chair. She shut her eyes, as though to 
 see that remembered loveliness. 
 
 " Yes," said Marmaduke, looking at her. 
 
 " In short, I congratulate you," said Mrs. Shovell, 
 opening her eyes again, and sitting up unexpectedly. 
 " May I ? " She held out her hand. 
 
 " It's awfully kind of you," said Jones. " I haven't 
 asked her yet, you know, but I'm pretty sure." 
 
 " So is Father," said Violet. " He's horribly penetrat- 
 ing. You needn't be afraid."
 
 366 DUKE JONES 
 
 Thus half Charles' bet was safe, the negative half. 
 For, at that swift crisis, quite unforeseen, her presence 
 close to him, her joy in his supposed joy presented almost 
 tangibly, and her delicate hand in his, Jones did not lose 
 his head. He barely blinked under it: and he answered 
 her in a string of his accustomed platitudes, unmoved. 
 
 After that necessary formality, they settled to nothings 
 again, contented equally to have disposed of it, since he 
 was awkward, as she was shy. Jones rose to leave at 
 last, for he was sure he had tired her sufficiently ; and if 
 the elder Miss Gibbs was coming, as she had said, to early 
 tea, one person at a time was quite enough for her, and 
 she could rest in her long chair, and shut her eyes at 
 her leisure, between. 
 
 When he was quite close to her, taking his leave, and 
 she least expecting it, he said 
 
 " Mrs. Shovell " 
 
 She turned her head and looked up, for she had not 
 risen. He colored, but not much. 
 
 " Miss Lisette gave me a message yesterday. I ought 
 to have told you sooner, really. It was about those little 
 baby's clothes." 
 
 " Yes ? " Her eyes were leveled steadily ; only, she 
 seemed helpless to rise, as she had intended, and lay, her 
 clenched hands beside her. Jones' eyes avoided her, but 
 he saw it all. 
 
 " She is not clever at sewing, so she can't copy them, 
 she is afraid. But she will keep them to look at a little, 
 and give the maid an idea. Then she will send them 
 back." 
 
 "Why?" said Mrs. Shovell, biting her lip. "Don't 
 they fit him? I chose the big ones on purpose, I had 
 got well ahead." 
 
 To be sure she had, she would: she had dressed that 
 dream-child of hers for six months in advance, he was 
 very sure. 
 
 " They said he was so splendid," she pushed swiftly
 
 MAUD 367 
 
 on, looking about her, not at him. " I haven't seen. So 
 I sent the last set for him. Only the littlest, the first I 
 made, I kept." 
 
 One hand was clenched, up against her breast, he 
 knew that sensitive gesture well. He was discomposing 
 her terribly, shaming her, angering her for all he knew : 
 but it must be done. 
 
 " She can't," he insisted. " Can't take them, no 
 girl could, least of all her, and now. Big or little, you 
 must keep them, stick to them all. Shovell " 
 
 " It's my work," she said, in a flash, " not Charles'. 
 Every stitch is mine." 
 
 " That's what she hadn't thought of," he said, "Miss 
 Lisette. The maid told her it was shop work, couldn't 
 be yours. That's where the mistake was, really." 
 
 " Then there was a mistake." She was upon him. 
 " Who undeceived her ? " 
 
 Taken aback, he could not answer; but of course she 
 saw, in a flash of her bright eyes. 
 
 " What made you think I had made them ? " She 
 flashed at him again. " Why can you not let Lisette take 
 happily ? Lisettes always do. Do you think I did it with- 
 out considering? Do you know how I thought while I 
 made them, Mr. Jones? Since she wants them, and I 
 don't now, why not? I had sooner some child wore 
 them, I had sooner, it is not pose." 
 
 " Some child will." He did not say it, but it was in 
 every line of his face. His face was not ordinary at 
 the minute, it had a man's full share of feeling. What 
 he said was: 
 
 " It's beastly cheek of me, Mrs. Shovell. I'm afraid 
 you're vexed." 
 
 She was. She lost her temper completely. She said 
 half a dozen keen things in succession, ridiculously like 
 Claude. Only Marmaduke hardly knew Claude at pres- 
 ent, and respected him too much, in any case, to draw 
 such comparisons. She flew at Jones, and pulled him
 
 368 DUKE JONES 
 
 all about with her indignant tongue, the flag of outraged 
 susceptibility still in her face. 
 
 It was Violet's opinion that, before a girl had accepted 
 Mr. Jones, it looked something like presumption, on his 
 part, to manage her like that. Lisette might refuse him, 
 very likely would. She was not used to being lectured, 
 and had a particular abhorrence, having been brought 
 up by a holy aunt at Torquay, of pietistic sentiments. 
 . . . Her own instincts, to Violet's ideas, were ex- 
 tremely pretty and delicate, quite as likely to be just as 
 better people's second-hand exhortations, with perfectly 
 accurate quotations at intervals. Personally, Violet did 
 not care for that either, it was a matter of taste. . . . 
 Mr. Jones was very much mistaken if he thought he 
 could work on Lisette, or ever make her much different 
 from what she was. He had better be warned in time. 
 Quite superior people Violet could think of, in Lisette's 
 neighborhood, had not even tried that, knew it was bet- 
 ter not. She had a heavenly little nature, of which it 
 was possible for persons who lived by mere catchwords, 
 as somebody or other said, to be densely oblivious. (A 
 pause, with bitten lip, to see if Mr. Jones would resent 
 it, which he did not.) In matters of that sort, he would 
 have done much better to leave two women alone: that 
 is, unless he enjoyed hearing the truth from one or the 
 other, as she could not but trust he had heard it, from 
 her cousin, already. 
 
 In short, it became clear to the meanest intelligence, in 
 the course of these remarks of Mrs. Shovell's, that Jones 
 was quite unworthy of Lisette. 
 
 Of course, if Violet had realized how fascinating she 
 was when she lost her temper she would not have done 
 it: but in the nature of things, she could not pause to 
 think of that. She was at a terrible mental crisis, 
 rather alarmed at the situation, to tell the truth, and had 
 to relieve her desperate feelings somehow. When she 
 stopped, breathless, and looked about her at the garden,
 
 MAUD 369 
 
 Jones was glad, in one way, it was over ; but, since he had 
 lost the straight gleam of her eyes, almost wished she 
 would start again. That clean cutting of the Ash wins, 
 though it might lacerate at the moment, never rankled. 
 Jones was deeply pained at having offended her, as he 
 thought; but he remained standing by her, erect though 
 submissive; her ill-treatment had not yet driven him 
 away. 
 
 After a pause, she got up, and, of course, he followed. 
 On her feet Mrs. Shovell turned stately, magnificent to 
 a degree. Jones had never seen this before, though 
 Charles could have warned him of its existence. She 
 walked with him to the garden door, and so to the gate : 
 pale again, very cool in her gray clothes, stepping daintily 
 on her peat-colored shoes, holding her head on her little 
 neck with the loftiness of the whole line of her Ingestre 
 ancestors, making an occasional correct remark, and 
 thinking, had he known it, passionately in between. The 
 effect upon Jones was appalling, far worse than the first 
 phase of her anger, and he felt he had lost her for ever. 
 
 But still, he did not regret. Come what would of it, he 
 could not let Lisette assume all, all to the bitter end, even 
 the dreams of her fingers, as she sat sewing and thinking, 
 that whole winter long. It was just the straw too much, 
 even for Jones' charity, that. He was absolutely, obsti- 
 nately sure that he was right, even if she quarreled with 
 him. 
 
 She did not. On the door-step, at the very outpost of 
 her territory, to which she had thus shown him with the 
 aloofness of a queen, she relented. Quite without warn- 
 ing, she changed again. She leant on the gate, and with 
 a glimmer of mischief, just discernible, gave him an invi- 
 tation. Marmaduke, astonished and overcome at such 
 sudden forgiveness, such an unforeseen relapse from the 
 Alpine heights of austerity to their first and most ancient 
 comradeship, for she jested as she spoke, accepted 
 instantly, without stopping to consider if he had an en-
 
 370 DUKE JONES 
 
 gagement for the night in question. (Eventually he dis- 
 covered that he had, and lied to the other fellow, instead 
 of telling the truth to her.) Mrs. Shovell said that it was 
 a great relief to her to be sure of him, and Charles would 
 be so glad to be let off dressing, if Mr. Jones could bear 
 it. Jones, venturing to be faintly amused, could bear it 
 very well. Whereupon Mrs. Shovell, still leaning on the 
 gate, made half-a-dozen rapid remarks about nothing 
 particular in the street before her, all of which struck 
 Jones as rather funny afterwards: said she hoped Mr. 
 Jones had not really taken her seriously, ever, since it 
 was not worth it, and people who knew her never did, 
 and vanished from him up the steps into her own house 
 in a flight. 
 
 As to this last remarkable and undignified piece of 
 behavior on Mrs. Shovell's part, Jones did not take offense 
 at it, or regard it very seriously even, because, unlike all 
 the rest, he was used to it. It was part of his memories, 
 and the best part. During her honeymoon, on days of 
 mental exaltation, or under the influence of a sudden 
 happy idea, she used to fly about like that: take Shovell 
 from the rear sometimes, and nearly knock him down be- 
 fore he brought her to her bearings, so to speak. Shovell 
 had always stood it well, uncomplaining, as though it was 
 part of the job he had undertaken in marrying her, so 
 Jones accepted it likewise. Yet it was peculiar to her : he 
 had never noticed any other young lady married young 
 lady do the same thing ; so it had gone down among his 
 more sober memories of that unequaled holiday unaware. 
 
 ii 
 
 When Charles and Margery came home, dirty but se- 
 rene, they found Violet in her accustomed place in one 
 corner of the sofa, sitting demurely with her hands 
 folded, in reach of the tea-tray. Two cups on the tray 
 had been used, and Charles looked at them with suspicion. 
 Obviously, if Jones had prolonged his call through tea-
 
 MAUD 371 
 
 time, either Violet had failed to see through him, and the 
 bet was waste paper, or, having found him out, she had 
 been encouraging him deliberately, which her husband 
 would not like to think of her. 
 
 He pointed to the two cups, mutely, with a certain 
 marital severity. 
 
 " Maud," said Violet : the one word. She seemed to 
 rouse from abstraction and refrained from turning her 
 eyes on Charles. This looked rather well for the bet, so 
 Charles melted. 
 
 " Marmaduke gone, darling? " he said lightly. " Was 
 his conduct all we should expect, or otherwise?" 
 
 " All you would have expected," said Violet. That was 
 bad. A third and fearful possibility struck Charles, that 
 she had always known, and knew now that they were 
 waiting for her to betray herself. Feeling the need of 
 support, suddenly, he turned about. 
 
 " Maud's come and Marmaduke's gone, Margery. Are 
 you ever coming in ? " 
 
 " I can't stop," called Margery. " I'm only putting the 
 flowers in a bath for Violet." 
 
 " Delicious," called Violet back. " What have you? " 
 
 " Quite indescribable," said Margery. " We dragged 
 up a whole wood, I did, that is. Between that and the 
 dog, I'm black from head to foot. Charlie wasn't the 
 least assistance, with either. He only stood about, quot- 
 ing Shakespeare, while I struggled." 
 
 " How did he get black, then ? " asked Violet, as 
 Margery, unruffled and angelic as ever, entered with the 
 " bath." " Just holding on to you? " 
 
 " Scandalous," said Lady Brading in confidence. " And 
 the things he says, he's far worse than he used to be." 
 
 " Just what I told Mother of you," said Charles, eating. 
 " Have some cake." He looked at Margery with meaning, 
 and winked the eye that was nearer Violet. 
 
 " No, I shan't stop," said Margery. " She has had 
 quite enough nonsense. Her eyes are tired."
 
 372 DUKE JONES 
 
 Charles took, or tried to take, an observation of Violet's 
 eyes. He was just too late. 
 
 " Maud has gone to her room to unpack," said Violet to 
 Margery. " She says she always does it at once on arrival, 
 when she has had a cup of tea. As she has never arrived 
 anywhere before, I did not see how she could argue it ; but 
 I let her alone, carefully. She told me to sit here till she 
 came down, with this silk thing over me : so I did. And 
 not to try to do anything else: so I didn't." 
 
 " How long," Charles demanded, " was it between Mar- 
 maduke's departure and Maud's arrival ? " 
 
 " Twenty-five minutes, dear. Why ? " 
 
 " You didn't go to sleep, then ? " 
 
 " To sleep ? No, why should I ? " She glanced at him, 
 and he saw her eyes. All Charles' airy spirits awoke and 
 sang. The bet was won, she had been crying ! Then, all 
 his airy spirits sank again. Brute that he was, she need 
 not have been crying about that ! 
 
 " Come and see Maud soon," said Violet, as Margery 
 bent over her to say good night. " And bring us Bobbin." 
 
 " Don't ! " muttered Charles, just audible. After a 
 minute, as Lady Brading did not move, he grew impatient. 
 " There's that brute squealing, Margery," he said. 
 " You'd better go." 
 
 For some reason, it was not tolerable to Charles that 
 Margery should pity Violet. He was inclined to defend 
 her angrily against the pity of all the world. Pity, indeed ! 
 
 As his stepsister, urged by a meaning tug, turned about, 
 he spoke instantly in his ordinary tone. " Do I conduct 
 you to your carriage, darling ? I forget. Do I do that for 
 the baronet's wives, V., or only for the baronesses ? " 
 
 " You sit where you are," said Margery, " and finish 
 your cake, and try not to be a donkey. I am sure she does 
 not want donkeys to-night." 
 
 " While thou my amiable cheeks do coy," murmured 
 Charles. " And kiss my fair large ears I say, good 
 thing Brading's not here, isn't it ? Ripping good cake this 
 is of Alison's. Mind if I bring it out? "
 
 MAUD 373 
 
 When he came back to the drawing-room from speeding 
 Margery, and resumed the cake he had left behind him, 
 for Charles' bad manners never went beyond speech, even 
 with his sisters, Violet was in the same position, the 
 kettle was boiling furiously, and Maud, he much feared 
 by distant sounds, was about to descend from her room. 
 Really, with one's so-called relations prying at every turn, 
 a fellow never got any privacy. Charles advanced to the 
 tray, and with the exertion of huge effort, blew out the 
 flame. 
 
 " Lot of good you are in a house, V.," he then observed : 
 and dropped, cake in hand, by her side on the sofa. 
 " Why," he inquired in confidence, " does the in- 
 fernal thing- still go on boiling, when I' ve put out 
 the flame ? " 
 
 " Because infernal things do," said Violet. " It's the 
 heat." She relapsed into reflection. She looked tired and 
 disheartened. Charles began to wonder, with vague re- 
 sentmenj:, what the little beast Jones had said to her. He 
 also reflected that it is singularly useless making bets if 
 you cannot enjoy winning them. He was pretty sure he 
 had won. 
 
 " Have some cake ? " he ventured soon. 
 
 " No, thank you, dear : I've finished." But, recognizing 
 the overture, as she always did, she laid her little clenched 
 hand in his palm, which lay open invitingly. Hers was 
 rather cold: but since Charles was radiantly warm with 
 food and exercise, that could be remedied. They were at 
 this perfect moment of opening confidence, and he was 
 sure he would soon have had her talking to him, confess- 
 ing to him, admitting (possibly) his superior wisdom and 
 knowledge of men, telling him all sorts of things besides, 
 her heavenly thoughts, which he longed to know, when 
 Maud came in. Is a man not justified in declaring such 
 as Maud superfluous in the world? 
 
 " Charlie dear," said Maud, and kissed him. Both his 
 stepsisters did this frequently, and Charles had no objec- 
 tion. Broadly speaking, they were nice girls to have
 
 374 DUKE JONES 
 
 about : pleasant, soft of voice, thoughtful for others, and 
 both far above the average in looks. Maud was nearly as 
 pretty as Margery, really, and though a little older than 
 Charles, and seven years older than her sister and Violet, 
 had not yet touched the barrier of the thirties. In her 
 place, in short, Maud was excellent and even ornamental, 
 but Charles thought Violet was wrong as to her place 
 being here. It was clearly with the chickens, at home. 
 
 " You might get up, lazy," said Violet. " It's not as if 
 we had Maud to stay with us every day." 
 
 " By the mercy of heaven," said Charles' expression. 
 Nor did he get up. He could not, since Violet had trusted 
 him, temporarily, with her hand. 
 
 " How do you think she looks ? " said Charles carelessly. 
 
 " She would look much better, to my mind," said Maud, 
 " if you let her have all the sofa. That is how I left her. 
 That is what I advise." 
 
 Of course she did: sure to advise the most repulsive 
 course conceivable. Charles leant back, elaborately at his 
 ease. He was the master of this house, after all. He 
 sought subjects to distract Maud's attention. 
 
 " How's Mr. Shepherd ? " he inquired. Mr. Shepherd 
 was the curate at Glasswell, Maud's one hope in life, 
 according to Charles. 
 
 " For the minute, I hardly know," said Maud, consider- 
 ing. " He had rather a bad cold on Friday, and I took his 
 boys. He is away for the week-end, staying with her fam- 
 ily. I was telling Violet how glad we all are. Her family 
 are presenting Mr. Shepherd to the living. Isn't it nice? " 
 
 Well, if this was the tragedy of Maud's life, she was 
 certainly disguising her feelings very well. That was just 
 like Maud, disappointing everyone's kind hopes for her, 
 and pursuing her private way with a smile. 
 
 " Do you like London, Maud ? " said Charles, having 
 reviewed such openings as remained. 
 
 " A very heartless question, poor darling," said Violet, 
 " considering that no one met her and made her comfort-
 
 MAUD 375 
 
 able. I made our excuses, Charles, each with a visitor. 
 It was unlucky." 
 
 Had she expected that of him, thought Charles, amazed. 
 As if unmarried girls could not always, in these days, 
 shift for themselves! And as if Margery were not ten 
 times more interesting company ! 
 
 " If you had come to the station, Violet," said Maud 
 quietly, " I should have been extremely angry." 
 
 " Rot," said Charles in haste. " She's all right now." 
 
 " She looks better," said Maud, with a critical glance. 
 " I didn't like her looks at all when I first came. I was 
 surprised a little, Charles, to find her alone." 
 
 How had Maud found her, he wondered. 
 
 " That's because a bore came to call," he explained. 
 " She couldn't get rid of him, you can't always. She 
 was telling me." 
 
 " She told me," said Maud, " she had had a beautifully 
 quiet afternoon, sitting in the garden. You can imagine 
 which of you I believe." 
 
 She was really rather severe. Charles began to consider 
 possible sops for Maud. 
 
 " Margery's got a dinner and theater-party on Mon- 
 day," he remarked. " Rather a jolly piece, I've seen it. 
 Do all right for you, I think. Margery didn't exactly 
 leave a message, but " 
 
 Violet's hand gripped his. 
 
 " It's all right, darling," she said soothingly, to Maud's 
 startled face. " The party has been made up for months. 
 They haven't possibly room for you, and Margery is 
 terribly sorry. I was to tell you how terribly sorry she 
 was." 
 
 Maud's face grew more tranquil, though still nervous. 
 She could not bear big parties, and noisy festivity, and 
 going out. Nobody ever understood the point to which 
 she could not bear it, except Violet. Violet was quite 
 safe. That was why Maud had come to her, partly: 
 partly because Maud was, by birth, one of the daughters
 
 376 DUKE JONES 
 
 of consolation, who are drawn, as though by a magnet, 
 towards suffering, however quiet and well-disguised. 
 
 Charles, disappointed of the opportunity of getting rid 
 of Maud, for at least one night, was consoled by listening 
 to the ensuing conversation, for Violet had been aroused. 
 They talked like girls, of all kinds of odd things, personal 
 details, chatter of Maud's parish, news of the family, news 
 of the family animals, carelessly exchanged. Any girl can 
 play hostess to another girl, of course, but Violet did it 
 differently. Charles watched Maud's face, nervous to 
 begin with, and saw the look come over it that he knew in 
 people who talked to Violet, softened and amused. She 
 roused on her side, smiled, answered with mild drollery, 
 and Charles began to forgive her. But he still wished she 
 would leave the room: because, among other things, he 
 wanted to find out, for poor Margery's sake, about the bet. 
 
 In a long, comfortable pause, during which Maud could 
 easily have got away, with an easy excuse, to fetch some- 
 thing, she produced instead a piece of knitting from a 
 black silk bag, and settled contentedly in a low chair. 
 Charles, his eyes cast down, manoeuvred to capture Vio- 
 let's other hand, when an interesting point of Maud's 
 work should give him the opportunity. The trouble was, 
 like most good knitters, she did not seem to be dependent 
 on her eyes. 
 
 " Maud, dear," said Violet delicately, moving a little 
 away from Charles, and breaking the silence, " you 
 wouldn't be worried by a small, home dinner-party to- 
 morrow, would you? Sunday supper, nothing formal, 
 you know. As small as possible, naturally. I am not 
 seeing people much." 
 
 Charles looked round surprised. It was true she had 
 not been seeing people, rather rigid about it. This was 
 a new departure. 
 
 " Are you sure you can stand it, dear? " said Maud. 
 
 " Quite. It would be a nice change. I do so want to 
 introduce you to a friend of ours," said Violet. " A Mr. 
 Jones."
 
 MAUD 377 
 
 " Of course I shall be delighted," said Maud, with pro- 
 priety. " It's sweet of you to think of it ; but you really 
 oughtn't to bother about me. What's the matter with 
 Charlie?" 
 
 Charles, who had gaped during Violet's delicate open- 
 ing, had at the conclusion collapsed in ecstasy, a sofa- 
 cushion pressed passionately over his face to conceal it. 
 There he remained, gasping, for some minutes. When the 
 cushion dropped, still in a collapsed state, and looking 
 quite anguished, he spoke in a weak tone : 
 
 " She'll put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes. 
 Forty minutes ? ye gods ! Give her twenty-five." 
 
 " Don't mind him, dearest," said Violet to Maud, who 
 looked puzzled. " That's the way he talks, sometimes. 
 He has taken to reading Shakespeare lately, and it goes to 
 his head. I always thought Shakespeare a dangerous 
 author, didn't you? " 
 
 Her face was turned towards Maud as she explained, 
 but her eyes were sidelong upon Charles, watching him 
 with an apprehensive gleam. She trusted, she did trust, 
 he would follow her tactics, and not give her and her 
 nice new-built castles away. He must see the necessity of 
 remaining quiet, at least till Maud went upstairs to dress. 
 Maud was a very peculiar girl: delightful, but entirely 
 exceptional among Violet's acquaintance: and, since 
 Maud was an Ash win, Violet knew her very well. If 
 Maud thought Mr. Jones was being thrown at her, sus- 
 pected it even, she would never, never consider him. And 
 Violet did want her to consider him, and save him, if it 
 could be done, from himself, and this frightful mistake he 
 was committing now in marrying Lisette, Lisette, of 
 all girls in heaven or earth, out of charity! Charles 
 must see! 
 
 Charles did see, by degrees, thinking it over, in a con- 
 tinual and contained ecstasy, at Violet's side. It was so 
 like her, so exactly " her style " to solve a situation 
 which had embarrassed, alarmed, and made her miserable, 
 for full five and twenty minutes' painful thinking, just in
 
 378 DUKE JONES 
 
 this way. Perhaps even for less, he could not guess how 
 quickly she had done it, after Marmaduke's departure, but 
 there were the results. A new plan, a palace rising on the 
 wreck of the old, a most unassailable castle in Spain. 
 Charles' critical mind attacked it on every side, quite 
 fruitlessly. The more he thought, first of Marmaduke, 
 and then of Maud, the more he saw the instinctive art of 
 it. They were made for one another: every point was 
 right. It was a thousand times better than Mr. Shepherd, 
 who had really been, Charles now admitted, an infernal 
 ass. It was only as Maud's one chance in life that anyone 
 had thought of the curate, since she would not see people, 
 pay visits, and so get a chance at other men. And now, if 
 Violet sent her back to her parents, engaged to Jones, 
 with his motor, and his money, his country tastes, and his 
 blameless record ! it was simply too glorious a last chap- 
 ter to the narrative almost too good to be true. 
 
 " He will still be our cousin," breathed Charles between 
 his teeth, his eyes dancing, as he lay prostrate, his dis- 
 carded cushion slipping towards Violet, and Violet's hand, 
 with half her arm, drawn towards him under that con- 
 venient cover. Mrs. Shovell appeared to hear nothing, 
 looking pensively upon Maud, her guest. She drew from 
 Charles as much as she dared, and only when he abso- 
 lutely hurt her, frowned at him. She knew he wanted to 
 bear-fight, very well. His blue eyes, carelessly admiring 
 as they were, had a dangerous spark. She had laid her- 
 self open to teasing, naturally, violent teasing, teasing 
 without end, but if Mr. Jones and Maud were happy, 
 and Lisette, her pearl of pearls, held high above sacrilege 
 still, it was worth it, a thousand times. Violet's pale face 
 was triumphant, in spite of all, and her elvish little 
 pointed chin tilted in defiance of the scoffer. She was 
 shamed, rightfully shamed, since Charles had seen 
 through him, and she, idiot that she was, had not, but 
 she was not defeated, yet. 
 
 " What's Charlie talking about ? " said Miss Gibbs 
 presently.
 
 MAUD 379 
 
 " Whispering, it's very rude," said Violet. " I have a 
 great deal of bother with his manners still, Maud. I think 
 you girls spoilt him, down at Glass well." 
 
 " Hasn't he any work ? " said Maud, looking critically 
 at her stepbrother's attitude. Now this was the Saturday 
 before Whit-Monday. It seemed to be Maud's idea that 
 men always had something in hand, like women, at all 
 hours of the day. 
 
 " Lots," said Charles. " And, by the way, Violet, there's 
 a metrical point I want to ask you about, in that text. 
 There are two or three readings to choose from. Mind 
 coming to the study a minute ? " 
 
 " She certainly won't stir," said Maud briskly. " I'm 
 surprised at you, Charles. Texts, indeed ! " 
 
 " Not your sort of texts," said Charles. A pause. " I 
 say, V.," he said presently. " Maud would like to see her 
 room, wouldn't she ? " 
 
 " I've seen it," said Maud. " It's absolutely sweet, 
 much too good for me really." Maud had the same room 
 as Miss Addenbroke, the Wrangler. 
 
 " I want to talk to Violet, privately," remarked Charles. 
 
 " You want to worry her," said Maud. " I know. I 
 am replacing Mamma, and I don't intend to leave Violet 
 at your mercy." 
 
 " My mercy ! Cheek ! Maud, you beastly spin- 
 ster " 
 
 " Charles ! How dare you ? " hotly, from Maud's 
 hostess. 
 
 " Maud," Charles tried once more, " when you come 
 to stay with married people " 
 
 " You forget I live with married people," said Maud. 
 " I know just what to do." 
 
 " She means my mother and her father," said Charles, 
 to Violet. " That's what she means." 
 
 " Well, they're married," said Maud. 
 
 " Doubly," said Charles. " I mean, each of 'em twice. 
 But that's not the point." 
 
 " Papa and Mamma have not been married so long,"
 
 380 DUKE JONES 
 
 said Miss Gibbs, turning her knitting. She looked at 
 Charles. " When did you first come to the house, dear, I 
 forget. About " 
 
 She was interrupted. " When did you first come to my 
 house ? " said Mr. Shovell fiercely, sitting up. " About an 
 hour ago. And you can't leave the room, when I suggest 
 to you, in a series of delicate hints " 
 
 " Delicate ! " said Violet. 
 
 " That I want to discuss the details of a nice dinner- 
 party in your honor to-morrow, with my wife, out of your 
 hearing." 
 
 " That's what you want, is it ? " said Maud. " Why 
 didn't you say so ? Shall I go, darling ? I really ought to 
 write home, and I expect you should be resting properly." 
 Her tone, on the last phrase, changed to the tenderest 
 sympathy. 
 
 " There are writing things," said Violet, " in that corner 
 by the door: and stamps in the littlest box behind. If I 
 were you, dear, I should bring them over here. That 
 corner's so draughty." 
 
 Maud looked at her stepbrother in quiet triumph, as she 
 passed the sofa to the corner indicated. As she returned 
 from it, with Violet's desk and the littlest box of stamps, 
 she remarked suddenly, 
 
 " Charles, if you don't leave her alone this instant, I 
 shall put in a postscript to Mamma." 
 
 in 
 
 " No, darling, you do not," said Maud, when Violet 
 tried to make the coffee after dinner. " You can tell me, 
 from the sofa, exactly what to do." She took the things 
 out of her hands with mild decision. Maud was always 
 mild as milk, but decision was not the word for her. 
 
 " You are so unlike our last guest, Maud," said Violet, 
 from the distant sofa, gazing at her. It was odd, indeed, 
 to remember Honoria Addenbroke, across that gulf of 
 time, six months, and look at Maud Gibbs, tranquilly 
 making the coffee.
 
 MAUD 381 
 
 There was something faintly old-fashioned about Maud, 
 pretty and daintily finished as she was. It may have been 
 the arrangement of her hair, which she had never changed 
 since she was seventeen, coiling it neatly round her head : 
 or certain time-saving formalities of the same kind in her 
 dress, at least by day. At night, Maud just escaped the 
 puritanical, and let the world discover that she was not 
 entirely blind to her own attractions. 
 
 " I shall not do anything to your clothes," said Violet 
 thoughtfully, " at all. You know your own style, and have 
 the sense to stick to it. I should only dreadfully like you 
 to have a few more, darling. Just one really nice one, to 
 take back with you. We might shop to-morrow morning, 
 what do you say ? " 
 
 " There would hardly be time in the morning," replied 
 Maud. " You won't be getting up till eleven, at least." 
 
 " Shan't I ? How tiresome. I mean, how nice. How- 
 ever," said Violet dreamily, " there are weeks before us." 
 
 " Two," said Maud. " Papa will want me later in 
 June, for the farm." 
 
 She meant, for the farm accounts. Maud was not a 
 milkmaid, though she would have made a very pleasant 
 one : and her father was a beneficed clergyman, though in 
 June he worked in his fields, in an old straw hat. 
 
 " There's my bridesmaid's dress," Maud pursued on the 
 former theme. " Nothing could be sweeter than that. I 
 shall wear it to-morrow night for your party. And the 
 pendant Charlie gave me goes with it, naturally." 
 
 " But, darling," protested Violet. " I have been married 
 a year." 
 
 " I have only worn it once since, all the same," said 
 Maud. " I am sorry, love, since it is your invention, and 
 fitted me so beautifully: but really, at Glasswell, one's 
 nice things never see the light. . . . You may have a 
 little coffee," Maud added, thoughtfully pouring, " with 
 a great deal of milk in it, like that. Now, as it is horribly 
 hot, I shall cool it for you, with a spoon. Now, drink." 
 
 She had come to the sofa, and knelt down holding the
 
 382 DUKE JONES 
 
 cup. Violet laughed a little before she drank, but she 
 followed directions. This was Maud's way when anybody 
 had the least pretension to illness : and Maud considered 
 Violet ill, whatever she or anybody else might say about 
 it. Maud noticed the nice little maid, Annette, agreed 
 with her. She was assured by Annette that Madame did 
 far too much, and did not repose herself, or make herself 
 served, sufficiently. So Maud and Annette instantly 
 formed a compact, and hatched a plot: and Violet was, 
 for the period of Miss Gibbs' visit, very delicate. 
 
 " You haven't quite finished it," said Maud encourag- 
 ingly. " Drink it up. You shall think wise thoughts 
 afterwards." 
 
 " My thoughts are far from wise," said Violet. " I 
 was only wondering whether " 
 
 " You mustn't wonder," said Maud. " Whatever it is 
 is quite all right. Annette and I have seen to it. There's 
 a good girl " 
 
 She withdrew the empty cup and put it aside : but she 
 still knelt where she was by the sofa. It was long since 
 she had seen her cousin, whom she loved, now with the 
 admiration of a simpler nature, now with the protection 
 of an elder sister. Maud could talk much more freely to 
 Violet than to Margery, for reasons which all excellent 
 elder sisters will understand. She had " mothered " 
 Margery, with sedulous propriety, from the moment when 
 her own mother, in her last illness, put the charge in her 
 hands, to the moment when Sir Robert Brading relieved 
 her of it solemnly on Margery's wedding-day. Duty en- 
 tered all her thoughts of Margery, towards Violet she 
 had no obligation at all. It was a case of independent, 
 voluntary, rather audacious discovery on Maud's part, 
 and that made all the difference. 
 
 " Don't those young leaves smell heavenly? " said Vio- 
 let, reaching to a tapering branch of the bathful stand- 
 ing in the grate. " Margery brought them in. You and 
 Margery carry the country about with you, did you
 
 MAUD 383 
 
 know? It's simply all over you, in the nice way you 
 speak, and think, and among your hair. Do you remem- 
 ber at Glasswell, how Margery liked the red clover best, 
 and you the white? Well, that's just all the difference 
 between you. I would much sooner have you than a 
 Wrangler, Maud." 
 
 " You oughtn't ever to have nasty visitors," said Maud, 
 stroking down her hostess's hair attentively with both her 
 hands. Maud for Maud was being very foolish, it 
 may be mentioned. She was seldom like this at home, 
 had not shown a spark of such fancy since her cousin 
 Miss Ashwin had stayed there last. " That's how I like 
 it, over your ears, like it used to be at night when we slept 
 together. Now you are nice little Violet, give me that 
 other hand." 
 
 Mrs. Shovell did, and Maud very carefully took off her 
 wedding-ring, slipping it on to her own finger for safety. 
 
 " There," she said. " Now I can take care of Charlie, 
 and you are perfectly free. Doesn't it feel nicer, really ? " 
 
 " Much," said Violet, blinking. " Thank you, darling. 
 These are, beyond question, the most tactful attentions I 
 have received for a long time. You are extraordinarily 
 unlike a Wrangler. Do go on." 
 
 " There isn't much else to do," explained Maud. " Ex- 
 cept to take that necklace off, you weren't rich enough 
 for pearls at Glasswell ; at least, you pretended not. You 
 pretended to be just the same as we were, except when 
 you forgot. Margery and I always loved it when you 
 forgot, and used to look at one another and laugh. You 
 are really terribly, terribly grand inside, and if you had 
 been anyone else, would have thought us dull. Luckily 
 you were not anyone else, and you still are not, though 
 you have married Charlie. Margery has changed utterly, 
 but you are the same. Margery is hardly my sister now." 
 
 " Oh, my beloved," murmured Violet, " don't say so. 
 It's only the baby makes a difference, for the time. Per- 
 haps if "
 
 384 DUKE JONES 
 
 " No," said Maud. " // would have made no difference, 
 with you : and don't talk about it, or I shall cry. Besides, 
 you are not married, darling: I have got your ring." 
 
 " Is it all dreams ? " said Violet. 
 
 " All dreams." A long pause between the girls. " Vio- 
 let," said Maud presently, " do you know you never talked 
 to us of that. Nearly all the girls we knew talked stuff 
 about men, and jokes they hadn't any right to make. But 
 you never mentioned it. Were you shy ? " 
 
 " There are other things," said Mrs. Shovell, her eyes 
 turned aside. 
 
 "Heaps of people were in love with you even then, 
 Charlie says," said Maud, beneath her breath. 
 
 " He flatters himself," said Violet, with an elfin gleam. 
 " You need not believe him on the subject." 
 
 " Everyone thought you very kind to take Charlie," 
 pursued Maud. " I noticed that at the wedding. No, 
 don't talk, it is sleepy-time. Of course, I should never 
 tell him. . . . Your neck is really much prettier with- 
 out the pearls, I shall put them round your hair. No, I 
 won't," added foolish Maud instantly, " because that will 
 disturb the baby, and she is going so nicely off to sleep." 
 
 " I am not the least sleepy," said Violet, half-opening 
 her eyes. " Have you really nothing more to say ? It 
 is all so interesting." 
 
 " No," said Maud. " It's only just excitement, at being 
 really in London at last. It feels so strange. I hated 
 coming up to-day, and leaving them all. I cried in the 
 train." 
 
 " Are you afraid now ? " said Violet, not showing the 
 least surprise. She knew that Maud had literally never 
 slept away from home before. 
 
 " No. Because, you see, I thought I was coming to a 
 married-people's house : but now I find it's only you and 
 Charlie. You are in every corner of the house," said 
 Maud, laying her soft cheek against Violet's, " and espe-
 
 MAUD 385 
 
 cially in my bedroom. You put yourself there on pur- 
 pose, I know. I shall sleep with you to-night, again." 
 
 " Never again," said Violet. 
 
 Her eyes were closed, as she spoke in the voice of 
 dreams ; so Maud, hoping sleep was catching her, for all 
 the little line on her brow, did not answer, or comment, 
 and silence fell. 
 
 When Charles came in, Maud was still by the sofa, sit- 
 ting on a cushion on the floor, with Violet's right hand in 
 her possession, having returned the wedding-ring to its 
 place on her left. They made an excessively pretty group, 
 with the delicate background of young beech leaves, and 
 the mist of Margery's hyacinths behind : and it would have 
 been a very jealous and ill-conditioned man indeed who 
 would have wished to uproot Maud and disturb it. 
 
 " She's asleep," said Maud, very low. " Yes, you may : 
 but very carefully." Charles did, as permitted. He rather 
 liked Maud, some unmarried girls, anyhow, were not 
 hoydens. Maud was not a hoyden, and he had a very 
 good mind but not the instant after Violet. It would do 
 at bed-time. He patted Maud's smooth head. 
 
 " Read us a fairy-story, darling," said Violet, her dark 
 lashes lifting for an instant. 
 
 " Oh, lovely, Charlie, do," said Maud. 
 
 Charles had a new book of fairy-stories, as yet un- 
 bound, which his firm were compiling, lent him to criti- 
 cize professionally, but which he was inclined to enjoy 
 childishly instead. He had found several old friends, and 
 several delightful new ones. They were all very simply 
 told, since the book was for children's hands, " none of 
 your folklore rubbish," as he said. He had brought the 
 book in with him, to use it as work or pleasure, whichever 
 seemed the more appropriate, to his wife, and his wife's 
 guest. 
 
 He had a pleasant voice in reading, and he used, for the
 
 386 DUKE JONES 
 
 childish fancies he dealt with, the right tone. No one 
 could have failed to laugh, or thrill, or tremble, in the 
 right places. He had a natural instinct in such things, as 
 even his critical father-in-law admitted, the great, slight 
 things, needing taste and a light touch, which Claude 
 called " lyrical." 
 
 So he read, and they listened, and with them listened 
 a little ghost. It was there, for Violet first, and but a 
 little later for Maud, and not at all for Charles the reader, 
 as was right. He thought of his reading, not his audience, 
 real or ghostly. He was enjoying himself, as the listening 
 child would have enjoyed. It was that that gave the 
 episode its perfection, a perfection granted to certain mo- 
 ments of our haphazard life, and which must, with the 
 personal inspiration, have the local inspiration behind it as 
 well. Maud, who never forgot the scene, fresh and strik- 
 ing to her mind, as all was fresh, this strange night she 
 was sleeping far from her own, felt the twofold influence 
 keenly. 
 
 " It is a heavenly house," thought Maud. " New, but 
 all lovely, solid. It is clean, there was a horror, but 
 they have swept it right away. She has swept it, he 
 could not. She has done it all alone." 
 
 She looked at Violet's tranquil, tired face, and added, 
 in the demure recesses of her little maiden mind: 
 
 " I should think hers is the right way to be married 
 if you must." 
 
 IV 
 
 "Miss Gibbs, Mr. Jones," said Violet. "This is all 
 of us. It is really terribly kind of you to come." 
 
 Jones did not feel kind, and he certainly did not look 
 terrible. He looked so absolutely decorous and unpre- 
 tending, that Maud's shivering spirit was immediately 
 reassured : and this quartet of Mrs. Shovell's originating 
 started, from the first, in excellent tune and complete 
 accord.
 
 MAUD 387 
 
 Jones, hardly to his surprise in this house of constant 
 marvels, found himself in a new room. Violet had told 
 Charles with decision that Mr. Jones would be more com- 
 fortable in the study than the drawing-room; and since 
 it was their ordinary custom to occupy it on Sunday 
 evenings when alone, Charles had offered no objection. 
 On the contrary, indeed, since by this means the party 
 need not separate into its elements, according to the 
 absurd British custom, after dinner; and the girls could 
 continue to save Charles the trouble of talking to his 
 guest, as was indeed, in the guest's interest and that of 
 Maud, most desirable. 
 
 Charles' study was the best room on the ground-floor, 
 and should by rights have been the drawing-room; only 
 Violet had given it over to him because the view, ap- 
 proaching to the pastoral, on to some ten square yards of 
 grass, was so nice and inspiring for him. It had some of 
 its owner's personal oddities about it, including what 
 Violet kindly called his Cambridge toys; but the aspect 
 generally was inviting, with comfortable chairs, a spa- 
 cious hearth, and a window opening straight upon the 
 garden-path, so that the poet could stroll beyond its 
 bounds if the muse exacted it. 
 
 There was another spirit in the room besides Charles' 
 muse, for those who felt such presences : since the study, 
 for want of space elsewhere, housed Mrs. Shovell's grand 
 piano. Charles did not feel it, naturally, since he was out 
 at work when she trespassed regularly on his precincts, 
 and the discreet echoes, sleeping among her husband's 
 books, never betrayed her. As a fact, Violet occupied the 
 study nearly as much as Charles did, and studied in it, 
 perhaps, rather more than he. The speculation need not 
 be pursued for the present purposes. However it may 
 have been, the atmosphere of these masculine quarters 
 was sympathetic to both sexes, and Mr. and Mrs. Shovell 
 used it, for the most sociable hour of the working week, 
 by common consent.
 
 388 DUKE JONES 
 
 Maud and Mr. Jones did not make friends instantly, of 
 course ; they were both far too correct. Violet had to talk 
 to him at first, since Violet was his hostess, and his first 
 acquaintance as well ; and Maud merely added a word in 
 season, and a pretty smile. But their eyes discovered one 
 another at every discreet opportunity, and they plunged 
 into intimacy on one of their innumerable common sub- 
 jects after dinner. The talk throughout that nondescript 
 meal had hovered, seemed to settle, distracted itself again 
 owing to Charles' en fan tillages, and then veered in the 
 right direction. After dinner, owing to a chance allusion 
 of Violet's, a prominent interest of both came uppermost, 
 and Maud and Mr. Jones joined forces. 
 
 Then, and not till then, having leisure, did Mrs. Shovell 
 look at Mr. Shovell, and allow him to scorch her with such 
 mockery as he would. She clasped her hands about her 
 knees and faced him serenely, high above criticism, since 
 really the thing defended itself. It was one of nature's 
 works of art, not hers. There was Maud, and there was 
 Mr. 'Jones, both busy and benevolent people in their own 
 spheres and parishes. She was pretty and sensible, and 
 he was nice, and rich. Where could be the harm of their 
 meeting for a pleasant evening's chat like this? They 
 were both, quite obviously, enjoying it so much. They 
 were already such excellent friends. 
 
 Friends ! That was the crucial question of the evening : 
 the definition, extent, and exact limitation of that most 
 fugitive word. Charles himself had quantities of friends, 
 of every variety and description, so that he was evidently 
 the person present fittest to judge upon the case. He 
 judged, very much at his ease, blowing smoke-rings 
 pensively in his favorite chair. He and Violet had been 
 friends before their marriage; at least Charles thought 
 the word would do. He imagined, since he had a vigorous 
 fancy, and full leisure to make the effort, that he had once 
 looked at Miss Ashwin with intelligent appreciation and 
 respectful curiosity, even as Marmaduke was looking at
 
 MAUD 389 
 
 Miss Gibbs. He was pretty sure Violet had looked non- 
 committally well-disposed, and gracefully attentive, as 
 Maud was looking at Mr. Jones. In the subject they had 
 in hand, which did not interest Charles much, though 
 Violet was listening closely while she sewed, they seemed 
 both very eager to impart their personal experiences (he 
 remembered that, in his own case) and each capable, at 
 moments, of anticipating what the other was going to say 
 (Violet had more than once done so, he recollected). It 
 was a liberal though quiet entertainment, for Charles, 
 from the heights of married manhood, to look down on 
 these young people's efforts to place themselves in life. 
 It was lucky for them they had his wife's encouragement 
 and support in their undertaking, very. He hardly 
 thought they would ever have brought it off without, even 
 granted a casual meeting in somebody's comfortable but 
 untidy study, and with somebody's cook's thoroughly 
 good supper to cheer them first. They were both so 
 ridiculously diffident and shrinking, a thing which 
 Charles had never been, even when he proposed, for the 
 fourth or fifth time, he had really forgotten which, to 
 Violet Ashwin in Maud's father's Rectory in the country. 
 Just about there in his reflections, his second cigarette 
 gave out, and he found he had used his last match. Turn- 
 ing to complain to Violet of this unheard-of trick of fate, 
 and get her to suggest places where matches might be 
 lurking, and so spare disturbing Jones' promising ro- 
 mance, he found her wrapped in the contemplation of 
 Maud, who was wrapped in the contemplation of a blue 
 pamphlet Jones had produced from his pocket: and 
 Jones, of all impudence, wrapped in the contempla- 
 tion of her: Charles' wife, not his stepsister, as was 
 expected of Jones. Just at that minute, perhaps owing 
 to the annoyance of the match problem, Charles found 
 that it wouldn't do. Someone must throw a bomb and 
 blow up that condition of things, anyhow: so he threw 
 one.
 
 390 DUKE JONES 
 
 "Won't one of you girls play something?" said 
 Charles. " Jones, have you got a match ? " 
 
 The bomb went off admirably. Everybody started, and 
 then everybody spoke. It was really quite an amusing 
 experiment. 
 
 " She'll do nothing of the sort," said Maud absently, 
 from the pamphlet. 
 
 " Awfully sorry, Shovell, in my other coat," said 
 Jones. 
 
 " You have stolen both my downstairs boxes, though 
 I marked them," said Violet patiently, and rose. 
 
 She rose, of course, to find the matches for him : he did 
 not really expect her to play, nobody wanted music. 
 Charles did not, at least. But Jones rose too, instantly, 
 looking at her with dog's eyes of service, ready to run 
 and fetch those matches from any corner of the house, 
 and return with them, wagging his tail. Or to open the 
 piano, of course, if that was her gracious pleasure: 
 though, since he was the only guest, he dared not presume 
 she would. 
 
 " He will see one of your boxes on his own writing- 
 table, if he just takes the trouble to turn round," said 
 Maud reposefully from the pamphlet. " Dear, of course 
 we should love it, but are you sure you really ought ? " 
 
 " I have hardly found my fingers," said Violet, who 
 seldom went through the forms called by the French 
 " making herself prayed." " You can all go on talking 
 while I find them ; do you mind ? I shall only remember 
 some little tunes, most probably." 
 
 Marmaduke sat down again, flushed. He and Maud, 
 with the blue pamphlet between them, followed directions. 
 They settled into talk again, more seriously than ever, 
 low-toned as well, a genuine tcte-a-tete. Charles, having 
 found the matches, very cleverly, in the place his step- 
 sister indicated, wandered about the room, toyed with his 
 precious texts a little, watched Violet for a time with 
 mild amusement, and then, since she did not seem inclined
 
 MAUD 391 
 
 to give half her attention to him continuously, as he 
 hoped, moved on. Having opened the French window a 
 crack, in obedience to a sign from Violet, he was tempted 
 by the early-summer savors entering, went through it, 
 and out into the air. This was the cleverest thing he had 
 done yet, since the night was warm and balmy, and those 
 girls inside obviously did not want him about. Maud 
 was wrapped in Marmaduke, and Violet in music, for the 
 time. Nor could Marmaduke get at Violet, while music 
 had got all of her. Her music was one of the things that 
 cut Charles out, but at least it cut other fellows too. That 
 is, unless the other fellows, like that freak Ford, insinu- 
 ated themselves into the musical ring that enclosed her, 
 and made themselves offensive by talking to her at great 
 length on subjects which Charles did not understand. 
 
 Thus a considerable, and for Charles a most contented, 
 period passed. When Violet's little tunes, which had 
 grown into rather long ones, ended, he supposed he had 
 better come in and see how Marmaduke and Maud were 
 getting on. The state of things he found in the study was 
 most encouraging. They had got ever so far; Charles' 
 tactful diplomacy in leaving them together was justified, 
 and Violet's idea of playing to them had evidently been 
 not half bad. Music is known, if it does nothing else, to 
 buck up people's spirits and make them feel agreeably 
 sentimental. Violet's little tunes had had that effect on 
 Charles in the garden: he had thought of all sorts of 
 things, in a pleasing and melancholy vein: and got the 
 lines of a sonnet straight that had plagued him for some 
 time. 
 
 Jones' affair with Maud, it really had assumed the 
 dimensions of an affair, had come straight as well. They 
 understood one another, and looked one another in the 
 eyes. Maud was a capital girl, really, and was looking 
 extremely pretty in her bridesmaid's dress, and Charles' 
 own pendant: and he was proud of her, and it. Jones 
 was an uncommon good little fellow, and looked ever so
 
 392 DUKE JONES 
 
 much the better for his delightful evening in Charles' 
 house, and the company of the nice girl he had provided, 
 not too good for him, but good enough. He had the 
 means to marry on, too: more, about twice as much 
 as Charles had when he claimed Miss Ashwin. Maud, 
 on the other hand, had about a quarter of her cousin's 
 dowry, but then she was a girl of excellent stock. The 
 Ashwins were quite a decent family, though of course 
 the Shovells and Ingestres flew a bit higher, according to 
 the heraldic estimation. As for the Gibbses and the 
 Joneses, Charles did not pursue the point. It is perhaps 
 as well for Mr. Shovell's dignity that he did not pursue it, 
 or put himself out to chase into the mists of antiquity two 
 such excellent English names. 
 
 " It is awfully good of you, Mrs. Shovell," said Jones, 
 still slightly pink : alluding to Maud's company, or to the 
 tunes, or to the dinner, or all three. 
 
 " Mr. Jones has made a lovely plan, dear," said Maud, 
 who was looking quite lively, and seemed to have lost her 
 shyness. " He wants to fetch us to-morrow afternoon, 
 and, if you feel up to it, drive us down to Leatherhead 
 to see his garden." 
 
 The deuce he does, thought Charles : he knows how to 
 make the best of his time, the little beggar ! Charles was 
 almost offended, in the person of Jones' patron, host, 
 narrative-compiler, and bear-leader in general, that he 
 should have presumed to take so important a step as this 
 without being prompted by him, or at least by Violet. He 
 pinched Violet's arm, by way of a general indication of 
 the line to take. She was to accept, without laying too 
 much stress upon it, naturally : to accept laughingly, in a 
 fashion she could manage very well. 
 
 " I hope I shall be able to," said Violet. " It is almost 
 too nice an idea, I mean, to come true." 
 
 All three looked at her hastily, for her tone was trem- 
 ulous, and found she was very pale. Maud, with a glance 
 at her new friend, slid an arm behind her cousin incon-
 
 MAUD 393 
 
 spicuously. Jones, without a moment's hesitation, said 
 good night in his most ordinary voice, and took his de- 
 parture. Charles, since Maud could be trusted, went 
 out with his visitor to the door. 
 
 " She'll be all right," he said, since the little man looked 
 so unhappy, as pale as Violet almost, all his new-found 
 prosperity spoilt. " She oughtn't to have played so long, 
 probably. She forgets, and lets herself go, when she 
 plays." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Jones : raging internally. 
 
 Why had Shovell let her play, then ? He, Jones, could 
 not have stopped her, while she was blessing their ears, 
 Jones' ears, it is enough to mention, were Welsh, with 
 her heavenly melodies, gathered out of every corner of 
 great art. Even had he found the will to do so, he could 
 not have ventured, after the way she had crushed him 
 yesterday. Miss Gibbs, though a kind-hearted and charm- 
 ing girl, was thoroughly unmusical, and could not have 
 heard, or interpreted had she heard, that passionate pain. 
 Only her husband, knowing her as he ought, sensitive as 
 he should be to imaginative beauty, since he dealt in 
 poetry, could have acted, stopped her, saved her from 
 herself, and them from this fruitless self-reproach. 
 
 Marmaduke left the little house in Livingstone Gardens 
 unconsoled, and unforgiving. One had too much even of 
 such nice fellows as Shovell occasionally. Shovell meant 
 well, as the world says, but he did not think enough. 
 He had not been trained to see the needs of others, he 
 merely called attention to his own. He took far too 
 easily, on his side, what she offered, on hers, with pain : 
 nor recognized, Jones believed, the worth of what he took. 
 She, Jones failed to correct the pronoun in his mind 
 to-night, she was giving constantly from her private 
 store, waiting for him, schooling her fierce little spirit to 
 attend on his. He abused her kindness, obviously, in 
 slight ways the bystander could see : perhaps in ways less 
 slight of which the bystander dared not think. She
 
 394 DUKE JONES 
 
 deserved more, much more, than Shovell at his best could 
 ever give. It was doubtful if the man could be found to 
 give her her deserts, but Marmaduke, at least, would 
 have attempted it. 
 
 Jones knew well enough, of course, on leaving her house 
 that evening, how he stood towards her ; but he was much 
 too angry for the moment to be ashamed, or even abashed, 
 by the discovery. The shock was his awakening: the 
 shock of seeing her pale and shaken like that, her little 
 sentences, so dear to him in their completeness, disjointed, 
 her lofty pride failing, her delicate voice faltering, her 
 purposes, even for their good, at sea. All within reach of 
 him, and he not allowed, by the unjust heaven he 
 served, to catch her, comfort and console her as he could, 
 as he believed he could, since nature had made them 
 near in heart and soul. 
 
 He went home, and raged all night, like a man, not a 
 conscientious automaton: for there was a man in Jones. 
 But his purpose, long set and deeply rooted, of serving 
 her in the only way his unjust heaven had granted to his 
 inherited ideas, was not shaken, not seriously shaken, even 
 then. Passion, in the end, turned to obstinacy in Jones. 
 The closing of one path, to his mind, the final closing, 
 only drove him headlong down the other. She had offered 
 him long since a work that he could accomplish, not quite 
 completed yet. He was a singularly tenacious person. 
 
 v 
 
 " She says it was silly of her to play, dear," reported 
 Maud to Charles, when she came to him from the upper 
 regions later on. " And she was temporarily asphyxiated 
 because you forgot when you went out, and shut the 
 window ; and she will try smokelessness and solitude, and 
 you are not to think about her, and that's all." 
 
 " How do you like Jones ? " said Charles, when he had 
 ceased thinking about Violet, encouraged by Maud. 
 " Nice little shaver, isn't he ? "
 
 MAUD 395 
 
 " He seems to me unusually sensible," said Maud. 
 
 Good ! Jones would probably tell his friend the curate 
 the same thing, that he had met an " unusually sen- 
 sible " girl, at the house of " some people he knew." 
 And the curate, having experience of Jones, would draw 
 the correct conclusions. 
 
 " Keen about useful things, and so on," said Charles, 
 who had now put most of the sonnet on paper. " You 
 seemed to find enough to talk about, anyhow. Didn't 
 find him a bore, I hope ? " 
 
 " Not the least," said Maud, standing pensive by the 
 study chimney-piece, and examining Charles' toys upon 
 it. " I wish I was musical." 
 
 " Why ? " said Charles suspiciously. It would be more 
 to the point if Maud wished she were married. With 
 himself and Violet constantly before her eyes, that was 
 the sentiment that would have been really creditable and 
 timely, on Maud's part. 
 
 " I always feel so stupid with people who like music," 
 said Maud, " when I don't. He knew what all the things 
 were she played. He doesn't play himself, but he has 
 subscription tickets to all the concerts, and gives them 
 away when he can't." 
 
 Charles considered whether this personal detail, sup- 
 plied by Maud, a mutual friend, need be added to Jones' 
 narrative as a note, and decided not. It could not be of 
 the least interest to Jones' readers. 
 
 " He never knew she did before," said Maud. " It's 
 funny how lots of people don't know, even with her 
 beautiful little hands. Mr. Shepherd said he could have 
 guessed by her hands, once, when she played to us at 
 Glasswell." 
 
 What, Charles asked his gods, was Mr. Shepherd doing 
 in this conversation? Maud seemed to be growing care- 
 less of their kind plans for her. She had far better 
 stick to Jones, Jones being, in the latest edition, since 
 the demise of Mr. Shepherd, that is, her one chance in
 
 396 DUKE JONES 
 
 life. Violet was coming into the business a little more 
 than was quite necessary, too. 
 
 "What did you talk about?" said Charles, growing 
 impatient suddenly. 
 
 " Her, chiefly," said Maud. " We got on to Glasswell 
 and all sorts of things by the way. I hope Mr. Jones 
 wasn't bored too dreadfully, but I simply can't talk music 
 and clever things. I would if I could." 
 
 One more long pause. It needed all Charles' celebrated 
 skill as compiler and annotator, to extract, from Maud's 
 commonplace and careless remarks, what really had 
 occurred between her and Jones. They could not possibly 
 have talked about Violet, with a blue pamphlet between 
 them, all that time. To start from their hostess, as a 
 common theme, was perfectly natural. But 
 
 " Did you tell him about the hens ? " said Charles. 
 
 " A little," said Maud. " He was interested in the 
 garden chiefly, because he loves his own. I should like to 
 see his garden," she added, with a touch of shyness. 
 
 " I'll take you down to-morrow, if she can't," said 
 Charles, with a supreme effort for Maud's good. 
 
 " Oh, dear Charlie, how nice of you ! But I am afraid 
 Mr. Jones would not like that at all. We had better wait, 
 as he suggested, till next Sunday." 
 
 " Maud," said Charles warningly, " Marmaduke Jones 
 is very fond of me. You have no idea the friends we are : 
 always were, from the first." 
 
 " Goose," said Maud, tweaking his hair. " Why didn't 
 he ask you, then? He must have known it was Whit- 
 Monday, and you were free." 
 
 " Maud," said Charles, with the effort of real despair, 
 "do you know you are being, indirectly, rather vulgar? 
 I can't believe that you mean to imply what you do." 
 
 " Imply ? " said Maud, opening her eyes. " I don't 
 know what you are talking about. You're doing all the 
 implying, if there is any. He likes Violet a lot better 
 than you, or me either, that's all I mean. He says she has
 
 MAUD 397 
 
 been most fearfully kind to him, and I said he was not 
 the first to discover it. If you can't speak up for Violet 
 to people, I can, and I did. He quite agreed with all I 
 said, or at least he seemed to. Of course, he was listen- 
 ing to the music." 
 
 So that was what Maud meant by sensible ! Sensible ! 
 
 Charles gave Maud up finally, her ideas were not his, 
 and went to Violet to complain. Violet's ideas were his, 
 or at least they generally seemed so. He found her still 
 trying the effects of smokelessness and solitude, wrapped 
 in one of the crisp white things Charles liked, curled 
 among cushions on the long chair in her room. She was 
 not asleep, far from it. Her eyes were brilliant, though 
 she blinked, protesting, when he turned up the full light. 
 But he left it so, for he needed to observe her rather 
 closely while he talked. She looked very white still, and, 
 Charles regretted to observe, rather wicked: at least, as 
 soon as her bright eyes reached his face. But she at- 
 tended nicely to his complaints of Maud, for whose 
 frivolous and unsatisfactory behavior she, as Maud's 
 chaperon, cousin, and fellow-woman, was responsible. 
 
 " When we do all that for her ! " was Charles' 
 
 line. He had adopted the whole plan in Maud's interest 
 as his own : with some justification, since his had been the 
 motive force, during the evening, in pushing it through. 
 Violet had only played little tunes, in the distance, and 
 studied her cousin, now and then, with close and affec- 
 tionate interest. 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Violet calmly, her chin propped on 
 her hand. " I thought you saw it was hopeless when I 
 did. I really gave up before I began to play. Exactly 
 when you asked for the matches the tail of my last hope 
 was vanishing." 
 
 "Really?" said Charles sarcastically. "Why?" 
 
 It was exactly at that moment he had surprised Jones 
 gazing at her so earnestly.
 
 39 8 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Not him," said Violet, penetrating all his thought, and 
 putting a hand on his arm. " He would do it in time, I 
 think, with proper attention, not from me. He has only 
 got rather rather a habit of liking me, if you under- 
 stand. Please, dear, don't! It's Maud." 
 
 " She likes him," asseverated Charles, generously re- 
 fraining from torment, since she physically shrank. 
 
 " Very much ; they are thoroughly in sympathy. Charm- 
 ing people both ; it did me good to hear them. As keen 
 one as the other, aren't they ? they match well. It would 
 literally be a good match, Charles, academically." 
 
 " What do you mean by academically ? " said Charles. 
 
 " Oh, in committee. Clever people, like you and me." 
 
 " He's comfortably off," argued Charles. 
 
 "Quite. Not that Maud or Uncle Arthur would 
 think of that." 
 
 " And just the right age for her, he's thirty-two." 
 
 " Beautiful," said Violet desolately. " It's a moral 
 against the committee, isn't it? Since naturally, in the 
 nature of things, it can't be done." 
 
 "Why, you little caviler?" 
 
 " It's not him she wouldn't look at, it's anyone. No- 
 body believed in Mr. Shepherd at Glasswell, really: he 
 was only a playful consolation. Can't you see her little 
 quiver and crescent? She'll be friendly, though always 
 frightened a little ; but if anyone tries to catch her, gare 
 a lui ! " 
 
 "Rot!" said Mr. Shovell, with immense vigor, turn- 
 ing. " What do you know about quivers and crescents ? 
 You go to sleep." 
 
 It struck him, at the moment of speaking, how well the 
 crescent would look in her dark hair. It was she, not 
 Maud, who should have carried it. She had the wild 
 woodland air, this evening, precisely; half-tamed, if at 
 all, Charles would have said. Her eyes, after the first 
 keen glance, had been shy of him; and when he swung 
 round on her suddenly, she shrank away.
 
 MAUD 399 
 
 " My distaff is downstairs," she murmured deprecating. 
 " I am talking about Maud." 
 
 " Go to sleep," growled Charles, and turned his back 
 again. He let her go to sleep for some three minutes, 
 moving restlessly about the room, among her familiar 
 possessions, and feeling discontented. Then he broke 
 out: 
 
 " She's better than I thought, all round. Talks well, 
 when she finds her line: looks awfully well, upon my 
 word. If you dressed her a bit, she'd be good enough 
 for anybody. She knows when to laugh only about one 
 girl in six knows that you don't " at a sound behind 
 him. " She she's inviting. She's attractive. Any fel- 
 low would " 
 
 " Yes, but any fellow won't," said Violet. " Maud's a 
 darling, I quite agree. I could venture even further in her 
 praises. But I had forgotten her a little, all the same, or 
 I should have known better than to lay snares for her. 
 That's all. Luckily she leapt over it, they do." 
 
 "Who do?" 
 
 " Those tunicked people. I remembered as I watched. 
 She just slipped round quietly, and made friends with 
 him in our despite. It's lovely to be like that," said 
 Violet earnestly. "Don't you think?" 
 
 Charles did not think. And his whole bearing protested 
 against her so thinking, though he could not, for the 
 moment, find words for his surging sentiments. 
 
 " You wanted her to be married yesterday, " the sen- 
 timents resolved themselves finally. 
 
 " No, no. I wanted her to console him, and so on. 
 I even think she may have, a little. I hope so, she was 
 so sweet." 
 
 " Did you happen to notice his face when he left ? " 
 said Charles: and then regretted the saying, for she 
 winced again, and turned her head from him. " Don't 
 you want her to be married ? " he pressed obstinately on. 
 
 " I want what she wants, exactly. I love her, dear."
 
 400 DUKE JONES 
 
 Her tone was shaken a little, and she pushed a hand in 
 his direction. It was a plea to be spared examination, but 
 he would not read it so. He felt she was evading him, 
 slipping through his fingers, and that is vexatious. 
 
 " I had not considered her enough," she repeated, en- 
 deavoring to make it clear. " I had hardly thought of 
 her at all. I was a little at my wits' end seeking 
 expedients, if you understand. So I was commonplace 
 unconsciously, and I thought Maud would do. I thought 
 I could use her," murmured Violet, her eyes dreaming 
 in wonder over the vision of Maud she had invented: 
 Charles was convinced she had invented it, while she lay 
 half asleep in her smokeless solitude lately. She had been 
 weaving forest fairy-tales, and the pleasant and practical 
 Miss Gibbs had slipped in as the heroine of one of them 
 by an oversight; that was all. 
 
 " I did her a horrid injustice," finished Violet, settling 
 sidelong among her cushions. " And I beg her pardon, 
 her goddess's. Dear thing." She shut her eyes. 
 
 " What do you mean by an injustice? " The examiner 
 nailed her. His tone suggested that he had her now. 
 " Oh, haven't I explained ? I am so tired." 
 " No. I don't care for the word. Why unjust? " 
 " Unjust to the type," she suggested, sliding a glance at 
 him. 
 
 " Oh," said Charles, stopping. " Er yes : I pass that 
 answer." 
 
 " Thanks. I did try so hard. May I go to sleep 
 now ? " 
 
 Having taken note of her expression in detail, he came 
 quite close. " If I had had you in my class ever," he re- 
 marked in confidence, " and you had looked at me like 
 that, I'd have " 
 
 " Please ! " she gasped, recoiling. It was impossible to 
 say if she were really frightened, or feigning it, she 
 feigned so well. 
 
 There was less doubt of his vexation : but he held her
 
 MAUD 401 
 
 now, at least, so far as hands may hold. He had taken 
 her ear between his fingers when he threatened her, hav- 
 ing discovered it with some difficulty among the cloud 
 of hair that was slipping down her neck. He continued 
 to hold it, standing over her, while he thought things out 
 at his leisure. 
 
 The fact that Violet should support, nay applaud, 
 her cousin in these unwomanly cranks displeased him; 
 since she was not only his for better for worse, distinctly 
 for his better, so far, but had led on young fellows 
 like Jones, to mention no others Charles could think of, 
 to look at her in an absurd and dog-like fashion, as 
 though inviting her to use them as a mat to walk over, 
 when she stepped about her rooms. It is pure pose, 
 Charles considered, to crack up quivers and crescents, the 
 regalia of the maiden Artemis, and the airy joys of the 
 unmated, when your proceedings in the paths of life bear 
 any resemblance to the above. She might be doing it 
 simply to vex him, of course, divert attention from her 
 sins, she looked a very sprite, crouching from him 
 among her cushions, and almost as white as her white 
 clothes, but that made things no better. She was en- 
 chanting his eyes the whole time, which made things, 
 by the same reckoning, rather worse. He had not seen 
 her in this wild phase at all, since the early days of her 
 engagement, when she had, of course, been able to escape 
 him and hide some of it, though not all. He suspected 
 she wanted to escape him now, and he tightened his grasp 
 unconsciously. 
 
 " You are hurting me," she said faintly at last. " And 
 making me so nervous." 
 
 Starting from his selfish reverie, he looked down, and 
 his hand dropped at his side. There were tears in her 
 eyes, real tears, such as he had never seen there; for, 
 bravely as she had spoken, the first time they met after 
 their loss, he had not seen her weep. Why, Charles had 
 not asked himself then, nor what upheld her, since he
 
 4 02 DUKE JONES 
 
 knew. He was not so dense, where Violet was concerned, 
 as to fail to follow that. She had blamed herself for his 
 disappointment: and knowing it, he had succumbed to 
 that still pride of hers, shown her his own suffering, 
 allowed her to console. Wordless and witless he had 
 been throughout that memorable interview, helpless 
 under her steady leading, all expression struck out of 
 him while he listened to her little tone: but not because 
 he had not felt it, been thrilled by it to depths of his being 
 unstirred by life before. He was not such a pitiful 
 trifler, whatever the women might think, as that. 
 
 He stood rigid, recollecting; and the color ran up his 
 face. 
 
 " You are not angry about it, are you, Charles ? " she 
 asked, mistaking the attitude. " Not really ? I did my 
 best to remedy it, patch it up, you know, but it was too 
 late." She sought still to speak lightly of the thing before 
 him, but the effort was growing beyond her. " I was a 
 fool, of course, a young fool : I am sorry. Please don't 
 be really angry," her voice broke utterly at his brusque 
 movement, " no, no ! nor the reverse ! I cannot bear 
 it will you not see ? " 
 
 One hand was up, defending, in panic almost, against 
 her breast; the other outstretched to him, most express- 
 ive of her need. It might have stood, that instinctive 
 gesture, to represent the higher demand of woman on 
 man, throughout the centuries. 
 
 She was apologizing, he realized, in all sincerity: 
 apologizing to him, and for the second time. For the 
 second time he had allowed her to get in front of him in 
 that fine competition, the mutual courtesy of intimates, 
 pain in her eyes, and words of penitence upon her lips. 
 Now, as then, it was not, for a strong man, a tolerable 
 position. He was on his knees in an instant, before she 
 had finished her broken appeal: shamed, scared almost, 
 that he had dared to frighten her, to scoff even for a 
 moment as the vulgar scoff, at the pledge she had re-
 
 MAUD 403 
 
 deemed so finely, the faith she had carried through very 
 fire unscathed. 
 
 " It's all right," she gasped to reassure him, as he bent 
 his head low to the fingers of the little guarding hand. 
 " I never cry in public. I knew you would be kind. 
 I played too much, I expect. ... It was rather a 
 fearful five and twenty minutes yesterday. It hurt me 
 dreadfully to-night, his face. I do like him, he is so 
 good, a great little man. One would not choose to 
 hurt a man like that. ... I thought it could be 
 neighbors, you know, if I thought at all. I was a 
 young fool then, Charles. I played the dirge of all that, 
 for women, to-night." 
 
 VI 
 
 They all went down to Leatherhead, Charles as well; 
 and Charles took Maud under his especial charge, and 
 was charming to her as he had rarely been, as charm- 
 ing as he commonly was to Margery; and Marmaduke 
 and Violet went on, some way on, in front. What Jones 
 called his " little place " was extremely pretty, and by 
 no means little, rather large. There was cover in it 
 for eavesdropping, too, to any extent, but Violet's hus- 
 band did not attempt to take advantage of it ; and when 
 he and Maud finally did come up with the other pair, 
 Jones was showing Mrs. Shovell the myrtle-cutting he 
 had brought, like herself, from Cornwall on a certain 
 occasion, and which, having received from the first the 
 right attentions, aspects, and etceteras, had grown exactly 
 three times as big as hers in the greenhouse at home; 
 and Mrs. Shovell was refusing absolutely to look at it, 
 with wide, reproachful and attentive eyes. 
 
 Jones was really very glad the curate had refused his 
 invitation to tea that afternoon with " some people Jones 
 knew from town," because Shovell, when he was really 
 " on his day," was infinitely better company. Jones had 
 not seen him in anything like such form since the Cor-
 
 4 o 4 DUKE JONES 
 
 nish time, and he only wished he had thought of asking 
 him originally, and saved Mrs. Shovell the trouble of 
 suggesting it. His ready response to the suggestion would 
 have disarmed a very Othello: and Charles in any case 
 would have played that personage badly. He was far 
 better as Bassanio, or possibly Bassanio's boon com- 
 panion; since nothing, not even the determined drops of 
 rain at tea-time, could allay his " skipping spirit." Mar- 
 maduke and Maud, laughing just sufficiently at the 
 proper intervals, were simultaneously surprised at him; 
 and Maud's eyes, if not her tongue, made apologies to 
 their host for her stepbrother's futilities, when neces- 
 sary. Maud's eyes met Mr. Jones' very frequently, for 
 they found themselves constantly in agreement over 
 almost every point that came up. She also made the 
 tea, since she could not possibly allow Violet; and any 
 man with a grain of imagination could see her planted 
 there as a permanency, among Mr. Jones' roses, making 
 it for his guests. 
 
 At parting, Maud hoped very much that Mr. Jones 
 would come over to Glasswell some time, and see Papa's 
 garden there, which some people thought rather nice; 
 and Mr. Jones' concentrated fervor in accepting the invi- 
 tation was such that Charles' hopes leapt up again, in 
 spite of Violet. But alas! it soon emerged that Mr. 
 Jones had merely seen the Rectory garden, Glasswell, 
 illustrated in a weekly magazine, and wanted to observe 
 the tomato-culture under glass, or something equally 
 unromantic. As soon as he discovered Miss Gibbs was 
 attached to that garden, and those tomatoes, he could 
 have started the couple of days' conversation, as was 
 obvious, all over again. Maud said. Papa would be so 
 pleased to make his acquaintance ; and for once, in using 
 that time-honored and generally significant formula, 
 Maud knew she was speaking the strict truth. The 
 Rector would have taken such a promising young acolyte 
 to his heart after five minutes' conversation on the com-
 
 MAUD 405 
 
 mon theme ; and it was really a thousand pities that 
 Marmaduke could never become his son-in-law, accord- 
 ing to Violet : since a path of roses, literally, would have 
 conducted him to his heart's desire. 
 
 But Violet was perfectly right. Maud left the house 
 in Livingstone Gardens exactly at the end of the stip- 
 ulated fortnight: promising to tell Mamma that she 
 was fairly satisfied with Violet's appearance, and abso- 
 lutely disgusted with Charlie's way of treating her: and 
 hoping to see more of Mr. Jones. Only when Maud 
 next reported a long and interesting conversation with 
 Violet's nice Mr. Jones, in the Glasswell drawing-room, 
 on the subject of helpfully scientific story-books for 
 village boys, Violet's nice Mr. Jones was engaged to 
 Felicia Addenbroke, and Maud knew it. 
 
 Then, and only then, Charles quenched the last spark 
 of his hopes in life for Maud, and went round the break- 
 fast table, ostensibly to feel Violet's hair, in order to see 
 if a little crescent-moon was growing in front of it. 
 He was afraid, he said, that she might have caught it 
 from Maud, when the poor girl was staying there; and 
 such a growth was reckoned dangerous, in the profes- 
 sion, for married women, particularly youngish ones. 
 
 Then he said, if Jones was determined to ruin the last 
 pages of his blameless narrative, and marry Lisette 
 against both of their better judgment, and in the teeth 
 of the path (a literary protest, at this point, disregarded) 
 in the teeth of the path of clerical respectability and life- 
 long happiness Charles had pointed out to him, in the 
 person of Maud, then Jones' over-driven editor saw 
 nothing for it but to hint in the last chapter, for the 
 private ear of Jones' readers, that he had fallen head- 
 over-ears in love with Lisette, at short notice, while 
 under the intoxicating influences of the great French 
 capital. In virtue of which sad reflection Jones' readers 
 might learn all sorts of things; or, if they preferred it, 
 nothing at all. Co-editors might append, in an appendix,
 
 4 o6 DUKE JONES 
 
 an abridged list of the other young fellows, not to men- 
 tion old ones, whom Felicia had knocked end-long in 
 the same manner, in the course of her singular career, 
 beginning with the Dean and Studley. Sir Claude Ash- 
 win might come in a good third, since Charles under- 
 stood he intended to present Lisette, on the happy occa- 
 sion, with a string of pearls very nearly as costly as 
 those of his daughter's Lisette had failed to steal. And 
 Charles trusted Violet was not taking him too seriously 
 in these remarks, because if she did, he should shake her. 
 
 Then he said, his wife having long since given him 
 the coffee he had come round the table, in the first 
 instance, to fetch, that if Violet wanted to go down to 
 Glasswell, and have a long day's hay-making, without 
 her wedding-ring, as Maud suggested, and sit on the 
 very top of the cart, with her hair over her ears, and 
 her arms about her knees, quite alone, no man but the 
 Rector in a straw hat near her, for miles, she might. 
 
 Only he would awfully like to come too. Because the 
 pursuit of hay-making, not to mention the pursuit of 
 strawberries in Mr. Gibbs' beds, appealed to him: and 
 girls when they got together were such geese, and Violet 
 might fall off the cart sky-larking with young Maud 
 about the place. Also, Charles' mother lived down there. 
 
 We give Charles' half of this conversation, unfortu- 
 nately much compressed for lack of space, because 
 Violet's replies, though they seemed to be a satisfaction 
 to herself, were really not worth offering to a critical 
 world, when her husband got well into his best vein of 
 dialogue. In fact, the thing should be called monologue, 
 with interruption, uninvited and rigorously repressed, 
 at intervals. 
 
 Having polished off his peroration to these utterances, 
 Charles stopped feeling yiolet's hair for the crescent, 
 and flattened down the locks he had deranged, very 
 kindly, and went back to his place to drink his coffee, 
 with a sense of duty done. And Violet herself returned,
 
 MAUD 407 
 
 rather wearily, to the study of a letter from Honoria 
 Addenbroke on the same subject, that is, the first of 
 Charles' subjects, he,r sister's match with Mr. Jones: a 
 letter which, for sheer unpleasantness and lack of feel- 
 ing, beat everything of which Violet had thought even 
 Honoria was capable. At the end of the communica- 
 tion, Honoria was kind enough to propose occupying 
 " a bed in a corner " in Violet's " little house " for the 
 days that included the ceremony; by which she could 
 only have meant Violet's solitary cherished guest-room, 
 which Maud had just quitted, with regret. 
 
 " She wants to avoid Lisette, dear," explained Violet 
 in some perplexity, when conveying these contents to her 
 husband. " To have Lisette marrying a fortune at this 
 stage is too much for Honoria, naturally. If she stays 
 with Father, she and Lisette will fight like cats: and 
 that," added Mrs. Shovell pensively, " will be so bad 
 for the Billy-goat." 
 
 Lisette, it should be mentioned, had called her son 
 Godfrey William, being a dignified pair of names, sancti- 
 fied by Ingestre usage for centuries ; but as she addressed 
 him as a " billy-goat " whenever his behavior called for 
 criticism, which was, by Lisette's fine standards, very 
 frequently, the attentive family of Ashwin had adopted 
 the term, and continued to use it until Godfrey William 
 was of an age to protest in person, long after the close 
 of this chronicle. 
 
 " Probably she wants to avoid the Billy-goat too," 
 added Violet, pondering Honoria's letter. " She men- 
 tions here she loathes children ; and I remember, a propos 
 of her teaching, she told me so before." 
 
 " We fed her too well," was Charles' opinion, " and 
 she liked the feel of your sofa. It still bears the mark 
 of the beast, and makes the drawing-room look filthy. 
 She liked me a little too, I shouldn't wonder. . . . 
 I won't have her on the premises, Violet, and that's flat." 
 
 He spoke in a tone, occurring about twice in a
 
 4 o8 DUKE JONES 
 
 twelve-month, which conveyed that he meant what he 
 said; and Violet obeyed his direct command, as usual, 
 with relief, and refused Honoria: risking, of course, in 
 so doing the immediate result, that Honoria told every- 
 body in reach that she was a jealous little vixen, who 
 stored up grudges for a bit of fun. 
 
 The wedding, carefully shunted out of the season by 
 collusion of the Ingestres and Ashwins, who met in con- 
 spicuously friendly alliance over Felicia's settlement, 
 since John had seen fit to express, before witnesses, an 
 obligation, was of the quietest description: furtive, it 
 might have been called, as everybody was eager to spare 
 Felicia's feelings in the matter, feelings which, in fact, 
 had no existence. Lisette was immensely pleased, and 
 overwhelmingly amused, at the whole affair. Not sur- 
 prised exactly, she explained to Violet, when they sat 
 together, with the baby between them, in the room that 
 had once been Violet's, because she had always known 
 Duke was "that sort" from the first. He had missed 
 far too many good opportunities, by Lisette's reckon- 
 ing, to be any other " sort " than the very limited " sort " 
 to which he belonged. That it was a good sort, Lisette 
 was quite ready to admit when Violet suggested it, only 
 it appealed to her innate sense of the humorous so irre- 
 sistibly. She had told a French fellow about him once, 
 and the fellow had roared over her description, and the 
 sketch, rather a good one, she had added for his 
 enlightenment. Lisette only wondered that Duke had 
 stammered and stuttered so long over asking her; but 
 the process of watching him, and commenting on his 
 peculiar proceedings to " Cousin Claude," was so exquis- 
 itely entertaining, that Lisette would not have shortened 
 it, for worlds. Nor would Sir Claude, for worlds, it 
 appeared, when Violet, having heard all Lisette's opin- 
 ions, interviewed him in turn: since by this means he 
 retained Lisette a little longer at his side, and before 
 his eyes, in Eveleen's absence, at the dinner-table.
 
 MAUD 409 
 
 " Will anything come of it, Father?" Violet inquired, 
 after they had discussed at length all the details of the 
 ceremonial occasion on which she, by request, was to 
 act for him as hostess. " I try to be amused and de- 
 lighted: but I can't feel that it is real." 
 
 " Nor I," said Sir Claude, " but I will do my best to 
 make it so. The man, as far as I can follow him, is 
 almost first-rate. He is an exceptional man. I would 
 hardly have trusted her to another, but I do to him." 
 
 " It's safer, in a way, do you think, that " she 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 " That he should not be ' mad on her ' ? That's her 
 own phrase for it yes. She really has been sated with 
 that, she does not value it. I believe she fears it a 
 little. I tried to discover one evening, having the chance, 
 if she would go back to M. Edmond, granted we found 
 him. For a time I thought that might be the best solu- 
 tion: but she does not want to, now. She is very Eng- 
 lish, and clings to English things. I could tell that by 
 her eyes, though her lips said that Edmond was decent 
 to her, and she didn't mind if she did." 
 
 " She would do anything you told her," said Violet 
 thoughtfully, not surprised. Her father saw Lisette's 
 value, her intrinsic value, as she did; and had taken the 
 trouble to study her closely, her method of looking on 
 life, and some, at least, of the motives that guided her. 
 They were not Eveleen's motives, purely animal. She 
 had a variety of the artist's brain, and an exquisite sen- 
 sitiveness to passing impression that Eveleen might well 
 have envied. She was a perfect mother, instinctively: 
 not conscientiously at all. She would have died will- 
 ingly, instantly, at any moment, for her child; indeed, 
 Claude had an idea that she did not value her own life 
 highly, though she shrank from pain. Something, 
 call it dignity, by which she lived, the thing that served 
 her for moral support, had been broken utterly, in the 
 catastrophe. Her personal pride was in ruins, 
 the delicacy that was in her, though she had never learnt
 
 4 io DUKE JONES 
 
 the alphabet of its expression. It was only the child, 
 in life, that remained. Her reckless courage was still 
 intact; she was ready to live, and face a new life, 
 strange as that life was bound to be to all her instincts, 
 for her child's sake. But she was, even in Dr. Ashwin's 
 loving care, even with Marmaduke Jones' anxious atten- 
 tions, off her true course, astray from her landmarks. 
 She had been dragged from her own happy, pleasant 
 little path in life, and seemed seeking for it continually. 
 Claude had encouraged her to paint, and she would paint 
 cleverly for a time ; then she bit her lip, her eyes diverted 
 to the child, and she went back to it : as though of that 
 at least, in the wreck of her rainbow world, she could 
 be sure. 
 
 " I think," said Claude, " the man will share his name 
 and fortune with her merely, and keep her a permanent 
 guest in his house. He is not skilled in expression, as 
 you know, but one sees his meaning later, generally: 
 and it is my belief, Violet, that he has told me that. 
 And if he purposes that, he will do it, beyond any ques- 
 tion at all. It seems to me an unheard-of thing," he 
 added thoughtfully, " and it upsets me into laughter 
 occasionally. But I daresay it has its equal in history. 
 I should not wonder the least." 
 
 Lisette's story can, and should, be very simply fin- 
 ished. 
 
 She married Jones, and made him an exquisite little 
 wife, tractable and affectionate, for just two years. Then 
 she died, no one knew why, a determined drifting upon 
 extinction, her apparent lack of any definite disease much 
 embarrassing her professional attendants. Claude Ash- 
 win, who did not attend her, since she lived so far, but 
 who watched her at intervals, said she died of her soul ; 
 but when a great doctor takes to talking like that it is 
 evident he cannot expect the attention of serious people. 
 
 The fact, at least, was unquestionable ; she was found
 
 MAUD 411 
 
 one morning lifeless : and they called it heart failure, and 
 made the best of such symptoms as they could exag- 
 gerate, or invent. It was doubtless in a fashion a failure 
 of heart, the expression would do. Like the pretty tale 
 of Allingham's, they thought that she was fast asleep, 
 but she was dead of sorrow. For it looked as though 
 Lisette had been able, even in the act of " realizing 
 herself," " working out her personality," or whatever 
 other scraps of modern philosophy Honoria misused 
 and misquoted, to suffer. She had suffered in realizing, 
 perhaps, since a few characters undoubtedly exist, 
 nature's flowers in the rich intellectual fields of human- 
 ity, who do better not to realize. Howsoever it may be, 
 Goldsmith, a man of genius and of heart, though sadly 
 out of Honoria's period, came nearer to the final truth 
 of Lisette than Honoria and her up-to-date authorities. 
 She died for want of that little personal genius of hers, 
 that had been so ruthlessly snatched away. 
 
 Hers was, beyond any doubt, the second life sacrificed 
 by Eveleen Ashwin's brutal indifference to all well-being 
 but her own ; and since Lady Ashwin felt no overpower- 
 ing remorse or grief on the occasion, her husband and 
 daughter, as ever, shared the penalty. Sir Claude and 
 Violet joined themselves to Jones in his genuine sorrow, 
 and he had to thank them for innumerable marks of 
 sympathy, gratitude, and esteem; but he would accept 
 no material assistance, from one or the other, in the 
 matter of the child, which was his legacy and burden 
 in life. Jones brought Godfrey up to be a son of the 
 state, according to his ideas, and made " a very good 
 thing of it " in his own phrase, though he was much too 
 modest to use it. 
 
 John Ingestre was interested in Godfrey too, at inter- 
 vals; but John Ingestre and Jones could never really 
 meet on common ground: and their cautious and cour- 
 teous correspondence would no doubt have made an 
 amusing appendix to this history had anyone been able
 
 4 i2. DUKE JONES 
 
 to get the letters. But it would not have carried the 
 sympathetic much further, though it might have enter- 
 tained the curious: for Jones would never betray his 
 life's convictions to such as John. The only person 
 to whom he regularly confided his educational perplex- 
 ities was Violet Shovell: and her letters in return were 
 certainly preserved, long after her cousin John's lordly 
 scrawls had gone the way of all paper to the dust-heap. 
 By this means, at least, Jones kept a link with Violet, 
 for life: and he kept the little Ledger miniature too, a 
 worthy record of a beauty that remained, to those who 
 had seen it, phenomenal, a thing apart: and stored it 
 with Lisette's real pearls, her own, not Violet's, worn 
 on her wedding-day. 
 
 Eveleen did not die: she lived, with immense per- 
 sistence and vitality, for years ; but she never recovered 
 her perfect balance, mental or physical, after the short 
 period of genuine panic through which, owing to every- 
 body's fault but her own, it had been her hard lot to 
 pass. Words could not express, certainly Eveleen's 
 words could not, after short wandering, to watering- 
 places first, and then, for her dignity's sake, to relatives, 
 her relief at returning to her own house, the rooms she 
 knew, the chairs she liked, and the servants who looked 
 at her, for all their temporary show of independent 
 spirit on the evening of her nightmare, with blank faces 
 that implied a master's command in the background, 
 and could be taken for respect, as required. 
 
 Claude's sole revenge on her, for the suffering she 
 had caused, was to let her know the fact, by word of 
 mouth since she would not read his letters, that but 
 for Violet's definite leading, he would never have re- 
 ceived her. But it was quite useless. Lady Ashwin 
 seemed to take her daughter's clemency for granted, 
 and found Claude's severity, generally speaking, show- 
 ing grosteque unreason and deplorable lack of taste.
 
 MAUD 413 
 
 She had bought some extremely beautiful dresses in 
 Paris, which she kindly wore once or twice to show him : 
 since she always liked to be sure of his opinion, whether 
 he expressed it or not, before she broke in her glory 
 on the world. Even if he was cross-grained and un- 
 pleasant, his opinion could easily be seen by the vague 
 expression in his eyes, at moments when, in the heat of 
 discussion on other things, she caught him off his guard. 
 Thus Eveleen discovered that he flatly disliked the colors 
 in one of her costumes; and since, on second thoughts, 
 she inclined that way herself, though her maid admired 
 it intensely, she sent it back. 
 
 It was also a comfort, on returning to her own, to be 
 met by Claude at the station, and to tell him, with the 
 greatest frankness, exactly in what manner, and for how 
 long, she had felt uncomfortable. She could remember 
 all the details, even yet, very well, for she had hardly 
 known physical discomfort before, in her life: except 
 during the disgusting period when Violet came into a 
 world where nobody wanted her: that is to say, where 
 her mother did not. 
 
 Claude did not appear sympathetic on the subject of 
 this lengthy torture of hers, but he suggested things to 
 do which proved efficacious, and that, after all, is the 
 principal thing. Lady Ashwin's foreign doctors, had 
 been exquisitely courteous, but, judged by results, had 
 proved hardly worth the trouble of talking to, apart 
 from all question of the fee. Claude also proposed out- 
 door air and physical exertion: so Eveleen, after pout- 
 ing a little over the prescription, returned to horse 
 exercise, which she had enjoyed in her youth; and 
 which she how found more agreeable and refreshing, 
 and infinitely more becoming, than she had recollected. 
 
 In addition to this, every now and then, when she 
 drifted in dialogue onto certain subjects, and found it 
 hard, a tiring effort, to get off them again, Claude's 
 clear, sharp speech was of assistance. It was only a
 
 4 i4 DUKE JONES 
 
 pity that, when she was out in the world and the same 
 curious thing occurred, Claude not being there to help 
 her, people found her a bore, and Eveleen did not like 
 it. She had never been a bore, though she had never 
 tried to be the kind of chatterer who produces a crackle 
 of laughter continually. Her conversation had been 
 sought for itself, not only for the infinite privilege, to 
 the other party, of sitting near her. Consequently, she 
 did not care for people to look at her in a certain man- 
 ner. So she shrank slowly, very slowly, back from the 
 society where she had reigned of old, to her own hearth ; 
 and talked to Claude, who was never bored by any- 
 thing: only inattentive at times, owing to his habit of 
 fussing about a multitude of stupid people for whom 
 Eveleen did not care, and whose miseries and disappoint- 
 ments in life could be nothing, as compared with her 
 own. 
 
 She saw Violet now and then, generally in society: 
 and looked on at her success with a curious combina- 
 tion of interest and jealousy. Violet did not really, ac- 
 cording to Eveleen, know the way to do it, though she 
 had good ideas, at times. She dressed perfectly, Eve- 
 leen had always admitted that, and spent little on it, 
 which her mother approved likewise ; and she knew how 
 to make the best of herself, pretty well, though, when 
 she was chattering her hardest, with several people at 
 once, she flung herself about too much, and made faces. 
 Also she made too much noise that is, produced too 
 much around her. She did not make much noise herself, 
 and always greeted her mother without fussing, kindly. 
 People seemed to want her, which was something, and 
 there was that little stir at her entrance, and at her de- 
 parture, that Eveleen liked to see. That was Ingestre, 
 that stirring power, the thing that brought lounging men 
 to their feet, and made cold women put up their glasses. 
 Eveleen herself could still do that : and looked tranquilly 
 forward to doing it, all her life.
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 415 
 
 III 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 
 
 " ENFIN," said Mr. Ingestre quietly, interrupting a par- 
 ticularly flourishing flirtation with one of his younger 
 relations, as once more the party round the baronial fire- 
 place in the entrance-hall was disturbed by a new arrival. 
 " Madame sait se faire attendre." 
 
 He had risen with his usual difficulty, having risen that 
 evening for no other guest, and passing an arm about the 
 latest comer, furs and all, greeted her as an elderly kins- 
 man may. 
 
 " Nobody with you ? " he inquired sarcastically. 
 
 " He can't, till Christmas Eve," explained Violet. 
 " He's buried under the Christmas books. He's terribly 
 sorry, he just sent me on to say." 
 
 " We regret it," said Mr. Ingestre, glancing once about 
 him, " by the form." 
 
 " Cousin John, if you begin like that before I have even 
 got my hat off " 
 
 " Take off her hat, Agatha," said her host, " and fling 
 it over the wind-mills, or anywhere handy ; and let's have 
 a truce to prudery, from the start. We don't go in for 
 it, Honoria there will tell you. Allow me to introduce 
 such as are necessary, Violet. It does not seem to be 
 many. Turn round." 
 
 "Who is she?" inquired one of the minority, needing 
 an introduction, to one of the majority at her side. 
 
 " Mrs. Shovell. Don't you know her? Jolly fun," said 
 the member of the majority, tilting his chair. 
 
 " I've heard of her. That little thing? I thought she 
 was a beauty. Is she related to the Ingestres, then ? " 
 
 " Own daughter to the incredible Eveleen. Didn't you 
 know?"
 
 416 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Good gracious me ! " The minority stared again. 
 " Well, she doesn't look it. Why isn't Lady Ashwin here ? " 
 
 " Oh not been well lately, they say. Rather out of 
 things," said the majority, with a face the blankness of 
 which was bound to mean something. He only trusted he 
 was not going to be asked for details of the story, because 
 he barely knew them: and, besides, such vaporous trag- 
 edies were a bore. One cannot treat them lightly, in 
 the interests of " form " ; and for the credit of the Christ- 
 mas season, one should try to avoid being serious. 
 
 " Her husband's coming on Christmas Day," he said, 
 to move the subject. " Mrs. Shovell was saying so to Mrs. 
 Ingestre just now. Not her own husband, you know, but 
 Eveleen's. That is, they're both coming, Shovell too, if I 
 caught her drift correctly. Beastly row those fellows 
 make : you can't hear a thing." 
 
 The majority, like many another before him, regretted 
 the soft timbre of Mrs. Shovell's voice, which was easily 
 drowned in company. And loud-voiced company was 
 pressing upon her rather ; for there was a dance that even- 
 ing in three hours' time, and they hoped Mrs. Shovell had 
 given up pretending not to dance, since half the world 
 knew she did. 
 
 " I believe I dance," said Violet, " I really can't remem- 
 ber. I don't mind trying, with somebody kind." 
 
 Everybody was kind, eagerly. It was quite encouraging 
 to set eyes on such a kind-hearted community as Mr. 
 Ingestre had collected about his hearth that evening. So 
 Mrs. Shovell was kind too, by degrees, as she took off her 
 gloves; very leisurely degrees, since she was cold, and 
 wanted her tea, and they were all interrupting her conver- 
 sation with her hostess, most terribly. 
 
 She looked well again, Agatha was glad to see, though 
 still ethereal a trifle. Her energy, socially speaking, was 
 tremendous, as Mrs. Ingestre gathered from reports re- 
 ceived, for she went out less herself in these days. Violet 
 was a small star as yet, but a very bright one, and an
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 417 
 
 object of persistent curiosity to the society astronomers ; 
 for she shone not only by reason of reflected light, as the 
 foregoing dialogue may demonstrate; though, to such as 
 knew the history, Eveleen's dark luster made a very tell- 
 ing background to her own delicate little beam. 
 
 " How frightfully nice it is," said Violet to her cousin 
 Agatha in confidence, patting the original lap-dog, which 
 seemed after all to have survived Charles' cracknels, and 
 even fattened upon the food. " It looks as inviting as 
 possible to-night, with those green leaves round the 
 frames. I can't think why I was so frightened of it all, 
 that time, three years ago." 
 
 " That was it, was it ? " said Agatha. " I have often 
 tried to get to the bottom of that incident, and discover 
 from the servants what really went wrong. Markham 
 said the young lady and gentleman talked so nicely at din- 
 ner, particularly the young lady, that he was sure it 
 was all right, really : nothing seriously amiss." 
 
 " Cousin Agatha ! " The girl blushed, laying her cup 
 down in her lap. " You don't mean Markham said it, 
 really? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm dense: it's a sense of guilt. 
 I have never got over a guilty feeling in the matter. 
 It was really so ungrateful, must have looked so, 
 that sauve-qui-peut. But it was one, we were terrified." 
 
 " The honeymoon is an abuse that wants attending to," 
 said Agatha, making tea for ten people at once while she 
 spoke. " Mine was a nightmare." 
 
 She added this last information very low indeed, amid 
 the clash of cups. Since Agatha had been considered one 
 of the luckiest women of her generation, the thing almost 
 equaled a confession. But then, people confessed unaware 
 in Mrs. Shovell's company, very frequently. It was partly 
 because she gave herself away, by her own little blushes, 
 even in a dialogue which her tongue managed quite 
 cleverly. This habit of impetuous self -betrayal in the 
 intervals of elegant discourse is encouraging to the oppo- 
 site party to be sincere as well.
 
 4 i8 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I wish," said Agatha, some time later, when the claims 
 of new guests arriving broke in upon her peace again, " I 
 had any hope of seeing much of you ; but this may very 
 well be our first and last conversation. You must believe 
 I should be glad to, if I could." 
 
 Mrs. Ingestre had no daughter, and her only daughter- 
 in-law disliked her. A "companion," suavely proposed 
 by John for her relief whenever she broke down, was a 
 confession of incompetence revolting to her independent 
 nature. Honoria Addenbroke, whom she asked, from 
 pure kindness, regularly every hunting-season, might 
 easily have acted a daughter's part, since she knew the 
 house and its habitues. But Honoria could not be both- 
 ered with house-keeping flummeries, so Agatha under- 
 stood; and, besides, she was always offending people. 
 Thus Mrs. Ingestre, who was ageing rapidly in body for 
 all her vigorous spirit, was left to deal with the yearly 
 invasion, practically alone. 
 
 Mrs. Shovell, turning to the male majority perforce 
 again, took a note by the way of these really flagrant facts, 
 which simply jumped at one in the first half-hour of 
 arrival in Agatha's hospitable hall. The poor woman had 
 more than she could do, even getting the tea poured and 
 distributed : she did not, nobody does nowadays, order 
 the young men about sufficiently : and it was sheer sweet- 
 ness on her part not to have the servants in, and so dis- 
 turb the agreeable sense of intimacy, which all enjoyed, 
 except Agatha, in this gathering of old friends. 
 
 The result of the said note on Violet's mental tablet was 
 that she not only had several more conversations with 
 Agatha during that busy week, but the business of the 
 week was greatly lightened for the hostess by her ready 
 hands and tongue. It is rare for a popular young woman 
 in a house-party, the especially distinguished favorite of 
 its head, to put herself definitely on the side of its over- 
 worked mistress from the start. It is even a little delicate 
 and difficult to accomplish, when the lord and master of
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 419 
 
 both house and housekeeper chooses to show himself 
 jealous of the young woman's society : but it can be done. 
 Mrs. Shovell proved it could be done: with the greater 
 ease that she was already on friendly terms with most of 
 Agatha's servants, whose hearts she had won by her shy 
 and gentle bearing during the first week of her married 
 life. The butler and the chauffeur loved her particularly : 
 and she was surprised in deep conference with the latter 
 gentleman by Mr. Ingestre, the first morning of her visit, 
 in the drive. 
 
 " Thinking of running off again ? " said John. " I won't 
 have it." And he took her severely into custody, while the 
 chauffeur hid his blushes in the car. 
 
 Honoria, looking on at Violet's proceedings, in a supe- 
 rior and sneering manner, took notes of all her flirtations, 
 or as many as she could by any means see or overhear, 
 in case Charles wanted to know. Unless he displayed 
 curiosity, Honoria did not intend to volunteer the infor- 
 mation. They would undoubtedly have other affairs to 
 discuss, when they met, more amusing ; and since anyone 
 could detect on sight the sort of girl she was, now Ho- 
 noria had her in the open, the matter was of small mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Honoria had suddenly become engaged again, not to 
 the original party, but another; so she had a splendid 
 position from which to discourse to the world concerning 
 the " fun " she had enjoyed in days gone by, with the 
 " Shovell boy," and others of his kind. She was enjoying 
 her position to the full, this pleasant Christmas season: 
 and could afford to be less disagreeable than usual, even 
 talking once or twice, with chaffing condescension, of her 
 sister, Mrs. Jones. 
 
 John Ingestre told Violet, d propos of Honoria's be- 
 trothal, that he simply could not make out how the girl 
 did it, and he wished Violet would find out for him, if 
 she could put up with so much of Honoria's society. The 
 man was not forthcoming, said John, possibly unpre-
 
 420 DUKE JONES 
 
 sentable, but there was no doubt he was there. He 
 owned horses, too, because Honoria rode them. John 
 thought a gentleman-farmer, with a broad Somersetshire 
 accent: and the horses, cart-horses, very likely. 
 
 " It would take a cart-horse to carry her," said John 
 reflectively: having that moment mounted Violet on the 
 best and quietest of his. 
 
 He chose the quietest, because he was inclined to be 
 over-careful of her, what in a slightly older gentleman 
 would have been called fussy. Comparing her constantly, 
 involuntarily, as he did, with her mother, and the other 
 splendid women of his house, he could not believe she was 
 not as fragile as she looked. If Violet had tried to be 
 like her mother, John would not have admired her: he 
 would have regretfully retired; but with feminine cun- 
 ning, she had adopted a type in almost perfect contrast: 
 " deuced clever," in John's opinion, since it enabled him 
 both to admire her extremely, and to pet her to his heart's 
 content. 
 
 " Don't you do anything reckless, madam," he said 
 warningly, from the steps. " I've heard what you're like on 
 the downs. Dering, Mannering, Johnny, you young 
 fellows look out." 
 
 The last person he addressed was his own son, who 
 came up in a cousinly and unassuming fashion on Mrs. 
 ShovelFs other side ; most attentive to paternal command, 
 as was evident, and anxious to oblige him, before the 
 other fellows alluded to got in. The other fellows had 
 t6 get up first, before they could get in, and Johnny, for- 
 tunately, had mounfed down at the stable. So he and 
 Mrs. Shovell were well ahead, half-way to the western 
 gates, before young Dering, and Mannering the secretary, 
 and Johnny's wife, and so on, trotted after. " So on " 
 was Miss Addenbroke, far and away the best rider of 
 the party, men included, but out of her element in what 
 she contemptuously called an "amble." She was des- 
 perately bored, that day on the downs, entirely owing to
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 421 
 
 Violet; so she saved that grievance up for Charles, as 
 well. 
 
 Charles came down late on the Friday night, right into 
 the middle of the Christmas dance. He could, with an 
 effort, have caught a train which would have landed him 
 just in time for it; but Charles seldom found it worth 
 while in life to make such efforts, and took things easily, 
 as they came. Thus, having dressed at his leisure, ex- 
 amined the comfortable quarters destined to him in detail, 
 and chaffed such servants as recognized him on his way 
 downstairs, he appeared on the festive scene in the hall 
 about half-past ten o'clock ; and, since late comers cannot 
 choose, he took on Honoria, or any other girl who had 
 room on her card, very agreeably. 
 
 Honoria had plenty of room, she danced less well than 
 she rode, but Charles considered, even for old sake's 
 sake, two was enough. She seemed in a pleasant frame 
 of mind, which was something, and, by Charles' reckon- 
 ing, she paid her way. For, sitting out in private corners 
 which he discovered for her, she told him all the best 
 anecdotes of that house-party, one by one, and brought 
 him up to date with her own business and everybody 
 else's, so that he could start fair at breakfast-time on 
 Christmas morning. This was really kind of her, and 
 Charles appreciated it. He was vague, but courteous, in 
 response : and amusing now and then, apparently by mis- 
 take. He was really rather tired with a hard week's 
 work, and inclined to let others do the entertaining. 
 
 Several of the young men Honoria dealt with so faith- 
 fully were his personal friends, but he had not the heart 
 to tell her so ; nor did he so much as blink when Violet's 
 name came up in close conjunction with some of theirs. 
 That part of Honoria's information interested him espe- 
 cially ; for, exchanging the jests of the season with Johnny 
 and others in passing, he had learnt among other con- 
 fidences, that, do what they would, they could not get Mrs. 
 Shovell away from the elder John. He was, it appeared
 
 422 DUKE JONES 
 
 by the young men's discourse, always pouncing upon her 
 in better company, and carrying her off to bore her about 
 books and such rot behind the scenes ; which was sicken- 
 ing luck on Mrs. Shovell, in the first place; and in the 
 second place, sickening luck on Johnny and company, 
 who growled to Charles. 
 
 Thus Charles sat comparing notes, and looking engag- 
 ing, at Miss Addenbroke's side: rather obscured by her 
 magnificence, but bearing it well. He helped her along 
 by a word when she seemed to be running down, and 
 looked for Violet, surreptitiously, meanwhile. He heard 
 of her constantly, on all sides, like a fairy-tale, but he 
 could not discover her in the life. Since everybody else 
 seemed to have met her, and assured him she was danc- 
 ing, all the time, this was really mysterious : but he laid 
 it to her elfin nature. When she wanted to hide from 
 him, she could, and Charles supposed she wanted to. He 
 would take it out of her, naturally, later on; but in the 
 meantime he was most suavely, seasonably, and sense- 
 lessly agreeable to other girls. 
 
 " There's your wife," said the very girl he was talking 
 to once, in the small ivy-embowered balcony above the 
 hall. 
 
 " Where ? " said Charles, with interest, leaning his arms 
 upon the balustrade, and looking down upon the crowd. 
 
 It was a charming crowd to look at, wreaths of del- 
 icate color beneath the burnished foliage, and it did his 
 eyes good : for Charles loved all festivity, and he had been 
 extraordinarily hard-working and home-keeping, of ne- 
 cessity, of late. It happened that one of the moments had 
 come, at his office, to make a stride, and he was making 
 it : partly to please Violet, who did not know at present, 
 and partly to show a scoffing world that he could con- 
 centrate, when he liked. Now he intended to relax in 
 proportion ; and it struck him the place he was in promised 
 well for the purpose, though he would not commit him- 
 self to an opinion at present. Charles' fashion of " slack-
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 423 
 
 ing " was his own, an art perfected by long study ; and 
 he was very particular about its materials, choosing and 
 discarding for some time before he found the right ones, 
 for his spirit's need. 
 
 " She was there," said the girl beside him, puzzled. " I 
 saw the thing in her hair." 
 
 "Not a little crescent thing?" said Charles anxiously. 
 "In front?" 
 
 " No, at the side. I can't remember what shape." 
 The girl was still searching vainly among the drifting 
 figures below. " It must be because she's so small," she 
 said, giving it up. 
 
 " She's not really small," said Charles. " She's as tall 
 as you are, perhaps a little less." 
 
 " So light, then, what is it ? You never know where 
 she's going to be next. You ought to be able to find her." 
 She looked at her companion quizzically. " You ought 
 at least to know her by sight." 
 
 " Oh, I do, I think," said Charles. " I mean, I should 
 know her when I saw her. Fact is, I've not really given 
 
 my mind to it at present, Miss " Her name escaped 
 
 him. " I shall see her after midnight, I expect." 
 
 " Mr. Shovell ! That sounds like a story." This was 
 evidently a nice girl. Honoria had introduced her, so 
 Charles had expected nothing of her, and it was a relief 
 to find her so conversable. She was a complete stranger 
 to him, and also, as it seemed, to most of the house-party ; 
 so Honoria, ponderously benevolent, had taken her in 
 charge for the evening. 
 
 " You won't get hold of her after midnight," she 
 warned Charles. " She'll be engaged deeper than ever 
 then." 
 
 " I don't say I shall get hold of her," he explained. 
 "I don't say I want to. I shall catch sight of her, that's 
 all." 
 
 " She's an absolutely exquisite dancer," observed the 
 girl. " They all say that."
 
 424 DUKE JONES 
 
 " I know. When you see them only after twelve 
 o'clock," said Charles dreamily, " they are." 
 
 " Thanks so much," said the girl, when she went back 
 to her patroness, Miss Addenbroke. " He's delightful, 
 and quite mad. We had a splendid time up there. Did 
 you see us peering down ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Honoria, who had occupied the same hid- 
 ing-place with Charles, shortly before. He knew every 
 corner of this house, to a surprising degree, as though 
 he had explored it before now, in congenial company. 
 He had introduced Honoria almost at once to that little 
 gallery, an excellent post for spying, to which nobody 
 but he, apparently, had learnt the way. 
 
 " He's a publisher or something of the kind," said the 
 girl, who had clearly been amused by Charles, " and he 
 says his head is turned with the Christmas books, and 
 that nothing seems quite real to him. He kept on for- 
 getting my name, and excused himself in the same words 
 every time. He said he began to believe in me before I 
 left him, and might consequently venture to ask me for 
 another dance. But I had to tell him my name again for 
 him to write it on his card. He said he saw goblins 
 among the roots of the oaks in the park as he drove up, 
 and the moon struck him as the wrong shape. And he 
 said the moment he came in at the door he felt some- 
 thing was not quite right with the house: and that you 
 had made him feel sure of it." 
 
 " I ? " said Honoria. Charles had risked the chance 
 of his partner passing this on, because he had an idea 
 Miss Addenbroke would misunderstand it. She did. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " I hope he has not taken everything I 
 told him du pied de la lettre. I just put him into the 
 swim of things a bit; and I mentioned his wife's little 
 games with Johnny, among others, and Mrs. Johnny's 
 state of mind. He didn't take it too seriously, I hope." 
 
 " I am certain he didn't," said the girl. " Because, 
 firstly, he is quite incapable of taking anything seriously,
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 425 
 
 Miss Addenbroke, at least to-night. And secondly, be- 
 cause that sort of thing would run off him as soon as said. 
 He's killing about her, might have been married yester- 
 day. He's far worse than Mr. John." 
 
 After that the girl, who was just at the point, reached 
 by most people after an evening's acquaintance, of having 
 had enough of Honoria, parted with her brusquely and 
 went elsewhere for introductions. 
 
 Shortly after twelve o'clock, when Christmas morning 
 had come in, and everybody was at their silliest, in accord- 
 ance with the excellent tradition at that hour of the year, 
 Charles met this sympathetic girl in the press below again. 
 
 " It's all right, you see," he reassured her with a nod, in 
 confidence : having at the minute his wife's hand through 
 his arm. "Just when the clock began to purr, I saw 
 something that looked like her, like what I remembered, 
 you know. And before it had finished striking, there she 
 was over by the door." 
 
 " I hope she seems as usual," laughed the girl, glancing 
 apology at Violet beyond, who did not know her the least. 
 Violet's eyebrows were up, patiently, as though Charles 
 had long been putting her through this sort of thing. 
 
 " She said she had been out in the park." Charles 
 looked at his late partner with serious blue eyes. " She 
 said the moon was so beautiful. It struck me as a bit 
 
 well ! What do you say, Miss " he had forgotten her 
 
 name again. 
 
 " You might introduce me, at least," murmured Violet, 
 though with little hope of Charles. 
 
 " He can't," said the other girl, laughing. " He simply 
 can't remember it for five minutes: and it's not a long 
 one, either, nor hard to spell. ... I think, Mr. 
 Shovell, it looks bad. You have noticed nothing wrong 
 at present, I hope." 
 
 " Only the way she dances," said Charles privately. 
 " It's not quite what I remembered, not quite."
 
 426 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Worse ? " murmured the girl. 
 
 " Better. . . . She'd been practicing. . , . There ! " 
 said Charles, waking suddenly into a perfectly normal 
 frame of mind, and speaking in a normal tone of voice. 
 " There's a decent space at last, good business. Got 
 your train safe, ducky? Come along." 
 
 II 
 
 The next day, being that indescribable thing, regarded 
 as a day, the twenty-fifth of December, most of the young 
 women were bored by the afternoon, and the young men, 
 largely ill-tempered, felt the need of violent exercise. 
 Shovell had good ideas in these things, and he proposed 
 a game : so all the young men went out to have a game, 
 in the flattest field of the home farm. They would not 
 say what sort of game, no one ventured to give it a 
 title, they looked vague about it. But they took their 
 hockey clubs, at least, those did who had them, and 
 the others, if they could not borrow from Johnny, took 
 all sorts of things. 
 
 They particularly did not want any girls, the rites 
 were private, but they behaved so very darkly about it 
 beforehand, especially Charles, that several girls felt 
 curious, and stole down in the course of the afternoon, 
 behind the hedge, to see. Miss Addenbroke and one other 
 girl, eventually, were allowed to play, as numbers proved 
 short, and were intolerably puffed up in consequence ; 
 but even they, one of them a Wrangler, could not de- 
 fine precisely afterwards what the game had been. It 
 had to go down to posterity unclassed. They were only 
 all certain of one thing, that Mr. Shovell was very silly. 
 
 They all got extremely hot, and disreputable, and 
 muddy ; but they came trooping home in excellent spirits 
 finally ; and if the Christmas fare that evening was worth- 
 ily discussed, Mr. Ingestre's cook should have thanked 
 Charles. 
 
 " Where's Mrs. Shovell got to ? " said somebody, dur-
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 427 
 
 ing a truce of the melee, to young John. The group of 
 intruding girls by the hedge certainly did not include her 
 at the moment ; but she might, of course, have been there 
 once, and evaporated. That was what somebody meant. 
 Also, every nice girl comes down once to watch her hus- 
 band play, if he show such misdirected prowess as 
 Shovell. Somebody, who was John Ingestre's secretary, 
 probably included this in his suggestion. Heroes on the 
 field of glory are terse. 
 
 " She's got nowhere," said the son of the house, " since 
 she never came out. Mother said Sir Claude Ashw'in 
 was coming down for the afternoon." 
 
 " What's he ? " said the secretary. 
 
 " A doctor of sorts," said young John. " Violet stopped 
 to see him." 
 
 "Oh, I say! What's that for?" said the secretary, 
 alarmed. 
 
 " 'Cause he's her father," said Johnny. " Ho, ho ! One 
 for you, Mannering. Look at his face ! " 
 
 " Looks at the last gasp, doesn't she ? " said the next 
 person, who was lying on his back on the grass. " Not 
 got over that eighth waltz with you, Mannering, last night. 
 Ha, ha ! " 
 
 This is the kind of mood those young men were in. 
 We will refrain from quoting more than is quite neces- 
 sary of their conversations. 
 
 " She's got him fast, so far," said Mr. Ingestre, in the 
 seclusion of his own little room of business, scratching 
 his chin. " Though how she's done it " 
 
 He spoke to Claude, who had, very properly, granted 
 him the preliminary interview, which John now seemed 
 inclined to draw out. Violet was not the subject of the 
 interview, which was semi-official in character; they had 
 only recurred to her by way of natural relief from the 
 main theme, peculiarly painful to John. Besides, Mr. 
 Ingestre was genuinely curious about the little Shovell
 
 428 DUKE JONES 
 
 menage, perplexed almost; and he had an idea that 
 Claude might throw some light on the problem, if teased 
 sufficiently. Claude, being in a lazy mood, did not seem 
 inclined to disturb himself on the matter, so John did 
 most of the talking. Charles' stability was evidently a 
 nine days' wonder to John, as to Eveleen. He could not 
 get over Charles. 
 
 " Not that I've anything against the girl," he said, for 
 her father's reassurance. " The contrary, I delight in 
 her. She's a permanent type, belongs to no generation 
 in particular. That's why I can put our Jack's nose out 
 of joint, when we both happen to want her simultaneously. 
 I knew a dozen charming women more or less like her 
 in my time, well, Claude, one or two. And I observe 
 Johnny's side is rather at a loss when she runs into four 
 syllables. She only does it when she's excited, bless her, 
 takes the greatest care of 'em generally." John 
 scratched his chin, and reverted. " It's the lad. We 
 know all about that sort, you know, had heaps of 'em. 
 I knew about his father before him, too. He's a scatter- 
 brain, rogue, as Agatha says, a born philanderer. 
 Nothing to get hold of anywhere, you'd say." A solemn 
 pause, Claude offering no assistance. 
 
 " She's pretty, of course, prettyish," said John. 
 " Lord knows if she's pretty or not, I'm always look- 
 ing at her to see if I can find out. Perhaps that's what 
 keeps the boy going, eh? You needn't scoff, Claude. 
 She's really not a patch on what her mother was, any- 
 how." 
 
 " Not a patch," agreed Claude, who was not scoffing, 
 at least audibly. He was enjoying the country view out 
 of the ground-floor window. 
 
 " And he's a grievance," proceeded John, " in that 
 business of the child. That's a fair grievance, if he 
 wanted one. She was in the wrong there, you'll admit." 
 
 " I admitted it," said Claude, " to the extent of telling 
 her so, at some length. That entered my office, as I con- 
 sidered."
 
 'EPILOGUE AND NOTE 429 
 
 " You scolded her, did you ? Did you inform her she 
 was rash ? " 
 
 " Naturally, that's what I mean. I was on the med- 
 ical tack." 
 
 " Pish ! " said John rudely. He was often rude to 
 Claude, it relieved him. " As regards her hold on her 
 husband, I mean." 
 
 " No," said Claude, considering. " I did not dwell on 
 that, so far as I remember." 
 
 " It might not have struck her," said John. " She 
 probably had other worries at the time." 
 
 The doctor laughed, and then excused himself. Then 
 he told John, as already once before during the conver- 
 sation, that his house had a remarkably fine position. 
 After that he answered John's last observation. 
 
 " I do that sort of thing badly," he explained. " Not 
 to mention there was no need to harp on it, since Eveleen 
 was safe to do so." 
 
 " Ah," said John, interested. " Yes, to be sure." He 
 had not thought of Eveleen. 
 
 " Besides," Claude pursued calmly, " it would have 
 approached impertinence, from me. Violet knows her 
 business better than I do. I never saw a girl give her 
 mind to anything as she did to that boy the year before 
 her marriage, and she had evidence and to spare," he 
 added, " of his instability then. I had my own doubts 
 at the time if he were worth her pains." 
 
 " Eh? " John was more interested. " Why didn't you 
 forbid the banns ? " 
 
 " I left it to her," said Claude. 
 
 " Pooh," said John. " Under twenty, wasn't she ? 
 What's the good of that? " 
 
 " I was approaching fifty," said Claude idly. " What's 
 the good of that?" 
 
 " You're talking nonsense, Ashwin," his host warned 
 him, "and I'm serious. Besides, you needn't pretend 
 you're over fifty, I know better. . . . You think 
 the girl did it with her eyes open, then ? "
 
 43 o DUKE JONES 
 
 " Her marriage ? " 
 
 " No, confound you ! That escapade to Dover." 
 
 " Wide open," said Claude. " All night, worse luck." 
 His own absent eyes softened at the memory. " She was 
 even, as you suggested yourself, Ingestre, looking at 
 more than one thing at once. Women have to." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " returned John : and the dialogue ended. 
 
 John's dialogues with Claude frequently did ; yet he 
 could never resist the temptation, next time he came 
 across him, of attacking their innumerable differences 
 again. He had such a violent desire, during the period of 
 their conversation, to drag Claude round to his opinion ; 
 but the most he could generally accomplish was to reduce 
 him to silence : or worse, as lately, to make him laugh. 
 
 His position with the younger man was the more diffi- 
 cult that, in all that concerned the question of Eveleen, 
 Claude was beyond reproach at his present host's hands, 
 or even criticism. He even seemed to be conscious of 
 John's feelings on the subject, which John most angrily 
 concealed. Mr. Ingestre could not really bear to talk of 
 Eveleen, the debacle of her great glory, that terrible 
 twilight of the gods that was worse, by far, than death 
 to John, as to all who had ever adored her. Yet Claude 
 himself had adored her, John could not deny; and there 
 he sat, taking it with that fatal medical calm, as though 
 such a thing had ever happened to such a woman before ! 
 He seemed to know all John's feeling as he talked; he 
 was dexterous and gentle as he would have been with 
 any sensitive patient; and yet the head of her family 
 knew all there was to know of Eveleen, invariably, before 
 Mr. Ingestre, often with deliberate discourtesy, shut off 
 communications. From such angry striving with the 
 inevitable, the subject of the " little girl's " affairs, the 
 little sorrows and showers of the spring-tide, were an 
 almost exquisite solace to John. Perhaps to the little 
 girl's father too, only, with such as Claude, one could not 
 know.
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 431 
 
 " Well," said John, finally releasing him, " go to the 
 child; she's waiting, I suppose. I thought she might in- 
 vade us if I dawdled, but I suppose, as usual, she is too 
 correct. What's that ? " 
 
 The doctor, who had risen at once at the permission, 
 had taken up his heavy coat, which lay across a chair, and 
 extracted a packet from its recesses. 
 
 " They are the first proofs," he said, " of my son-in- 
 law's sonnets, which I was intrusted by Lucas Warden to 
 deliver." 
 
 " You mean he writes ? " snapped John. 
 
 " Certainly, did you not know ? Perhaps you would 
 hand them to him, John, I have a notion I had better 
 not let on to Violet. They were aimed at her birthday, 
 originally, so I was informed ; and will consequently miss 
 Christmas, and be ready very doubtfully for the New 
 Year. Charles will not look out, or make up, the half- 
 dozen more Warden needs to complete the book. War- 
 den has run the first lot into print to encourage him. He 
 told me he loved to see himself in print." 
 
 " There you are ! " said John impatiently. " Everyone 
 talks of him like that." 
 
 " It's a human weakness," said Claude, apologizing for 
 Charles. " I like to see myself in print, too, awfully." 
 
 " When's the world going to see you ? " said John, fol- 
 lowing him out to the hall. Having dismissed, he was 
 aware of a wish to detain him. 
 
 " Never, at this rate." He tossed Charles' proofs on 
 the table. " It won't be much loss to the world. I am 
 coming to that conclusion." Claude swung about, and 
 glanced up the stairway behind him. " Yes, Pussy-cat, 
 we have finished : come along. Got your cloak? We will 
 go outside, John, if you will excuse us." 
 
 " Is the great work not advancing? " persisted John, as 
 Violet descended the last flight like a cascade, and was 
 stayed from annihilation by her father's arm. 
 
 " That's not the way to put it, Cousin John," she
 
 432 DUKE JONES 
 
 observed. " Is the great work steadily decreasing, Father 
 dear?" 
 
 " Steadily," said Sir Claude serenely. " Ford wrote a 
 page last month, and I tore up a chapter." 
 
 " Oh, you exquisites ! " Mr. Ingestre looked from one 
 to the other. " You're not going to drag her out, Claude ? 
 Nonsense, it's raining. Come to my room." 
 
 " You can't be so cruel, doctor," added Mrs. Shovell, 
 laying her head against his arm. " I shall have to curl 
 my hair again." 
 
 " We talk better walking," Claude explained to John, 
 " that's the fact." 
 
 " Faster," said Violet. " Just show me exactly how 
 long you have, to regulate my tempo accordingly." She 
 caught his watch. " Oh, mercy, no, I've not the breath ! 
 It can't be necessary, Father, you overdo it, you know. 
 You won't see Charles." 
 
 " I shall, if he's up to time," said Claude. 
 
 " He won't be," said Violet. " You can't seriously 
 expect it, when he is running about with a ball." 
 
 " There you are ! " said John again. " She's as bad 
 as the rest." He shoved the proof-packet unconsciously 
 with his hand, in irritation. 
 
 " What are those ? " said the girl, her quick eye caught 
 by the movement. 
 
 "Your husband's proofs," said her father at once. 
 " Warden gave them me, to spare burdening the Christ- 
 mas post." 
 
 " What has he been doing now ? " said Violet, with 
 resignation. 
 
 " Everything he shouldn't, as usual," said Sir Claude. 
 " A pack of impartial effusions, my dear. You can set- 
 tle him afterwards. Come along now." 
 
 " Impartial? " John was amused to see her color rise 
 as she underlined the word. " Not truly, Father ? " 
 
 " You'd better have a look," jibed John. " We can't 
 afford impartiality in our poets, can we ? "
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 433 
 
 She touched the packet for a minute with one little 
 hand, then pushed it from her with decision. 
 
 " Mr. Warden's been flattering him, I suppose. Oh 
 dear, isn't he tiresome ? He might tell me, at least." 
 
 " Come along," repeated Claude, with the impatience of 
 a boy, holding her furred cloak. Having her inside it, he 
 wrapped it closely all about her, and swept her in the 
 same movement towards the garden door. Before they 
 reached it she was chattering to him low, and John heard 
 her little laugh at his reply. He had the old sensation, 
 on witnessing it, of a fine harmony, two beings in per- 
 fect tune, physical and mental. They would have walked 
 together, or danced, he was sure, with the same light 
 ease that they conversed. Young as he still looked, at 
 least in action, they might have been brother and sister 
 rather than father and child. He had had the same im- 
 pression from Claude's fashion of speaking of her in 
 the late dialogue, that of sheer friendliness. The girl 
 had the rare spirit that is friendly to man ; and with this 
 man alone she could offer all she had at her ease, being 
 sure of the fair exchange. 
 
 Mr. Ingestre did not get as far as this last thought, 
 naturally : but he felt enlightened a little, for all Claude's 
 reticence, and he took immediate measures to become 
 more so; for, at their departure, he laid hands, most 
 unrighteous hands, on Charles' proofs. John was used 
 to playing tyrant, and doing what he liked in his own 
 house; and this, to his ideas, was only going a little be- 
 yond his rights, if at all. It was his business to investi- 
 gate the state of things, if Claude would not; and any- 
 how, the investigation was likely to be amusing. 
 
 It was purely so, for long. He spent a most interest- 
 ing hour over Charles' " effusions," until the light failed. 
 The verses were excellent reading, and stood the fire even 
 of John's criticism wonderfully well. The workmanship 
 was good, and the feeling creditable. They were ad- 
 dressed to some dozen of different females, as Mr. In-
 
 434 DUKE JONES 
 
 gestre expected, and the discovery vaguely gratified him. 
 One or two were deliberately light, in his personal vein 
 of drollery, but those were the exceptions. In the major- 
 ity, he seemed serious enough. 
 
 Then, at the tail-end, John came upon the sheaf of 
 honeymoon sonnets, each betraying itself artlessly to a 
 curious world by a place-name and a date. There was 
 even one about John's own house, which tickled both his 
 humor and his family pride. The rest dealt with various 
 subjects, but chiefly with Charles. The second person 
 singular occurred in them, as was proper, here and there, 
 but very delicately disseminated ; I, my, and myself were 
 commoner. John smiled grimly, reading; but he began 
 to have his doubts, as he went along, first, if the boy 
 should publish this sort of thing: and secondly, whether 
 he should read. It was all terribly young, innocent, and 
 obvious, like Charles; but it had something else which 
 John, merciless critic as he was, admitted as he pursued. 
 He had the gift, this boy, he wielded the power which 
 John did not seek to define, beyond that it swayed his 
 senses pleasurably, and touched him now and then. Art- 
 less as the tongue seemed that he used, it was the tongue 
 transmitted from the first best masters of our lyric verse. 
 It struck John, as with many young poets, that Charles 
 had read before he wrote: but he had drenched himself 
 in the right school. He had not squandered time over 
 Rosetti and the moderns. He teased the language, and 
 fidgeted his phrases at times : but his aim was precise in 
 general, and his taste pure. John, still doubting whether 
 he should read, read on persistently, and even went 
 through some of them twice; to test the measure and 
 rhythm, not to understand. Their lucidity throughout 
 was their first charm. 
 
 Then he came to a poem about a lighthouse, and read 
 it three times through before he understood it at all, and 
 stopped over it for long. 
 
 He stopped, first, because it was by far the best he had
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 435 
 
 reached, and different in style strangely intimate and 
 tender, even a trifle shy. It had borrowed another char- 
 acter. Next, because it was absolutely difficult, written, 
 as it were, in cipher, and needing both thought and sym- 
 pathy in the reader to interpret. Thirdly, because it had 
 a tang of the unusual, the use of words was quaint. 
 " Impartial " was an odd word, for instance, the light- 
 house " scattered its impartial light," in the second line, 
 and recalled to John an Ashwin dialogue lately. It cer- 
 tainly did not sound like Charles. Having fairly made 
 it out, Mr. Ingestre decided it was " deuced pretty," 
 and summoned his wife, who was passing through the 
 hall, to come and agree with him. 
 
 " He was tolerably far gone then, at any rate," 
 observed John, handing the page to her. " Just look 
 at that." 
 
 "Who gave you this?" said Agatha, when she had 
 looked. 
 
 " Claude left them," said John unblushing. " What do 
 you think of it ? " 
 
 " I think the girl would object, with reason, if she 
 knew." 
 
 " Get along," said John. " She'd be delighted." But 
 he recollected the girl's change of color at her father's 
 allusion as he spoke. 
 
 " Violet is shy," said Agatha, " really shy. It's not fair 
 of the boy to ' afficher ' her." 
 
 " I tell you women love it," said John, neglecting the 
 fact that he was speaking to one. Agatha did not count 
 when he generalized on the subject. " When do you sup- 
 pose," he proceeded, having let her read it through again, 
 " he added the fifteenth line? " 
 
 " That is what I was wondering," she answered. " It 
 must have been some time after composition, to make 
 sense." 
 
 The lines to the lighthouse had neither date nor dedica- 
 tion, but Charles had taken a motto to his sonnet from
 
 43 6 DUKE JONES 
 
 another, and it stood printed small, but for all the world 
 to read, across the top. 
 
 "Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing." 
 
 That was the " fifteenth line." 
 
 " Where does it come from ? " said John, after a pause. 
 
 " Elizabethan, I should think," said Agatha. 
 
 " I could have got as far as that. There are a dozen 
 Elizabethans." Then, as she only shrugged " What's 
 the good of you ? " he said crossly, struggling to his feet. 
 " Claude would have known." He took down some 
 volumes from his shelves. 
 
 " It's likely to be Shakespeare," said Agatha presently. 
 " Violet says he reads nothing else." 
 
 "Why couldn't you say so sooner?" said John, and 
 put up the book he had chosen to take down another. 
 
 Presently he found it, and read her the sonnet, his voice 
 changing oddly, its rasping accent vanishing, to do justice 
 to art, and to woman, of course, by the way. It was 
 superb nonsense, as he said, the last word in eulogy, 
 some of the finest flattery ever penned. John approved of 
 flattery, and thoroughly enjoyed the courtly style : though 
 he snapped his wife most uncivilly short in all the com- 
 ments she made upon it, until he reached the finishing 
 couplet 
 
 "Thus have I had thee, as a dream may flatter 
 In sleep a King ." 
 
 " A King writes," said Agatha, in a kind of exultation. 
 " He can't disguise it." 
 
 " A ramshackle playwright wrote it," said John, for the 
 sake of contradiction, " in love with a soubrette." 
 
 Agatha, who was aware that the lines in question had 
 been addressed, in the original instance, to a man, did not 
 contradict him, though her eyes showed grim amusement. 
 Her " scores " over John were generally private, and in 
 the present case, possessing " the girl's " full confidence,
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 437 
 
 she was more than ever inclined to hug the facts she 
 knew. It was the woman's conspiracy, well-known where 
 such as John are concerned. 
 
 " Those men," she observed, " were in love with their 
 own language, nothing more. I expect the lady was a 
 dream." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " said John. 
 
 " Imaginary, why not ? Shakespeare had dreams 
 enough to draw upon. It often surprises me the com- 
 mentators never think of that. No real woman was ever 
 worthy of words like those." 
 
 John looked vexed. " What does it signify if she was 
 worthy? She wasn't probably. It's the last thing likely 
 in the case. But she was there, and we have got the 
 sonnets." 
 
 " And leave them in the shelves," said Agatha, turning 
 to the door. 
 
 "Well, little Shovell doesn't," said John. He threw 
 Shakespeare aside, and limped back to Charles' proofs. 
 
 " It's a deuced nice way to treat a woman," was his final 
 opinion. " I shouldn't have said the boy was capable of 
 it. I like him better than I did." 
 
 in 
 
 When Charles came in, among the very last and dirtiest 
 group of the day's heroes, he espied Violet's skirts just 
 vanishing round the turn of the staircase as he attained 
 the hall. He was exactly an hour later than he had prom- 
 ised her, but quite serene, of course: as though people 
 had not been waiting for him, and delaying their affairs 
 in town for him, for half the afternoon. 
 
 " Hullo, darling," he called, shamelessly loud, since he 
 needed to detain her. " Turn on the bath, if you are 
 going up." 
 
 " Don't," counseled Johnny, who followed Charles. 
 " Keep him in his place, Violet." 
 
 " I shouldn't think of it," said Violet, preparing to re-
 
 43 8 DUKE JONES 
 
 treat. As the hall below her was filling with dirty heroes, 
 very loud of tongue, and all half-dressed, it seemed no 
 more than kind to do so. 
 
 " Governor gone ? " demanded the shameless Charles. 
 
 " The governor has. The Queen or somebody wanted 
 him. He sent his obsequious apologies." 
 
 " Give you anything ? " said Charles. 
 
 " Naturally," said Violet. 
 
 "Decent?" said Charles. 
 
 " Naturally; and he left that note for you." 
 
 "Which?" 
 
 " Under your nose, with the parcel. Oh, show him, 
 John, will you ? He's blind." 
 
 " You're drunk, Shovell," said Johnny, indicating it. 
 Mrs. Shovell above slipped round the corner of the 
 staircase. 
 
 "Christmas present?" shouted Charles, louder than 
 ever, in her wake. 
 
 " From Mr. Warden," she called back dryly. " Re- 
 turned with thanks, I understand." 
 
 " Little beast," muttered Charles ; but he himself had 
 sought publicity. There was exactly one circle among 
 Mr. Shovell's immense acquaintance from whom he would 
 have preferred to disguise his literary aspirations, and he 
 stood among them at this moment. 
 
 With a yell of delight, John Ingestre the younger cast 
 himself upon the sheaf of proofs : and several others of 
 Charles' dear friends followed him. The poet, just from 
 the fray, had to gird on his armor once more, and fight 
 for his own, not to mention hers, against considerable 
 odds. He just succeeded in wresting the printed matter 
 from their hands ; but the fact that Shovell wrote verses, 
 and was in the habit of being rejected by his publishers 
 was, owing to Violet, deeply rooted in all their minds: 
 and as the frame of their heroic minds was a happy, not 
 to say a hungry one, one subject served them amply for 
 the whole of dinner-time. The second fact, as Charles
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 439 
 
 continued fruitlessly to assert, was false. It was slightly 
 the more amusing of the two, so nobody attended to him. 
 
 " It's not the case, sir," said Charles, turning to his 
 host, in extremity. " It's the opposite of the truth. That's 
 what she generally tells." 
 
 " You don't mean Warden wants more of the same 
 sort ? " said John, who was watching him steadily, in his 
 valiant struggle against numbers. Detected as he was, 
 and the center of attention, he was not at all confused ; 
 and he gave quite as good as he got, whenever he could 
 make anybody listen to him. 
 
 " No," he said. " Warden wants more, a little differ- 
 ent. Sir Claude says so, in his letter." 
 
 " About a different girl ? " said John. " Between our- 
 selves, Shovell, I should say there were quite enough for 
 one volume already." 
 
 " Well," said Charles, after a short pause devoted to 
 choosing between three dishes, " Warden thinks there 
 aren't. And Sir Claude, who has read 'em, more than 
 can be said for any of you, thinks the same. And I'd 
 take his opinion in front of anybody's," finished Charles. 
 " Anybody here." He recurred to his dinner. 
 
 " You did not seem very anxious to hear it," said John. 
 " I quite see now why you avoided Claude. He might 
 have been severe on the subject. He would sooner you 
 had stuck to one girl, I mean. So would Violet there, I 
 shouldn't wonder." 
 
 " She doesn't care a hang," said Charles. " She hasn't 
 asked to look at 'em, even, this time." 
 
 " Hullo ! " said Mr. Ingestre. " Was there another 
 time ? When was that ? " 
 
 " Oh, years ago, before I was engaged. She read those 
 fast enough. And my stuff's improved a lot since then," 
 added Charles reflectively, " if she knew." 
 
 " Poor girl," said John, not loud, but with sufficient 
 clearness to carry down the table. Several people looked 
 at Mrs. Shovell, hoping she would be lured to take a hand.
 
 440 DUKE JONES 
 
 " Hasn't he written about you at all, since then, Vio- 
 let ? " said Johnnie compassionately, following his father's 
 lead. " Rotten luck." And the jest was taken up in other 
 directions, and repeated in other words. 
 
 " He did, once," said Violet, when she could no longer 
 avoid it. " Some quite nice ones. But Father says he 
 revised them." 
 
 " When ? " cried John the elder, across the renewed 
 clamor of derision and delight. 
 
 "When he wrote them? Down by the sea one sum- 
 mer, when he had time." 
 
 " When he revised them," said John. " That's a deal 
 more important." 
 
 " Oh " she looked serious, " I can't exactly say. 
 
 Father caught him at it, when I was not about. Father 
 takes a great interest," added Violet. " Always did." 
 
 John looked at her hard. Then he looked at Charles, 1 
 who had not changed color, though he had shot one 
 speaking glance at her between two mouthfuls. Conver- 
 sation surged up again about her, cutting him off, had he 
 been inclined to retaliate. But he seemed, on reflection, 
 to prefer his food. 
 
 " I only added one line to one o'f 'em," he murmured 
 to his neighbor. " That's not revising. Beastly low 
 down, I call it, of Sir Claude." 
 
 " Your own line? " inquired Mr. Ingestre, " or some- 
 body else's?" 
 
 Mr. Shovell stopped feeding himself for some three 
 seconds, and John had the full glance of his blue eyes. 
 Then he turned back to his partner again without reply- 
 ing : but John had all the answer he needed to the question 
 he had debated with his wife. It was during the girl's 
 illness, evidently, that Charles had added the fifteenth 
 line. 
 
 Mr. Ingestre did all things deliberately, whether grace- 
 ful or the reverse. At the tail-end of the magnificent
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 441 
 
 meal, on moving from the dining-room to the hall, he 
 overtook Violet's husband and laid a hand upon his arm. 
 He often availed himself of a young arm in this way, 
 and, as the youth John gathered about his board were 
 well-bred, they were generally willing enough to be use- 
 ful. Mr. Shovell, who was aiming at the billiard-room, 
 slackened to accommodate him. 
 
 " I hope you have had a good dinner, Charles," said 
 John. 
 
 " Very, thanks," said Charles, slightly surprised. The 
 Ingestres did not commonly use his first name, had not, 
 at least, hitherto. He had remained quite contentedly 
 without the ring. 
 
 " Then I have some hope to be excused," said John, in 
 his best manner : which was very good. " I own I 
 snatched your proofs from the hall and read them. It 
 was indefensible, but Claude had made me curious. Your 
 wife, I may add, refused to do the like, on provocation." 
 
 " She knows most of 'em already," said Charles, in the 
 correct schoolboy tone of indifference. They came to a 
 stand in the center of the hall, the crowd having passed 
 them to the billiard-room. 
 
 " The lighthouse? " said John. 
 
 " Yes, she saw that when it was written. Think we 
 wrote it together," said Charles, " all but one line." 
 
 " Just so. May I know when that line was added ? " 
 
 " When she was so frightfully ill that time. I'd nothing 
 else to do," said Charles. 
 
 " But sing her praises," suggested John. " Or make 
 Shakespeare do so." 
 
 " Well, he'd have liked it," said Charles. " He's just 
 the fellow who would." 
 
 "Liked what?" 
 
 " What she did ; when she eloped with her father's 
 chauffeur, and met us at Dover in the rain. Perhaps you 
 never heard that yarn ? " His color had risen, and his 
 look, to John's eyes, was pure pride.
 
 442 DUKE JONES 
 
 "Ah, yes, I heard. She suffered for it, didn't she?" 
 He waited for the boy to complain, knowing he had 
 suffered too. 
 
 " She nearly died," said Charles. 
 
 " It was plucky," suggested John, adopting that view, 
 call it the boy's view, the one Charles said Shakespeare 
 would have shared. 
 
 " It took my wind, when I thought about it after- 
 wards," said Charles. 
 
 " Not at the time." 
 
 " I was worried at the time." 
 
 John accepted it, facer to his theory as it was. He 
 had to: one could not possibly doubt Charles' sincerity. 
 After an interval, as the young man still stood in front of 
 him, he said: 
 
 " Perhaps I should mention, she turned crimson when 
 Claude said the poem was in print." 
 
 "Did she?" Charles gave him that direct brief look 
 again. " Oh well, that settles it," he said simply. " I 
 don't mean to add to them, and Warden won't bind it as 
 it stands. It will just lie over, better so." 
 
 " Did it not strike you she would mind ? " John pressed 
 him. 
 
 " No," said Charles, after a pause. " Warden says it's 
 the best of the lot." 
 
 " So does her father, so do I. It is a beautiful little 
 poem." The poet colored again, just sufficiently. Fair 
 as he was, Charles was not given to blushing, but he did 
 so twice in this conversation. " Will you copy it for me, 
 since it is not to be published ? " said John. 
 
 " I don't mind, if she doesn't," said Charles, after an- 
 other pause. 
 
 " Right," said John, unconsciously aloud. " Will you 
 ask her, or shall I ? " 
 
 Before the next pause could be prolonged " There she 
 is," said Charles. He held out his hand, and snapped his 
 fingers, as a white shape crossed the shadow under the
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 443 
 
 stairs. She came to his side on the instant, and was, as 
 promptly, stolen by John's arm. 
 
 " Hullo, what's that? " said Mr. Ingestre, diverted for 
 a moment by the glint of the jewel round her neck. He 
 seized and examined it, with his fine fingers, and hawk- 
 like eyes. " That's not mine." 
 
 " No, it's Father's, he brought for me to-day. I had to 
 wear it, since he couldn't stay to dinner. Do you mind 
 terribly, just for to-night? " 
 
 She lifted her eyes to him. She had cried since her 
 father went, as John knew, for he had rashly tried to way- 
 lay her by force, when she came back from the gate. He 
 had regretted the attempt, for her wrath had scorched 
 him passingly. Since then, neither he nor Agatha had seen 
 her. She had had more confidences than he, in the matter 
 of her mother, John could only suppose. 
 
 " Yes," he said, when he had investigated her father's 
 gift, and her, at his leisure. " I do mind terribly. Go 
 and change." 
 
 " I would have put on both," she assured him, " only 
 they swear together." 
 
 " Well, that's what your father and I do when we 
 meet," said John. 
 
 " Oh no, he doesn't. Father was in a beautiful temper, 
 when he came to me." 
 
 " Go and change," said Mr. Ingestre grimly. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " said Violet, turning from him. " What 
 are those frightfully trampled girls called, in books like 
 Ivanhoe, with baronial castles ? " 
 
 " Wards," said Charles, at a venture. 
 
 " That's it, dear, how clever of you ! Downtrodden 
 nieces, aren't they, generally? I was always so thankful 
 when the poor thing got married, after the most terrible 
 time." 
 
 " He must be confusing you with Miss Addenbroke," 
 said Charles, with a bright idea. 
 
 " You're mixing me with Honoria, Cousin John ! " She
 
 444 DUKE JONES 
 
 slipped under his arm, caught her husband's, and faced 
 him, triumphantly mischievous. 
 
 " Curse Honoria," said Mr. Ingestre, as no doubt the 
 baron would have said in a like situation. "Let go, 
 Shovell, I haven't finished. Hang it, I've not begun ! " 
 
 " Go to blazes," returned Charles, taking up the part 
 assigned to him. " Never you fear, ducky, you've mar- 
 ried me. We got safe away beyond the bloodhounds, 
 slew dozens of 'em, remember?" 
 
 " Into the Duchy, so we did. We are out of your 
 power, Cousin John : you can't do anything. Our story 
 finished nicely, in spite of you." 
 
 " It's not finished yet," said John, looking grimly upon 
 the pair of them. It was hard to look grim, however in- 
 dignant one might inwardly be with fate. The shadow of 
 the unjust fate that had haunted her throughout those 
 three years lay still about her eyes this night of festival. 
 She was bearing her father's burden, John was sure, even 
 while she jested lightly with him and Charles; and the 
 chances were, that Claude's Christmas in town was the 
 better for it. 
 
 " Quite absolutely ended," she assured him gravely. 
 " I'm twenty-three." 
 
 " What's that got to do with it ? Twenty-three ! " Mr. 
 Ingestre laughed in spite of himself. " Look here, now, 
 Violet." The tyrant stooped to bargaining. " Haven't I 
 done my best for you, wards or none? Haven't I used 
 you well?" 
 
 They looked at one another, considering it. 
 
 " Jolly good dinner," admitted the gentleman. 
 
 " It was frightfully pretty," said the lady, her fine hand 
 clutching her father's Christmas gift. " I will wear it 
 to-morrow, I promise, every single day till I go." 
 
 " It's not enough. I am not content. I want something 
 from each of you, here and now." 
 
 " What? " She turned to Charles, who informed her 
 low-toned. She grew serious while he told her, her gray 
 eyes leveled beyond John.
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 445 
 
 " Oh yes." A pause. " You may have his thing, 
 Cousin John. That will be all right." 
 
 " Thanks, Charles," said John. " Now for the other." 
 
 " But I gave you mine this morning. Particularly 
 nicely worked, it was." She clung to Charles. " It's too 
 late for giving*' really, now." 
 
 " Excuses," said Mr. Ingestre. " Are you aware where 
 you are standing ? " 
 
 " ]Jnder your roof -tree, of course. It's a very nice 
 one^ " 
 
 " Particularly nice," said the tyrant. 
 
 " Look out," Charles muttered. " Look up." 
 
 She looked up. She became aware of Mr. Ingestre's 
 roof-tree, and of what depended from it. She was far too 
 quick for Mr. Ingestre, and just too quick for Charles. 
 Before either could so much as snatch, she was well 
 beyond reach, and half-way up the first broad flight of 
 stairs. 
 
 Having so eluded, she stood a moment radiant above 
 them, and well above the fatal bough. Then she swept 
 down again, and from the vantage-ground of the third or 
 fourth stair, caught the tall baron's head. 
 
 " You'd rather have taken it," she informed him. " You 
 don't care to be given things that you could seize with 
 fire and slaughter. You have a kind of Crusading feeling 
 about it, haven't you, Cousin John ? " 
 
 " That was how the Crusaders felt, was it ? " said John. 
 " You have the historical instinct, Violet : you are prob- 
 ably quite right. It sounds thoroughly religious, anyhow. 
 Personally, I admit the charge. I care neither to be 
 given, nor forgiven, in this life. I can't abide the 
 sensation." 
 
 " I know," she said. " I am not forgiving, or giving 
 you anything. I have nothing to forgive. Au contraire, 
 I was just going quietly up to put on your necklace when 
 I left you just now." 
 
 " That's a lie," said Mr. Ingestre : taking care, however, 
 not to move.
 
 446 DUKE JONES 
 
 "Which is prettier than Father's," proceeded Violet. 
 " Less expensive, you know, but prettier." 
 
 " That's three," counted John. " Good ones, full meas- 
 ure. Don't stop, my love, I like mendacity. Do it again." 
 
 " I can't really, it's too exhausting. I only gave 
 Father one to-night, told him one, I mean." 
 
 Mr. Ingestre took the wrist of the hand on his shoulder, 
 to detain her. " Didn't I trespass, then, when I read the 
 little poem ? Have I not really to be excused ? " Charles 
 had proceeded on his way, by now. 
 
 " No, I don't mind old men knowing, I let Father. 
 Father remembers his lighthouses very well . . . and 
 so, I expect, do you." 
 
 " Go and change the necklace," said Mr. Ingestre, after 
 a pause. He stood immovable not to disturb her, but his 
 iron brow was fixed. 
 
 It was not till Mrs. Shovell reached her bedroom that 
 she remembered, with something of a shock, her hostess's 
 reference to her honeymoon, the first night. 
 
 Thus Charles discomfited the Ingestre philosophy, 
 proving not only that he possessed a permanent part, the 
 first thing they discredited, and that one woman could 
 hold it : but that she had held it most firmly, by his own 
 written confession, at the moment when she considered 
 his interests least, when she had risked her dearest pos- 
 session, with his, in another's cause. 
 
 How account for it? Since such powers in the land as 
 his critics must be answered. 
 
 It may be, firstly, that all men are not alike : that there 
 are a few characteristics in humanity with which such as 
 John and Eveleen fail to reckon : and that imagination is 
 one 'of them. It is possible, by this reckoning, that his 
 poetry saved Charles from his mother-in-law's vulgar 
 category. It is possible even that Shakespeare's poetry 
 saved him. The idealist's imagination is actually a power 
 in the physical world, far more than the proverb-makers 
 and platitude-mongers believe. It works the miracles,
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 447 
 
 often, from which they prefer to turn away their eyes. 
 Imagination, that little messenger of the gods whom 
 Keats and Shakespeare called Fancy, working with the 
 twin powers of sorrow and sympathy, may still disconcert 
 that clamorous crew, disappoint them at least, as 
 Eveleen was disappointed in Charles, though in the 
 nature of things they will never be suppressed. 
 
 Next but the spirit recoils. We have not Mrs. In- 
 gestre's courage to advance in her husband's presence the 
 claims of woman's intellect in the double life. Agatha 
 herself was a miserable example of its efficacy, since she 
 had lived thirty odd years at John's side without disturb- 
 ing his established convictions in the least. He enjoyed 
 her conversation daily, as he enjoyed Violet's, that was 
 all. The thing is of no use whatever, we understand, 
 as a part of a woman's permanent equipment: and Mrs. 
 Shovell was doubtless reconciled, before she finally quit- 
 ted Agatha's house, to conquering by other means. 
 
 But there remains a goddess, if she will excuse the 
 title, and the company, besides these, who may have 
 lent a hand to help Charles to his discoveries, during the 
 trials of that first year of married life. She turned in his 
 direction, at least, once or twice, and he caught a gleam 
 from her gray eyes : eyes like Violet's, cloud-colored and 
 clear. This was the strong spirit of charity, served 
 silently by so many, by such as Claude Ashwin, and such 
 as Marmaduke Jones. It is hard to determine how much 
 Charles reached by this means, for he had lost himself 
 rather in chatter and chaff on the subject of that other 
 story that touched his ; and he could hardly even now, in 
 retrospect, take Jones quite seriously. His other little 
 visitor, Fancy, had played him false in this case, ob- 
 scured the issues rather, and spoiled the moral, for 
 Charles. But a core remained, a core of humanity and 
 truth in the character-study he had inflated so gaily for 
 the delectation of his friends; and it is probable he re- 
 tained that core, or Violet retained it for him, when the 
 rest of Jones' narrative was cast away.
 
 448 DUKE JONES 
 
 NOTE 
 
 For the curious in literary matters only, we append a 
 note as to the fate of Charles' sonnets. 
 
 In the September of that New Year, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Shovell, who happened to be spending the holidays quietly 
 in town, capitulated simultaneously; and Mr. Warden 
 actually published the book, with the honeymoon cycle 
 complete, and a brand-new set as well. The correspond- 
 ence had better be given. 
 
 " DEAR SHOVELL, 
 
 "Am I, or am I not, to have that extra stuff? It 
 will miss her birthday a second time, unless you prod 
 Pegasus. 
 
 " Am I to include the lighthouse with fifteen lines? 
 
 " Is she really all right, and what is the full name ? Tell 
 her I expect a literary letter soon. Love to both not you. 
 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 " LUCAS WARDEN." 
 
 " DEAR WARDEN, 
 
 " Rather. Herewith several, and you can choose. 
 Personally I think there's nothing to choose between them, 
 they are all dashed good. I am writing all day, nothing 
 else to do in London in the vac. Besides, you ought to see 
 them together, both of them in white, a pair of kids ! She 
 is as well as possible, and simply plays the giddy-goat with 
 the child, calls it educational experiments. Her lan- 
 guage grows longer as soon as she looks at it, no earthly 
 girl of eight weeks could understand. She is at it out 
 there at this minute, I can see Brading's shocked face 
 of protest. Margaret Ashwin is the Midget's name, not 
 that she's ever called it, but if for an inscription, as I 
 suppose, you had better have it right. Sorry you are 
 done out of god-paternity, but the Church down at Glass-
 
 EPILOGUE AND NOTE 449 
 
 well tells V. that one oldish man is enough for a girl. 
 V. herself has dozens, but that's because her parents are 
 ungodly, I always supposed." 
 
 He had written so much when Violet came into the 
 study from the garden and directed him to come out. 
 
 " Can't, I'm busy," said Charles. So she came to see 
 what his absurd business was, and read both letters 
 through. 
 
 "Of course I will," she said cordially to the request in 
 the first; and taking the first seat that came, which was 
 Charles' knee, and the pen out of his pocket, she added a 
 line to her old friend on what was left of his sheet, in her 
 pretty, rather shaken hand. 
 
 " Come and see Margery Shovell soon ; you would like 
 her dearly. She is not like other children sudden. She 
 is discreet, an anachronism, like me. She does everything 
 I ask her, very carefully, and looks at me first, to be sure. 
 I asked her yesterday not to be so good that she will die 
 at the end of the story, and she cried immediately, for 
 just half an hour, and disturbed the doctor writing his 
 big book. Wasn't it thoughtful ? But we had to explain 
 to grandgodpapa when he came. . . . It is not the 
 trouble, as Annette says, to give people beautiful names. 
 Charles has already reduced it ad absurdum to Midgery, 
 and Father says Miss Miggs, from the author you dis- 
 dain. They are all so horrid about her size, as if 
 people don't grow ! " 
 
 About there Violet determined to be literary, and con- 
 sulted the original document for the materials. 
 
 " It surely hasn't fifteen lines," she said, with a little 
 laugh. " We weren't off our heads to that exent? " 
 
 " It has," said Charles. 
 
 " Nonsense, but I remember ! Twelve, and a nice 
 couplet. That makes fourteen, doesn't it ? Yes."
 
 45 o DUKE JONES 
 
 " If you doubt my words," said Charles, " it's in that 
 drawer." 
 
 She did not seem to be attending. She sat on his knee, 
 pen in hand, pensively pulling at her little curl. 
 
 " The idea of a sonnet with fifteen lines pleases me," 
 she explained her abstraction suddenly. " It's blue-moon- 
 ish. You are rootedly unconventional, Charles. That's 
 why I like you, largely." 
 
 " All right," said Charles, bearing it. " When you have 
 quite done with my pen " 
 
 " I haven't, quite." 
 
 Mrs. Shovell concluded her literary letter. 
 
 " Of course, you may put in the lighthouse poem, or 
 any rubbish you like. If the extra line is too shocking 
 the Censor will stop it, we can't be bothered now. Mar- 
 gery likes lights in houses, I asked her, but she prefers 
 steady ones to look at, not dodging about. She does not 
 admire impartiality. She argues so well, when we are 
 alone, that I am afraid I am coming round to her opinion. 
 Don't tell Charles " 
 
 At this point there was a blank, and a blot. Which 
 things were explained, in an elegant postscript added some 
 twenty minutes later, to be the fault of Charles' nasty pen.
 
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