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THE HALF-FORGOTTEN SERIES 
 
 GUY LIVINGSTONE 
 
HALF-FORGOTTEN BOOKS. 
 
 Edited by E. A. BAKER, M.A. 2s. each. 
 
 The following are NOW READY:- \ 
 
 WHITEFRIARS ; or. The Court of Charles II. '\ 
 
 By Emma Robinson. 518 pp. 
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO. 
 By Anx Radcliffe. 314 pp. 
 
 CALEB WILLIAMS. ' 
 
 By AViLLiAM Godwin. 478 pp. 
 
 TOM BULLKLEY OF LISSINGTON. I 
 
 By R. :Mou.N-TENEwjKrnsoN. 444 pp. "! 
 
 MEMOIRS OF GRIMALDI THE CLOWN. 
 
 By Chakles D.ckens. With Cruikshank'8 ; 
 
 Plates. '■ 
 
 SAM SLICK, THE CLOCKMAKER. \ 
 
 By JCDGE Halibukto-v. i 
 
 THE POTTLETON LEGACY. ^ 
 
 By Alb!;et Smith. ; 
 
 OLD LONDON BRIDGE. ! 
 
 G. H. RODWELL. 
 
 ROMANCE OF THE FOREST. J 
 
 By ANN Radcliffe. ' 
 
 *,* Many others wi active preparation. 
 
QUY LIVINGSTONE 
 
 DY 
 
 G. A, LAWRENCE 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 BY 
 
 E. A. BAKER, M.A. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED 
 
 NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON ^ CO. 
 
 1903 
 
DKAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 Guy Livingstone, last of an ancient family, Squire of Brains- 
 wick ; nicknamed " The Count " at school, for his arrogant 
 and indomitable temper and Herculean strength. 
 
 Flora Bellasys, the Society girl he flirts with. 
 
 CoNST.iNCE Brandon, the girl he loves. 
 
 Lady Catherint: LmNGSTONE, Guy's widowed mother. 
 
 Frank Hammond, old schoolfellow and fond admirer of Guy 
 Livingstone, and, nominally, author of the memoir. 
 
 CuARLEY Forrester, a friend of Guy's, cuts out Bruce and 
 marries Isabel Raymond. 
 
 Isabel Raymond, engaged to Bruce, runs away with Forrester- 
 
 Mr. Bruce, a surly, cowardly Scotchman, who is driven by 
 revenge to commit murder, and goes insane. 
 
 Ralph Mohun. an old cavalry officer, a friend of Guy's; hero 
 of a terrific battue of Irish moonlighters ; kills Levinge. 
 
 Horace Levtnge, a rich plebeian, brutal seducer and bully ; 
 killed in a duel by Mohun. 
 
 Sir Henry Fallowfield, an old roue, professional cynic and 
 commentator ip' ordinary. - . : ■ 
 
 Cyril Brant)on, brother of Comst^nee; . 
 
 Willis, Guj's. man, a .traitor. , • 
 
 The Axeine, Guy's hunter — a horse as strong and as savage 
 as his master. 
 
6-2 
 
 o 
 
 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 George Alfred LawPwENce (1827-1876), author of "Guy 
 Livingstone," " Sword and Gown," " Brakespeaie," and half 
 a dozen other novels, which appeared between the years 1857 
 and 1874, and were admired and denounced with fairly equal 
 vehemence, was born at Braxted Rectory, in Essex. He went 
 to school at Rugby, matriculated from Balliol, but took his 
 degree, with a second in Classics, from New Inn Hall, in 1848. 
 He was entered at the Middle Temple in 1852, but in 1857, 
 owing to the success of " Guy Livingstone," he forsook law for 
 literature. Lawrence took a great interest in military matters. 
 He was a young man, just entering upon the serious business 
 of life, at the time of the Crimean War, when, as Kingsley puts 
 it, " the battle-roar was ringing in our ears," and the nation 
 •was sthred with martial ardour even more powerfully than in 
 our own days by the late war in South Africa. He obtained 
 a commission in the Militia, and was commonly known to con- 
 temporaries as Major Lawrence. At the outbreak of the 
 American Civil War his sympathies with the South took a 
 practical shape. He sailed to the States with the intention 
 of joining the Confederate army, but before he reached their 
 lines he was captured by the Federalists, and released from 
 durance only at the English ambassador's intercession, and on 
 the express condition that he should return at once to England. 
 He wrote a narrative of these adventures in '* Border and 
 Bastile " (1863). Besides his ten novels, Lawrence published 
 a " Bundle of Ballads " (1864). One seems to have an inklmg 
 of the peculiar character and spirit of his novels in their titles, 
 " Sword and Gown," " Brakespeare," " Barren Honour," " Sans 
 Merci; or, Kestrels and Falcons," " Anteros," "Breaking a 
 Butterfly," " Hagarene." " Guy Livingstone " appeared anony- 
 mously, the others being simply ascribed to the author of that 
 work. The last w^as "Hagarene" (1874), and Lawrence died 
 
 S31192 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 '^ two years later. As a chief exemplar of the fiction that de- 
 lighted the public of fifty years ago, and raore still as the leader 
 of a school whose influence is powerful even now, and is mani- 
 fested' strongly by one of our most conspicuous groups of novel 
 writers, he deserves that two or three, at least, of his works 
 should still be read. Nor need one hesitate to recommend hira 
 to others than the professed student of literature. Though tho 
 ideal of victorious manhood that he glorifies appeal but feebly 
 to our cultivated tastes, yet the life and energy with which it is 
 set before us prove Lawrence a novelist of no mean dramatic 
 power. 
 
 This scanty biography may help to illustrate how much 
 Lawrence's imagination and feeling were affected by the war 
 spirit that was abroad in the days of his early manhood. IIo 
 speaks of that period in " Sword and Gown " as " a time that 
 we all remember right well ; when, without note of preparation, 
 the war-trumpets sounded from the East to the North; when 
 Europe woke up, like a giant refreshed, from the slumber of a 
 forty years' peace, and took down disused weapons from the 
 wall, and donned a rusty armour." The influence of that 
 martial spirit was wide and deep; it begat the '"muscular 
 novel," and it reawakened among novelists and readers gener- 
 ally a love for strenuousness, for action and adventure, and for 
 types of character eminently adapted for action and adventure. 
 One only has to compare the most eminent novelists of the 
 second quarter of the nineteentli century with those of the third 
 quarter — Dickens and Thackeray, the youthful Disraeli, Lytton 
 and the Brontes, with the two Kingslcys and Whyte Melville, 
 Charles Reade, Lawrence, Meadows Ta3'lor, James Grant, and 
 the author of " Tom Brown's Schooldays " — to have this brought 
 home to one. It was Kingsley's strenuous romances that sug- 
 gested the name ; they were said to inculcate the gospel of 
 " muscular Christianity " ; but the word " muscular " stuck to 
 Lawrence with peculiar tenacity, probably because of the 
 offensive, but not altogether unmerited, parody adopted by his 
 detractors — to wit, " muscular blackguardism." lie accepted 
 the word "muscular" without grumbling, and in "Sword and 
 Gown " defended the " physical force doctrine " against critics 
 by appeals to the tradition in favour of powerful heroes from 
 the time of the Greeks down to that of " Adam Bede," published 
 that same year, 1859. Add to this martial feeling of his a 
 hatred for everything democratic, politically and socially, and 
 a recoil from certain smugly virtuous and genteel types of 
 
INTLODUCTIOX. Vll 
 
 cliaracter that were current in fiction at tliat time or earlier, 
 and you have most of the prejudices and prepossessions that 
 brought forth the " muscular hero." The recoil went too far, of 
 course, but we may reasonabl}'- allow for a certain measure of 
 violence and exaggeration in a conception of character that was, 
 in a large degree, put forward as a defiance. The Laurentian 
 hero was described, by those whom he irritated, as a mixture 
 of libertine and prize-fighter. This hero, who reappears with 
 merely superficial differences of character in novel after novel, 
 is endowed wtth prodigious bodily strength, with a savage and 
 implacable temper, usually masked under an imperturbable 
 exterior, and with a haughty, domineering, and contemptuous 
 demeanour towards ever3^l)ody and everything not belonging to 
 his own order, for he is an aristocrat of purest blood — indeed 
 every character of Lawrence's who is treated with the slightest 
 respect is " thoroughbred." The fundamental selfishness of 
 this half-civihzed being is quite in keeping with the other char- 
 acteristics, but its true nature is disguised by a magnificence 
 of manner that imposes as a lordly kind of generosity. And so 
 far as his own order is concerned, it is kept in restraint by his 
 nice sense of personal honour. The Laurentian hero has a 
 likeness to the Byronic hero, and one can trace in the concep- 
 tion not only the animus and Bohemianism that were con- 
 spicuous in the author of " Don Juan," but also a very similar 
 instinct for theatrical effect. 
 
 " Guy Livingstone " is Lawrence^s representative novel and 
 the biography of his representative hero. The memoir is 
 supposed to be wiitten by an old crony, who idolizes Guy. 
 Lawrence is said to have told the story of his own school and 
 college life in the earlier chapters ; a report that added piquancy 
 to the novel, whether true, or only a guess suggested by its 
 biographical form. The redeeming quality of Guy's character, 
 and in fact of all these heroes, a capacity for immense passion, 
 comes out in the principal episode, the rupture of his engage- 
 ment to Constance Brandon, a situation that recurs in other 
 books, with slight differences. Major Royston Keene, the 
 " Cool Captain," for instance, in " Sword and Gown," wins the 
 heart of a proud society beauty, Cecil Tresilyan, and then 
 divulges the fact that he has a wife living. She consents to 
 elope, but the opportune arrival of an old lover who would fain 
 save her honour frustrates the scheme. The lovers go their 
 different wa3^s; Keene settles down to a gloomy and taciturn 
 existence, and sails for the Crimean War, hoping to die. Then 
 
Vlll INlTtODUCTIO:^. 
 
 Tresilyan follows liim as a sister of charity. They meet again 
 ^vhen the " Cool Captain " is dying, wounded in the Balaclava 
 charge, and Lawrence closes a tragic scene with the apostrophe, 
 " Let us stand aside and hope — 
 
 " That heaven may have more mercy than man 
 On such a bold rider's soul." 
 
 In spite of their endless amours, these heroes love but one 
 woman in a lifetime ; and when that affair ends unhappily, life 
 is a burden to them, and they meet their fate with more than 
 resignation. The characters of Guy Livingstone and Royston 
 Keene are put before us with singular force and energy ; Law- 
 rence's objective manner renders all his men and women very 
 real, yet every episode, every incident, every conversation 
 enhances the predominating effect of the central character. 
 Lawrence is fond of alluding to his typical hero as a Berserkyr. 
 Guy is like a Berserkyr out of his element in an age of peace 
 and civilization. The implied contrast between the inherent 
 medisevalism of his character and the incongruous circum- 
 stances of the modern world is, no doubt, the strong point of 
 the novel. At any rate, Lawrence is not quite so interesting 
 in " Brakespeare ; or, the Fortunes of a Free Lance," where he 
 places his muscular hero in what would seem a perfectly natural 
 environment, among the knights of Du Guesclin and Chandos. 
 This stalwart knight-errant is not more powerful in body and 
 mind, more stubborn and implacable, than Guy Livingstone, but 
 his energies find vent in action, and in his strenuous life there is 
 little room for the illicit enjoyments in which the modern heroes 
 spend their too abundant leisure. Though he is as stern and 
 sombre as the others, Brakespeare is, on the whole, an engaging 
 hero — too simple-minded and primitive for cynicism — a type of 
 true manliness ; there is real tragedy in the sadness of his end, 
 not in the manner of it, glorified by a splendid feat of arms, but 
 in the irony of fate that robbed him of hard- won happiness. 
 
 The later novels are not distinguished by such strong features ; 
 there is less muscularity, the characters having sobered down 
 nearly to the average standard. The somewliat " naughty " 
 and defiant tone prevails in all, however, down to the last, 
 *' Hagarene," where Lawrence, like most novelists, gives us his 
 idea of an adventuress. This Becky Sharp of his, Mariette 
 Clyde, in spite of the wicked things she docB, is by no means 
 an unpleasant character altogether. She has natural feeling, 
 
I:s^TKOI)t;cTIo^^ ix 
 
 and .-he is devoid of meanness. Her end, too, is tragic enougli ; 
 in fact, all the novels end disastrously, the calamities brought 
 on their own heads by the misdeeds of his heroes being some 
 compensation for the dubious morality. " Breaking a Butterfly " 
 closes with a wholesale execution by poison, broken heart, and 
 other mishaps. Although Lawrence's stories all deal with the 
 theme of irregular love, he disdains to enter into scandalous 
 details ; and no one is likely to be hurt much by his defiant 
 morality, for the simple reason that when he is most defiant ho 
 is least convincing. His fierce individualism and incorrigible 
 prejudices against the people are a strange contrast to the 
 Christian socialism of Kingsley, whom he admired warmly, and 
 with whom he shared the " physical force " doctrine. He never 
 tires of inventing contemptuous epithets for the plebeian, the 
 roturier ; he loves to distinguish between the two classes of 
 liuraanity represented by "the man and the serf," and his 
 tirades upon aristocratic virtue, upon the unequalled gifts of 
 endurance, for example, that belong to ancient blood, are often 
 as eloquent as they are arrogant. — 
 
 " I speak it diffidently, with the fear of the Divine voice of 
 the people before my eyes, as is but fitting in these equalizing 
 days, when territories, the title to which is possession imme- 
 morial, are being plucked away acre by acre, and hereditary 
 privileges mined one by one ; but it seems to me, in this per- 
 haps solitary attribute, ' the brave old houses ' still keep their 
 pre-eminence." — ^ 
 
 At his best Lawrence's style is admirably vivid and imagi- 
 native ; at his w^orst it is florid, pretentious, and not by any 
 means a well of English undefiled. Bret Harte satirized his 
 aftectation of learning, as well as other mannerisms, very effec- 
 tively in " Guy Heavystone." He sacrifices everything to 
 vivacity ; he is hardly ever dull. His prose can still delight 
 those who appreciate " smartness," as well as certain finer 
 qualities. "When such ohiter dicta as this sally about Homer 
 drop from a man abundantly, he is, without question, a writer. 
 " And yet they say that the glorious old Sciote w^as a mythe, 
 and the Odyssey a magazine worked out by clever contributors. 
 They might as well assert that all his marshals would have 
 made up one Napoleon." And here is an imaginative simile : 
 " His own outbreak of anger vanished before that terrible burst 
 of wrath, just as the camp-fire, wiien the prairie is blazing, is 
 swallowed up in the great roaring torrent of flame." 
 
 Very superior people love to describe him as " Ouidaesque," 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 a phrase that expresses rather aptly many qualities both of 
 language and manner. Part of the entertainment that he 
 purveys is due, some one whispers, to our superior discernment, 
 to our laughter at his serene faith in the sublimity of his heroes 
 and tragic situations, and at his pretensions to write in the grand 
 style. But though his ideal of victorious manhood accord not 
 with our refined tastes, though his crude hedonism be worthy 
 of the dark ages, and the egoism of his ijatrician heroes outrage 
 modern sensitiveness and humanity, yet the breath of life is in 
 his books. In certain respects " Guy Livingstone " is a great 
 novel, if we consider the ability to represent life rather than 
 the author's theories about life. The energ}'-, the audacity, 
 the dramatic force with which these singular types of character 
 are made to think, to speak, and to act, justify Professor 
 Saintsbury's dictum that Lawrence came " not so very far short 
 of genius." 
 
 E. A. P. 
 
GUY LIYINGSTONE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Neque imbellem feroces 
 Progenerant a(=[uila3 columbam. 
 
 It is not a pleasant epoch in one's life — the first forty 
 eight hours at a large public school. I have known 
 strong-minded men of mature age confess that they 
 never thought of it without a shiver. I don't count the 
 home- sickness, which perhaps only afiects, seriously, 
 the most innocent of ddhutaiits, but there are other 
 thousand-and-one little annoyances which make up a 
 great trouble. If there were nothing else, for in- 
 stance, the unceasing query, * What's your name?* 
 makes you feel the possession of a cognomen at all a 
 serious burden and bar to advancement in life. 
 
 A dull afternoon, towards the end of October ; tlie 
 sky a neutral tint of ashy grey ; a bitter north-east 
 wind tearing down the yellow leaves from the old elms 
 
 that girdle the school-close of ; a foul clinging 
 
 paste of mud and trampled grass-blades under foot, 
 
Z GTDY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 that chilled you to the marrow ; a mob of two hun- 
 dred lower-boys, vicious with cold and the enforcement 
 of keeping goal through the first foot-ball match of 
 the season — in the midst, I, who speak to j^ou, feel- 
 ing myself in an eminently false position — there's 
 the misc en scene. 
 
 My small persecutors had sui-rounded me, but had 
 hardly time to settle well to their work, when one of 
 the plaj^ers came by and stopped for an instant to see 
 what was going on. The match had not yet begun. 
 
 There was nothing which interested him much ap- 
 parently, for he was passing on, when my despond- 
 ent answer to the everlasting question caught his 
 ear. He turned roimd then — 
 
 * Any relation to Hammond of Holt ? ' 
 
 I replied, meekly but rather more cheerfully, that 
 he was my uncle. 
 
 'I know him very well,' the new comer said. 
 * Don't bully him more than you can help, you fel- 
 lows ; I'll wait for you after calling over, Hammond. 
 I should like to ask you about the squire.' 
 
 He had no time to say more, for just then the ball 
 was kicked off, and the battle, began. I saw him 
 afterwards often during that afternoon, always in the 
 front of the rush, or the thick of the scrimmage, and 
 I saw, too, more than one player limp out of his path 
 disconsolately, trj^ng vainly to dissemble the pain of 
 a vicious * hack.' 
 
GUY LITINGSTONE. 3 
 
 I'll try to sketch Guy Livingstone, as he appeared 
 to me then, at our first meeting. 
 
 He was about fifteen, but looked fully a year older, 
 not only from his height, but from a disproportionate 
 length of limb and development of muscle, which 
 ripened later into the rarest union of , activity and 
 strength that I have ever known, f His features were 
 very dark and pale, too strongly marked to be called 
 handsome; about the lips and lower jaw especially 
 there was a set sternness that one seldom sees before 
 the beard is grown. The eyes were very dark grey, 
 nearly black, and so deeply set under the thick eye- 
 brows that they looked smaller than they really were; 
 and I remember, even at that early age, their expres- 
 sion, .when angered, was anything but pleasant to 
 meet. " His di-ess was well adapted for displaying his 
 deep square chest and sinewy arms — a close-fitting 
 jersey, and white trousers girt by a broad black belt; 
 the cap, orange velvet, fronted with a silver Maltese 
 cross. — 
 
 The few words he had spoken worked an imme- 
 diate change in my favour. I heard one of my tor- 
 mentors say, not \\dthout awe — ' The Count knows his 
 people at home;' and they not only left me in peace, 
 but, a little later, some of them began to tell me of a 
 recent exploit of Guy's, which had raised him high 
 in their simple hero-worship, and which, I dare say, 
 is still enumerated among the feats of the brave days 
 
4 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 of old, by the fags over their evening small- 
 beer. 
 
 To appreciate it, you must imderstand that the 
 highest form in the school — the Sixth — wore regard- 
 ed by the fags, and other subordinate classes, with an 
 inexpressible reverence and terror. They were con- 
 sidered as exempt from the common frailties of school- 
 boy nature : no one ventured to fix a limit to their 
 power. Like the Gods of the Lotus-eater, they lay 
 beside their nectar, rarely communing with ordinary 
 mortals except to give an order, or set a punishment. 
 On the form immediately below them part of their 
 glory was reflected; these were a sort of r}/xt^eot, 
 awaiting their translation into the higher Olympus 
 of perfected omnipotence. 
 
 In this intermediate state flourished, at the time I 
 speak of, one Joseph Baines, a fat, small-eyed youth, 
 with immense pendent pallid cheeks, rejoicing in the 
 sobriquet of ' Buttons ' — his father being eminent in 
 that line in the Midland Metropolis. The son was 
 Bru mm agem to the back-bone. He was intensely 
 
 stupid ; but, having been a fixture at beyond the 
 
 memory of the oldest inhabitant, he had slowly gra^d- 
 tated on into his present position, on the old Ring 
 principle — ' weight must tell.' I believe he had been 
 bullied continuously for many years, and now, with 
 a dull pertinacious malignity, was biding his time, 
 intending, on his accession to power^ to inflict full 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 5 
 
 reprisals on those below him ; or, in his o^vn express- 
 ive language, *to take it out of 'em, like smoke.* 
 He was keeping his hand in by the perpetration of 
 small tyrannies on all whom he was not afraid to 
 meddle with ; but, hitherto, from a lingering suspi- 
 cion, perhaps, that it was not quite safe, he had 
 never annoyed Livingstone. 
 
 It was on a Saturday night, the hebdomadal Satur- 
 nalia, when the week's work was over, and no one had 
 anything to do ; the heart of Joseph was jocund with 
 pork-chops and mulled beer, and, his evil genius 
 tempting him, he proposed to three of his intimates 
 * to go and give the Count a turn.' Nearly every 
 one had a nickname, and this had been given to Gruy, 
 partly, I think, from his haughty demeanour, partly 
 from a prevalent idea that this German dignity was 
 dormant somewhere in his family. When the quar- 
 tette entered, Guy knew perfectly what they came 
 for, but he sat quite still and silent, while two of 
 them held him down by the arms in his chair. 
 
 *I think you'd look very well with a cross on. 
 Count,' Baines said; *so keep steady while we de- 
 corate you.' 
 
 As he spoke he was mixing up a paste with tallow 
 and candle-snuff, and, when it was ready, came near 
 to daub the cross on Livingstone's forehead. 
 
 The two who held him had been quite deceived by 
 his unexpected tranquillity, and had somewhat relaxed 
 
6 GXTY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 their gripe as they leant forward to witness the opera- 
 tion ; but the fourth, standing idle, saw all at once 
 the pupils of his eyes contract, and his lips set so 
 ominously, that the words were in his mouth — ' Hold 
 him fast ! * when Guy, exerting the full force of his 
 arms, shook himself clear ; and grasping a brass can- 
 dlestick within his reach, struck the executioner 
 straight between the ej^es. The effort of freeing him- 
 self to some extent broke the force of the blow, or 
 the great Baines dynasty might have ended there 
 and then ; as it was. Buttons fell like a log, and, 
 rolling once over on his face, lay there bleeding and 
 motionless. 
 
 While the assistants were too much astounded to 
 detain him, Guy walked out without a glance at his 
 prostrate enemy ; and going straight to the head of 
 the house, told him what had happened. The char- 
 acter of the aggressor was so well known, that, when 
 they found he was not seriously hui't, they let Guy 
 off easy with * two books of the Iliad to write out in 
 Greek.' Buttons kept the sick-room for ten days, 
 and came out looking more pasty than ever, with his 
 pleasant propensities decidedly checked for the time. 
 
 In his parish church at Birmingham — two tons of 
 marble weighing him down — the old button-maker 
 sleeps with his father (to pluralize his ancestors would 
 be a grave historical error), and Joseph II. reigns in 
 his stead ; exercising, I doubt not, over his factory- 
 
GUY LI^TNGSTONE. 7 
 
 people the same ingenuity of torture, whicli, In old 
 times, nearly drove the fags to rebellion. He is a 
 Demosthenes, they say, at vestries, and a Draco at the 
 Board of Guardians ; but in the centre of his broad 
 face, marring the platitude of its smooth-shaven re- 
 spectability, still bums angrily a dark red scar — 
 Guy's sign-manual — which he will carry to his grave. 
 The exultation of the lower school over this exploit 
 was boundless. Fifty energetic admirers contended 
 for the honour of writing out the punishment inflict- 
 ed on the avenger ; and one sentimentalist, just in 
 Herodotus, preserved the fatal candlestick as an in- 
 estimable relic, wreathing its stem with laurel and 
 myrtle, in imitation of the honours paid by Athens 
 to the sword that slew the Pisistratid. 
 
8 
 
 CHAPTEH 11. 
 
 My only books 
 Were woman's looks, 
 
 And folly all they taught me 
 
 The Count bore his honours very cakoly, though 
 every week some fresb feat of bodily strength or 
 daring kept adding to his popularity. It was no 
 slight temptation to his vanity ; for, as some one has 
 said truly, no successful adventurer in after-life ever 
 wins such imdivided admiration and hearty partisans 
 as a school hero. The jprestige of the Liberator among 
 the Irish peasantry comes nearest to it, I think ; or 
 the feeling of a clan, a hundred years ago, towards 
 their chief. It must be very pleasant to be quoted 
 so incessantly and believed in so implicitly, and to 
 know that your decisions are so absolutely without 
 appeal. From that first day when he interfered in 
 my favour, Guy never ceased to accord me the oegia 
 of his protection, and it served me well ; for, then as 
 now, I was strong neither in body nor nerve. Yet 
 our tastes, save in one respect, were as dissimilar as 
 can be imagined. The solitary conformity was, that 
 we were both, in a desultory way, fond of reading, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 9 
 
 and our favourite books were the same. Neither 
 would do more school work than was absolutely neces- 
 sary, but at light literature of a certain class we read 
 hard. 
 
 I don't think Guy's was what is usually called a 
 poetical temperament ; for his taste in this line was 
 quite one-sided. He was no admirer of the picturesque, 
 certainlj^ I have heard him say that his idea of a 
 country to live in was, where there was no hill steep 
 enough to wind a horse in good condition, and no 
 wood that hounds could not run through in fifteen 
 minutes ; therein folloT\T.ng the fancy of that eminent 
 French philosopher, who, being invited to climb Beu 
 Lomond to enjoy the most magnificent of views, re- 
 sponded meekly — ^ Aimez-vous les heaut^s de la Na- 
 ture? Pour moiyje les ahhorre.^ Can you not fancy 
 the strident emphasis on the last syllable, reveaKng 
 how often the poor materiaKst had been victimized 
 before he made a stand at last ? 
 
 All through Livingstone's life the real was to pre- 
 dominate over the ideal ; and so it was at this period 
 of it. He had a great dislike to purely sentimental 
 or descriptive poetry ; preferring to all others those 
 battle-ballads, like the Lays of Borne, which stir the 
 blood like a trumpet, or those love-songs which heat 
 it like rough strong wine. 
 
 He was very fond of Homer, too. He liked the 
 diapason of those sonorous hexameters, that roll on, 
 
10 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sinking and swelling witli the ebb and flow of a 
 stormy sea. I hear his voice — deep-toned and power- 
 ful even at that early age — finishing the story of 
 Poseidon and his beautiful prize — their bridal-bed 
 laid in the hollow of a curling wave — 
 
 Tlopfvpeov S' dpa Kvfia TrtpitTrdOr], oiipi'i icrov, 
 KvpT(t)6tv, Kpv^ev dk Otbv OvrjTi'jv re yvvaiKa. 
 
 And yet they say that the glorious old Sciote was 
 a mythe, and the Odyssey a magazine worked out by 
 clever contributors. They might as well assert that 
 all his marshals would have made up one Napoleon. 
 
 I remember how we used to pass in review the 
 beauties of old time, for whom ' many drew swords 
 and died/ whose charms convulsed kingdoms and 
 ruined cities, who called the stars after their own 
 names. 
 
 Ah, Gyneth and Ida ! peerless queens of beauty — 
 it was exciting, doubtless, to gaze down from your 
 velveted gallery on the mad tilting below, to see ever 
 and anon through the yellow dust a kind handsome 
 face looking up at you, pale but scarcely reproachful, 
 just before the horse-hoofs trod it down ; ah, fairest 
 Ninons and Dianas ; — ^prizes that, like the Whip at 
 Newmarket, were always to be challenged for — you 
 were proud when yoUr reckless lover came to woo, 
 with the blood of last night* s favourite not dry on his 
 blade ; but what were your fatal honours, compared 
 to those of a reigning toast in the rough ancient days? 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 11 
 
 The demigods and heroes that were suitors did not 
 stand upon trifles; and the contest often ended in 
 the extermination of all the lady's male relatives to 
 the third and fourth generation. People then took 
 it quite as a matter of course — rather a credit to the 
 family than otherwise. 
 
 Guy and I discussed, often and gravely, the relative 
 merits of Evadne the violet-haired, Helen, Cleopatra, 
 and a hundred others, just as, on the steps of White's, 
 or in the smoking-room at the * Hag,* men compare 
 the points of the debutantes of the season. 
 
 His knowledge of feminine psychology — it must 
 have been theoretical, for he was not seventeen — im- 
 plied a study and depth of research that was quite 
 surprising ; but I am bound to state that his estimate 
 of the strength of character and principle inherent in 
 the weaker sex, was anything but high ; nearly in- 
 deed identical with that formed by the learned lady 
 who, to the question, * Did she think the virtue of 
 any one of her sisterhood impregnable?' replied 
 * C^est selon.* He often used to astonish my weak 
 mind by his observations on this head. I did not 
 know till afterwards, that Sir Henry Fallowfield, the 
 Bassompierre of his day, came for the Christmas 
 pheasant-shooting every year into Guy's neighboui'- 
 hood, and that he had already imbibed lessons of 
 questionable morality, sitting at the gouty feet of 
 that evil Gamaliel. 
 
12 GUY LI"V^NGSTONE. 
 
 lie spoke of and to women of every class readily, 
 whenever he got the chance; always with perfect 
 aplomb and self-possession, and I have heard older 
 men remark since, that in him it did not appear the 
 precocity of ' the rising generation,' but rather the 
 confidence of one who knew his subject well. Per- 
 haps the fact of his father having died when he was 
 an infant, and his having always been suzerain 
 among his women at home, may have had something 
 to do with this. An absurd instance of what I have 
 been saying happened just before Guy left. 
 
 By time-honoured custom, four or five of the Sixth 
 were invited every week to dine with the head-mas- 
 ter. They were not, strictly speaking, convivial, 
 those solemn banquets; where the host was con- 
 descendingly affable, and his guests cheerful, as it 
 were, under protest ; resembling somewhat the enter- 
 tainments in the captain's cabin, where the chief is 
 unpopular. 
 
 Our Archididascalus was a kind-hearted honest 
 man, albeit by virtue of his office somewhat strict and 
 stern. You could read the Categories in the wrinkles 
 of his colourless face, and contested passages of Thucy- 
 dides in the crows- feet round his eyes. The ever- 
 lasting grind at the educational treadmill had worn 
 away all he might once have had of imagination ; he- 
 translated with precisely the same intonations the 
 Tusculan Disputatiojis and — "Y^pocts ai>UaT€ iJ-dxav. 
 
GUY LrvaXGSTONE. L3 
 
 He had lately taken to himself a wife, his junior by 
 a score of years. The academic atmosphere had not 
 had time then to freeze her into the dignity befitting 
 her position ; when I met her, ten years later, she 
 was steady and staid enough, poor thing! to have 
 been the wife of Grotius. 
 
 Guy sat next to her that evening, and before the 
 first course was over a decided flirtation was estab- 
 lished. The pretty hostess, albeit wife of a doctor 
 and daughter of a dean, had evidently a strong co- 
 quettish element in her composition, and a very 
 slight spark was sufficient to relight the veteris vesti- 
 gia JIammce. 
 
 For some time her husband did not seem to realize 
 the position ; but gradually his sentences grew rare 
 and curt ; he opened his mouth, no longer to let fall 
 the pearls of his wisdom, but to stop it with savoury 
 meat ; finally this last resource failed, and he sat, 
 looking wrathfuUy but helplessly on the proceedings 
 at the other end of the table — a lamentable instance 
 of prostrated ecclesiastical dignity. His disgust, how- 
 ever, w^as far exceeded by the horror of one of the 
 party, a meek cadaverous-looking boy, whose parents 
 lived in the to^wTi, and who was wont to regard the 
 head-master as the vicegerent of aU powers, civil and 
 sacerdotal — I am not sure he did not include mili- 
 tary as well. I caught him looking several times at 
 the door and the ceiling with a pale guilty face, as if 
 
14 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 he expected some immediate visitation to punish, the 
 sacrilege. However, Heaven, which did not inter- 
 rupt the feast of Atreus, or of Tereus (till the dessert), 
 allowed us to finish our dinner in peace. During the 
 interval, when we sat alone over his claret, our host 
 revived a little ; hut utterly relapsed in the drawing- 
 room, where things went on worse than ever. Guy 
 leant over the fair Penelope (such was her classical 
 and not inappropriate name) while she was singing, 
 and over her sofa afterwards, evidently considering 
 himself her legitimate proprietor for the time, and 
 regarding the husband, as he hovered round them, in 
 the light of an unauthorized intruder. The latter 
 would have given anything, once or twice, to have 
 interfered, I am sure ; but, apart from the extreme 
 ridicule of the thing, he was in his own house, and 
 as hospitable as Saladin. 
 
 It was a great scene, when, at parting, she gave 
 Guy the camellia that she wore at her breast ; the 
 Doctor gasped thrice convulsively and said no word ; 
 but I wonder how she accounted afterwards for the 
 smile and blush which answered some whispered 
 thanks ? There are certain limits that even the his- 
 torian dares not transgress ; a veil falls between the 
 profane and the thalamus of an LL.D. ; but, I rather 
 imagine, she had a hard time of it that night, the 
 poor little woman I Let us hope, in charity, that she 
 held her o^mi. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 15 
 
 When tlio Count was questioned as to the con- 
 versation that had passed, he declined to give any 
 particulars, merely remarking, that * he had to thank 
 
 Dr for a very pleasant evening, and he hoped 
 
 every one had enjoyed themselves very much,' — 
 which was philanthropic, to say the least of it. 
 
 I don't know if it was our imagination, but we 
 fancied that when the head-master called up Living- 
 stone, in form, after this, he did so with an air of 
 grave defiance, such as a duellist of the Old Eegime 
 may have worn, when, dofl&ng his plumed hat, he 
 said to his adversary, ' En garde I * 
 
 There was little time to make observations, for 
 shortly afterward Guy went up to Oxford; whither^ 
 six months later, I followed him. 
 
16 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Through many an hour of summer suns, 
 
 By many pleasant ways, 
 Like Hezckiah's, backward runs 
 
 The shadow of my days. 
 
 When I came up, I found Guy quite established and 
 at home. He was a general favourite with all the 
 men he knew at college, though iutimate with but 
 very few. There was but one individual who hated 
 him thoroughly, and I think the feeling was mutual 
 — the senior tutor, a flaccid being, vdth a hand that 
 felt like a fish two days out of water, a large nose, 
 and a perpetual cold in his head. He consistently 
 and impartially disbelieved every one on their word, 
 requiring material proof of each assertion ; an original 
 mode of acquiring the confidence of his pupils, and 
 precluding anything like an attempt at deception on 
 their part. I remember well a discussion on his 
 merits that took place in the porter's lodge one night 
 just after twelve. When several had given their 
 opinions, more or less strongly, some one asked the 
 gate-ward what he thought of the individual in 
 question, to which that eminent functionary thus 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 17 
 
 replied — * Why, you see, sir, I'm only a servant, and, 
 as such, can't speak freely ; but I wish he was dead, 
 I do.' 
 
 As I have said, Livingstone disliked Selkii-k 
 heartily, and did not take the trouble to conceal it. 
 He used to look at him sometimes with a curious 
 expression in his eyes, which made the tutor twiil 
 and writhe uncomfortably in his chair. The latter 
 annoyed him as much as he possibly could, but Guy 
 held on the even tenor of' his way ; seldom con- 
 travening the statutes, except in hunting three days 
 a week, which he persisted in doing all lectures and 
 regulations notwithstanding. He rode little imder 
 fourteen stone, even then; but the three horses he 
 kept were well up to his weight, and he stood A 1 
 in Jem Hill's estimation, as * the best heav}^- weight 
 that had come out of Oxford for many a day ; ' for 
 he not only went straight as a die, but rode to hounds 
 instead of over them. I suppose this latter practice 
 is inherent in University sportsmen. I know, in my 
 time, the way in which they pressed on hounds for 
 the first two fields out of cover, or after a check, used 
 to make the grey hairs, which were the brave old 
 huntsman's crown of glory, stand on end with in- 
 dignation and terror ; so that he prayed devoutly for 
 a big fence which, like the broken bridge at Leipsic, 
 might prove a stopper to the pursuing army. . TheiX5 
 was the making of a good rider .in many of them, 
 
18 GTJY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 too ; they only wanted ballast, for they knew no 
 more of fear than Nelson did, and would grind over 
 the Yale of the Evenlode and the Marsh Gibbon 
 double timber as gaily and undauntedly as over the 
 accommodating Bullingdon hurdles. And what 
 screws they rode ! ancient animals bearing as many 
 scars as a vicux de la vieille, that were considered 
 short of work if they did not come out five days a 
 fortnight. This was Guy's favourite pursuit ; but 
 he threw off the superfluity of his animal energies in 
 all sorts of athletics ; in sparring especially he attain- 
 ed a rare excellence ; so well known was it indeed, 
 that he passed his first year without striking a blow 
 in anger, through default of an antagonist, except a 
 chance one or two exchanged in the m^Iee which is 
 imperative on the fifth of November. 
 
 I did not hunt much myself, for my health was 
 far from strongs and I confess my University recol- 
 lections are not lively. 
 
 After the first flush of novelty had worn off, they 
 bored one intensely — those large wines and suppers 
 where, night by night, a score of Nephelegeretae sat 
 shrouded in smoke; chanting the same equivocal 
 ditties ; drinking the same "fiery liquors miscalled the 
 juice of the grape, villanous enough to make the 
 patriarch that planted the vine stir remorsefully in his 
 grave under Ararat — each man all the while talking 
 * shop,' a Voutrance. The skeleton of ennui sat at 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 19 
 
 these dreary feasts ; and it was not even crowned with 
 roses. I often used to wondor what the majority of 
 my contemporaries conversed about, when in the 
 bosom of their families, during the 'long.* They 
 couldn't always have been inflicting Oxford on their 
 miserable relatives : the weakest of human natures 
 would have revolted against such tyranny : and yet 
 the horizon of their ideas seemed as utterly bounded 
 by Bagley and Headington Hill, as if the great 
 ocean stream had flowed outside those limits. Some 
 adventurous spirits, it is true, stretched away as far 
 as Woodstock and Abingdon; but I doubt if they 
 returned much improved by the grand tour. 
 
 One of their most remarkable characteristics was 
 the invincible terror and repugnance that they ap- 
 peared to entertain to the society of women of their 
 own class. When the visitation was inevitable, it is 
 impossible to describe the great horror that fell on 
 these "/Unfortunate boys. The feeling of Zanoni's 
 pupil, as the Watcher on the Threshold came float- 
 ing and creeping towards him, was nothing to it. 
 
 For example, at Commemoration — to which festival 
 ' lions ' from all quarters of the earth resorted in vast 
 droves — when one of this class was hard hit by the 
 charms of some fair stranger, he never thought of 
 expressing his admiration otherwise than by piteous 
 looks, directed at her from an immense distance, out 
 of shot for an opera-glass ; when in her immediate 
 
20 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 vicinity Lis motto was that of tlie Breton baron — 
 mourir muet. Claret-cup flowed and cliampagne 
 sparkled, powerless to raise him to the audacity of an 
 avowal. Under the woods of Nuneham, in the gar- 
 dens of Blenheim, amidst the crowd of the Com- 
 memoration ball, the same deep river of diffidence 
 flowed between him and his happiness. My own idea 
 is that, after all was over, the silent ones, like Jaques' 
 stricken deer, used to ' go weep,' over chances lost 
 and opportunities neglected. With waitresses at 
 way-side inns, et id genus omne, they were tolerably 
 self-possessed and reliant; though even there a 
 * thousand might well be stopped by three,' and I 
 would have backed an intelligent barmaid against 
 the field at odds : indeed, I think I have seen a 
 security nearly allied to contempt on the fine features 
 of a certain *lone star/ as she parried — so easily. 
 — the compliments and repartees of a dozen assail « 
 ants at once, accounted, in their own quadrangles, 
 Millamours of the darkest dye. 
 
 Guy accoimted for this unfortunate peculiarity by 
 saying that a cigar in the mouth was the normal 
 state of many of these men ; so that, when circum- 
 stances debarred them from the Havannah courage, 
 they lost all presence of mind, and, being unable to 
 retreat under cover of the smoke, lapsed instantly 
 into a sullen despair, suffering themselves to be 
 shot down imresistingly. Perhaps some future 
 
GUY LIVIKGSTONE. 21 
 
 philosoplier will favour us with a better solution to 
 this important problem in physics : I know of none. 
 
 After all, the reading men did best, though we did 
 not think so then, when we saw them creeping into 
 morning chapel jaded and heavy-eyed, after a debauch 
 over Herodotus or the Stagyrite. They had a pur- 
 pose in view, at all events, and, I believe, were 
 placidly content during the progress of its attain- 
 ment — in the Seventh Heaven, when their hopes 
 were crowned by a First, or even a Second. True ; 
 the pace was too good for some of the half-bred ones, 
 and such as could not stand the training, who de- 
 parted, to fade away rapidly in the old house at home, 
 or to pine, slowly but very surely, in remote curacies. 
 
 Some of these, I fancy, must have sympathized 
 wdth Madame de StaeFs consumptive niece, who 
 answered to the question, * Why she was weeping all 
 alone?' — ^ Je me regrette.* When, resting in their 
 daily walk, shortened till it became a toil to reach the 
 shady seat under the elms at the garden's end, they 
 watched the stalwart ploughmen and di*overs go 
 striding by, wdthout a trouble behind their tanned 
 foreheads, except the thought that wages might fall a 
 shilling^a week — was there no envy, I wonder, as they 
 looked down on the wan hands lying so listless across 
 then* knees ? Would they not have given their First, 
 and their fellowship in embryo to boot, to have had 
 the morning appetite of Tom Chauntrell, the horse- 
 
22 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 breaker, after twelve pipes over-niglit with gin-and- 
 water to match, or to have been able, like Joe Sprin- 
 gett, the under-keeper, to breast the steepest brae in 
 Cumberland with never a sob or a painful breath ? 
 Did they never murmur while thinking how brightly 
 the blade might have flashed, how deftly have been 
 wielded, if the worthless scabbard had only lasted 
 out till, on some grand field-day, the word was given 
 — * Draw swords ! ' ? Some felt this, doubtless ; but 
 the most part, I imagine, were possessed with a com- 
 fortable assurance, that their short life had been use- 
 ful if not ornamental; and so, to a certain extent, 
 they had their reward. At any rate, their ending 
 was to the full as glorious as that of • some other 
 friends of ours, who crawl away from the battle- 
 ground of the Viveurs to die, or to linger on helpless 
 hypochondriacs. 
 
 If I have spoken depreciatingly or unfairly of the 
 mass of my college coevals (and it may well be so), I 
 do full justice, in thought at least, to some brilliant 
 exceptions. I founded friendships there which, I 
 trust, will outlive me. 
 
 I do not forget Warrenne, too good for the men 
 he lived with, a David in our camp of Kedar — always 
 going on straight in the path he thought right, 
 though ever and anon his hot Irish blood would chafe 
 fiercely under the curb self-imposed ; and labounng 
 incessantly, with aU gentleness, to induce others to 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 23 
 
 follow ; a Launcelot in his devotion to womankind ; 
 a Gralahad in pm*ity of thought and purpose. I have 
 never known a man of the worlds so single-hearted, 
 or a saint with, so much savoir vivre. 
 
 I see before me now, Lovell, with Lis frank look 
 and cheery laugh, the model of a stalwart English, 
 squirehood : and Petre, equal to either fortune ; in 
 reverse or success calm and impassible as Athos the 
 mousquetaire ; regarding money simply as a circu- 
 lating medium, with the profoundest contempt for 
 its actual value — se ruinant en prince. He edified us 
 greatly, on one occasion, by meeting his justly offend- 
 ed father with, a stern politeness; declining^ to, hold 
 any, communication with him by word or letter, till 
 he (the sire) ' could express himself in a more Chris- 
 tian spirit.* 
 
 Then there was Barlowe, the peark of gentlemen- 
 riders ; the very apple of Charles Symond's eye ; un- 
 spoiled by a hundred triumphs, and never degenerat- 
 ing into the professional, though, I believe, his idea 
 of earthly feKcity was — 
 
 A match, for £50, lOst. 71b. eacb. Owners up. 
 Over 4 nules of a fair hunting country. 
 
 I see him too, with his pleasant face, round, rosy, 
 and beardless as a child- cherub of Rubens, tempting 
 pale men with splitting heads to throw boots at him 
 in the bitterness of, their envy, as he entered their 
 rooms on the morning after a heavy drink ; his eyes 
 
 c 
 
24 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 60 clear and guileless that you would never guess 
 lio\^ sharp they could be at times when a dangerous 
 horse was coming up on his quarter. A strange 
 compound his character was, of cool calculation and 
 sentimental simplicity. The most astute of trainers 
 never got the better of him in making a match ; and, 
 
 I am sure, to this day, he believes in 's poetry, 
 
 and in the immutability of feminine affection. 
 
 How agreeable he was about the small hours, 
 chirping over his grog ; alternating between remin- 
 iscences of 'My tutor's daughter,* and recitals of 
 choice morsels in verse and prose, misquoting, to the 
 utter annihilation of rhythm and sense, but aU with 
 perfect gravity, good faith, and satisfaction. 
 
 Nee ley memorande, relinquam — true Tom Lynton I 
 — ^not clever, not even high bred, but loved by every 
 one for the honestest and kindest heart that ever was 
 the kernel of a rough rind. 
 
 Do we not remember that supper where the Fa- 
 thers of England were being discussed ? Every one, 
 drawn on by the current, had a stone to throw at 
 his relieving officer ; the complaint, of course, being 
 a general tightness in the supplies. At last, Tom, 
 who, though his own sire was an austere man, could 
 not bear to hear the absent run down, broke in, 
 gravely remonstrating — 
 
 * WeU, gentlemen,' he said, * remember they're our 
 fellow-creatures, at all events.' 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 25 
 
 They drank ' Lynton and the Governors/ with a 
 compound midtiplication of cheers. 
 
 I might mention more ; but a face rises just now 
 before me, which makes me close the muster-roll — 
 the face of one who united in himself many, very 
 many of the best qualities of others ; of one whom I 
 shrink from naming here, lest it should seem that I 
 do so lightly — a face that I saw six hours before its 
 features became set for ever. 
 
26 
 
 CEAPTER IV. 
 
 Ai) TOT* avaaxonkvu), 6 fihv -ijXaae St^iou a»/xov. 
 'Ipoc, 6 d' avxU' tkaaatv vtt' ovaTog, boTta S' uaut 
 ''E.OXaaiv' avTiKa d' ijXOtv avd OTOfia <po'iviov aTfta. 
 
 Towards the end of my second year an event came 
 off in wliich we were all much, interested — a steeple- 
 cliase in wLich. both Universities were to take part. 
 The stakes were worth winning — twenty so vs. en- 
 trance, h. f., and a hundi-ed sovs. added ; besides, the 
 esprit de corps was strong, and men backed their 
 
 opinions pretty freely. The venue was fixed at B ; 
 
 the time, the beginning of the Easter vacation, 
 f The old town was crowded Hke Vanity Fair. There 
 was a railway in progress near, and the navvies and 
 other ' roughs ' came flocking in by hundreds ; so 
 that the municipal authorities, justly apprehensive of 
 a row, concentrated the cohorts of their police, and 
 swore in no end of specials as a reserve. 
 
 The great event came off duly ; a fair instance of 
 the 'glorious uncertainty' which backers of horses 
 execrate and ring-men adore. All the favourites 
 were out of the race early. Our best man, Barlowe, 
 the centre of many hopes, and carrying a heavy in- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONB 27 
 
 vestment of Oxford money, was floored at the second 
 double post-and-rail. The Cambridge cracks, too, 
 by divers casualties, were soon disposed of. At the 
 last fence, an Oxford man was leading by sixty yards ; 
 but it was his maiden race, and he lost his head 
 when he found himself looking like a winner so near 
 home. Instead of taking the stake-and-bound at the 
 weakest place, he rode at the strongest ; his horse 
 swerved to the gap, took the fence sideways, and 
 came down heavily into the ditch of the winning 
 field. The representative of Cambridge, who came 
 next, riding a good steady hunter, not fast but safe 
 at his fences, cantered in by himself. I remember 
 he was so bewildered by his unexpected victory, that 
 one of his backers had to hold him fast in the saddle, 
 or he would have dismounted before riding to scale, 
 and so lost the stakes. 
 
 Well, the race was over and the laurels lost, so we 
 had nothing to do but pay and look pleasant, and then 
 adjourn to the inevitable banquet at *The George.* 
 There was little to distinguish the proceedings from 
 the routine of such festivals. The winners stood 
 champagne, and the losers drank it — to any amount. 
 The accidents of flood and field were discussed over 
 and over again; and, I believe, every man of the 
 twenty-three who had ridden that day could and did 
 prove, to his own entire satisfaction, that he must 
 have won but for some freak of fortune totally un- 
 
28 CiU7 LIVING8T0NK. 
 
 avoidable, and defying human calculation. About 
 nine o'clock I went out with another man to get 
 some fresh air, and something I wanted in the town. 
 At the corner of every street there was a group of 
 heavy, sullen faces, looking viciously ready for a row ; 
 while out of the windows of the frequent public- 
 houses gushed bursts of revelry hideously discordant, 
 from the low-browed rooms where the wild Irish sat 
 howling and wrangling over their liquor. However, 
 wc got what we wanted, and were returning, when, 
 in a street on our left, we heard cries and a tramp- 
 ling of many feet. Two figures, looking like Uni- 
 versity men, passed us at speed, and throwing some- 
 thing down before us, dived into an alley opposite, 
 and were lost to sight. My companion picked up the 
 object ; and we had just time to make out that it was 
 a bell-handle and name-plate, when the pursuers 
 came up — six or seven * peelers ' and specials, with a 
 ruck of men and boys. We were collared on the in- 
 stant. The fact of the property being found in our 
 possession constituted a flagraiis delictum — we were 
 caught * red-handed.' It was vain to argue that, 
 had we been the delinquents, we should scarcely have 
 been standing there still, awaiting discovery. The 
 idea of arguing with a rural policeman, when, by a 
 rare coincidence, popular feeling is with him ! The 
 mob regarded our capture, exulting Hke the Romans 
 over Jugurtha in chains. It was decided ^ we were 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 29 
 
 to go before the Inspector.* We were placed in the 
 centre of a phalanx of specials, each guarded by two 
 regulars ; and so the triumph, followed by a train 
 that swelled at every turning, moved slowly along 
 the Sacred Way towards the temple of the station- 
 house, where the municipal Jupiter Capitolinus sat 
 in his glory. 
 
 Before we had proceeded three hundred yards, thero 
 was a shout from the crowd, * Look out ! here come 
 the Warsity ! * and, down across street leading from 
 the inn, two hundred gownsmen, wild with wrath 
 and wassail, came leaping to the rescue. 
 
 In the van of all I caught sight of two figures — 
 one that I knew very well, towering, bare-headed, a 
 hand's-breadth above the throng ; the other, some- 
 thing below the middle height, but shaggy, vast- 
 chested, and double-jointed as a red Highland steer 
 — McDiarmid of Trinity, glory of the Cambridge 
 gymnasium, and ' 5 ' in the University eight. They 
 were not scouting like the rest, but hitting out 
 straight and remorselessly ; and before these two 
 strong Promachi, townsman and navvy, peeler and 
 special, went down Kke blades of corn. Close at their 
 shoulder I distinguished Lovell, his clear blue eyes 
 lightening savagely ; and stout Tom Lynton, a deeper 
 flush on his honest face, hewing away with all the 
 unscientific strength of his nervous arm. 
 
 But my two guards, very Abdiels in their duty 
 
30 GUY LHTJ^G STONE. 
 
 never let me go : on the contrary, one tightened his 
 gripe on. my throat suffocatingly ; while the other, 
 though I remained perfectly quiescent, kept gi^Hlng 
 me gentle hints to keep the peace, with the end of 
 his staff. I was getting sick and dizzy, when some- 
 thing passed my check lilce the wind of a ball ; there 
 was a dull crashing sound close at my ear ; the grasp 
 on my neck relaxed all at once; I felt something 
 across my feet, and saw a dark-blue mass, topped by 
 the ruin of a shiny hat, lying there quite still ; an 
 arm was round my waist like the coil of a cable, and 
 I heard Guy's voice laughing loud — 
 
 * My dear Frank ! ' he said, as he dragged me away 
 towards the inn; * the. centre of a row, as usual! 
 Que diahle allait-il /aire dans cette hagarre ?* 
 
 I hardly heard him, for my senses were still con- 
 fused : but in thirty seconds I was under the arch- 
 way of * The George.* As the heroines of the Ead- 
 cUffe romances say, * I turned to thank my preserver, 
 but he was gone.' 
 
 When I recovered my breath, I went up to a bal 
 cony on the first floor and looked out. The tide oi 
 the affi-ay was surging gradually back into the wide 
 open space before the inn, and very shortly this was 
 filled with a chaos of furious faces and struggling 
 arms. The University were evidently recoiling, press-, 
 ed back by the sheer weight of their opponents ; but 
 soon came a reioforcement of grooms and stable-men, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 31 
 
 light- weights, active and wiry ; and these, with their 
 hunting-crops and heavy cutting-whips used re- 
 morselessly — like Caesar^s legionaries, they struck 
 only at the face — once more re-established the balance 
 of the battle. 
 
 Suddenly the m^lie seemed to converge to one 
 point — the mid- eddy, as it were, of the whirlpool ; 
 then came a lull, almost a hush ; and then fifty strong 
 arms, indiscriminately of town and gownsmen, were 
 locked to keep the ground, while a storm of voices 
 shouted for * A ring ! ' 
 
 In that impromptu arena two men stood face to 
 face, under the full glare of the gas-lamps — one was 
 Guy Livingstone : the other a denizen of the Pot- 
 teries, yclept * Burn's Big *un,' who had selected 
 
 B as his training quarters, in preparation for his 
 
 fight to come off in the ensuing week, with the third- 
 best man in England, for £100 a side. 
 
 They made a magnificent contrast. Guy appa- 
 rently quite composed, but the lower part of his face 
 set stern and pitiless ; an evil light in his eyes, show- 
 ing how all the gladiator in his nature was roused ; 
 his left hand swaying level with his hip ; all the 
 weight of his body resting on the right foot; his 
 lofty head thrown back haughtily; his guard low. 
 The professional, three inches shorter than his ad- 
 versary, but a rare model of brute strength ; his arms 
 and neck, where the short jersey left them exposed, 
 
32 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 clear-skinned and white as a woman's, through the 
 perfection of his training; his hair cropped close 
 round a low retreating forehead ; his thick lips part- 
 ed in a savage grin, meant to represent a smile of 
 confidence. So they stood there — fitting champions 
 of the races that have been antagonistic for four 
 thousand years — Patrician and Proletarian. 
 
 Suddenly there was a commotion at one corner of 
 the ring, and I saw a small bullet-headed man, with 
 a voice like a fractious child, striving fanatically to 
 force his way through. * Don't let 'em fight ! ' — ho 
 screamed out — ' It's robbery, I tell you. There's hund- 
 reds of pounds on him for Thursday next. I'm his train- 
 er ; and I daren't show him with a scratch on him ! * 
 
 A great roar of laughter answered his entreaties, 
 and twenty arms thrust the little man back ; but his 
 interesting charge seemed to ponder and hesitate, 
 when a drawling, nasal voice spoke from the opposite 
 corner — *Ah, you're right; take him away; don't 
 show his white feather till you're druv to it.* That 
 turned the wavering scale. The Big 'un ground his 
 teeth with a blasphemy, and set to. 
 
 I need not go through the minutiae of the fight : it 
 was aU one way. The professional did his best, and 
 took his pimishment Hke a glutton ; but he could do 
 nothing against the long reach of his adversary, who 
 stopped and countered as cooUy as if he had only the 
 gloves on. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 33 
 
 It was the beginning of the sixth round; our 
 champion bore only one mark, showing where a 
 tremendous right-hander had almost come home — a 
 cut on his lower lip, whence the bright Norman 
 blood was ilowing freely. I will not try to describe 
 the hideous changes that ten minutes had wrought 
 in his opponent's countenance ; but I think I was 
 not the only spectator who felt a thrill of fear ming- 
 ling with disgust, as the Big 'un made his despair- 
 ing effort, and fought his way in to the terrible * half- 
 arm rally/ In truth, there was something unearthly 
 and awful in the sight of the maimed and mangled 
 Colossus ; his huge breast heaving with wrath and 
 pain; his one unblinded eye glaring unutterably; 
 his crushed lips churniug the crimson foam. It was 
 the last rush of the Cordovan bull goaded to madness 
 by picador and chulo : but Guy's fatal left met him, 
 straight, unjdelding as the blade of the matador; 
 twice he reeled back well-nigh stunned; the third 
 time he dropped his head cleverly so as to avoid the 
 blow, and grappled. For some seconds the two were 
 locked together, undistinguishably ; then we saw 
 Guy's right hand, never used till then, save as a 
 guard, rise and fall twice, with a dull, smashing 
 sound, which was bad to hear ; then the huge form 
 of the prize-fighter was whirled up unresistingly 
 over his antagonist's hip, and fell crashing down at 
 his feet, a heap of blind, senseless, bleeding humanity. 
 
34 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 * Time ! ' You must call louder yet, before lie will 
 hear, and lance a vein in tlie throat before be will 
 answer. 
 
 Then, in the old market-place of B , there 
 
 went up such a shout, as I think it has never heard 
 since Vikings and Berserkyr caroused there after 
 storming the town. The gownsmen, as they will do 
 on slighter provocation, screamed themselves hoarse 
 and voiceless with delight ; and their late opponents 
 — the honest Saxon's love of a fair fight overcoming 
 the spirit of the partisan — echoed and prolonged the 
 cheer. 
 
 There was no more thought of battle or broil ; and 
 there were as many navvies as University men among 
 the enthusiasts, who bore the champion on their 
 shoulders into * The George.' 
 
 How we revelled on that night of victory ! espe- 
 cially when Guy, after the necessary ablutions and 
 change of raiment, joined us, calm and self-possessed 
 as ever; only slightly swelled about the lower lip, 
 and a dark red flush on his forehead. He had satis- 
 factory accounts of his adversary ; — the said amiable 
 individual having so far recovered, imder the sur- 
 geon's hands, as to swear thrice — ' quite like hisself,* 
 the messenger said — and to call for cold brandy-and- 
 water. 
 
 Livingstone's health was proposed twice, — the fii'st 
 time by a fellow of King's, with a neat talent for 
 
GUY LI\aNG STONE. 35 
 
 classical allusions, who remarked that, ' if the olive- 
 crown of the hippodrome had fallen to the lot of 
 Cambridge, none would deny her sister's claim to the 
 parsley of the Caestus.* The second time was very 
 late in the evening, by McDiarmid. It must be con- 
 fessed that gallant chieftain was somewhat incoherent, 
 and amidst protestations of admiration and eternal 
 friendship, much to our astonishment, wept profusely. 
 Still later, he got very maudlin indeed, and was 
 heard to murmur, looking at his scarred knuckles, 
 that *he was afraid he must have hurt some one that 
 night.,* with an accent of heartfelt sorrow and con- 
 trition which was inimitable. 
 
 We heard afterwards that the taunt which made 
 the fight a certainty came from the commissioner of 
 the party who stood heavily against the Big \m, sent 
 down to watch him in his training, and spy out the 
 joints in his harness. 
 
86 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bovr, 
 
 Each carline was flyting and shaking her pow ; 
 
 But the young Plants of Grace they looked couthie and slee, 
 
 Saying — 'Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee.' 
 
 In the autumn of tliat year my chest became so 
 troublesome that I was obliged to try Italy. Thither 
 I went ; and, about the same time, Guy was gazetted 
 
 to the Life Guards. The struggle between 
 
 climate and constitution was protracted, and for a 
 long time doubtful; but winters without fog, and 
 springs without cold winds, worked wonders, and at 
 last carried the day. In the fourth year they told 
 me I might risk England again. Moving home- 
 w^ard slowly, I reached London about the beginning 
 of December ; a most unfavourable season, it is true ; 
 but 1 was weary of foreign wandering, and wanted 
 to spend Christmas somewhere in the Fatherland; 
 though where I had not yet determined. 
 
 I had heard tolerably often from Livingstone 
 during my absence. His letters were very amusing ; 
 containing all sorts of news, and remarks on men and 
 manners Thoy would have pleased to.?, more if they 
 
GirV LIVINGSTONE. 37 
 
 had not indicated a vein of sarcasm, deepening into 
 cynicism. 
 
 I stand very much alone in this world, and had 
 few family visits to detain me ; so on the morning 
 after my arrival I went down to the Knightsbridge 
 barracks, where Guy's regiment happened to be 
 quartered. 
 
 It was a field-day — his servant said — and his mas- 
 ter was out with his troop ; but he expected him in 
 very shortly. Captain Forrester was waiting break- 
 fast for him upstairs. 
 
 As I entered the room, its occupant turned his 
 head languidly on the sofa- cushion which supported 
 it ; but when he saw it was a stranger, sat up, and, on 
 hearing my name, actually rose and came towards me. 
 
 * Livingstone will be charmed to find you here, Mr 
 Hammond,' he said, in a voice that, though slightly 
 affected and trainanie, was very musical. * I don't 
 know if he ever mentioned Charley Forrester to you, 
 who must do the honours of the barrack-room in his 
 absence ?' 
 
 I had heard of him very often ; and, though my 
 expectations as to his personal appearance had been 
 raised, I own the first glance did not disappoint them, 
 lie was about three- and- twenty then, rather tall, but 
 very sKghtly built ; his eyes long, sleepy, of a violet- 
 blue ; features small and delicately cut, with a com- 
 plexion so soft and bright, that his silky, chestnut 
 
38 GUY LIVINGSTON^. 
 
 moustaclie hardly saved the face from efFeminacy ; his 
 hands and feet would have satisfied the Pacha of 
 Tebelin at once as to his purity of race ; indeed, 
 though Charley was not disposed to undervalue any 
 of his own bodily advantages, I imagine he consider- 
 ed his extremities as his strong point. His manner 
 was very fascinating, and, with women, had a sort of 
 caress in it which is hard to describe, though even 
 with them he seldom excited himself much, preferring, 
 consistently, the passive to the active part in the con- 
 versation. Indeed, his golden rule was the Arabic 
 maxim, Agitel il Shaitan — HuiTy is the Devil's — so, 
 in the flirtations which were the serious business of 
 his life, he always let his fish hook themselves, just 
 exerting himseK enough to play them afterwards. 
 
 In ten minutes we were very good friends, talking 
 pleasantly of all sorts of things, though Forrester 
 had resumed his recumbent posture, and I could not 
 help fearing it w^as only a strong effort of politeness 
 or sense of duty which enabled him always to answer 
 at the right time. 
 
 Before long we heard the clatter of horses' hoofs 
 and the rattle of steel scabbards, and I looked out at 
 the squadrons defiling into the barrack-yard. My eye 
 fell upon Livingstone at once ; it was not difficidt to 
 distinguish him, for few, if any, among those troopers 
 picked from the flower of all the counties north of the 
 Humber, could compare with him for length of limb 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 39 
 
 and breadth, of shoulder. I felt proud of him, as the 
 hero of my boyhood, looking at him there, on his 
 great black charger, square and steadfast as the keep 
 of a castle. 
 
 His servant spoke to him as he dismounted. I saw 
 his features soften and brighten in an instant ; in five 
 seconds he was in the room, and the light was on his 
 face still — I like to think of it — the Kght of a frank, 
 cordial welcome, as he griped my hand. 
 
 He was changed, certainly, but for the better. The 
 featui'cs, which in early youth had been too rugged 
 and strongly marked, harmonized perfectly with the 
 vast proportions of a frame now fully developed, 
 though still lean in the flanks as a wolf-hound. The 
 stern expression about his mouth was more decided 
 and unvarying than ever — an effect which was in- 
 creased by the heavy moustache that, dense as a 
 cuirassier's of the Old Guard, fell over his lip in a 
 black cascade. It was the face of one of those stone 
 Crusaders who look up at us from their couches in 
 the Round Church of the Temple. 
 
 Before our first sentences were concluded, Forres- 
 ter had nerved himself to the effort of rising, and 
 turned to go. 
 
 * You must have fifty things to say to each other,* 
 he said. * You'll find me in the mess-room. But, 
 Guy, don't be long — I've no appetite myself this 
 morning, and it will refresh me to see you eat your 
 
40 GUY LIVn^GSTONE. 
 
 breakfast;* and so faded away gradually through 
 the door. 
 
 * How do you like him ? ' Livingstone called out 
 from the inner room, where he was donning the 
 * mufti.' * He's not so conceited as he might be, con- 
 sidering how the women spoil him ; and, lazy as he 
 looks, he is a very fair officer, and goes across coun- 
 try like a bird. Did I ever tell you what first made 
 him famous ? * 
 
 * !No ; I should like to hear.* 
 
 * Well, it was at a picnic at Cliefden. Charley 
 was hardly nineteen then, and had just joined the 
 ' — th Lancers at Hounslow ; he wandered away, and 
 got lost with Kate Harcourt, a self-possessed beauty 
 in high condition for flu-tiug, for she had had three 
 seasons of hard training. When they had been away 
 from their party about two hours, she felt, or pre- 
 tended to feel, the awkwardness of the situation, and 
 asked her cavalier, in a charmingly helpless and con- 
 fiding way, what they were to do ? * Well, I hardly 
 know,* Forrester answered, languidly ; * but I don't 
 mind proposing to you, if that will do you any good.* 
 A fair performance for an untried colt, was it not ? 
 Miss Harcourt thought so, and said so, and Charley 
 woke next morning with an established renown. 
 Shall we go and find him ? ' 
 
 After breakfast we went with Guy to his room, to 
 do the regulation cigar, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 41 
 
 *I know you've made no plans, Frank/ Living- 
 stone said, * so I have settled everything for you 
 already. You are coming down to Kerton with us. 
 "We have just got our long leave, and our horses 
 went down three days ago.* 
 
 * It's very nice of him to say " our horses," ' in- 
 terrupted Forrester. * Mine consist of one young 
 one, that has been over about eight fences in his life, 
 and a mare, that I call the "Wandering Jewess, for I 
 don't think she will ever die, and I am sure she will 
 never rest till she does ; what with being park-hack 
 in the summer and cover-hack in the winter, with a 
 bye-day now and then when the country's light, 
 she's the best instance of perpetual motion I know. 
 "Well, it's not my fault, the Chief won't let us hunt 
 our second chargers — that's the charm of being in a 
 crack regiment — I always have one lame at least, 
 and no one will sell me hunters on tick.' 
 
 * Don't be so plaintive, Charley ; you've nearly all 
 mine to ride — it's a treat to them, poor things ! to 
 feel your light weight and hand, after carrying my 
 enormous carcase. That's settled, then, Frank ; you 
 come with us ?' Guy said. 
 
 ' I shall be very glad. I only want a day to get 
 my traps together.'' So two days afterwards we three 
 came down to Kerton Manor. It was not my first 
 visit to Livingstone's home, but I have not described 
 it before. 
 
42 atr Livingstone. 
 
 Fancy a very large, low house, built in two quad- 
 rangles — the offices and stables forming the smaller 
 one furthermost from the main entrance — of the light 
 grey stone common in Northamptonshire, darkened 
 at the angles and buttresses into purple, and green, 
 and bistre, by the storms of three hundred years; 
 on the south side, smooth turf, with islands in it of 
 bright flower-beds, sloped down to a broad, slow 
 stream, where grave stately swans were always sailing 
 to and fro, and moor-hens diving among the rushes ; 
 on the other sides, a park, extensive, but somewhat 
 rough-looking, stretched away, and, all round, lines 
 of tall avenue radiated — the bones of a dead-giant's 
 skeleton — for Kerton once stood in the centre of a 
 Royal Forest. 
 
 You entered into a wide low hall, the oak ceiling 
 resting on broad square pillars of the same dark wood : 
 all round hung countless memorials of chase and war, 
 for the Livingstones had been hunters and soldiers 
 beyond the memory of man. 
 
 Often, passing through of a winter^s evening, I 
 have stopped to watch the fitful effects of the great 
 logs burning on the andirons, as their light died 
 away, deadened among brown bear-skins and shadowy 
 antlers, or played, redly reflected, on the mail-shirt 
 and corselet of crusader or cavalier. 
 
 There were many portraits, too ; one, the most re- 
 markable, fronted you as you came through the great 
 
GtJY LmNGSTONfi. 43 
 
 doorway, the likeness of a very handsome man in the 
 uniform of a Light Dragoon ; imder this hiing a 
 cavalry sword, and a brass helmet shaded with black 
 horsehair. The portrait and sword were those of 
 Guy's father ; the helmet belonged to the cuirassier 
 who slew him. 
 
 It was in a skirmish with part of Kellermann's 
 brigade, near the end of the Peninsular war ; Colonel 
 Livingstone was engaged with an adversary in his 
 front, when a trooper, delivering point from behind, 
 ran him through the body. He had got his death 
 woimd, and knew it ; but he came of a race that ever 
 died hard and dangerously ; he only ground his teeth, 
 and, turning short in his saddle, cut the last assail- 
 ant down. Look at the helmet, with the clean even 
 gap in it, cloven down to the cheek strap — the stout 
 old Laird of Colonsay struck no fairer blow. 
 
 It was curious to mark how the same expression of 
 sternness and decision about the lips and lower part 
 of the face, which was so remarkable in their descend- 
 ants, ran through the long row of ancestral portraits. 
 You saw it — now, beneath the half-raised visor of 
 Sir Malise, surnamed Poing-cle-fery who went up the 
 breach at Ascalon, shoulder to shoulder with strong 
 King Richard — now, yet more grimly shadowed forth, 
 imder the cowl of Prior Bernard, the ambitious 
 ascetic, whom, they say, the great Earl of Warwick 
 trusted as his own right hand — now, softened a little, 
 
44 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 but still distinctly visible, under the long love-locks 
 of Prince Rupert's aide-de-camp, who died at Naseby 
 manfully in bis barness — now, contrasting strangely 
 witb tbe elaborately powdered peruke and deUcate 
 lace ruffles of Beau Livingstone, tbe gallant, witb tbe 
 wbitest band, tbe softest voice, tbe neatest knack at 
 a sonnet, and tbe deadliest rapier, at tbe court of 
 good Queen Anne. Nay, you could trace it in tbe 
 features of many a fair Editb and Alice, balf coim- 
 teracting tbe magnetic attraction of tbeir melting 
 eyes. 
 
 On tbe sunny soutb-side, looking across tbe flower- 
 garden, were Lady Catberine Livingstone's rooms, 
 wbere, diligent as Matilda and ber maidens, in simi- 
 mer by tbe wiudow, in winter by tbe fire, tbe pale 
 cbatelaiue sat over ber embroidery. Wbat rivers of 
 tapestry must bave flowed from under tbose slender 
 wbite fingers during tbeir ceaseless toil of twenty 
 years ! 
 
 Tbe good tbat .sbe did in ber neigbbourbood cannot 
 be told ; sbe was kind and bospitable, too, to ber 
 female guests, in ber own baugbty, undemonstrative 
 way ; nevertbeless, tbe wives and daughters of tbe 
 squirearchy regarded ber witb great awe and fear. 
 Perhaps sbe felt this, though sbe could not alter it, 
 and tbe sense of isolation may bave deepened tbe 
 shades on her sad face. She bad only one thing on 
 earth to centre ber afiections on, and tbat one sbe 
 
GITY LIVINGSTONE. 45 
 
 worshipped with a love stronger than her sense of 
 duty, for, since his father died, she had never been 
 able to check Guy in a single whim. 
 
 When he had a hunting-party in the house, she 
 sometimes would not appear for days ; but, however 
 early he might start for the meet, I do not think he 
 ever left his dressing-room without his mother's kiss 
 on his cheek. She knew, as well as any one, how 
 recklessly her son rode; nothing but his science, 
 coolness, and great strength in the saddle, could 
 often have saved him from some terrible accident. 
 Many times, in the middle of the day's sport, the 
 thought has come across me piteously, of that poor 
 lady in her lonely rooms, trembling, and I am very 
 sure praying, for her darling. 
 
 On the opposite side of the court were Guy's own 
 apartments ; first, what was called by courtesy his 
 study — an armoury of guns and other weapons, a 
 chaos e rebus oinnihus et quibusdam aliis, for he never 
 had the faintest conception of the beauty of order ; 
 then came the smoking-room, with its great divans 
 and scattered card-tables; then Livingstone's bed- 
 room and dressing-room. 
 
 Did the distance and the doors always deaden the 
 sounds of late revels, so as not to break Lady Cathe- 
 rine's slumbers ? I fear not. 
 
46 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Thou art not steeped in golden languors ; 
 No Iranoed summer calm is thine, 
 Ever-varying Madeline. 
 
 It was a woodland meet, a long way off, tlie morning 
 after we arrived, so we stayed at home; and, after 
 breakfast, Guy having to give audience to keepers 
 and other retainers, I strolled out with Forrester to 
 smoke in the stables. I have seldom seen a lot which 
 united so perfectly bone and blood. Livingstone 
 gave any price for his horses ; the only thing he was 
 not particular about was their temper; more than 
 one looked eminently unsuited to a nervous rider, 
 and a swinging bar behind them warned the stranger 
 against incautious approach. 
 
 After duly discussing and admiruig the stud, we 
 established ourselves on the sunniest stone bench in 
 the garden ; and I asked my companion to tell me 
 something of what Guy had been doing during my 
 absence. 
 
 * Well, it's rather hard to say,' answered Charley. 
 ' He never takes the trouble to conceal anything ; but 
 then, you see, he never tells one anything, either ; so 
 
otrr LiviKGSTONfi. 47 
 
 it's only guess work, after all. He lives very much 
 like other men' in the Household Brigade ; plays 
 heavily, though not regularly ; but he always has two 
 affaires de cxuVf at least, on hand at once ; that's 
 his stint/ 
 
 *So he still persecutes the weaker sex unremit- 
 tingly?' I asked laughing. 
 
 *In a way peculiar to himself,' said Forrester; 'he 
 is always strictly cautious, but decidedly sarcastic. 
 Poor things ! they are easily imposed upon ; he very 
 soon has them well in hand, and they never can get 
 their heads up afterwards. I suppose they like it, for 
 it seems to answer admirably. Last season he divided 
 himself pretty equally between Constance Brandon 
 and Flora Bellasj^s — quite the two best things out, 
 though as opposite to each other in every way as the 
 poles. To do Miss Brandon justice, I don't think 
 she knew much of the other flirtation ; she always 
 went away early, and he used to take up her rival 
 for the Test of the evening.' 
 
 * But the said rival — how did she Hke the divided 
 homage ? ' 
 
 * Kot at all at first ; at least, she used to look 
 revolvers at Guy from time to time — (ah, you should 
 see the Bellasys' eyes when they begin to lighten) — 
 but he always brought her back to the lure, and at 
 last she seemed to take it quite as a matter of course ; 
 keepiDg all her after-supper waltzes for him re- 
 
48 GITY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ligiously, though half the men in town were trying 
 to cut in. I can't make out how he does it. Do 
 you think his size and sinews can have anything to 
 do with it?* He said this gravely and reflectively. 
 
 ' Not unlikely/ I replied ; * the for titer in re goes 
 a long way with women apparently, even where there 
 is not a tongue like his to back it. Don't you re- 
 member Juvenal's strong-minded heroine, who left 
 husband and home to follow the scarred, maimed 
 gladiator ? I doubt if the Mirmillo was a pleasant or 
 intellectual companion. Now, I want you to tell me 
 something about Guy's cousin and her father ; they 
 are coming to-day, I hear, and I have never met them.' 
 
 * Mr Ra^Tnond is very like most calm, comfortable 
 old men with a life interest in £2000 a year,' Charley 
 said ; * rather more cold and impassible than the 
 generality, perhaps. He must be clever, for he plays 
 whist better than any one I know ; but not brilliant, 
 certainly. His daughter is' — the colour deepened 
 on his cheek perceptibly — ' very charming, most peo- 
 ple tliink ; but I hate describing people. I always 
 caricature the likeness. You'll form your own judg- 
 ment at dinner. Shall we go in ? We shoot an out- 
 lying cover after luncheon, and the blackthorns in- 
 volve gaiters.* 
 
 We had very fair sport, and were returning across 
 the park, picking up a stray rabbit every now and then 
 in the tufts of long grass and patches of brake. One 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 49 
 
 had just started before Forrester, and lie was in the 
 act of pulling the trigger, when Livingstone said 
 suddenly — 
 
 'There's my uncle's carriage coming down the 
 north avenue.' 
 
 It was an easy shot in the open, but Charley missed 
 it clean. 
 
 * What eyes you have, Guy ! ' he said, pettishly ; 
 ' but I wish you w^ouldn't speak to a man on his shot.' 
 
 Guy's great Lancaster rang out with the roar of a 
 small field-piece, and the rabbit was rolling over, rid- 
 dled through the head, before he answered — 
 
 * Yes, my eyes are good, and I see a good many 
 things, but I donH see why you should have muffed 
 that shot, particularly as my intelligence was meant 
 for the world in general, and it was not such an 
 astounding remark after all.' 
 
 Charley did not seem ready with a reply, so he 
 retained his look of injured innocence, and walked on, 
 sucking silently at his cigar. The E/aymonds reach- 
 ed the house before us ; but not being in a present- 
 able state, I did not see them before dinner. 
 
 Forrester was right ; there was nothing startling 
 about Mr Eaymond. He had one of those thin high- 
 bred looking faces that one always fancies would have 
 suited admirably the powder and ruffles of the last 
 century. It expressed little, except perfect repose ; 
 and when he spoke, which was but seldom, no addi- 
 
50 GtJY LIVINGSTON^. 
 
 tional liglit came into his hard blue eyes. His daugh- 
 ter was his absolute contrast — a lovely delicate little 
 creature, with silky dark-brown hair, and eyes eii 
 suite, and colour that deepened and faded twenty 
 times in an hour, without ever losing the softness of 
 its tints. She had the ways of a child petted all its 
 life through, that a harsh word would frighten to 
 annihilation. She seemed very fond of Guy, though 
 evidently rather afraid of him at times. 
 
 Nothing passed at dinner worth mentioning ; but 
 soon after the ladies left us, Mr Ra}Tnond turned 
 lazily to his nephew to inquire — 
 
 * If he would mind asking Bruce to come and stay 
 at Kerton, as he was to be in the neighbourhood 
 soon after Christmas.' 
 
 lie did not seem to feel the faintest interest in the 
 reply. 
 
 * I shall be too glad, Uncle Henry,' answered Guy 
 (he did not look particularly charmed though), ' if it 
 will give you or Bella any pleasure. Need he be 
 written to immediately?' 
 
 * Thank you very much,' said Raymond, languidly. 
 * I know he bores you, and I am sure I don't wonder 
 at it ; but one must be civil to one's son-in-law that 
 is to be. No, you need not trouble yourself to invite 
 him yet. Bella can do it when she writes. I sup- 
 pose she does write to him sometimes.' 
 
 I looked across ths table at Forrester. This was 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 61 
 
 the first time I had heard of Miss Rajnnond's engage- 
 ment. He met my eye quite unconcernedly, pur- 
 suing with great interest his occupation of peeling 
 walnuts, and dropping them into sherry. It did not 
 often happen to him to blush tivice in the twenty- 
 four hours. Directly afterwards we began to talk 
 about pheasants and other things. 
 
 After cofiee in the drawing-room, Guy sat down to 
 piquet with his uncle. Rajrmond liked to utilize his 
 evenings, and never played for nominal stakes. He 
 was the heau ideal of a card-player certainly ; no re- 
 volution or persistence of luck could ruffle the dead 
 calm of his courteous face. He would win the money 
 of his nearest and dearest friend, or lose his own to 
 an utter stranger, with the same placidity. To be 
 sure, to a certain extent, he had enslaved Fortune : 
 though he always played most loyally, and some- 
 times would forego an advantage he might fairly 
 have claimed, his rare science made ultimate success 
 scarcely doubtful. He never touched a game of mere 
 chance. 
 
 I heard a good story of him in Paris. They were 
 playing a game like brag ; the principle being that 
 the players increase the stakes without seeing each 
 other's cards, till one refuses to go on, and throws up, 
 or shows his point. Ra3Tnond was left in at last with 
 one adversary ; the stakes had mounted up to a sum 
 that was fearful, and it was his choice to double or 
 
52 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 a bat I re. Of course, it was of the last importance to 
 discover whether the antagonist was strong or not ; 
 but the Frenchman's face gave not the slightest sign. 
 He was beau Joiieur sHl en fut, and had lost two fair 
 fortunes at play. Raymond hesitated, looking steadily 
 into his opponent's eyes. All at once he smiled and 
 doubled instantly. The other dared not go on ; he 
 showed his point, and lost. They asked Raymond 
 afterwards how he could have detected any want of 
 confidence to guide him in a face that looked like 
 marble ? 
 
 * I saw three drops of perspiration on his fore- 
 head,' he said; *and I knew my own hand was 
 strong.' 
 
 Lady Catherine was resting on a sofa ; she looked 
 tired and paler than usual, not in the least available 
 for conversation. Miss Rajnnond had nestled herself 
 into the recesses of a huge arm-chair close to the fire 
 — she was as fond of warmth, when she could not 
 get sunshine, as a tropical bird — and Forrester was 
 lounging on an ottoman behind her, so that his head 
 almost touched her elbow. When I caught scraps of 
 their conversation, it seemed to be turning on the 
 most ordinary subjects ; but even in these I should 
 have felt lost — I had been so long away from Eng- 
 land — so I contented myself with watching them, 
 and wondering why discussions as to the merits 
 of operas and inquiries after mutual acquaintances 
 
GUTf LIVINGSTONE. 63 
 
 should make the fair cheeks hang out signals of dis- 
 tress so often as they did that evening. 
 
 I lingered in the smoking-room about midnight 
 for a moment after Forrester left us. 
 
 * So your cousin is really engaged ?* I asked Guy. 
 
 * Tout ce qu\l y a de plus fiance^ was the answer. 
 * It was one of the last affairs of state that my poor 
 aunt concluded before she died. Bruce is a very 
 good match : I don't think Bella worships him, 
 though I have scarcely ever seen them together, and 
 I am sure he is not a favourite with Uncle Henry ; 
 but nothing on earth would make him break it off; 
 indeed, I know no one who would propose such a 
 thing to him — not his daughter, certainly. There's 
 no such hopeless obstacle as the passive resistance of 
 a thoroughly lazy man. Good night, Frank. I've 
 sent the Baron on for you to-morrow. We must 
 start about nine, mind, for we've fifteen miles to go 
 to cover.' 
 
 I went to bed, and dreamt that Haymond was 
 playing 6carte with Forrester for his daughter, who 
 stood by blushing beautifully — and never held a 
 trump ! 
 
64 
 
 cnAPTEE yii. 
 
 She has two eyes so soft and brown ; 
 
 Take care ! 
 She gives a side glance, and looks down ; 
 
 Beware ! beware ! 
 Trust her not ; she is fooling thee. 
 
 So the days went on. The stream of visitors usual 
 in a country house during the hunting season, flowed 
 in and out of Kerton Manor without any remarkable 
 specimen showing itself above the surface. One in- 
 dividual, perhaps, I ought to except, the curate of 
 the parish, who was a very constant visitor. 
 
 His appearance was not fascinating ; he had a long 
 narrow head, thatched with straight scanty hair, 
 little protruding eyes, and a complexion of a bright 
 imvarying red ; in fact he was very like a prawn. 
 
 It was soon evident that the Rev. Samuel Foster 
 was helplessly smitten by !Miss Raymond, or, as For- 
 rester elegantly expressed it, * hard hit in the wings, 
 and crippled for flying ! ' Helplessly, I say, but not 
 hopelessly; for that wicked little creature, acting 
 perhaps under private orders, gave him all sorts of 
 treacherous encouragement. I never saw any human 
 being evolve so much caloric under excitement as he 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 65 
 
 did, except one young woman whom I met ages ago 
 — (a most estimable person ; her Sunday-scliool was 
 a model) — whose only way of eyincing any emotion 
 either of anger, fear, pain, or pleasure was — a pro- 
 fuse perspiration. Mr Foster not only got awfully 
 hot, but electrical into the bargain. His thin hairs 
 used to stand out distinctly and in reKef from his 
 head and face, just like a person on the glass tripod. 
 Charley suggested insulating him unawares, and 
 getting a flash out of his knucldes, if not out of his 
 brain. In truth, it was piteous to see the struggle 
 between passion and nervousness that raged per- 
 petually within him. He would stand for some time 
 casting lanih^s-ejes at the object of his affections — to 
 the amorous audacity of the full-grown sheep he 
 never soared — then suddenly, without the slightest 
 provocation, he would discharge at her a compliment, 
 elaborate, long-winded, Grandisonian, as a raw re- 
 cruit fires his musket, shutting his eyes, and incon- 
 tinently take to flight, without waiting to see the 
 effect of his shot. If he had spent half the time and 
 pains on his sermons that he did on his small-talk (I 
 believe he used to write out three or four foul copies 
 of each sentence previously, at home) what a boon it 
 would have been to his unlucky audience on Sundaj^s I 
 '\\Tiy is it that the great proportion of our pastors 
 seem to conspire together with one consent to make 
 the periodical duty of listening to them as hai'd as 
 
66 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 possible? Can they imagine there is profit or 
 pleasure in a discourse wandering wearily round in 
 a circle, or dragging a slow length along of truisms 
 and trivialities ? In the best of congregations there 
 can be but few alchemists ; and, without that science, 
 who is to extract the essence of Truth from the moles 
 in congest a of crass moralities ? 
 
 To persuade or dissuade you must interest the head 
 or the heart. I admire those who can do either suc- 
 cessfully, but I do protest against those clerical t}Tants 
 who shelter themselves behind their licence, to fire 
 at us their ruthless platitudes. If such could only 
 struggle against that strong temptation of our fallen 
 nature — the delight of hearing one's own sweet voice 
 — so as to concentrate now and then ! The best orators, 
 spiritual and mundane, have been brief sometimes. 
 
 I am no theologian ; but I take leave to doubt if, 
 in the elaborate divinity of fourteen epistles, the 
 apostle of the Gentiles ever went so straight to his 
 hearer's heart as in that farewell charge, when the 
 elders of Ephesus gathered round him on the sea 
 sand, * Sorrowing most of all for the words that he 
 spake, that they should see his face no more.' 
 
 Do you remember Canning and the clergjonan ? 
 When the latter asked him, ' How did you like my 
 sermon ? I endeavoured not to be tedious ?' I always 
 fancy the statesman's weary wistful look, which would 
 have been compassionate but for a sense of personal 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 57 
 
 injury, as lie answered, in his mild voice, ' And yet — 
 you were* 
 
 Well, the flirtation went on its way rejoicing, to 
 the intense amusement of all of us, especially of For- 
 rester ; till one day his cousin came into Guy's study, 
 who had just returned from hunting, looking rather 
 frightened, like a child who has let fall a valuable 
 piece of china : — it was only an honest man's heart 
 that she had broken. Slowly the truth came out, Mr 
 Foster had proposed to her that afternoon in the park. 
 
 We, far oiF in the drawing-room, heard the shrill 
 whistle with which Livingstone greeted the in- 
 telligence. 
 
 ' You accepted him of course ? ' he said. 
 
 * Guy ! ' Miss Raymond answered, blushing more 
 than ever. (I'll back a woman against the world for 
 expressing half a chapter by a simple interjection ; 
 Lord Burleigh's nod is nothing to it.) * But, in- 
 deed,' she went on, ' I'm very sorry about it ; I never 
 saw any one look so unhappy before. Do you know 
 I think I saw the tears standing in his eyes ; and I 
 only guessed at the words, when he said, *' God bless 
 you!'" 
 
 ' Ah, bah ! ' replied Guy, with his most cynical smile 
 on his lip ; ' he'U recover. Who breaks his heart in 
 these days, especially for such little dots of things as 
 you ? But, Bella mia, how do you think Mr Bruce 
 would approve of all these innocent amusements ?' 
 
58 GUT I.mNGSTONE. 
 
 It was no blush now, but a dead waxen wbitencss, 
 that came over the beautiM face, even down to the 
 chin. The soft brown eyes grew fixed and wild with 
 an imploring terror. * You wonH tell him?* she 
 gasped out ; and then stood quivering and shudder- 
 ing. Guy was very much surprised : he had never 
 believed greatly in his cousin's affection for her be- 
 trothed ; but here there were signs, not only of the 
 absence of love, but of the presence of physical fear. 
 
 * My dear child,' he said very kindly, * don't alarm 
 yourself so absurdly. I have not the honour of Mr 
 Bruce's confidence ; and if I had, how could I tell him 
 of an affair where / have been most to blame ? 1*11 
 speak to Foster : he must not show his disappointment 
 even before Uncle Henry. You will be quite safe, you 
 Bce. But, mind, I won't allow any one to frighten 
 or vex my pet cousin.' His countenance lowered as 
 he spoke, and there was a threat in his eyes. 
 
 As the cloud darkened on his face, the light camo 
 back on Isabel Haymond's. She took his hand — all 
 fibre and sinew, like an oak-bough — into her slender 
 fingers, and pressed it hard. In good truth, a woman 
 at her need could ask no better defender than he who 
 stood by her side then, tall, strong, black-browed, and 
 terrible, as Saul. * Thank you so much, dear Guy,' 
 she whispered. ' If 3'ou speak to ^Ir Foster, you will 
 teU him how very sorry I am ! ' and then she left him. 
 
 Guy did speak to the curate : I hope gently. At 
 
QXm LIVINGSTONE. 59 
 
 all events we never lauglied at him again. IIow 
 could we, when we saw him going about his daily 
 duties, honestly and brayely, and always, when in 
 presence, struggling with his great sorrow, so as not 
 by word or look to compromise the thoughtless child, 
 who had won his heart for her amusement, and 
 thrown it away for her convenience ? 
 
 I have been disciplined since by what I have felt 
 and seen, and I see, now, how ungenerous we had been. 
 
 AVhat right had we to make of that man a puppet 
 for our amusement, because he was shy, and stupid, 
 and slow ? He was as true in his devotion, as honour- 
 able in all his wishes, as confident in his hopes till 
 they were blasted, as any one that has gone a- wooing 
 since the first whisper of love was heard in Eden. If 
 his despair was less crushing than that of other men, 
 it was because his principles were stronger to endure, 
 and perhaps because his temperament was more tran- 
 quil and cold. As I have said, he did his day's work 
 thoroughly, and that helped him through a good deal. 
 But to the utmost of his nature, I believe he did sufier. 
 And could the long train of those whom disappoint- 
 ment has made maniacs or suicides do more ? 
 
 Let us not trust too much in the absence of feeling 
 in these seemingly impassive organizations. 
 
 I wonder how often the executors of old College 
 Fellows, or of hard-faced bankers and bureaucrats, 
 have been aggravated by finding in that most eecret 
 
60 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 drawer, which ought to have held a codicil or a jewel, 
 a tress, a glove, or a flower ? The searcher looks at 
 the object for a moment, and then throws it into the 
 rubbish-basket, with a laugh if he is good-natured, 
 with a curse if he is vicious and disappointed. Let 
 it lie there — though the dead miser valued it above 
 all his bank-stock, and kissed it oftener than he did 
 his living and lawful wife and children — what is it 
 worth now ? Say, as the grim Dean of St Patrick 
 wrote on his love-token — ' Only a woman's hair/ 
 
 Now these men, unknown to their best friend per- 
 haps, had gone through the affliction which is so com- 
 mon, that it is hard to speak of it without launching 
 into truisms. This sorrow has made some men famous, 
 by forcing them out into the world and shutting the 
 door behind them. It has made the fortunes of some 
 poets, who choose the world for their confidant, set- 
 ting their bereavement to music, and bewailing Eury- 
 dice in charming volumes, that are cheap at * 3s. Qd, 
 in cloth, lettered.-* It has made som.e — I think the best 
 and bravest — somewhat silent for the rest of their lives. 
 I read some lines, the other day, wise enough to ha^e 
 sprung from an older brain than Owen Meredith's. 
 
 They were pedants who could speak — 
 Grander souls have passed unheard ; 
 Such as felt all language weak ; 
 Choosing rather to record 
 Secrets before Heaven, than break 
 i'aith with angels, by a word • 
 
GtJT LIVINGSTONE. 61 
 
 Yes! many men have tteir Rachel; but — there 
 being a prejudice against bigamy — few have even the 
 Patriarch's luck, to marry her at last. For the wife 
 de convenance generally outlives her younger sister ; 
 and so, one afternoon, we turn again from a grave in 
 Ephrata-Green Cemetery, somewhat drearily, into our 
 tent pitched in the plains of Belgravia, where Leah — 
 (there was ever jealousy between those two) — meets 
 us with a sharp glance of triumph in her * tender eyes.' 
 
 We have knc^Ti pleasanter Ute-a-i4tes — ^have we 
 not ? — than that which we undergo that evening at 
 dinner ; though our companion seems disi)0sed to be 
 especially lively. We have not much appetite ; but 
 our carissima sposa tells us, ' not to di'ink any more 
 claret, or we shall never be fit to take her to Lady 
 Shechem's conversazione' Of all nights in the year 
 would she let us off duty on this one ? * There are 
 to be some very pleasant people there,' she says, 
 * though none, perhaps, that you 2^<^^i^cularly care 
 about.^ (Thank you, my love; I understand that 
 good-natured allusion perfectl}^, and am proj)ortion- 
 ately grateful.) Her voice sounds shriller than usual, 
 as she says this, and leaves us to put some last touches 
 to her toilette. So we order a fresh bottle, notwith- 
 standing the warning, and fall to thinking. How 
 low and soft tliat other voice was, and, even when a 
 little reproachful, how rarely sweet ! She would 
 scarcely have invented that last taimt, if matters had 
 
62 Gtrt LIVIKGSTONE. 
 
 turned out diflferently. Then we think of our respect- 
 ed fatlicr-in-law, Sir Joseph Leyburn, of Harran 
 Park — a miglit}^ county magistrate and cattle-breeder. 
 lie got Ishmael Dcadej'e, the poacher, transported 
 last year, and took the prize for Dcvons at the Great 
 Mesopotamian Agricultural, with a brindled bull. 
 Wq remember his weeping at the wedding-breakfast 
 over the loss of his eldest treasure ; and wonder if he 
 was an arrant humbug, or only a foolish fond old 
 man, inclining morosely toAvards the former opinion. 
 We don't seem to care much about Sir Roland de 
 Vaux, the celebrated geologist, whom we shall haye 
 the privilege of meeting this evening. "WTiat are 
 strata to us, when our thoughts will not go lower 
 than about eight feet undergroimd ? We shall be 
 rather bored than otherwise by Dr Stemhold, that 
 eminent Christian divine, who passes his leisure 
 hours in pro\dng St Paul to have been an imsound 
 theologian and a weak dialectician. Why should 
 Mr Planet, the intrepid traveller, be always inflict- 
 ing Jerusalem upon us, as if no one had ever visited 
 the Iloly Land before him ? Our ancestors did so 
 five hundred years ago, and did not make half the 
 fuss about it ; and thei/ had a skirmish or two there 
 worth speaking of, while we don*t believe a word of 
 Planet's encoimter vdih those three Arabs on the 
 Hebron road. Pooh I there's no more peril in tra- 
 versing the Wilderness of Cades, than in going up to 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 63 
 
 the Grands Mulcts. We are not worthy of those 
 distinguished men, and would prefer the society of 
 hard-riding Dick Foley of the Blues. He had a few 
 feelings in common with us once on a certain point 
 (how we hated him then !), and he won't wonder if 
 we are duller than usual this evening. Perhaps his 
 own nerve will scarcely be as iron as usual in the 
 Grand Militarj^ to come off in the course of the week. 
 * TVell, the bottle is out, and Mademoiselle Zelpa 
 conies to say that * Madame is ze raidee.' So one 
 glass of cognac neat, as a chasse (to more things than 
 good claret), and then — let us put on our whitest tie, 
 and our most attractive smile, and ' go forth, for she 
 is gone/ 
 
64 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A man had given all other bliss, 
 And all his worldly worth for this, 
 To waste his whole heart in one kiss 
 Fpon her perfect lips. 
 
 "We were asked to dine and sleep at Brainswick, 
 where the hounds met on the following morning. 
 Mr Raj-mond could not make up his mind to the 
 exertion, so Forrester and I accompanied Guy alone. 
 
 * By-the-by/ the latter observed, as we were dri^ong 
 over in his maLl-j)haeton, ' I wonder if we shall see 
 the Bellas^^s to-night ? I know they were to como 
 down about this time. Steady, old wench ! AYhere 
 arc you off to ? ' (This was to the near wheeler, who 
 was breaking her trot.) * I tliink you'll admire her, 
 Frank; but, gave a vous, she's dangerous. Eh, 
 Charley?' 
 
 '"Well, you ought to laiow,' answered Forrester ; 
 * I never tried her much mj^self. She's two or three 
 stone over my weight. I wonder what she has been 
 doing latel}^ ? They sent her down to rusticate some- 
 where at the end of the season. She ought to be in 
 great condition now, with a summer's run. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 65 
 
 Livingstone smiled, complacently I thouglit, as if 
 some one had praised one of his favourite himters, 
 but did not pursue the subject 
 
 When I came down before dinner he was talking 
 to a lady in dark -blue silk with black Lace over it, a 
 wreath curiously plaited of natural ivy in her hair. I 
 guessed her at once to be Flora Bellasys. 
 
 Let me try to paint — though abler artists have 
 failed — the handsomest brunette I have ever seen. 
 
 She was very tall ; her figure magnificently deve- 
 loped, though slender-waisted and lithe as a serpent : 
 she walked as if she had been bred in a basquina, and 
 her foot and ankle were hardly to be matched on this 
 side of the Pyrenees : the nose slightly aquiline^ with 
 thin transparent nostrils; and the forehead rather 
 low, — it looked more so, perhaps, from the thick 
 masses of dark hair which framed and shaded her face. 
 Under the clear pale olive of the cheeks the rich bleed 
 mantled now and then like wine in a Yenice glass; and 
 her lips — the outline of the upper one just defined by 
 a pencilling of dovra, the lower one full and pouting — 
 glistened with the brilKant smoothness of a pomegran- 
 ate flower where the dew is clinging. Her eyes — the 
 opium-eaters of Stamboul never dreamt of their peers 
 among the bevies of hachis-houi'is. They were of the 
 very darkest hazel : one moment sleeping lazily imder 
 their long lashes, like a river under leaves of water- 
 lilies; the next, sparkling like the same stream when 
 
66 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 tlie sunlight is splintered on its ripples into carcanets 
 of diamonds. When they chose to speak, not all the 
 orators that have rounded periods since Isocrates could 
 match their eloquence ; when it was their ^411 to 
 guard a secret, they met you with the cold, impene- 
 trable gaze that we might attribute to the Mighty 
 Mother, Cybcle. Even a philosopher might have 
 been interested — on purely psychological grounds of 
 course — ^in watching the thoughts as they rose one by 
 one to the surface of those deep, clear wells (was 
 truth at the bottom of them ? — I doubt), like the 
 strange shapes of beauty that reveal themselves to 
 seamen, coyly and slowly through the purple calm of 
 the Indian Sea. 
 
 Twice I have chosen a watery simile ; but I know 
 no other element combining, as her glances did, 
 liquid softness with lustre. 
 
 When near her, you were sensible of a strange, 
 
 subtle, intoxicating perfume, very fragrant, perfectly 
 
 indefinable, which clung, not only to her dress, but 
 
 to everything belonging to her. From what flowers 
 
 it was distilled no artist in essences alive could have 
 
 told. I incline to think that, like the * birk ' in tlio 
 
 ghost's garland, 
 
 They vrere not gro"^n on earthly bank, 
 Nor yet on eaxthly sheugh. 
 
 Guy took Miss Bellasys in to dinner, and I found 
 myself placed on her other side. I had been intro- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 67 
 
 duced to her ten minutes before, but had little oppor- 
 tunity for ' improving the occasion/ as the Noncon- 
 formists have it, for she never once deigned a look in 
 my direction. 
 
 My right-hand neighbour was an elderly man of 
 a full habit, whom it would have been cruel to disturb 
 till the rage of hunger was appeased : so I was fain to 
 seek amusement in the conversation going on on my 
 left. There was no indiscretion in this, for I knew Guy 
 would never touch secrets of state in mixed company. 
 
 For some time they talked nothing but conmion- 
 places, evidently feeling each other^s foils. The real 
 fencing began with a question from Flora — if he was 
 not surprised at seeing her there that evening. 
 
 * Not at all,' was the reply ; * I Icnew we must 
 meet before long. It is only parallels that donH ; and 
 there is very little of the ri^ht-line about either 
 you or me.* 
 
 * Speak for yourself,' Miss Bellasys said; 'I con- 
 sider that a very rude observation.* 
 
 * Pardon me,* retorted Guy ; * I seldom say rude 
 things — never intentionally. I don't know which is 
 in worst taste, that, or paying point-blank compli- 
 ments. Without being mathematical, you may have 
 heard that the line of beauty is a curve.* 
 
 Flora laughed. 
 
 * It is diflScult to catch you. What have you been 
 doing since we parted ? * 
 
68 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 * That is just the question that was on my lips, so 
 nearly uttered that I consider I spoke first. Now, 
 will you confess, or must I cross- question some one 
 else ? I will know. It is easy to follow you, like an 
 invading army, by the trail of devastation.' 
 
 ' So you do care to know ? ' the soft voice said, 
 that could make the nerves of even an indifferent 
 hearer thrill and quiver strangely. 
 
 After once listening to it, it was very easy to be- 
 lieve the weird stories of Norse sorceresses, and Ger- 
 man wood-spirits and nixies, luring men to death 
 with their fatally musical tones. 
 
 ' Simple curiosity,' Guy replied, coolly, ' and a little 
 compassion for your victims. They might be friends 
 of mine, you know.' 
 
 Miss Bellasys bit her lip, half provoked, half 
 amused, apparently, as she answered, * The dead tell 
 no tales.' 
 
 * No, but the wounded do ; and they cry ou pretty 
 loudly sometimes. I suppose all the cases did not 
 terminate fatally. "Will you confess ? ' 
 
 * I have nothing to tell you,' Flora said, very de- 
 murely and meekly — only, for once her eyes betrayed 
 her. * Mamma took me do^Ti into Devonshire, where 
 we have an aunt or two, for sea breezes and seclusion. 
 I rather liked at first having nothing on earth to do, 
 and nothing — yes, I understand — really nothing, to 
 think about. I used to sleep a great deal, and then 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 69 
 
 drive a little obstinate pony, to see views. But I don't 
 care mucli about views — do you ? Then mamma was 
 always wanting me to help her look for shells and 
 wild flowers ; and the rocks hurt my feet, and the 
 bushes never would leave mo alone in the woods.* 
 She shuddered slightly here. 
 
 ' The Bushes ! a Devonshire family of that name, 
 I presume ? ' Guy interrupted, with intense gravity. 
 * How wrong of them ! They are very ill-regulated 
 young men down in those parts, I believe ? ' 
 , 'Don't be absurd; I never saw a creature for 
 months between fifteen and fifty. Are not those ages 
 safe ? ^ (A shake of the head from Livingstone.) * I 
 began to be very unhappy ; I had no one to tease ; 
 my aimts are too good-natured, and mamma is used 
 to it. . At last I had the greatest mind to do some- 
 thing desperate — to write to you for instance — merely 
 to see the household's horror when your answer came. 
 You would have answered, would you not ? I should 
 not have opened it, you know, but given it to mamma, 
 like a good child.' 
 
 ' ' Of course ; I know you show all your letters to 
 your mother. But that ruralizing must have been 
 fearful for you, poverina ! People were talking a good 
 deal of agricultural distress; but this is the most 
 piteous case I've heard of. So there were really no 
 men to govern in that wood ? ' 
 
 "Not even a little boy/ said Flora, decisively. 
 
<0 GUY LTTINGSTONE. 
 
 * There were two or three from Oxford in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; I used to see them sitting outside their 
 lodgings in the sun, like rabbits, but they always ran 
 in before — * 
 
 * Before you could get a shot at them, j^ou mean ? * 
 broke in Guy ; ' you ought to have crept up, and 
 stalked them cleverly/ 
 
 Flora threw back her handsome head — ' I don't war 
 with childi-en. It went on just as I tell you, till we 
 left for our round of winter visits, which have been 
 very stupid and correct, till now.' 
 
 I hardly caught the last two words, she spoke them 
 so low. There was silence for several minutes, and 
 then Guy leant back to address me. 
 
 * Do you remember Arthur Darrell of Christchurch, 
 Frank, the man that used to speak at the Union, and 
 was always raving about ebon locks and dark eyes ? * 
 
 ' I remember him well. I have not seen him for 
 years ; but I heard he was getting on well in the law.' 
 
 * Ile'll have time to get tired of brimettes — if any 
 one ever does get tired of them — before he comes back,' 
 said Guy. ' He's just gone out to try the Indian bar.' 
 
 * 'WTiat could have put such an idea into his head ? * 
 I asked, very innocently. 
 
 * I can't say,' was the reply ; ' men do take such 
 curious fancies. It was a sudden determination, I 
 believe. The beauties of the Eastern hemisphere 
 began to develop themselves to his weak mind last 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. ?'l 
 
 Burainer wliilc lie was down witli liis JiCoplc in — 
 Devonsliire.' 
 
 Involimtarily I looked at Miss Bellasys. She saw 
 Biic was detected ; but, instead of betraying any em- 
 barrassment, she turned upon Guy a queer little im- 
 ploring look, not indicative in tlie least of sliarae or 
 repentance, but such, as might be put on by one of 
 those truly excellent people who do good by stealth 
 and blush to find it known, when some of their bene- 
 volent acts have come to light, and they wish to de- 
 precate praise. 
 
 Livingstone gazed piercingly at her for several in- 
 stants without moving a muscle of his face ; suddenly 
 its fixed and stern expression — yon could not say 
 softened, but — broke up all at once like a sheet of ice 
 shivering. 
 
 * Let there be peace,' he said, scntentiously. ' We 
 forgive all the errors of your long vacation, in con- 
 sideration of the good it has evidently done you. You 
 are looking brilliantly^ ! ' 
 
 There was an unusual softness, almost a tremor, 
 in his deep voice, as he spoke the last words ; and a 
 look in his bold eyes that many trained coquettes 
 would have shrunk from — a look that I should be 
 sorry and angry to see turned on any woman in whom 
 I felt an interest. A look such as Selim Pasha might 
 wear as the Arnauts defile into his harem- court/ 
 bringing the fair Georgians home. 
 
72 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 !Flora Bellasj^s onl}" smiled iu saucy triumph. 
 
 *You say you never pay compliments/ she an- 
 swered ; * and I ahyays try to believe jom. AVe will 
 suppose this one is only the truth extorted. My glove 
 — thank you.' The same smile was on her lip as she 
 turned her head once in her haughty progress to the 
 door. 
 
 As Guy sat down again, and filled a huge glass 
 with claret, I heard him mutter between his teeth — 
 ** Royahy quancl meme ! ' 
 
 * Close up, gentlemen, close up ! ' broke in the 
 cheery voice of our rare old host. 'Livingstone, 
 if you begin back-handing already, you'll never 
 b3 able to hold that great raking chestnut I saw 
 your groom leading this evening. The man looked 
 as if he thought he would be eaten before he 
 got in.' 
 
 * Whatever you do, drinli fair,' Guy answered, 
 laughing ; ' so saith the immortal Gamp. The Squii-e's 
 beginning to tremble for his '22 "wine.' 
 
 * I don't wonder,' said Godfrey Parndon, the M.F.TI. 
 ' I've alwaj^s observed that^ after flirting disgracefully 
 at dinner, you drink harder afterwards. It's to drown 
 remorse, I suppose. So you ride that new horse of 
 yours to-morrow ? My poor hoimds ! ' 
 
 'Don't be alarmed,' replied Guy, *he never kicks 
 hounds, and I won't let him go over them ; it's only 
 hmnan strangers the amiable animal can't endure : 
 
GUY LI\aNGSTONE. 73 
 
 that's why I call him the Axcine. He is worth more 
 than the £300 I gave for him.' 
 
 * Well ! he nearly spoilt two grooms for Houns- 
 cott/ Parndon said. * The stablemen at Eeycsby had 
 a great beer the day they got rid of him.' 
 
 *He wouldn't suit every one,' remarked Living- 
 stone. * ISTot you, for instance, Godfrey, who always 
 ride with a loose rein. I was obliged to give him his 
 gallops myself, at first ; he's a devil to pull, and if 
 he once gets away -svith you you may '^ write to your 
 friends." But I've nothing lilvo him in my stable.' 
 
 Then the conversation became general, revolving in 
 a circle of hound- and-horse talk, as it will do now 
 and then in the shires. 
 
 ' Guy,' whispered Forrester, as we went up- stairs, 
 'there's a little woman here who says she used 
 to know you very well : won't you go and talk to 
 her?' 
 
 ' Many little women say that,' answered Guy ; ' it's 
 a way they have. "Wliich is it now ? ' 
 
 Charley pointed out a small, plump, rather pretty 
 blonde, with long ringlets, and Kght, laughing blue 
 eyes. It seemed the lady's reminiscences were well 
 founded, for in five minutes Livingstone and she were 
 talking like old friends. 
 
 In the course of the evening I found myself near 
 Miss Bellasys. This time she did me the honour to 
 address me, and soon began asking me more ques- 
 
7i atJt LTWOSTOXE. 
 
 tions tlian I could answer, even had slie waited a 
 ^^pI^^ — Did I like Kerton Manor ? ITad there been 
 many agreeable people there yet ? — Not any remark- 
 ably so ! — She was surprised at that. Miss Raymond 
 was there en permanence of course ? She was such a 
 favourite with her (Flora), and >vith her cousin too, 
 she thought. "Was Mr Livingstone always plajnng 
 with his uncle, and always losing ? She supposed he 
 liked losing — at play. Did I know the lady in pink, 
 wdth twenty-five flowers in her hair ? She had 
 counted them. Yes ! that was her husband ; the 
 stout man looking imcomfortable in the corner. An 
 old friend of Mr Livingstone's ? He had so many old 
 friends ; but he did not always talk to them for a whole 
 evening Tv^thout intermission. Ah ! she was going 
 to fiing ; that is, if Mr Livingstone had quite finished 
 with her, and would let her go. Little women with 
 pink cheeks and dresses always did sing, and never 
 had any voice. 
 
 I don't know how many more questions she put to 
 me in the same quiet, clear tones ; but just then I 
 happened to look doT^Ti on the handkerchief she held 
 in her hand, and I saw a long rent in its broad Yal- 
 enciennes border that I am very sure was not there 
 an hour ago ; for Flora's toilette, morning and even- 
 ing, was faultless to a degree. 
 
 I had hardly time to remark this, when Guy 
 lounged up to us. My companion's dark eyes were 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 76 
 
 more eloquent than her lips, which quivered slightly, 
 as she said — 
 
 * I wonder you have not more consideration. A 
 new arrival in the country, and compromised ii're- 
 trievably ! Look at Mr Strafford now.' 
 
 ' The husband ? ' Guy said, with intense disdain ; 
 * the husband's helpless. He may sharpen his — tusks, 
 but he'll never come to battle. How good and great 
 you are ! It is quite refreshing to hear your strictures 
 on innocent amusements. But I beg you will speak 
 of that lady with due respect ; she is the first — yes, 
 positively the first — woman I ever loved ! ' 
 
 * 3Io)iseigncur, que cChonneur ! ' Flora said, curling 
 her haughty lip. 
 
 * It is true,' Guy went on. ' At a children's ball, 
 about fifteen years ago, I met my fate ; she was in 
 white muslin, with a velvet boddice' (Flora shud- 
 dered visibly) ; * for a year after I pictured to myself 
 the angels in no other attire, and now — years vitiate 
 one's fancies so — I can fancy nothiog but a jockey, 
 in *' black body and white sleeves.'' I suppose she 
 was very pretty ; let us hope so ! it is my only ex- 
 cuse for being enchanted ten minutes, and stupidly 
 enslaved in half an hour. The thing would not have 
 been complete without a rival ; he came — a plump, 
 circular-faced boy, mth severely flaxen hair. No, 
 you need not look across the room — not the least like 
 "v^hat she is now ! Great jealousy may make me unjust^ 
 
76 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 but I don't think he had any advantage over me, 
 save one, and he used that mercilessly. He* wore 
 collars standing boldly erect under his fat cheeks, 
 v'hile those of the rest of us lay prostrate, after the 
 simple fashion of my childhood. The prestige was 
 too much for Ellen's weak mind (did I tell you her 
 name was Ellen ?) — Bottom monopolized Titania for 
 the rest of the evening. I could have beaten him 
 with ease and satisfaction to myself, but I refrained ; 
 and, rushing into the supper-room, drained three 
 glasses of weak negus with the energy of despair. 
 
 ' I have never suffered anything since lilie the 
 torment of the next two hours. I saw her several 
 times afterwards, and might have made play, per- 
 haps ; but the phantom of a roimd red face, with col- 
 lars starched a routrance, always came between us. 
 It was only a slight satisfaction to hear that she has 
 utterly lost sight of my rival, and promises to cut 
 him dead the first time they meet. There's the his- 
 tory of a young heart blighted — of a crushed affection ! 
 I am not aware that there is any moral in it ; if 
 there is, you are welcome to it, I am sure. You 
 might look a little more sympathizing, though^ even 
 if I have bored j^ou.' 
 
 Flora tried to look grave, but the dancing light in 
 her rebellious ajQS betrayed her, even before her 
 merry musical laugh broke in. 
 
 'It is far the most touching thing I overheard 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 77 
 
 Poor child ! how you must have suffered ! I wonder 
 you ever smiled again. How well she sings, does she 
 not ? — when she does not try to go too high.' 
 
 ' Don't be severe/ Guy retorted ; ' you may have 
 to sing yourself some day. You prefer talking, 
 though ? Well, with a well-managed contralto^ it 
 comes nearly to the same thing ; and I suppose you 
 consider the world in general is not worthy of it ? ' 
 
 Almost imperceptibly, but very meaningly, her 
 glance turned to where I sat close behind her. 
 
 * How absurd ! you know why I don't sing often. 
 To-night it would be — too cruel.^ (Flora's idea of 
 modest merit was peculiar.) * JSTow, tell me, what are 
 you going to ride to-morrow ? "We shall all go and see 
 them throw off.' 
 
 Without answering her question he leant over her, 
 and said something too low for me to hear, which 
 made her colour brighten. 
 
 From a distant corner two ancient virgins, long 
 past * mark of mouth,' surveyed the procedings with 
 faces like moulds of lemon-ice. Flora glanced to- 
 wards them this time, and said demurely, making a 
 gesture of crossing her arms a la NapoUon I. — * Take 
 care ; from the summit of yonder sofa forty ages be- 
 hold you.' 
 
 The caution was a challenge ; and so her hearer 
 interpreted it, as he sank down beside her. 
 
 I seemed to be lapsing rapidly lato the terrible 
 
78 Gl/Y LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 third tliat spoils sport, so I left them ; but not ail the 
 adjurations of Godfrey Parndon invoking liis favourite 
 antagonist to the whist-table could draw Guy from 
 his post again that evening. 
 
 I know men who would have given five years of 
 life for the whisper that glided into his ear as he gave 
 Miss Bellasys her candle on retiring, ten for ihc Par* 
 thian glance that shot its arrow home. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1 know the purple vestment ; 
 
 I know the crest of flame ; 
 So ever rides Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name. 
 
 The next was a perfect hunting morning : a llglit 
 breeze, steady from tlie south-west, and not too much 
 Sim ; the very day when a scent, in and out of cover, 
 would be a certainty, if there were any calculating on 
 this contingency. Let us do our sisters justice — there 
 is 0716 thing in nature more uncertain and capricious 
 than the whims of womankind. 
 
 The hounds had come up with their usual train of 
 officials, and of those steady- going sportsmen who love 
 the pack better than their own children, and can call 
 each individual in it by his name. Godfrey Parndon 
 was doing the civil to the * great men in Israel,' his 
 heaviest subscribers ; pinks were gleaming in every 
 direction through the clumps and belts of plantation, 
 as the men came up at a hard gallop on their cover- 
 hacks, or opened the pipes of their himters by a 
 ^tretob over the turf of the park. 
 
80 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 On tlie hall- steps stood Flora Bellasys — Penthesilea 
 in a wide-awake and plume ; a dozen men were round 
 her, striving emulously for a word or a smile, and she 
 held her own gallantly with them all ; she was wait- 
 ing patiently till Guy had lighted an obstinate cigar, 
 and was ready to mount her. He understood putting 
 her up better than any one else, she said. Perhaps 
 he did ; but, though he swung her into the saddle 
 with one wave of his mighty arm as Hghtly as Loch- 
 invar could have done, the arrangement of the skirt 
 and stirrup seemed a problem hardly to be solved. 
 
 If there was any truth in the old Courland super- 
 stition, that the display of a lady's ankle to the 
 hunters before they started brought them luck, we 
 ought to have had the run of the season that day. 
 
 He rode by her side, too, as near as the plunges of 
 the chestnut would allow, till we reached the gorse 
 that we were to di'aw ; once there the stronger passion 
 prevailed. Aphrodite hid her face, and the great 
 goddess Artemis claimed her own. As the first 
 hound whimpered, he drew off towards a corner, 
 where a big fence woidd give him a chance of shaking 
 off the crowd, and I do not think he turned his head 
 till the fox went away. 
 
 The last thing I remember, there was the anxious 
 look in two beautiful hazel eyes as they gazed after 
 the Axcine, charging his second fence with the rush 
 of an express train. 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 81 
 
 1l\iq fetiche did not fail us; we had a wonderful 
 run, of which only five men saw the end. I confess 
 the second brook stopped me and many others. For- 
 rester got over with a fall ; but they were preparing 
 to break up the fox, when he came up first of the 
 second flight. 
 
 Guy came home in great spirits ; he had been ad- 
 mirably carried. He and the first whip, a ten- stone 
 man, were head and head at the last fence, while the 
 hounds were rolling over their fox, a hundred yards 
 farther, in the open. 
 
 After dinner he amused himself by teasing his 
 cousin. At last he asked her if she would lend him 
 Bella Donna to hack to cover, as his own favourite 
 was rather lame. 
 
 Miss Raymond's indignation was superb ; for, be 
 it known, she was prouder of the said animal than of 
 anything else in the world. 
 
 She (the mare, not the lad}^) was a bright bay, with 
 black points, quite thorough-bred, and as handsome 
 as a picture. Livingstone had bought her out of G 
 training- stable, and had given her to his cousin, afte/ 
 having her broken into a perfect Hght-weight hunter. 
 
 One of the few extravagances in which Mr Ray- 
 mond indulged his daughter was, allowing her to take 
 Bella Donna wherever she went. 
 
 ' Don't excite yourself, you small Amazon ! ' repHcd 
 Guy to her indignant refusal. ' IIow you do believe 
 
82 GUY LmNGSTONE. 
 
 in tliat mare ! I wonder you don't put lier Into some 
 ^f the great Spring Handicaps ! You would get lier 
 in liglit, and might win enough to keep you in glovea 
 for half a century.* 
 
 *Well, I don't know/ Forrester's slow, languid 
 voice suggested ; ' I think she's faster, for three miles, 
 than anything in your stable. I should like to run 
 the best you have for £50, weight for inches.' 
 
 * I am not surprised at your supporting Bella's 
 opinion,' said Gruy, with a shade of sarcasm in his 
 voice ; * but I did not expect that you would back it. 
 Come, I'll make this match, if you like : you shall 
 ride catch- weight, which will be about list. 71b. ; and 
 I'll ride the Axeine at 14st. 71b. : I must take a 71b. 
 saddle to do that. They are both in hard condition, 
 80 it can come off in ten days ; and I'll give the farm- 
 ers a cup to run for at the same time. Is it a match ? ' 
 
 * Certainly, if Miss Baymond will trust me with 
 Bella Donna.' 
 
 Isabel's eyes sparlded — so brilliantly ! as she an- 
 swered, ' I should like it, of all things.' 
 
 *^ow, Puss,' Guy went on, * you ought to have 
 something on it. There is a certain set of turquoises 
 and pearls that I meant to give you whenever you had 
 been good for three weeks consecutively ; it is no use 
 waiting for such a miracle, so I'll bet you these 
 against that sapphire and diamond ring you have 
 taken to wearing lately.* 
 
GUY LiriXG STONE. 83 
 
 His cousin looked distressed and confused. ' Any- 
 thing else, Guy ? * slie said. * I cannot risk that ; it 
 was a present from — Mrs Molyneux.' 
 
 * I don't think/ Charley suggested very quietly, 
 'Mrs — Molyneux, was it not ? — could object to your 
 investing her present on such a certainty. I really 
 believe we shall bring it off; and, if not — ' IIo 
 checked himself with a smile. 
 
 * Oh, if you think so,' answered Isabel, blushing 
 more than ever, * I "will venture my ring. But you 
 must win ; I don't l^now what I shoidd do if I lost 
 it.' 80 it was settled. 
 
 * You seem confident,' I remarked to Livingstone, 
 later in the evening. I remember the peculiar expres- 
 sion of his face, though I did not then understand it, 
 as he answered gravely — 
 
 * Bella ought to be ; for — she has laid long odds.' 
 There was great excitement in the neighbourhood 
 
 when the match, and the farmers' race to follow, be- 
 came known. Half the county vras assembled on tho 
 appointed morning, an off-day with the Pj^tchley. 
 Godfrey Parndon was judge, and had picked the 
 ground — a figure of 8, with 17 fences, large but fair 
 for the most part ; the horses were to traverse it twice, 
 missing the brook (16 feet clear of water) the second 
 time. 
 
 I wish they were not getting so rare, those purely 
 country-meetings, where three wagons with an awn- 
 
84 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ing make tlie grand stand ; where there are no ring 
 men to force the betting and deafen you with their 
 bhatant proffers — ' to lay agin anything in the race ; ' 
 where the bold yeomen, in full confidence that their 
 favourite will not be * roped/ back their opinions 
 manfully for crowns. 
 
 Livingstone's great local renown, and the reputation 
 of the Axeine for strength and speed (though no one 
 knew how fast he could go), made the betting 5 to 4 
 on him ; but takers were not wanting, calculating on 
 the horse's truly Satanic temper. Miss Bellasys, who, 
 with her mother, had arrived at Kerton the night 
 before, laid half a point more — 7iot in gloves — on the 
 heavy-weight. 
 
 The bell for saddling rang, and the horses came out. 
 The mare stripped beautifully, as fine as a star — ^no 
 wonder her mistress was proud of her ; and I think 
 she had to the full as many admirers as the Axeine. 
 
 The latter was a dark chestnut with a white fetlock, 
 standing full 16 hands (while the mare scarcely top- 
 ped 15), well ribbed up, with a good sloping shoulder, 
 immense flat hocks, and sinewy thighs ; his crest and 
 forehand were like a stallion's ; and when you looked 
 at his quarters, it was easy to believe what the 
 Ilevesby stablemen said, — ' They coidd shoot a man 
 into the next county.' 
 
 He was * orkarder than usual that morning ' the 
 groom remarked ; perhaps he did not fancy the crowd 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 85 
 
 without the hounds, for lie kept lashing out perpetu- 
 ally, with yicious backward glances from his red eyes. 
 
 Then the riders showed : Livingstone in his o^vn 
 coloui's, purple and scarlet cap, workmanlike and 
 weather-stained ; Forrester in the fresh glories of 
 light blue with white sleeves, his cap quartered with 
 the same. 
 
 Charley lingered a minute by Miss Raymond's side, 
 taking her last instructions, I suppose : she looked 
 very nervous and pale — her jockey pleasantly languid 
 as ever. 
 
 The instant the chestnut was mounted he reared, 
 and indulged in two or three * buck-jumps ' that would 
 have made a weaker man tremble for his back-bone, 
 and then kicked furiously : but Guy seemed to take 
 it all as a matter of course, sitting square and erect ; 
 all he did was to drive the sharp rowels in repeatedly, 
 bringing a dark blood spot out with each stroke. It 
 was not by love, certainly, that he ruled the Axeine. 
 Then came the preliminary gallops : the mare going 
 easily on her 'bit, gliding over the ground smoothly 
 and springily ; the horse shaldng his head, and every 
 now and then tearing madly at the reins, without 
 being able to gain a huir's breadth on the iron hands 
 that never moved from his withers. 
 
 ' They're off ! ' Guy taking the lead ; well over the 
 first two fences, fair hunting ones; the third is a 
 teaser — an ugly black bullfinch with a ditch on the 
 
SQ GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 landing side, and a drop into a ploughed field. Tlie 
 chestnut's devil is thoroughly roused by this time. 
 "When within sixty yards of the fence, he puts on a 
 rush that even his rider's mighty muscles cannot 
 check : his impetus would send him through a castle 
 wall ; but he hardly rises at the leap, taking if, too, 
 where there is a network of growers — a crash that 
 might be heard in the grand stand — and horse and 
 man are rolling in the field beyond. 
 
 Flora Bellasys strikes her foot angrily with her 
 riding- w^hip, and turns very pale. 
 
 Ten lengths behind, the mare comes up, well 11 
 hand, and slips through the bullfinch without a mis- 
 take — hardly with an efibrt — just at the only place 
 where you can see daylight through the blackthorn. 
 
 What is Guy doing ? Even in that thundering fall 
 he has never let the reins go. Horse and rider strug- 
 gle up together. A dozen arms are ready to lift hiin 
 into the saddle, and a cheery voice says in his ear, 
 * Hold up. Squire ; keep him a-going, and you'll catch 
 the Captain j^et ! ' He hardly hears the words though, 
 for his head is whirling, and he feels strangely sick 
 and faint ; but before he has gone a hundred yards 
 his face has settled into its habitual resolute calmness, 
 only there is a thin thread of blood creeping from 
 imder his cap, and his brow is bent and lowering. 
 
 A fall, which would have taken the fight out of most 
 horses, has only steadied the Axeine; and as wa 
 
GUY LI VmC STONE. 87 
 
 watcli Mm striding through the deep ground, casting 
 the dirt behind him like a catapult, we think and say, 
 * The race is not over yet/ 
 
 i They are over the brook without a scramble : For- 
 rester still leads, ' riding patiently and well. lie 
 knows better than to force the running, even with the 
 difFerence in weight ; for the going is too heaA^ quite 
 to suit his marc. 
 
 As Livingstone passed the spot where Miss Hay- 
 moud was stationed, he turned half round in his saddle 
 and looked curiously in her face. She did not even 
 know he was near ; all her soul was ia her eyes, that 
 were gazing after Forrester with an anxiety so dispro- 
 portioned to the occasion, that her cousin fairly started. 
 
 * Poor child ! ' he said to himself, all his angry 
 feelings changing, ' she seems to haTC set her heart so 
 upo7i winning, it would be sad if she were disap- 
 pointed. No one has much on it : shall I try " Cap- 
 tain Armstrong " for once ? It would make her very 
 ■^'"^PP}^- ^^^ accidents, I must win. They don't 
 know that the chestnut has not extended himself yet.* 
 
 We lose sight of the horses for a little. T\nien wc 
 see them again, the mare has decidedly gained ground; 
 and, to our astonishment, the Axeiue swerves, and 
 refuses at rather an easy fence. 
 
 Hiss Bellasys* cheek flushes this time. She goes off 
 at a sharp canter through a gate that takes her into 
 a field where the horses must pass her close ; several 
 
 G 
 
S8 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 of her attendants follow. Cliarley comes up, looking 
 rather more excited and happy than usual. TTe has 
 made the pace better for the last half mile, and stiU 
 seems going at his ease. ]More than a distance behind 
 is the chestnut, evidently on bad terms with his 
 jockey ; he is in a white lather of foam, and changes 
 his leg twice as he approaches. Guy has his face 
 turned slightly aside, as he nears the spot where Miss 
 Bellasys waits for him, in the midst of her body- 
 guard. For the first time, since the race began, her 
 voice was heard, cutting the air with its clear mock- 
 ing tones, Kke the edge of a Damascus sabre — ^ The 
 chestnut wins — hard held ! ' 
 
 Guy's kindly impulses vanished instantly before the 
 sarcasm latent in those last two words. lie could 
 sacrifice his own victory and the hopes of his backers, 
 but he would not give a chance to Flora's merciless 
 tongue. We saw him change his hold on the reins, 
 and, with a shake and a fierce thrust of the spurs, ho 
 set the Axcine fairly going.' 
 
 Every man on the ground, including his late owner 
 (who hated himself bitterl}^ at that moment for parting 
 with him), was taken by surprise by the extraordinary 
 speed the horse displayed. He raced up to Bella 
 Donna just before the last fence, at which she hangs 
 ever so little, while he takes it in his swing, cover- 
 ing good nine j'ards from hoof to hoof. Nothing but 
 hurdles now between them and home. The down-hill 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 89 
 
 run-in favoiu-s his yast stride. A thousand voices 
 echo Flora's words, ' The chestnut wins ! ^ Charley 
 made his effort exactly at the right time, and the 
 brave little mare'answered gallantly ; but it was not 
 to be. He shook his head, and never touched her 
 with whip or spur again. 
 
 The race was over. No one disputed the judge's 
 fiat : ' The Axeine by six lengths.' 
 
 Up to the skies went the hats and the shouts of the 
 sturdy yeomen, who * know'd he couldn't be beat,' 
 exulting in the success of their favourite. Eound 
 winner and loser crowded their friends, congratulating 
 the- one, condoling with the other; praising both for 
 their riding. At that moment I do not think any 
 one, except myself, remarked Isabel EajTnond, who 
 sat somewhat apart, her tears falling fast under her 
 veil, as she looked upon her lost ring. 
 
 Just then Forrester rode up. * TVoe to the van- 
 quished ! ' he said. * All is lost but honour. Will 
 you say something kind to me, after my defeat. Miss 
 Eaymond ? You will find your pet not pimished in 
 the least, and without a scratch on her.-* 
 
 Without answering she held out her hand. As he 
 bent over it, and whispered, what I could not hear, I 
 saw her eyes sparkle, and a happy consciousness 
 flush her cheeks, till they glowed like a sky at sunset 
 when a storm is passing away in the west. Then I 
 knew that he had won a richer prize than ever was 
 
90 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 set on a race, since the first Great Metropolitan was 
 run for at Olympia. 
 
 Livingstone had. washed away the traces of his fall 
 (his wound was only a cut under the hair, ahove the 
 temple), and was going to get the horses in line, to 
 start them for the farmer^s cup. As he passed Miss 
 Bellasys he checked his horse for an instant, and said, 
 very coldly — 
 
 * You are satisfied, I trust ? ' 
 
 * All's well that ends well,' answered Flora ; * but 
 I began to tremble for my bets. I thought you were 
 waiting too long.' 
 
 Guy did not wish to pursue the subject apparenlh% 
 for he rode on without reply. Flora made no attempt 
 to detain him ; she had studied the signs of the times 
 in his countenance long enough to be weather-^isc, 
 and to know that the better part of valour was ad- 
 visable when the quicksilver had sunk to Stormy. 
 
 The cup was a great success. Eleven started, and 
 three made a most artistic finish — scarcely a length 
 between first and third. The farmers of the present 
 day ride very differently from their ancestors of fifty 
 years ago, whose highest ambition was to pound along 
 after the slow, sure 'currant-jelly dogs.' 
 
 Go down into the vale of Bel voir, watch one of the 
 Duke's tenants handing a five-year old over the 
 Smite, and say if the modeni agriculturists might not 
 boast with Tydides — 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 91 
 
 i)fiiiQ Si) 7raTsp<i)v fiiy' a/xsivoj/ff euxo}ii9' ilva:^ 
 
 They are getting so erudite, too, that I dare say 
 they would quote it in the original. 
 
 When all was over, and they were returning to 
 Kerton, Guy ranged up to his cousIn^s side. He 
 looked rather embarrassed and penitent ; an expres- 
 sion which sat upon his stern, resolute face very 
 strangely. But Isabel was radiant with happiness, 
 and did not even sigh as she held out the forfeited 
 ring. He put it back with a decided gesture of his 
 hand, and, leaning over her, whispered something in 
 her ear. I don't know how they arranged it ; but 
 Miss Eaymond wore the turquoises at the next county 
 ball — the ring, to her dying dav. 
 
92 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Souvent femrne varie ; 
 Bien fol est, qui s'y fie. 
 
 TVe sat by the firelight in tlie old library of Xerton 
 Manor. The di'eary January evening was closing in, 
 with a sharp sleet lashing the windows and rattling 
 on their diamond panes ; but the gleams from the 
 great burning logs lighted up the dark-crimson 
 cushions of Utrecht and the polished walnut panels 
 so changefuUy and enticingly, that no one had the 
 heart to think of candles. 
 
 All the younger members of the party were as- 
 sembled there, with Mrs Bcllasys to play propriety. 
 It was her mission to be chaperon-in-ordinary to her 
 daughter and her daughter's friends, and she went 
 through with it, admirable in her patient self-denial. 
 May they be reckoned to her credit hereafter — those 
 long hours, when she sat, sleepy, weary, uncomplain- 
 ing, with an aching head but a stereot}^ed smile. 
 
 Let us speak gently of these maternal martyrs, 
 manoeuvring though they be. If they have erred, 
 they have suffered. Iknew once a lady with a 
 
GVY LIVINGSTONE. 93 
 
 lot of six, nubile, but not attractive, all with a decided 
 bias towards Terpsichore and Hymen. Fancy what 
 she must have endured with those plain young women 
 round her, always clamouring for partners, temporary 
 or permanent, like fledglings in a nest for food. 
 Clever and unscrupulous as she was- — they called her 
 the * judicious Hooker,' — she must have been conscious 
 of her utter inability to satisfy them. She knew, too, 
 that if, by any dispensation, one wero removed, five 
 daughters of the horse-leech would still remain, with 
 ravenous appetites unappeased. Yet the poor old bird 
 was cheerful, and sometimes, after supper, would chii'p 
 quite merrily. Honneur au courage malheureiix. Let 
 us stand aside in the cloak-room, and salute her as 
 she passes out with all the honours of war. 
 
 Mrs T3ellasys was a little woman, who always re- 
 minded me of a certaiu tropical monkey — name un- 
 knoT^Ti. She wore her hair bushily on each side of 
 her small face, just like the said intelligent animal, 
 and had the same eager, rather frightened way of 
 glancing out of her beady black eyes, accompanied 
 by a quick turning of the head when addressed. She 
 had had her full share of troubles in her tiaie ; but 
 she took them all contentedly — not to say compla- 
 cently, — as part of the day's work. Her husband 
 was not a model of fidelity ; nor^ indeed, of any of 
 the conjugal or cardinal wtucs. He was a sort of 
 Maelstrom, into which fair fortunes and names w^ere 
 
94 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sucked do^vn, only emei'gmg in unrecognizable frag- 
 ments. His own would have gone too, doubtless ; 
 but he had been lucky at play for a long time — too 
 constantly so, some said, — and a pistol-bullet cut him 
 short before he had half spent his wife's money, so 
 that she was left comfortably off, and her daughter 
 was a fair average heiress. She had long ago 
 abdicated the government in favour of Flora, who 
 treated her well on the whole, en honne princesse. 
 
 It is an invariable rule that, if there is a delicate 
 subject which we determine beforehand to avoid, this 
 particular one is sure imperceptibly to creep into the 
 conversation 
 
 Mr Bruce was to arrive before dinner, an event 
 which we guessed would not add materially to the 
 comfort of two of our party (how silent those two 
 were in their remote corner where the firelight never 
 came !), so of course we found ourselves talldng of 
 ill-assorted marriages. 
 
 * You count mesaUia7ices among such ! ' Guy asked, 
 at length. * Yes, you are right ; but I laiow a case 
 where " a man's being balked in his intention to de- 
 grade himseK" ruined him for life. Ralph Mohun 
 told me of it. It was a nine-days' wonder in Vienna 
 soon after he joined the Imperial Cuirassiers. A 
 Bohemian Count flourished there then; a great 
 favourite with every one, for he was frank and 
 generous, like most boys well born and of great pos- 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 95 
 
 sessions, wlio have only seen tKings in general on the 
 sunny side. "WTiile down at his castle for the shoot- 
 ing, he fell in love with the daughter of one of Ms 
 foresters. The man was a dull, brutal cur, and when 
 di'unk especially savage. His daughter was rarely 
 beautiful ; at all events, the Count, a good judge, 
 thought her peerless. 
 
 * lie meant fairly by the girl from the first, and 
 promised her marriage, actually intending to keep his 
 word. Still there were arrangements to be made 
 before he could introduce such a novel element into 
 blood that for centuries had been pure as the sangue 
 azzura. He went up to Vienna for that purpose, 
 leaving his design a profound secret to all his depend- 
 ents. If these thought about it at all, they probably 
 believed their master*s intentions to be— Like Dick 
 Harcourt^s towards the Irish ladj^ — "strictly dis- 
 honourable.'' 
 
 * One night during his absence shrieks came from 
 the cottage where the forester lived alone with his 
 daughter. Those who heard them made haste ; but 
 it was a desolate spot, far from any other dwelling, 
 and they came too late. 
 
 * They found the giid l3^ing in her blood, not a 
 feature of her pretty face recognizable. Near her 
 were the butt of a gun shivered, and her father 
 senselessly drunk. He had evidently finished the 
 bottle after beating her to death. 
 
96 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 * 'Wlieth.er it was merely an outbreak of Lis stupid 
 ferocity, or whether slie had exasperated him by her 
 threats and taunts, for she was of a haughty spirit, 
 poor child ! and perhaps rather elevated by the 
 thought of the coming coronet, will never be known. 
 The mui'derer was in no state to make a confession, 
 and he remained obstinately silent in prison tiU his 
 lord's return.' 
 
 ' How very horrible ! ' Mrs Bellasys cried out, 
 shuddering ; * was not the Count very angry ? ' 
 
 * Well, he was rather vexed,' replied Guy, coolly. 
 * They are high justiciaries on their own lands, those 
 great Bohemian barons, and so he gave the forester a 
 fair trial. It was soon over ; the man denied nothing, 
 only whining out, in excuse, that he thought his 
 daughter was dishonoured. The shadow of death 
 was closing round him, and he was nearly mad with 
 fear. 
 
 ' The old steward saw a strange sort of smile twist 
 liis master's white quivering lips when he heard this ; 
 but he never said a word. I imagine he thought to 
 reveal his purpose now that it was crushed, too great a 
 sacrifice, even to clear the dead girl's fair fame : per- 
 haps, though, he could not trust his voice, for he did 
 not announce the sentence in words, but wi'ote it 
 down : his hand shook very much, and it never car- 
 ried a fidl glass vjispilled to his mouth again. 
 
 * The court broke up at midday, and the man went 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 97 
 
 straight, unconfessed, to the place of his punishment. 
 They tied him to the tree nearest his own door, and 
 the Count sat by while he howled his life out under 
 the lash. He was hardly dead by sundown.* 
 
 'It was revenge, not justice,' Mrs Bellasys said, 
 more firmly than was her wont. I saw the quick, 
 impatient movement of her daughter's little foot ; she 
 did not appreciate her mothei-'s moralities. 
 
 The answer came in the deepest of Livingstone's 
 deep, stern tones. 
 
 * He was no saint, but a man, and a very miserable 
 one ; he acted according to his light, and in his despair 
 caught at the weapon that was nearest to his hand. 
 After all, the blood of a base, brutal hound, take it 
 in what fashion you will, is a poor compensation for 
 one life cut short in agony, and another blasted 
 utterly. 
 
 ' Mohun knew the Count's family. Some of them, 
 maiden aunts, I suppose, were devotees of the first 
 order ; these came in person, or sent their pet priests, 
 to argue with him on his unchristian habits of sullen 
 solitude. The men of his old set came too, to laugh 
 him out of the horrors. Saint and sinner got the 
 same answer— a shake of the head, a curse, a threat 
 if he were not left alone, growled out between deep 
 draughts of strong Moldavian wine. They went, and 
 were wise ; for his pistols lay always beside him — ^in 
 case his servants offended him, I suppose, or if he should 
 
98 GUY LlVrNGSTOXE. 
 
 take a sudden fancy to suicide, — and tho shaking 
 finger could liave pulled a trigger still. 
 
 * After a little, he left Vienna, shut himself up in 
 his castle, and would see no one. 
 
 'In England they would have tried at the ^^ de 
 lunatico " statute, but his next of kin left him in peace, 
 biding their time as patiently as they could ; they had 
 not to wait long : in four years a good constitution 
 broke up, suddenly at last ; and the Count exchanged 
 stupor for a sleep with his fathers, without benefit 
 of clergy. Perhaps they would not have given him 
 absolution, for he died certainly not in charity with 
 all men.* 
 
 ' I don't know,' Mrs Bellasys objected, with a timid 
 obstinacy ; * I cannot argue with you ; but I am siu'e 
 it was very wrong.* 
 
 I struck in to the meek little woman's rescue. 
 
 * That's right, Mrs Bellasys, don't let him put you 
 down with the high hand ; it's always his way when 
 truth is against him ; but I never knew him break 
 down a stubborn fact yet.' 
 
 Guy turned upon me directly. 
 
 * Frank, I have often remarked in you_, with pain, 
 quite a feminine propensity to theorize. Women mil 
 do it. My dear Mrs Bellasys, don't look so dread- 
 fully like an accusing angel about to bring me to 
 book ; 3^ou know I am a hopeless heretic. They get 
 up a sort of Mernoria Technica in early youth, and it 
 
GtJY LIVINGSTONE. 99 
 
 cliiigs to them all their life tlirough. If they go 
 astray they never cease proclaiming aloud that " they 
 know it's very wrong : '^ though eminently unpracti- 
 cal, they think it due to themselves to pet certain 
 abstract truths (circumstances don^t affect them in the 
 least), like that priestess of Cotytto, who said to the 
 magistrate, through her tears, — " I may have been 
 unfortunate, but I've always been respectable ! " 
 Sometimes principle gets the pull over passion, but, 
 in such a case, regrets come as often afterwards as 
 remorse does in the reverse. I was reading a French 
 story the other day — ' he checked himself, with a 
 laugh. ' Bah ! I am in the prosaic vein, it seems, 
 anccdoting like the old knave of clubs. 
 
 * Will you go on ? ' Flora said, leaning over to- 
 wards him, her ej^es glittering in the firelight. 
 
 The thrill in her voice — strangely contagious it was 
 —told how much she was interested. I do not won- 
 der at it. There was only one man on earth for 
 whom she had ever really cared — he sat beside her 
 then — and, I beKeve, what attracted her most in him 
 was the daring disregard of opinions, conventionali- 
 ties^ and more sacred things yet, which carried him 
 on straight to the accomplishment of his thought or 
 purpose. In those days, if either were an obstacle, 
 he fliached no more before a great moral law than at 
 a big fence. 
 
 * Well/ Guy went on, * it is the simple history of 
 
100 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Fernanclc, an anrje cUcJiue of the Quartlcr Br^da. She 
 had formed a connection with a man who suited her 
 perfectly in every way, and they went on in happy 
 immorality, till she found out that Maurice had a wife 
 somewhere, a very charming person, who loved him 
 dearly ; perhaps she thought that the possession of 
 two such affections by one man was de luxe ; at all 
 events, she cut him at once, refusing consistently to 
 see him again. Maurice, after trying all other means 
 to move her in vain, resorted to the expedient of a 
 brain-fever. "When his wife and mother saw him 
 very near his end, they sent for Fernande, as a last 
 resource. They ought to have preferred death to 
 dishonoui', of course ; but, my dear Mrs Bellasys, 
 they were not strong-minded. What would you have ? 
 There are women and women. 
 
 * She came and nursed him faithfiJly ; when he got 
 better, though still very weak, she took advantage of 
 his unprotected position to inflict on him the longest 
 lectm'es, replete with good sense and good feeling, as 
 to his conjugal duties, proprieties, and so forth. lie 
 gave in at last, on the j)rinciple of '^ anything for a 
 quiet life," and promised to behave himself like a 
 decent head of a family. When the balance of power 
 was thoroughly re-established, she left him ; first en- 
 treating him, when he foimd himself really in love 
 with his wife, and happy, to write and tell her so. 
 This was to be her reward, you know. The others 
 
GUY liyts^gstoat:. 
 
 '•Tor 
 
 went to Italy, Fernando to a place slie liad in Brit- 
 tany, where she put herself on a strict regime of peni- 
 tence, attending matins regularly, and doing as much 
 good in her neighbourhood as Lady Bountiful, or — 
 my mother. In about a twelvemonth the letter came ; 
 Maurice was devoted to his wife, and great on the 
 point of domestic felicity. Then Fernande went into 
 her oratory, and prayed. What do you think was 
 the substance of her prayer ? ' 
 
 * That she might go mad or die,' was the quick an- 
 swer ; it came from Flora Bellasys. 
 
 ' How good of you,' Guy said, ' to let me finish that 
 long story, when you knew it by heart ! ' 
 
 I think no ear but his and mine caught the whisper 
 — ^ I never read or heard of it till now.' 
 
 He bent his head in assent, as if the intelligence 
 did not sui'prise him much ; and then spoke suddenly — 
 
 * Charley, will you make an observation ? You have 
 been displaying that incontestable talent of yours for 
 silence long enough.' 
 
 Yery seldom was Forrester taken by surprise, but 
 this time his reply was not ready. There was an em- 
 barrassing pause, broken by a Dens ex machind — the 
 butler annoimcing that IMr Bruce had arrived, and 
 was in the drawing-room. 
 
102 
 
 cnAPTr:R xi. 
 
 Aii<l now thou knoAvcst thy father's will, 
 
 All that thy sex hath need to know : 
 'Twas mine to teach ohcdicncc still — 
 
 The way to love, thy lord may show. 
 
 From tliat dark distant corner I heard a sigli, cndiiif^ 
 in a nervou3 catcliing of tlio breath ; and then a mut- 
 tered word unpleasantly lilie an oath, as Forrester 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 Livingstone rose slowly. 
 
 ' I'll go and receive him. Let Mr Eaymond know, 
 "Wise. I suppose he will not care to see any one else 
 before dressing- time ; it must be near that now.* 
 
 As he passed his cousin, he whispered something 
 inaudible to us ; and I saw his heavy hand fall on 
 Charley's shoulder, crushing him down again like a 
 child. 
 
 Then Flora went to Miss RajTnond, and asked her, 
 with more kindness in her manner than usual, to come 
 to her rooms for some tea ; they alwaj^s seriously in- 
 clined to the consumption of that cheerful herb about 
 this hour. Isabel clung to her companion, as they 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 103 
 
 went out, with a meek helplessness, which was sad to 
 see. 
 
 Charley had vanished before them. After that first 
 involimtary moment, he had become nonchalant as 
 ever ; so I remained alone to ruminate. I confess, 
 after some thought, I was still in the dark as to where 
 things would end. 
 
 The meeting had been got over somehow, for, when 
 I came down before dinner, Bruce was sitting on a 
 sofa by Miss Raymond's side. 
 
 "Why does a man, in such a position, invariably 
 look as if he were on the stool of repentance, expiat- 
 ing some misdeed of unutterable shame ? He has sat 
 by the same woman before, when it was only a strong 
 flirtation ; more ej^es, curious and spiteful, were upon 
 him then, and he met them with perfect self-posses- 
 sion. InToW that he is in his right, why does he look 
 blushingly uneasy, as if he would call on the curtains 
 to hide him, and the cushions to cover him ? Have any 
 mortals existed, so good, or great, or wise, as to be 
 exempt from that dreadful poll-tax levied on all males 
 unprivileged to woo by proxy — the necessity of look" 
 ing ridiculous from the moment their engagement is 
 announced to that when they leave the chui'ch as 
 Benedicts ? I should like to have watched Burke, or 
 Herschel, or the Iron Duke, or any Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, through the ordeal of a recognized court- 
 ship. "Would the dignity of the statesman, the sage, 
 
 H 
 
104 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the soldier, or the saint, have been sustained ? I trow 
 not. 
 
 In truth it is a sight full of sad warning — that 
 ever-recurring spectacle of an engaged man (the lady 
 is always provokingly at her ease) in general society. 
 His friends turn away in compassion and charity ; the 
 girls, whom he ought to have married and — didn't, 
 look on, exchanging smiles with their mothers ; it is 
 their hour of savage trimnph. The French manage 
 things more comfortably, I think. The Promessi 
 Sposi meet so seldom before the contract is signed ; 
 between sentence and execution the time is so brief, 
 that there is little space for intermediate terrors. 
 
 Nature had not been bountiful to Mr Bruce in ex- 
 ternals. He was very tall, with round shoulders, long, 
 lean limbs, large feet and hands, and immense joints. 
 There was a good deal of strength about him, but it 
 wanted concentration and arrangement. His features 
 were rather exaggerated and coarse in outline, with 
 the high cheek-bones common on the north side of 
 the Tweed ; his hair of an unhappy vacillating colour 
 that could not make its mind up to be red ; and his 
 eyes, that rarely met you fairly, of a light cold grey. 
 About the mouth, in particular, there was a very im- 
 pleasant expression, alternately vicious and cunniug. 
 
 I do not believe that his intimates, if he had any, 
 in their wildest moments of conviviality, ever called 
 him ' Jack ; * nor his mother, in his earliest childhood, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 105 
 
 * Johniiie.* Plain * Jolin Bruce/ was written uncom- 
 promisiugly in every line of his face ; just the con- 
 verse of Forrester, whom old maids of rigid virtue, 
 after seeing him twice, were irresistibly compelled to 
 speak of as ' Charley.' 
 
 I wish some profound psychologist would give us 
 his theory on the question of ' The influence of nomen- 
 clature on disposition and destiny/ It is all very well 
 to ask ' What's in a name ? ' I think there is a great 
 deal ; and that our sponsors have much to answer for 
 in indulging their baptismal fancies. Not to go into 
 the subject (which some have already done without 
 exhausting it), have you not remarked that Georgiana 
 is always pretty and slightly sarcastic ; that Isabella 
 has large, soft, lustrous ejes — generally they are 
 dark ; that Fanny invariably flirts ; and that Kate is 
 decided in character, if not haughty ? 
 
 Tragedy and comedy both are forced to observe 
 these nominal proprieties. 'Who was it that illimiin- 
 ated his house, and had the church bells rung, on 
 finding a name for his hero ? We should never have 
 believed in lago's treacheries if he had appeared be- 
 fore us as simple * James.* 
 
 The new arrival seemed to have chilled us all into 
 stupidity. Dinner languished ; and afterwards, Guy, 
 after tr5dng at first to be laboriously civil — the sense 
 of duty was painfully evident — lapsed into silence, 
 passing the claret rather faster than usual, so that 
 
106 GUT LTMNGSTONE. 
 
 'Mr E-aymoiid, to Lis intense disgust, liad to make an 
 effort and force the conversation. 
 
 When we entered, Isabel was nestling under Miss 
 Bellasys' wing, from which shelter she had to emerge 
 at Bruce's request for some music. She went directly, 
 and played several pieces that he asked for straight 
 through, while he stood gravely behind her with a 
 complacent air of proprietorship which was inex- 
 pressibly aggravating. 
 
 "VVlien her task was done she went back to her sofa 
 again ; there she was safe, for all Bruce's devotion to 
 his ladye-love, and stubbornness of character, could not 
 give him courage enough to affront, at close quarters, 
 the mingled dislike and scornful humour that played 
 round Flora's lips, and gleamed in her eyes, like 
 summer lightning. lie had to retreat upon Lad}'- 
 Catherine, who, thinldng him hardly used, in her in- 
 extinguishable charity exerted herself to entertain 
 him. 
 
 We were all glad when that first evening was over, 
 and we got into the smoking-room, whither Mr Bruce 
 was not entreated to follow. It was always an augury 
 of foul weather in Livingstone's temper, when, instead 
 of the decent evening cigar, lie smoked the short 
 black brule-gueule, loaded to the muzzle with caven- 
 dish, lie sat thus for some miimtes, rolling out stormy 
 puffs from imder his moustache ; and then broke out— 
 I haven't an idea what to do with him ' (thero 
 
GUY LIVINGSTO^'E. 10? 
 
 was no need to name the object of liis 'tliouglits) ; ' I 
 made up my mind to risk a liorse or two, for of course 
 he would have broken their knees ; but when I offered 
 him a mount, he thanked me, and said " lie didn't 
 hunt." It would have got him away from home at 
 all events. Poor Bella ! How heavy on hand she will 
 find him ! ' 
 
 * Ah ! and he might have come to a timely end 
 over timber ; Providence does interfere so benevo- 
 lently sometimes.* This was Forrester's pious reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Well, that's over,' Guy v/ent on. * lie must shoot, 
 though ; every one shoots, or thinks he does. We have 
 aU the pheasants to kill yet (by-the-by, Fallowfield 
 comes over on Thursday for the Home Wood) ; that 
 will keep him emj)loyed for some time ; but it's only 
 putting oif the evil day. My match-maldng aunt, of 
 blessed memory, how much she has to answer for ! 
 I hate to think of Bella's mignonne face alongside of 
 that flinty-cheeked Scotchman's.' 
 
 * Don't be angry, Guy,' suggested Charley, ^-itli 
 some diffidence ; ' but, if it's not an impertinent ques- 
 tion, do you think he ever tries to kiss your cousin ? ' 
 
 * I never thought of that,' replied Livingstone, not 
 without an oath ; ' there's another pleasant reflection. 
 INo ; I should think not. He is ceremonious, to 
 give the devil his due. I'll find out to-morrow, 
 though, mthout making Bella blush. Miss Bellasys 
 
108 GUY LIVINGSTOXE. 
 
 is sm-e to know. I saw them exchanging confidences 
 all this evening ; and I am certain there were insti- 
 gations to rebellion. Flora would delight in an 
 enieute ; she's a perfect red republican, that girl.' 
 * The Opposition seems organizing/ I remarked ; 
 
 * Ministers will find themselves soon, I fear, without 
 a working majority.' 
 
 ' Not unlikely,' said Guy, filling another pipe ; 
 
 * but they wonH resign. Some men never know when 
 they are beaten. Well ; he who lives will see. If 
 this wind lasts, we shall have a cracker from Lil- 
 boume to-morrow. You ride the young one, don't 
 you, Charley?' 
 
109 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A life wliose waste 
 Eavagcd each bloom by wbich its path was traced, 
 Sporting at will, and moulding sport to art, 
 With that sad holiness — the human heart. 
 
 It is a biiglit, crisp morning, and tliere is a gathering 
 round the hall door of Kerton Manor. 
 
 To the right is Sir Henry Fallowfield, already 
 established on the broad back of his shooting pony, 
 an invaluable animal, that can leap or creep wherever 
 a man can go, and steady under fire as old Copen- 
 hagen. The Baronet is very gouty. The whip made 
 out of his favourite vices cuts him sharply at times, 
 and he does not like it alluded to. I never saw him 
 look so savage at Guy as when the latter quoted, 
 ^ Raro antecedentem scclestum Deseruit pede pceiia 
 claudoJ Of course, he cannot walk much ; but, placed 
 in a ride, or at the corner of a cover, he rolls over the 
 hares, and pulls down the pheasants unerringly as 
 ever; when you come up, you will find him. sur- 
 rounded by a semicircle of slain, and not a runner 
 among them. 
 
110 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 The battle of life has left its tokens on the face of 
 the strong, skilful Protagonist. The features, once 
 so finely cut, are somewhat full and bloated now ; but 
 it is a magnificent ruin, and there are traces yet of 
 * the handsomest man of his day/ Yery expressive 
 are his glances still ; a little too much so, some people 
 tliink, when he is criticising a figure or a face ; but, 
 to do him justice, gourmandlse is his pet weakness 
 now, a comparatively harmless one ; and a delicate 
 entremet will bring the light into his eyes that only 
 war or love could do in the old days. 
 
 By Sir Henry^s side, encouraging him with great 
 prophecies of sport, stands Mallet, the head-keeper. 
 "Wliat a contrast his fresh honest face makes with the 
 veteran roue's ! He is the elder of the two by a good 
 ten years, and there is scarcely a wrinkle on his ruddy 
 cheeks and smooth forenead. Wind and weather have 
 used him with a rough kindness, and his foot is al- 
 most as light, his hand quite as heav}^, as when he 
 entered the service of Guy's grandfather half a cen- 
 tury ago. For generations his family have been de- 
 voted to the preservation of game ; his six stalwart 
 eons are all eminent in that line ; and the * Kerton 
 breed ' of keepers is renowned throughout the Mid- 
 land shires. lie is a prime favourite with the village 
 children and their mothers, for, in all respects, save 
 one, his heart is as soft as a woman's ; to poachers it 
 is as the nether mill-stone. There is the stain of a 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. Ill 
 
 'justifiable homicide' on the old man's hands — the 
 blood of an antagonist slain in fair fight, in those 
 rough times when the forest was, and marauders came 
 out by scores to strike its deer. I do not think the 
 deed has weighed heavily on his conscience (though 
 he never has spoken of it since), or troubled his 
 healthy, honest slumbers. 
 
 To the left is Guy, repressing the attentions of four 
 couple of strong red and white spaniels, but not those 
 of Miss Bellasys, who, standing at the oriel window 
 of the Kbrary, is good-natured enough to fasten the 
 band of his wide-awake for him, which has come un- 
 done. As he stands with his towering head a little 
 bent, murmuring the ' more last words,' Sir Henry 
 contemplating the picture with much satisfaction, 
 smacks his lips, and suggests * Omphale.' 
 
 Last of all, Mr Eaymond comes slowly down the 
 staircase, followed by his son-in-law that is to be. 
 Forrester and I have been ready long ago, so we start. 
 
 Bruce did shoot, certainly, if discharging his gun on 
 the slightest provocation constituted the fact ; but he 
 shot curiously ill. Indeed, he might have formed a 
 pendant to that humane sportsman who, having 
 taken to rural sports, sero sed serio, said, in extreme 
 old age, * that it was a satisfaction to him to reflect 
 that he could not charge himself with having been, 
 wittingly, the death of more than a dozen of his fel- 
 low-creatures.' 
 
112 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 It was a problem whereon Mallet ruminated gravely 
 long afterwards — ' Wherever Mr Bruce's shot do go 
 to ? ' — he could not conceive so much lead being dis- 
 persed in the atmosphere without a more adequate 
 result. This want of dexterity, too, was thrown into 
 strong relief that day ; for all the other men, putting 
 mj^self out of the question, were rare masters of the 
 art. -""^ 
 
 Livingstone headed the list, though Fallowfield ran 
 him hard. He got the most shots, indeed ; for his 
 knowledge of the woods and great strength, enabled 
 him always to keep close to the spaniels. He was a 
 sight to marvel at, as he went crashing through 
 bramble and blackthorn, with a long even stride, just 
 as if he had been walking through light springs. 
 
 At the end of the day we were all assembled out- 
 side the cover, where the game was being counted, 
 except Bruce, who was still in the wood. A stray 
 shot every now and then gave notice of his approach. 
 
 * "We heard but the distant and random gun, 
 That the foe was sullenly firing,' 
 
 Guy quoted, laughing. 
 
 '.Eandom ! — you may say that,' remarked Fallow- 
 field. ' That man ought to be in a glass case, and 
 ticketed : he's a natural curiosity. His bag to-day 
 consists of one hare, one hen, and one — sex unknown, 
 for no one saw it rise or tried to pick it up ; it was 
 blown into a cloud of feathers withia six feet of his 
 
GUT Ln^T^GSTONE. 113 
 
 muzzle. Ilere lie comes ; don't ask him what he's 
 done — it's cruelty.'' 
 
 Bruce came up to us, looking rather more discon- 
 tented than usual, but not nearly so savage as tho 
 keeper who had attended him all day, who immedi- 
 ately retreated among his fellows to relieve himself, 
 by many oaths, of his suppressed disgust and scorn. 
 They offered him beer, but it was no use. I heard 
 liim growl out, ' That there muff's enough to spile 
 one's taste for a fort nit.' 
 
 It was the hour of the wood-pigeons coming in to 
 roost, and several were wheeling over our heads at a 
 considerable height. 
 
 * There's something for you to empty your gun at, 
 Bruce,' Mr Eajonond said, pointing to one that came 
 rather nearer than the rest. 
 
 He was levelling, when Forrester cried out, ' Five- 
 and-twenty to five on the bird ! ' 
 
 * Done ! -' answered Bruce, as he pulled the trigger. 
 It was a long and not very easy shot, but the pigeon 
 came whirling down through the branches with a 
 broken pinion. 
 
 * You are unlucky in your selection. Captain For- 
 rester,' the successful shot remarked coolly. ' You 
 might have won a heav}^ stake by laying the same 
 odds all day.' 
 
 *It serves you right,' interposed Guy, * for speaking 
 to a man on his shot. Don't you remember quar- 
 
114 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 relling witli me, the other day, for doing so, Charlc}^?* 
 
 Charley's face of perplexity and disgust was irre- 
 sistible. We all laughed. * What a gwr/?ion I have ! ' 
 he said. * Mr Raymond, I believe you were in the 
 robber3\' 
 
 * JN^ot I,' was the answer. * I was as much surprised 
 as any one. I think,' he went on, lowering his tone, 
 * Guy is right ; he changed his aim as j^ou spoke, in.- 
 voluntarih', or he 77ii(st have missed.' 
 
 Then we turned homewards, through the twilight. 
 
 I do not know if the reminiscence of his lost ' pony ' 
 was rankling in Forrester's mind, or if he was only 
 affected by the presence of Sir Ilenry Fallowfield — an 
 immoral Upas, under whose shadow the most flourish- 
 ing of good resolutions were apt to wither and die ; but 
 certaLDly, after dinner, he broke through the cautious 
 reserve which he had alwa3'S in public maintained 
 towards Miss Raymond since Brucc's arrival. lie not 
 only talked to her inccssantl}^, but tempted her to sing 
 with him, during whict performance they seemed 
 rapidly lapsing into the old confidential style. 
 
 Bruce sat apart, the shades on his rugged face 
 gradually deepening from sullenness into ferocity ; ho 
 looked quite wolfish at last, for it was a habit he had 
 to show his white teeth more when he was savage than 
 when he smiled. But the music went on its way re* 
 
 joicing, 
 
 Unconscious of their doom, 
 The little victims played, 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 115 
 
 Isabel was too happy, and Charley too careless to 
 be prudent. Once I caught his glance as it crossed 
 ■wdth Bruce's scowl. There v/as an expression on his 
 pleasant face that few men had ever seen there, ap- 
 proaching nearly to an insolent defiance. Looking at 
 those two, a child might have known that between 
 them there was bitter hate. 
 
 But what of that ? Are not the laws of society and 
 the amenities of civilized life supreme over such trifles 
 as personal animosities ? How many women are there 
 who never meet ^yithout mingling in a close embrace, 
 when each is to the other a Brin\aLliers in heart ? My 
 gentle cousin Kate, only last night I saw you greet 
 your intimate enemy. It was the most gusliing thing 
 I ever imagined. The kisses were profuse and tanta- 
 lizing in the extreme ; yet I wis, if tlioughts could 
 kill, dearest Emma's neck would have been safer in 
 the hug of a Norway bear than in the clasp of your 
 white willowy arms. 
 
 Are there not men, sitting constantly at each other's 
 tables, who, in the Golden age, when people spoke 
 and acted as they felt, would only have encountered 
 at the sword's point ? 
 
 If we hear that our mortal foe is ruined irretriev- 
 ably, we betray no indecorous exultation, but smile 
 complacently, and say, ' we are not surprised ; ' or, if 
 we have the chance, give him a last push to send him 
 over the precipice on whose brink he is staggering. 
 
116 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 But as for any violent demonstration — ball ! the 
 Vendetta is going out of fasliion, even in Corsica, 
 now-a-days ; only on the boards of the * Princess's ' 
 does it have a run. 
 
 It is better so. Is it not far more creditable and 
 less ridicidous, for two of our reverend seniors, be- 
 tween whom there exists a deadly feud, to comport 
 themselves ydih decent reserve towards each other, 
 than to go vapouring about on crutches, stamping 
 the foot that is not gouty, and blaspheming in a wealc, 
 cracked treble, like Capulet and Montague ? Hot 
 rooms and cold draughts are dangerous, but not so 
 fatal as the Aqua Tofana, and other pleasant bever- 
 ages more revolting and rapid in their effects. Could 
 anything be more harrowing to a well-regulated mind 
 than to see, in the midst of a neatly -turned compK- 
 ment, one's partner literally look Hack at one, and 
 expire incontinently in great torments ? 
 
 It is less romantic, but I prefer to be given an un- 
 medicated rose. When I win a pair of gloves, it is a 
 satisfaction to me to reflect that in Iloubigant or 
 rivert there is no venom or guile. 
 
 All these consoling thoughts, and more, passed 
 through my mind that evening ; yet I could not get 
 rid of a strange, indistinct impression that it was only 
 tlie presence of Livingstone which averted some great 
 dano^er imminent over his cousin and Forrester. 
 
117 
 
 CHAPTEH XIII. 
 
 This is all 
 The gain we reap, from all the wisdom sown 
 Through ages. Nothing doubted those first sons 
 Of time ; while we, the schoord of centuries, 
 
 Nothing believe . 
 
 We were scattered round tlie smoking-room, about 
 midnight, in different attitudes of repose. Bruce was 
 of the party, decidedly out of his element. He did 
 not like tobacco much, and only took a cigar as a 
 sacrifice to the exigences of the occasion, consuming 
 the same with great toil and exertion of the lungs, 
 and when he removed it from his lips, holding it at 
 arm's length, like a viper or other venomous beast. 
 
 * Charley,' asked Fallowfield, at length, from the 
 depths of his divan, * how is the regiment going on ? 
 Insolvent as ever ? ' 
 
 ' More so,' was the reply. * When I came away 
 they were thinking of framing a £5 note, and hanging 
 it up in the ante-room, to show that we had so7Jie 
 money — ^just like the man who pitched loaves over 
 the xity- walls when they were dying of famine— but 
 there was a difficulty about procuring one. However 
 
118 Gl'Y LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 we have been promised the son of an opulent brewer 
 or distiller (I forget which, but I know he makes 
 something to drink), who is to join before Easter. 
 Perhaps he may set us afloat again.* 
 
 * Yes ! * Guy remarked ; * fortunately a martial 
 spirit is abroad in the Third Estate. Walhrook s'en 
 va fen guerre. If there is one moneyed man in the 
 lot, it seems sufficient to keep the others going. I 
 often wonder how you manage ; for, to do you justice, 
 you don't plunder your Croesus. You deserve statues 
 — as Sydney Smith would have said — certs alieni.^ 
 
 * I am not the rose, but I have lived with her,' re- 
 sponded Forrester, sententiously. * That's the prin- 
 ciple of the thing. TVTien a subaltern arrives laden 
 with gold, the barrack-yard is a perfect garden of 
 Bendemeer to the tradesmen.' 
 
 * I believe it is precisely such regiments, remarked 
 Bruce, ' that the political economists have in view 
 when they attack the army estimates.' 
 
 The observation was aggressive ; but Charley's 
 countenance was unruffled as the Dead Sea, as he 
 answered — * Personal, but correct. You are intimate 
 with Joseph Hume, probably ? You look as if you 
 were.' (These last words were a stage aside ; not 
 quite so inaudible as could be wished.) *I think we 
 should fight, if we had a chance, though.' 
 
 His lip wore a cui'ious smile, and he raised himself 
 on his arm to look the last speaker full in the face. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 119 
 
 ' Of coui'se you would/ broke in Sir Henry ; ' tliat^s 
 not a peculiarity of crack regiments or second sons. 
 It's only in their baptism of fire that tbe young ones 
 sbrink and start; after that, the meekest of men 
 develop themselves wonderfully, I heard an old 
 Indian, the other day, speak of a case in point. 
 
 * There was an officer in his service, mild and stupid 
 to a degree. He had been a butt aU his Kfe ; bullied 
 at school, at Addiscombe, and in his corps worst of all. 
 
 ' They were attacking a hill-fort, and the fire from 
 wall-pieces and matchlocks was so heavy that the 
 storming party would not face it. Amongst those who 
 retreated were two of his superior officers and chief 
 tormentors. The junior Keutenant saw them cower- 
 ing away to seek shelter, and laughed out loud ; then 
 he flung his shako before him into the fort, and led the 
 sepoys back to the charge, and right over the breast- 
 work — bare-headed and cheering. He was shot down 
 inside, and lived only a few hours, all the time in 
 horrible agony ; but Western told us that Bayard or 
 Sidney could have made no braver or calmer ending.' 
 
 * You are right,' Livingstone said. * The Round- 
 heads fought fully as well as the Cavaliers. I only 
 know of two instances where the thoroughbreds had 
 the advantage of a contrast. One was when the 
 Scottish regiment took the Island in the Hhino ; the 
 other was the exploit of the Gants Glaces. Don't you 
 know it ? It's worth hearing. 
 
120 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 They were attacking some town in tLc wars of the 
 Fronde. The breach was scarcely practicable, and the 
 best of the besieging army had recoiled from it with 
 great loss. The Black Mousquetaires stood by in all 
 the coquetry of scarf, and plume, and fringed scented 
 gloves, laughing louder at each repulse of the Lines- 
 men. The soldiers heard them and gnashed their 
 teeth. At last there was a murmur, and then a shout 
 — " En avant ies Gants Gluces I " They wanted to see 
 " the swells " beaten too. Then the Household Brigade 
 went up and carried the breach, leaving a third of 
 their number on it. The general in command made 
 the whole army defile past their guidon, and salute it 
 with sloped standards. 
 
 ' 'No ! very few men are physical cowards in battle, 
 whatever they may be across country. I don't be- 
 lieve Paris was, when he ran from Menclaus ; and 
 Helen did not think so, though she teased him about 
 it, or she would never have spoken to him again. I 
 rather imagine his feeling was that of a certain guards- 
 man of our acquaintance, who said, declining the 
 ordeal of combat, that "his first duty was to his 
 partners, and this did not allow hun to risk a black 
 eye.'" 
 
 ' Might not remorse at the sight of the man he had 
 injured have had something to do with his flight ? * 
 Bruce asked. 
 
 He was full of moral sentiments — that man. Only 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 121 
 
 you could not look at him without fancying that they 
 sprang more from an inclination to be contradictious 
 and disagreeable, than from any depth of principle. 
 
 * Absurd/ Guy retorted. * Wasn't he a heathen, 
 and rather an immoral one ? It was of profligates with 
 far greater advantages of education that some one 
 said : — " Le remords nait de Vahandon, et non de la 
 fautey The walls of Troy were strong then, and the 
 Destroy er-of-ships safe behind them; "getting her- 
 self up alarmingly" for his return. I^o wonder 
 Menelaiis was eager for the duel : he was staking his 
 loneliness against Paris' nine points of the law.' 
 
 Sir Henry Fallowfleld smiled approvingly. 
 
 * Yes ! ^ he observed ; not answering what had been 
 said, but evidently following out a train of his own 
 thought. ' Modern exquisites have courage, and self- 
 possession, and conceit — great elements of success 
 with women, I own — but they have not much more. 
 I am certain, Charlej^, who is a favourable specimen 
 of the class, often affects silence because he has nothing 
 on earth to say. There is a decadence since my 
 younger days (I hope I speak dispassionately), and how 
 very far we feU short of the roues of the Eegence ! "We 
 could no more match them than a fighting-man in good 
 training could stand up to one of the old Pict giants. 
 Look at EicheHeu : good at all points, — in the battle, 
 in the boudoir, in the Bastille, — a dangerous rival at the 
 two ages of ordinary men's first and second childhood. 
 
122 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ' He was a great man in Ms way/ I assented. * Do 
 you remember his answer to the Duchesse de Maine, 
 when she asked him, for a political purpose, if he could 
 remain faithful for one week to an intrigue then twenty- 
 four hours old ? — " Madame, quand une fois f emhrasse 
 im parti, je suis capable des plus grandes sacrifices 
 2)0ur le soutenir.'^ The object of that heroic constancy 
 was the Marechale de YiUars, one of the loveliest women 
 in France. It was the sublime of fatuity — was it not ? * 
 
 * Well, I don't know,' said Charley, settling him- 
 self comfortably in his cushions, and glancing almost 
 imperceptibly at Bruce ; * they seem to fancy us not- 
 withstanding. We have only one great obstacle,— 
 the mothers that hore us.' 
 
 Be it known that * they,* used simply, stood in his 
 vocabulary for the fair sex in general. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' replied Fallowfield ; don't be so un- 
 grateful. You don't know what you owe to those 
 anxious parents. It helps you enormously, being the 
 objects of perpetual warnings from husbands and 
 chaperons ; the first considering you mauvais szijets, 
 the last mauvais partis ; for you are ^'detrimentals," 
 for the most part, you wiU own.' 
 
 * Vctitum ergo cupitum,^ interrupted Livingstone. 
 * A good many moralists before and since old Rabelais 
 have discoursed on that text. The Chief of Errington 
 was probably much more agreeable, besides being a 
 better match, than Jock of Ilazeldean, who, clcarl} was 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 12'3 
 
 what an old Frenchman lately described to me — " un 
 vaurien, mon clier^ qui court les Jilles et qui n^a pas le 
 son.'* But then poor Frank was the goyernment 
 candidate, so, of course, in a popular election, he went 
 to the wall.* 
 
 Sir Henry's face grew more pensive and grave, as he 
 said, * It is very hard on the women, certainly, that 
 our race should have degenerated so ; for I believe in 
 my conscience they are as clever and wicked, and 
 appreciate temptation as much as ever.' (The gusto 
 with which he said this is indescribable.) * There is 
 the Bellasys, for instance, with a calculating sensuality, 
 an astuteness of stratagem, an utter contempt of truth, 
 and a general aptitude for making fools of men, that 
 poor Philip the Eegent would have worshipped. When 
 she had no one better to corrupt, I have seen her take 
 in hand an older, sadder, wiser, uglier man than my- 
 self, and in three days bring him to the verge of in- 
 sanity ; so that he would scowl at his wife, his com- 
 panion for forty years, the blameless mother of six 
 grown-up children, with a hideous expression indica- 
 tive of carving-knives and strychnine. Guy suits her 
 best. Ilis thews and sinews awe her a little some- 
 times ; and he has a certain hardness of character and 
 pitilessness of purpose, improved by my instructions, 
 which will carry him far, but not far enough, I think. 
 You're right not to look flattered ' (Guy's face had 
 moved no more than the marble Memnon's) ; * you 
 
124 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 are only a shade better than the rest. Our effete 
 world is not worthy of that rare creature : she wa8 
 born a century too late.' 
 
 ' I quite differ with you/ Bruce said, in his harshest 
 voice ; * I am certain the great plurality of the women 
 of our day would resist any temptation, from fear of 
 the consequences, if not from principle.' 
 
 Fancy the feelings of the Greek Professor interrupted 
 in his lecture by a controverting freshman, and you 
 will have some idea of Fallowfield's. His eye lighted 
 on the last speaker, glittering like a hooded snake's, 
 as it were caressing him with a lambent scorn. 
 
 I never guessed how much sneering provocation 
 could reside in tones usually so very soft and musical, 
 till I heard him answer, * I suppose you do differ with 
 me. We probably both speak from experience. On 
 one point you are scarcely practical, though. You 
 think you can frighten a woman into propriety. 
 Try it.' 
 
 * Are you not too general in your strictures or 
 encomiums ? * I suggested, wishing to relieve the 
 awkwardness which ensued ; ' surely there are many 
 instances to the contrary. Take Lady Clanronald, 
 for instance, married to a man her elder by twenty 
 years, and not very clever or agreeable, I should 
 think. No one ever breathed a whisper against her, 
 and it has not been through default of aspirants.* 
 
 An evil smile curled round the old roue^s sensual 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 125 
 
 mouth, radiating even to tlie verge of the forest of his 
 iron-grey whiskers. 
 
 * Clanronald not clever ? ' he replied. ' The cleverest 
 man I know. He knew how his wife would be 
 tempted, and he has taken the greatest pains to en- 
 courage a counteracting influence — family pride. 
 Don't you know she was a Hautagne ? It is a tradi- 
 tion with that race that their women never go wrong 
 — ^under a Prince of the Blood. None of these are 
 available just now ; so she is still " Une Madeleine 
 dans la puissance de son mari, et dam Vimpuissance de 
 se repentir" ' 
 
 It was worse than useless to argue with Fallowfield. 
 All your own best hits were turned aside by the target 
 of his cynicism and unbelief, while his sophistries and 
 sarcasms often came home. Like old wounds, they 
 would begin to shoot and rankle in after years, just 
 when it was most important and profitable to forget 
 them. 
 
 "We separated soon after this. Sir Henry's face 
 wore an expression of placid self-congratulation. He 
 thought the conversation had been rather improving, 
 I believe, and that some of the ideas and illustrations 
 had been rather neatly put ; so he laid his head down 
 that night with the calm satisfied feeling of a good 
 man who has done his duty, and not lost a day. 
 
 He was not more ingenious in overcoming the 
 scruples of others than in silencing his own con- 
 
126 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 science ; thougli, of late years, this last had probably 
 ceased to give him much trouble. Finer feelings 
 with him were only * sensations morbidly exag- 
 gerated ; * and he made no sort of allowance for such ; 
 amongst others, utterly ignoring remorse. I doubt 
 if he ever looked forward ; I am sure he never looked 
 back. A parody on the ' tag ' which was given to 
 Cambronne, would sum up his terribly simple and 
 consistent creed — La jemme se rend, mats ne meurt 
 pas. 
 
IV 
 
 CHAPTER Xiy. 
 
 I hold him but a fool, that would endanger 
 His body for a girl that loves him not. 
 
 I'allowfield left us tlie next raorning ; tlie Bellasys 
 later in the same day. They were to pay divers visits 
 and then return to Kerton. Lady Catherine pressed 
 them to do so ; though she liked the daughter less 
 than the mother, she was so anxious Guy should 
 marry some one, that I think she would have accepted 
 even Flora with thankfulness. 
 
 It is a favourite delusion with the British parent 
 that matrimony will work a miracle, and steady their 
 children for life, by casting forth the luHns who beset 
 them. A thousand failures have not convinced the 
 good speculative matrons of the hazard of the experi- 
 ment ; nor will as many more do so ; they will go on 
 match-making and blundering to the end of time. For 
 a very brief space the evil spirits are exorcised ; but 
 before the gloss is off the new-married couple's new 
 furniture, one of the band creeps back and opens the 
 door to his fellows. These hardly know their old 
 quarters at first, but they soon begin to like them 
 
128 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 better than ever — are they not swept and garnished ? 
 ' So they enter in and dwell there, and ' — I need not 
 finish the sentence ; a thousand sweet though some- 
 what shrill voices will save me that trouble — a doleful 
 music — an ancient tale of wrong — the Song of tlie 
 Brides ! They used to say that a man never went so 
 hard to hounds after entering the holy estate. If 
 this be so, I fear it is the only comforting result which 
 follows of course. 
 
 What Flora and Guy said to each other at parting 
 I cannot guess. Neither was of the sentimental order, 
 and both might have taken for their motto, ' Lightly 
 won and lightly lost.' Her hand lingered somewhat 
 long in his as they said farewell ; but she was smiling, 
 if anything, more saucily than ever. So she went, 
 leaving behind her no tangible token, except a tiny 
 pearl-coloured glove, which Guy twisted rather pen- 
 sively between his fingers, as ho stood on the hall- 
 steps and watched the carriage disappear down the 
 avenue. Mr Bruce exulted, after his saturnine fashion, 
 and Isabel Raymond trembled ; the one had lost a 
 strong unscrupulous ally, the other a formidable enemy. 
 
 * Why don't you open those letters, Charley ? * 
 Livingstone asked at breakfast, next morning, point- 
 ing to a pile that lay unopened by the latter's plate. 
 
 * My dear boy, I haven't the heart to do it,' was 
 the reply. *They are aU expressive, I know, of 
 different phases of mercantile despair. I believe these 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 129 
 
 men keep a Supplicant, as Moses maintains a Poet. 
 The last appeal from my saddler was perfectly heart- 
 rending : he could not have written it himself, for he 
 looks as tough as his own pig- skin. If he had, he 
 would be impayahle in more ways than one. "WTiat 
 can I do ? I can^t come down on the poor old man 
 who has the misfortune to be my father for more sup- 
 plies, when rents are being reduced fifteen per cent. 
 The tradesmen must learn to endure. They have a 
 splendid chance of attaining the Yictory of Sufiering.* 
 
 Bruce smiled complacently to himself, and then 
 superciliously at Charley. He had just received a 
 letter iVom his banker, consulting him as to the dis- 
 posal of a superfluous thousand or so, and he was 
 hesitating between some dock shares and a promising 
 railway. 
 
 * Yes,' Forrester went on, * it's very well for you 
 to talk ia that hardened way, as you did the other 
 night, about detrimentals and second sons. I wonder 
 how you would Hke to have an elder brother, a piUar 
 of learned societies, and as tenacious of life as one of 
 his pet zoophytes ? He used to consume quantities of 
 medicine, which was encouraging ; but lately he has 
 taken to homoeopathy, which was quite out of the 
 match. He told me, lately, that " four hundred a 
 year and my pay was affluence.'' Affluence ! ' 
 
 It is impossible to describe the cadence of plaintive 
 indignation which he gave to the last word. The re- 
 
130 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 collection of his wrongs had made him almost ener- 
 getic ; we listened to his eloquence in respectful 
 surprise. 
 
 ' It was adding insult to injury/ answered Guy. 
 If parliament does not do something for you all soon, 
 there will be another exodus of the Parthenidae. 
 
 Charley looked at his friend admiringly, as he 
 always did when Guy was classical in his allusions ; 
 but the im wonted effort had evidently exhausted him, 
 and he lapsed into silence. 
 
 "VYe rode out that afternoon to make some calls in 
 the neighbourhood, and, in returning, Livingstone 
 proposed a short cut through a line of gates, with 
 a short interval of cross-country work. 
 
 His cousin looked delighted — Bruce decidedly un- 
 comfortable ; though, of course, he could not refuse. 
 He was riding Kathleen, an Irish mare, one of the 
 quietest in the Kerton stable, where none were very 
 steady. The fences were nothing at first ; at last we 
 came to a brook. It was not broad, but evidently 
 deep, with high, rotten banks. However, as we were 
 going at a ihir hunting pace, all, including Bella 
 Donna and her mistress, took it in their stride, but 
 pulled up at once, seeing that Bruce was left behind, 
 with the groom who was following us. 
 
 The first time he came at it, it was a clear case of 
 * craning.* He was hauling nervously at the reins, 
 and v>'ould not let the mare have it. 
 
4 
 
 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 131 
 
 Guy regarded him with, intense contempt. *By 
 G — d ! * he muttered ; * I beKeve the man*s afraid ! * 
 
 Forrester laughed so unrestrainedly, that Isabel 
 looked at him beseechingly, in evident dread of tho 
 consequences. 
 
 * My dear Miss Icayjiond,' he said, answering her 
 frightened glance, * don't alarm yourself. Do you 
 think I am a Quixote, to war with windmills ? ' 
 
 1^0 one could look at Bruce's long arms and legs, 
 all working at once, without owning the aptness of 
 the simile. 
 
 For the third time he came down at the brook, 
 and, I really believe, meant going ; but Kathleen, 
 unused to such vacillating measures, had got sulky, 
 and swerved on the very brink, almost sliding over 
 it. Her rider lost his seat^ rolled over her shoulder, 
 and for an instant disappeared in the water. 
 
 Achelous or Tiber, emerging from his native waves, 
 crowned with aquatic plants, presented, I doubt not, 
 an appearance at once dignified and becoming ; but 
 I defy any ordinary non -amphibious mortal to look, 
 under similar circumstances, anything but supremely 
 ridiculous. The wrathful face framed in dripping 
 hair and plastered whiskers — the movements of the 
 limbs, awkward and constrained — the rivulets dis- 
 tilling from every salient angle, turning the victim 
 into a walking Lauterbrunnen — when we saw all these 
 absurdities exaggerated before us, no wonder that 
 
132 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 from the whole party, including the groom, there 
 broke ' unnumbered laughters.' 
 f * Curse the mare ! ' Bruce hissed out. The words 
 came crushed and broken, as it were, through the 
 white ranges of his griuding teeth. 
 
 Li\ingstone's face hardened directly. * Swear as 
 much as you think the cii'cumstances require, or as my 
 cousin will allow,' he said ; * but be just before you're 
 generous — don't anathematize Kathleen. It was no 
 faidt of hers. I never saw her refuse before ; but she 
 is used to be put straight at her fences. Hold her still, 
 Harry ' (to the groom on' the fui-ther side, who had 
 caught the mare's rein), * I'll ride her at it myself.' 
 
 He threw his bridle to Forrester, and, dismounting, 
 cleared the brook at a boimd. Then he went up to 
 Kathleen, and began to coax her with voice and hand. 
 
 ' I'll bet an even fifty he takes her over the first 
 time,' said Charley. 
 
 Bruce nodded his head, without speaking, to show 
 that he took the bet. I thought he had the best of 
 it, for the mare was so savage and sulky still that a 
 refusal seemed a certainty. 
 
 Guy had mounted by this time, and, after taking a 
 wide sweep in the field, came down at the brook. 
 Kathleen was curling her back up, and going short, 
 with the most evident intention of balking ; but 
 swerving was next to impossible, for she was fairly 
 held in a vice by her rider's hands and knees. The 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 133 
 
 whip fell, heavily twice on either shoulder, and, just 
 at the water's edge, Livingstone drove his heels in 
 and lifted her. It was almost a standing leap, and 
 as Kathleen landed, a great fragment of the bank 
 went crashing into the water from under her hind 
 hoofs, and she was do^ra on her head ; but Guy re- 
 covered her cleverly, and, turning again, sent her over 
 twice, backwards and forwards. The first time, the 
 mare did not try to refuse again, but rushed at it, snort- 
 ing wrathfiilly, with her head in the air ; the second, 
 she was quite tamed, and took it evenly in her stride. 
 
 ' Give Mr Bruce your horse, Harry, and take the 
 Czar,' Guy said. * I'll ride Kathleen home. Steady, 
 old lady, don't fret. We are friends again now.' 
 
 ' So you have got your pony back ? ' I remarked to 
 Forrester. 
 
 * Yes, and with interest,' was the quiet reply. * I 
 don't think he will owe me much when I have done 
 with him.' 
 
 Though I had nothing on earth to do with it, I felt 
 something like compunction, as I guessed what he 
 meant. 
 
 Bruce's was a hard, money-loving nature, imro- 
 mantio to a degree ; but I believe he would gladly 
 have waked to find himself a houseless, landless beg- 
 gar, if he could thus have regained what Charley, 
 with his soft voice and eyes and manner, had stolen 
 from him long ago. 
 
134 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Am I right in saying * stolen ' ? Perliaps he never 
 had it ; at all events he thought he had, which comes 
 to nearly the same thing. 
 
 It is true that, unravelling the cord of a man's 
 existence, you will generally find the blackest hank 
 in it twined by a w^oman's hand ; but it is not less 
 common to trace the golden thread to the same spindle. 
 
 Great warrior, profound statesman, stanch cham- 
 pion of liberty as he was, without Edith of the Swan's- 
 neck, Harold would scarcely have risen into a hero of 
 romance. We do not quite despise Charles YII. when 
 we think how faithfully, in loneliness and ruin, the 
 Lady of Beauty loved her apathetic, senseless, dis- 
 crowned KiQg. Others never foimd it out ; but there 
 must have been something precious hid in a dark 
 corner of the wayward heart, near which Agnes 
 nestled so long. "We look leniently on Otho — parasite 
 and profligate — when we see him lingering on his 
 last march, on the very verge of the death-struggle, 
 in the teeth of Galba's legions, to decorate PoppEca's 
 grave. More in pity than in scorn, to be sure, did 
 Tacitus, the historic epigrammatist, WTite — ' Ne turn 
 quidem veterum hnmetnor amorum.* 
 
 Was it in remorseful consciousness of having in- 
 flicted a deep irreparable wrong, that Isabel rode so 
 constantly by Bruce's side, stri\dng, by all means of 
 timid propitiation, to chase the cloud lowering on his 
 sullen face, as we returned slowly home ? 
 
135 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 To Si TrpoKXveiy, 
 
 'Rirei ykvoLT dv i'/Xymg, TrpoxaiptTia' 
 'laov ck Ti^ TvpoaTsveiVj 
 Topbv yap i]^ei avvopBpov avyaiQ. 
 
 My stay at Kerton Manor was drawing to a close. I 
 had lingered there too long already, and letters from 
 neglected relatives and friends came, reproachful, 
 with every post. The day before I went, Guy called 
 me into his study. 
 
 * Frank,' he said, * I am in a great strait of per- 
 plexity ; my uncle has been attacking me this morn- 
 ing about Isabel and Charle^^ Bruce puts him up 
 to it, of course.' 
 
 * I thought it would come ; but why on earth did 
 not Bruce speak to you, if not to Forrester himself ? 
 Perhaps it was fVom delicacy though. Let us hope so.' 
 
 * How philanthropic we are ! ' Guy retorted. ' I 
 don't believe any other man would have spoken of 
 delicacy and that rough-hewn log of Scotch fir in the 
 same breath. My dear boy, the thing is as simple as 
 possible — the man is a coward. He is as careful of 
 that precious person of his, as if it were worth pre- 
 
 K 
 
136 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 serving ; so he shoots his arrows from behind Uncle 
 Henry's Telamonian shield. Nothing is so acute and 
 right-judging as the instinct of fear. He knows that 
 if he had a fancy for a quarrel, either Charley or I 
 would be too happy to indulge him.' 
 
 * He can't be such a dastard/ I said. 
 
 * I am sure of it ; but he is not the less dangerous 
 for that. Such men are always the most unscrupulous 
 in revenge. I have seen murder ia his eyes a score 
 of times in the last fortnight. If our lines had fallen 
 in the pleasant Italian places, he would have invested 
 twenty scudi long ago in hiring a dagger. As it is, 
 civilization and the rural police stand our friends ; 
 but I have strongly advised Charley not to trust him- 
 self near him in cover. By G — d ! I think, for once 
 in his life, he would hold straight ! ' 
 
 * You donH Like him, that's evident.' 
 
 The pupils of Livingstone's eyes contracted omin- 
 ously ; a lurid flash shot out from under his black, 
 bent brows, and there came on his lip that peculiar 
 smile that we fancy on the face of Homeric heroes — 
 more fell, and cruel, and terrible than even their own 
 frown — just before they levelled the spear. He laid 
 his broad hand, corded across iivdth a net-work of 
 tangled sinews, on the table before him, and the stout 
 oak creaked and trembled. 
 
 * If I were to strangle him,* he said, * as I constantly 
 feel tempted to do, I believe I should deserve well of the 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. Ir37 
 
 State. But witli all that, I don't like plotting against 
 him under my own roof ; it strikes me that is a phase 
 of hospitality not strictly Arabian. My mother 
 laments over him already, as hardly dealt with. Then 
 Uncle Henry is a great difficulty. He is not in the 
 least one of the light comedy fathers who, during two 
 acts, stamps about with many strange oaths and 
 stormy denials, but in the last yields to fate and 
 soiibrettes, says, * Bless you, my children ! ' and hands 
 out untold gold. There is no more appeal from his 
 
 decisions than from Major A 's. He dislikes 
 
 Bruce, of course ; but he would just as soon think of 
 objecting to a partner at whist as to a son-in-law, 
 because he happened to be unprepossessing. When 
 the poor Kttle Iphigenia is sacrificed on the shrine of 
 expediency, you will see him, not veiling his face, 
 but taking snuff with the calm grace that is peculiar 
 to him. Arguing with such a man is a simple 
 absurdity.* 
 
 * I cannot advise you,^ I answered, sadly ; ' but it 
 seems hard on Miss Eaymond, too.' 
 
 ' Of course it is,* Livingstone broke in ; * and the 
 worst of it is, the poor child looks to me to help her. 
 I can't bear to think of what her life would be if she 
 married Bruce. He would be constantly retaliating 
 on her for what he is suffering now — for he does 
 suffer. A pleasant idea that she, who is only meant 
 to be petted, should be set up as a target for his 
 
138 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 jealousy and ill-hiunoiir ! She woiild never be able lo 
 stand it, and Charley wouldn't if she could ; and then 
 there would be a denouement like that which ruined 
 Balph Mohun. If there is to be a row, it had better 
 come before than after marriage. It's more moral, 
 and saves an infinity of trouble. I think Charley is 
 better away, too, just now. Parndon wants us both to 
 stay with him. "We'll go ; and so my conscience will 
 stand at ease for the present. When we are on neutral 
 ground I can help them ; or, at all events, " let the 
 justice of the king pass by." ' 
 f * Have you spoken to Forrester yet ? ' 
 
 * No ! but he will do as I advise, and temporize, I 
 am sure ; though he would hardly give up Bella, even 
 if I asked him. He means business, for once, evi- 
 dently. They will have plenty of time to concert 
 their plans before the summer. Charley wants no 
 help in that. As to carrying them out — we shall sec. 
 "Well ! you will go to-morrow. I am very sorry, for 
 aU reasons. I hope you have not been much bored 
 here. Kerton counts on you for next winter.' 
 
 I need not give my answer. I Mt really loth to 
 go ; but, fortunately for my peace of mind, I could 
 not guess at the changes that would be wrought in 
 the hopes, the intentions, the destinies of all of us, 
 before I should stand in the fine old manor-house 
 again. 
 
 If adieus are painful in reality, they are intensely 
 
GUY LI\^NGSTONE. 139 
 
 stupid on paper — a landscape without a foreground — 
 60 I spare you next morning's leave-takings. 
 
 Guy had said nothing to his cousin then of the plan 
 he had determined on. I was glad of it. I was glad 
 not to see, at parting, her sweet face so sad as, I am 
 sure it became, when she heard that she was to strug- 
 gle against Bruce's persecutions and her own anti- 
 pathies, unaided and alone. 
 
 I wandered through many counties, and then wont 
 to Ireland. Dm-ing the next few months I saw tho 
 faces I had left behind me many times, but only in 
 my dreams. 
 
140 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 The only living thing he could not hate 
 "Was reft at once — and he deserved his fate, 
 But did not feel it less ; — the good explore 
 For peace, these realms where guilt can never soar ; 
 The proud — the wayward — who have fixed below 
 Their joy, and find this earth enough for woe, 
 Lose in that one their all — perchance a mite — 
 But who in patience parts with all delight ? 
 
 Pleasant days they were, when, through the soft 
 spring weather, I wandered round the coasts of Kerry, 
 Clare, and Galway ; hooking sahnon in broad pools, 
 where the vexed water rests awhile from its labours 
 under wooded cliffs, and at the tail of roaring rapids, 
 specked with white foam-clots ; or sea-trout, in the 
 estuaries where the great rivers hurry down to their 
 stormy meeting with the Atlantic rollers. 
 
 Ever3nvhere I met the frank cheery welcome that 
 you must cross the Channel to find in its perfection. 
 
 It is sad to see how widely over that fair land the 
 abomination of desolation has cast its shadow. Many 
 halls are tenantless besides those of Tara. The 
 ancient owners of the soil — where are they ? Not a 
 country in Europe but is conscious of these restless, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 141 
 
 careless, homeless Zingari. In distant provincial 
 towns of France, you hear their enormous blunders 
 in grammar, and musical Milesian brogue, breaking 
 the uniformity of dull legitimist soirees. Homburg 
 and Baden are irradiated with the glory of their 
 whiskers. You find their blue eyes and open hand- 
 some features diversifyiag the sameness of wooden- 
 faced Austrian squadrons. IN'ayl has it not been 
 whispered that the proudest name in Ireland attained 
 a bad eminence in. the Grecian Archipelago, as the 
 captain of the wickedest of those long low craft that, 
 in the purple dawn or ivory moonlight, steal silently 
 out from behind the headlands of the Cyclades ? 
 
 But let us do justice to those who remain behind. 
 
 The sceptre of Connemara has passed away from 
 the ancient dynasty. If the penultimate monarch 
 could rise from his peaceful grave, his place would 
 know him. no more. If he travelled through all his 
 thirty miles of sea-board, the Scotch labourers would 
 doff their hats more respectfully to the steward of the 
 * Law Life,' than to the humane old homicide. The 
 royal writ, which he defied from his place at St 
 Stephen's, might be served now, I imagine, without 
 danger of the bailiff's breaking his fast on the same. 
 Claret flows soberly from long-necked bottles whose 
 corks bear the brand of the wine -merchant high 
 priced and legal, instead of from the cask of which 
 the snug sandy cove and the roguish-looking hooker 
 
142 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 could have told tales. But in spite of visionary rents, 
 and poor-rates sternly real, the Irish squii-e still clings 
 to the exercise of that hospitality which has been 
 an heirloom with the Tribes since the days of Strong- 
 bow. 
 
 One of my longest halting places was at Ralph 
 Mohun's, by whom, though personally unknown to 
 him, I was made very welcome, as a friend of Guy's. 
 My host deserves a more especial mention, for his 
 history was a sad, though not an uncommon one. 
 
 He began life in a cavalry regiment, wherein he 
 conducted himself mth fair average propriety, till 
 he met Lady Caroline Desborough. He fell in love 
 \Wth her — most people did, — but unluckily, when she 
 married Mr Mannering, to whom she had been pre- 
 destined since her debut, he could not bring himself 
 to wear the \^dllow decently and in order, like her 
 other disappointed admirers. 
 
 It was the old unhappy story : her husband neg- 
 lected Lady Caroline consistently; ill-treated her 
 sometimes. Mohun pursued his purpose with the 
 relentless obstinacy of his character. Eighteen months 
 after her marriage they fled together. 
 
 lie was not rich ; so that the trial which ensued, 
 with its heavy damages, completely crippled him. 
 The partner of his crime was absolutely penniless. 
 They went to Vienna ; and Ralph entered the Aus- 
 trian cuirassiers, where he had some interest to push 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 143 
 
 him. He had lingered some time within reach of 
 England, to give Mannering an opportunity of de- 
 manding satisfaction. But the injured husband knew 
 his man too well to trust himself within fifteen paces 
 of Mohun's pistol. He chose a surer, safer revenge, 
 in taking no steps to procure a divorce, and so debar- 
 ring Ralph from his only means of atonement — mar- 
 riage with his victim. 
 
 He varied the dull routine of seducers, it is true ; 
 for he never wearied of, or behaved unkindly to, the 
 woman he had ruined. Time brought many troubles 
 on them, but never satiety or coolness. To the very 
 last he worshipped, and, to the utmost of his power, 
 guarded her tenderly. Bough and hard and morose 
 as he was to others, she never heard his lips utter one 
 harsh word. 
 
 But she was of a proud, sensitive spirit, and had 
 miscalculated her strength when she thought she could 
 bear dishonour. After that duel with which Austria 
 rang, in which the best schlager in his brigade fell, 
 horribly mangled, the day after he had whispered a 
 jest about Caroline Mannering, men were very cautious 
 how they even looked askance at her ; but the women 
 — who could bridle their tongu-es, or blunt their 
 scornful glances ? Briareus, armed to the teeth, would 
 not afiright our modern dowagers, or deter them from 
 their prey. Wherever the carcass of a fair fame Hes, 
 thither they fiock, screaming shrilly in triumph, 
 
144 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 vultoi'e-eyed, sharp-taloned — tlie Choosers of the 
 Slain. 
 
 I pity from my heart the frailest, the most utterly 
 falleu of her sex, when once the social Nemesis hands 
 her over to the chorus of the Eumenides. 
 
 We deride the suhsignance who line the wall ; we 
 make a mock at their old-fashioned whist ; we risk 
 jokes whereat our partners smile approvingly on their 
 false fronts and wonderful head-gears ; but may the 
 wittiest of us never know by experience how much 
 worse is the bite than the bark of the Veteran bat- 
 talion ! 
 
 Caroline Mannering had all this to contend with, 
 ibr Vienna was a favourite resort in those days for 
 the English, and she was constantly encountering 
 some of her old set. She bore up bravely for a 
 while, but it killed her. She never wearied her lover 
 with her self-reproach, but crushed back her sorrows 
 iuto her heart, and met him always "with a gentle 
 smile. That same smile contrasted so sadly, at last, 
 ■with the wan, worn features, that it often made him 
 bend his bushy brows to conceal the rising tears. 
 
 If her destiny had been different ; if she had died 
 ripe in years, after a life spent in calm matronly hap- 
 piness, with all that she loved best round her, would 
 she have been nursed so tenderly, or moui-ned so bit- 
 terly, by the nearest and dearest of them aU, as she 
 was by her tempter to sin ? I think not. I believe 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 145 
 
 that in all tlie world there never was a greater sorrow 
 than that which Mohun endured, as he saw his 
 treasure slowly escaping him ; never a desolation more 
 complete and crushing than that which fell upon him 
 as he stood by her corpse, with dry eyes, folded arms, 
 and a heavy, frowning brow. It was not only that he 
 felt her place could never be filled again — ^many feel 
 that, and find it turn out so — ^but a part of his being 
 was gone : all that was soft, and kind, and tender in 
 his nature died with Caroline Mannering. He never 
 could get rid of a certain chivalry which was inherent 
 in him, so sometimes he would do a generous thing ; 
 but he did it so harshly as to deprive the act of the 
 semblance of good-nature. I think he very seldom 
 again felt sympathy or compassion for any living 
 creature. Perhaps he thought the world had behaved 
 hardly to his dead love ; and so never forgave it. She 
 passed away very stilly and painlessly. She was 
 leaning on his breast when he saw death come into 
 her eyes ; he shivered then all over, as if a cold wind 
 had struck him suddenly, but spoke no word. She 
 understood him though. Her last motion was to draw 
 his cheek down to hers with her thin, shadowy arm ; 
 and her last breath went up to the God who would 
 judge them both, in an unselfish prayer. 
 
 * She was rightly served,' says Cornelia ; ' such 
 women ought to be miserable.* 
 
 rigid mother of the Gracchi ! how we all respect 
 
146 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 you, trdnante in tlie comfortable cathedra of virtue 
 inexpugnable, perhaps unassailed ! Your dictum 
 must stand for the present. The Court is with you. 
 But I believe other balances will weigh the strength 
 of temptation, the weakness of human endurance, the 
 sincerity of repentance, and the extent of suffered re- 
 tribution, when the Father of all that have lived and 
 erred since the world began shall make up His jewels. 
 In that day, I think, the light of many orthodox vir- 
 gins and dignified matrons Vill pale before the softer 
 lustre of Magdalene the Saint. 
 
 Mohun remained in the Austrian service some time 
 after Caroline Mannering's death, and, by dint of good 
 ser^HLce and interest, rose rapidly : but, about eight 
 years before I saw him, a distant relation left him the 
 estate in the west of Ireland, where he had resided 
 ever since, making occasional visits to the Continent, 
 and beating up his old quarters, but rarely coming to 
 England. 
 
 He did not mix much with the county society, such 
 as it was ; and his visitors were chiefly friends from 
 England who had not forgotten him yet, or the mili- 
 tary quartered in his neighboui'hood. 
 
 It was a dreary, desolate old house where he lived 
 — massive, square, and grey. There were wooded 
 banks and hollows just round it ; but, farther afield, 
 the chill, bare moorland stretched away towards the 
 sea, broken here and there by sullen, sedgy tarns. 
 
GUY LI^'TNGSTONE. 147 
 
 Here he spent his monotonous existence, riding 
 hard and drinking obstinately, but never, even in the 
 latter case, rising into conviviality. A long, bushy 
 beard and portentous moustache, grizzled, though he 
 was scarcely past middle age, which could not conceal 
 a deep sabre scar, gave him a grim, sinister expres- 
 sion ; and his voics had that brief imperious accent 
 wliich is peculiar to men for many years used to give 
 the word of command. 
 
 That worn, haggard face told a real tale. The fur- 
 rows there had been ploughed by an enduring re- 
 morse, very diflPerent from that comfortable, half- 
 complacent regret which some feel at the retrospect 
 of their jouihful fredaines. 
 
 They shake their solemn old heads as they hold 
 themselves up to us as a warning ; they sermonize 
 with edifying gravity on the impropriety of such 
 misdemeanors ; but we can trace through all this an 
 under- current of satisfaction tenderly fatuitous, as they 
 go back to the days of their gipsyhood, when Plancus 
 was consul. 
 
 I have been amused with watching these eminent 
 but somewhat sensual Christians, on such occasions, 
 and seeing the dull eyes begin to glisten, and the lips 
 wrinkle themselves into a fat, unpleasant smile. They 
 have prospered since, and certainly it would be most 
 absurd to torment themselves now about the souls and 
 bodies which they once sacrificed to a whim. Over 
 
148 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 those ruins and relics the River of Oblivion has rolled 
 long ago — let them sleep on there, and take their rest ! 
 
 Have we not the bright example of the protot}^e 
 of this class — the pious ^neas ? How creditable was 
 his behaviour when he looked back over the black 
 water on the trail of flame stretching from the funeral 
 pyre where Dido lay burning ! 
 
 ' He knew/ says his admiring biographer, * what 
 the madness of women could do ; ' but the breeze 
 was getting up astern, and favouring gods beckoned 
 him on to Italy and fortune : so he sighed twice or 
 thrice — perhaps he wept, for the amiable hero's 
 tears were always ready on the shortest notice — and 
 then, like the captain of the Hesperus, * steered for 
 the open sea.' 
 
 Did he feel a pang of remorse or shame at that 
 meeting in the twilight of Hades, when he called 
 vainly on Elissa, and the dead Queen, from where 
 she stood by the side of Sychaeus who had forgiven 
 her all, turned on him the disgust and horror of her 
 imperial eyes ? Who can tell ? The greatest and best 
 of men have their moments of weakness. If so, be 
 sure he was soon comforted as he reviewed the 
 shadowy procession of his posterity of kings. The 
 episode of Byrsa would scarcely trouble his conjugal 
 happiness, or make him more indulgent to the mildest 
 flirtation of Lavinia. 
 
 I fancy that poor Princess — after listening to a long, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 149 
 
 intensely proper discourse from her immaculate hus- 
 band, or when the young lulus had been unusually 
 disagreeable — gazing wistfully in the direction where, 
 against the sky-line, rose the clump of plane-trees, 
 under which hot-headed, warm-hearted Turnus was 
 resting after his brief life of storms. Then she would 
 think of that unhappy mother who, with every impulse 
 of a wilful natui'e, loved her child so dearly, till she 
 would begin to doubt — it was very wrong of her — if 
 Amata or the match-making gods were most right 
 after all. 
 
 The neighbouring peasantry regarded Mohun with 
 mingled dislike and terror — a feeling which was in- 
 creased tenfold by an event which occurred about 
 three years before my visit, in the height of the 
 agrarian troubles. I cannot do better than give it, as 
 near as I can, in the words of one who was an actor in 
 the scene. 
 
150 
 
 CHAPTER XTlL 
 
 Now "what wouldst thou do, good my squire, 
 
 That rides beside my rein, 
 "Wert thou Glenallan's earl to-day, 
 
 And I were Eoland Cheyne ? 
 
 My horse should ride through their ranks sae rud^, 
 
 As he would through the moorland fern, 
 And ne'er let the gentle Norman bluid, 
 
 Grow cauld for the Highland kerne. 
 
 It was in the beginning of December, 184 — (said 
 Fred Carew), we were just sitting down to dinner 
 after a capital day's cock-sbooting — besides myself 
 tbere were Lord Clontarf, Mobun, and Kate, my wife 
 — when we were disturbed by a perfect bail of knocks 
 at tbe ball-door. Old Dan Tucker, or tbe Spectre 
 Horseman, never clamoured more loudly for admit- 
 tance. Fritz, Mobun's old Austrian servant, went 
 down to see wbat was up ; and, on opening tbe door, 
 was instantly borne down by tbe tumultuous rusb of 
 ]\Iicbael Kelly, gentleman, agent to balf-a- dozen 
 estates, and attorney-at-law. In tbe two last capaci- 
 ties be bad given, it seems, great umbrage to tbe 
 neighbour ing peasantry, and tbey bad caugbt bim 
 
GUY LI^aNGSTONE. 151 
 
 that night as he returned home, intending to put him 
 to death with that ingenuity of torture for which the 
 fine warm-hearted fellows are justly celebrated. 
 
 They did not wish to hurry over the entertainment, 
 so confined him in an upper chamber, while they 
 called their friends and neighbours to rejoice with 
 them, carousing meantime jovially below. The victim 
 contrived to let himself down from the window, and 
 ran for his life to the nearest house, which, unluckily, 
 happened to be the Lodge. Two boy.«, however, saw 
 and recognized him as he entered the demesne, and 
 raised a whoop, to show that they knew where the 
 fox had gone to ground. 
 
 This we made out from a striag of incoherent inter- 
 jections ; and then he lay, panting and contortiag 
 himself in an agony of fear. 
 
 Mohun sat on the hall-table, swinging his foot and 
 regarding the spectacle with the indolent curiosity 
 that one might exhibit towards the gambols of some 
 ugly new importation of the Zoological Society. When 
 the story was told, he pointed coolly to the door. 
 
 The shriek that the miserable creature set up on 
 seeing that gesture, I shall never forget. 
 
 * Do you think I shaU turn my house into a refuge 
 for destitute attorneys ? ' Ralph said, answering my 
 look of inquiry. * If there were no other reason, I 
 would not risk it, with your wife under my roof A 
 night attack in the West is no child's play ! * 
 
152 GUr LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Kate had come out, and was leaning over the gal- 
 lery : she heard the last words, and spoke, flushing 
 scarlet with anger. 
 
 ' If I thought that my presence prevented an act 
 of common humanity, I would leave your house this 
 instant, Colonel Mohun/ 
 
 Ealph smiled slightly, as he bent his head in cour- 
 teous acknowledgment of her interruption. 
 
 ' Don't be indignant, Mrs Carew. If you have a 
 fancy for such an excitement, I shall be too happy to 
 indulge you. It is settled, then ? We back the attor- 
 ney. Don't lie there, sir, docking so like a whipped 
 hound. You hear ? You are safe for the present.' 
 He had hardly finished, when there came a rustling 
 of feet outside, then hurried whispers, then a knock, 
 and a summons. 
 
 * We'd like to spake wid the Curnel, av ye plase.' 
 
 * I am here ; what do you want ? ' Mohun growled. 
 ' We want the 'torney. We know he's widin.* 
 
 * Then I'm afraid you'U be disappointed. It's not 
 my fancy to give him up. I wouldn't turn out a 
 badger to you ; let alone a man.' 
 
 You see, he took the high moral ground, now 
 
 * Then we'U have him out, in spite of yez,' two or 
 three voices cried out together. 
 
 * Try it ! ' Ralph said. * Meantime I am going to 
 dine; good-night.' 
 
 A voice that had not spoken yet was heard, with a 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 153 
 
 skrill, gibing accent. ' Ah, thin, the best of appetites 
 to ye, Curnel, darlin ! and make haste o^er yer din 
 ner. It's Pierce Delaney that'll give ye yer supper.* 
 Then they went off. 
 
 * The said Delaney is a huge quarryman,' Ralph ob- 
 served. ' He represents the physical element of terror 
 hereabouts, as I believe I do the moral. We shall 
 have warm work before morning. He does not like me. 
 Fritz, send Connell up ; he is below, somewhere.' 
 
 The keeper came, looking very much surprised. 
 He had been in the stables, and had only just heard 
 of the disturbance. 
 
 * Get the rifles and guns ready, with bullets and 
 buck-shot,' his master said. ' We are to be attacked, 
 it seems.' 
 
 The man's bold face fell, blankly. 
 
 * By the powers, yer honour, I haven't the value of 
 an ounce of poudther in the house. . I meant to get 
 some the morrow mornin, afore ye were up.' 
 
 Mohun shrugged his shoulders, whistling softly. 
 
 * Man proposes,' he said. ' It's almost a pity that 
 we foimd so many cocks in the Lower Copse this 
 afternoon. I have fifteen charges or so in my pistol- 
 case. "We must make that do, loading the rifles 
 light.' Then he went to a window, whence he could 
 see down the road ; the moon was shining brightly. 
 
 ' I thought so ; they have got scouts posted already. 
 The barbarians know something of skirmishing, after 
 
154 GUY LIVINGSTONB. 
 
 all. Maddox, come here/ (The groom was a strong 
 English boy, very much afraid of his master, but of 
 nothing else on earth.) * Saddle Sunbeam, and go out 
 by the back gates, keeping well under the shadow of 
 the trees. "When you clear them, ride straight at the 
 rails at the end of the paddock. You'll get over with 
 a scramble, I think — keep fast hold of his head — you 
 musn't fall. Then make the best of your way to 
 A , and tell Colonel Harding, with my compli- 
 ments, that I shall be glad if he will send over a troop 
 as quickly as possible. They ought to be here in two 
 hours. And mind, don't spare the horse going, but 
 bring him back easy. You will be of no use here, 
 and I won't have him lamed if I can help it. You'll 
 have to risk a bullet or two as you get into the road ; 
 but they can't shoot. It's odds against their hitting 
 you. Now, go.' 
 
 The groom pulled his forelock, as if the most ordin- 
 ary commission had been given him, and vanished. 
 
 * Connell,' Ralph went on, ' go and saw the ladders 
 that are in the yard half through. They will hardly 
 try the barred windows ; but it looks more workman- 
 like to take aU precautions. Then come back, and 
 help Fritz to pile chairs and furniture all up the stair- 
 case, and about the haU near it. Line the gallery 
 with mattresses, two deep, leaving spaces to fire 
 through. Light aU the lamps, and get more candles 
 to fix about ; we shall not see very clearly after the 
 
GUY LI^TNGSTONE. 155 
 
 smoke of the first dozen shots. When you have 
 finished, come to me. Now, shall we go back to 
 dinner ? ' 
 
 I am not ashamed to own I had little appetite ; 
 nevertheless, I sat down. Kate had gone to her room. 
 If her courage was failing, she did not wish to show it. 
 
 Suddenly our host got up, and went to the window. 
 His practised ear had caught the tread of the horse 
 which Maddox was taking out as quietly as possible, 
 "We watched him stealing along under the trees, till 
 their shelter failed him. Then he put Sunbeam to 
 speed, and rode boldly at the rails. A yell went up 
 from the road, and we saw dark figures running ; then 
 came a shot, just as the horse was rising at the fence. 
 He hit it hard, and the splinters flew up, white in the 
 moonlight ; but he was over. We held our breath, 
 while several flashes told of dropping shots after the 
 fugitive. They did not stop him, though ; and, to 
 our great relief, we heard the wild rush of the 
 frightened horse subside into a long stretching gallop, 
 and the wind brought back a cheery hollo — ' Forr'ard, 
 forr'ard away ! ' 
 
 'So far, so good,' said Ralph Mohun, as he sat 
 down again, and went in steadily at a woodcock. 
 * Don't hurry yourselves, gentlemen. We have three- 
 quarters of an hour yet ; they will take that time to 
 muster. Clontarf, some hock ! ' 
 
 The boy to whom he spoke held out his glass with 
 
156 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 a pleasant smile. The coming peril had not altered 
 a tint on his fresh, beardless cheeks — rosy and clear 
 as a page's in one of Boucher's pictures. 
 
 A good contrast he made with the miserable attor- 
 ney, who had followed us uninvited (it seemed he 
 only felt safe in our presence), and who was crouch- 
 ing in a corner, his lank hair plastered round his 
 livid convulsed face with the sweat of mortal fear. 
 
 It struck Mohun, I think. He laid his hand on 
 
 Clontarf's shoulder, and spoke with a kindliness of 
 
 voice and manner, most unusual to him — 
 
 ' We'll quell the savage mountaineer, 
 As tlieir Tinchell cows the game : 
 They come, as fleet as forest deer ; 
 We'll drive them back, as tame.' 
 
 Even at that anxious moment, I could not help 
 laughing at the idea of Ralph quoting poetry — of that 
 grim Saul among the prophets. 
 
 I went in to keep up Kate's spirits. She bore up 
 gallantly, poor child, and I left her tolerably calm. 
 She believed in me, as a ' plunger,' to an enormous 
 extent, and in Mohun still more. When I returned, 
 my companions were in the gaUery. This ran roimd 
 two sides of the haU, which went up to the roof. The 
 only access to the upper part of the house was by a 
 stone staircase of a single flight. The kitchen and 
 offices were on the ground floor, otherwise it was 
 uninhabited. 
 
 Ralph had his pistols by him, and his cavaliy 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 157 
 
 sword, long and heavy but admirably poised, lay 
 within bis rcacb. 
 
 * I have settled it,' be said. ' You and Connell are 
 to take tbe guns. Smootb bores are quickest loaded, 
 and will do for tliis short distance. Clontarf, who is 
 not quite so sure with the trigger, is to have the post 
 of honour, and guard the staircase with his sabre. 
 Throw another bucket of water over it, Connell— is it 
 thoroughly drenched ? And draw the windows up * 
 (these did not reach to within, ten feet of the floor), 
 'we shall be stifled else. But there will be a 
 thorough-draught when the door's down,' that's one 
 comfort. One word with you, Carew.' 
 
 He drew me aside, and spoke almost in a whisper, 
 while his face was very grave and stern. 
 
 * You will do me this justice, whatever happens. 
 Unless it had been forced upon me, I would not have 
 risked a hair of your wife's head to save all the 
 attorneys that are patronized by the father of lies. 
 But, mark me, if it comes to the worst, keep back a 
 bullet for her. Don't leave her to the mercy of those 
 savage devils, j. know them. She had better die 
 ten times over, than fall into their brutal hands. You 
 must use your own discretion, though. I shall not be 
 able to advise you then. Not a man of them wiU be 
 in this gallery till I am past pra^dng for. IS'everthe- 
 less, I hope and believe all wiU be right. Don't 
 trouble yourself to reload, Fritz will do that for you. 
 
158 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 I have given him his orders. Aim very coolly, 
 too ; we must not waste a bullet. You can choose 
 your own sword ; there are several behind you. Ah, 
 I hear them coming up. Now, men, to your posts.* 
 There was the tramp of many feet, and the surging 
 of a crowd about and against the hall-door. Then a 
 harsh, loud voice spoke — 
 
 * Onst for all, will ye give him up, or shall we take 
 him, and serve the rest of yez as bad ? Ye've got 
 women there, too — * 
 
 I will not add the rest of the threat for very shame. 
 I know it made me more wolfish than ever I thought 
 it possible to feel ; for I am a good-natured man in 
 the main. Mohun, who is not, bit his moustache 
 furiously and his voice shook a little^ as he answered — 
 
 * Do you ever say a prayer. Pierce Delaney ? You 
 need one now. If you live to see to-morrow's sunset, 
 I wish my right hand may wither at the wi'ist.' 
 
 A shrill howl pealed out from the assailants, and 
 then the stout oak door cracked and quivered under 
 the strokes of a heavy battering-beam ; in a hundred 
 seconds the hinges yielded, and it came clattering in ; 
 over it leaped three wild figures, bearing torches and 
 pikes ; but their chief, Delaney, was not one of them. 
 
 ' The left-hand man is yours, Carew ; Connell, take 
 the middle one,' said Ealph, as coolly as if we had 
 sprung a pack of grouse. While he spoke his pistol 
 cracked, and the right-hand intruder dropped across 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 159 
 
 the threshold without a cry or a stagger, shot right 
 through the brain. The keeper and I were nearly as 
 fortunate. Then there was a pause: then a rush 
 from without, an irregular discharge of musketry, 
 and the clear part of the hall was crowded with 
 enemies. 
 
 I can^t tell exactly what ensued. I know they 
 retreated several times, for the barricade was impass- 
 able ; and while their shots fell harmlessly on the 
 mattresses^ every one of ours told — nothing makes a 
 man shoot straight like being short of powder — ^but 
 they came on again, each time with added ferocity. .' 
 
 I heard Mohun mutter more than once, in a dis- 
 satisfied tone, *why does not that scoundrel show 
 himself ? — I can't make out Delaney.' All at once I 
 heard a stifled cry on my right, and, to my horror, I 
 saw Clontarf dragged over the balustrade in the gripe 
 of a giant, whom I guessed at once to be the man we 
 had looked for so long. Under cover of the smoke, he 
 had swung himself up by the balustrade of the stair- 
 case, and grasping the poor boy's collar as he looked 
 out incautiously from his shelter, dropped back into 
 the hall, carrying his victim with him. 
 
 "With a roar of exultation the wild beasts closed 
 round their prey. Before I had time to think what 
 could be done, I heard, close at my ear, a blasphemy 
 so awful that it made me start even at that critical 
 moment : it w^s Ralph's voice, but I hardly knew it-^ 
 
160 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 hoarse and guttural, and indistinct with passion. 
 Without hesitating an instant, he swung himself over 
 the balustrade and lighted on his feet in the midst of 
 the crowd. They were half drunk with whisky, and 
 maddened by the smell of blood ; but — so great was 
 the terror of Mohun's name — all recoiled when they 
 saw him. thus face to face, his sword bare and his eyes 
 blazing. That momentary panic saved Clontarf. In 
 a second, Ralph had thrown him under the arch of a 
 deep doorway, and placed himself between the sense- 
 less body and its assailants. Two or three shots were 
 fired at him without efiect ; it was difficult to take 
 aim in such a tossing chaos ; then one man, Delaney, 
 sprung out at him with a clubbed musket. ' At last ! ' 
 we heard Mohun say, laughing low and savagely in 
 his beard, as he stepped one pace forward to meet his 
 enemy. A blow that looked as if it might have felled 
 Behemoth was warded dexterously by the sabre, and 
 by a quick turn of the wi'ist, its edge laid the rap- 
 paree's face open in a bright scarlet gash, extending 
 from eyebrow to chin. 
 
 His comrades rushed over his body, furious, though 
 somewhat disheartened at seeing their champion come 
 to grief ; but they had to deal with a blade that had 
 kept half-a-dozen Hungarian swordsmen at bay ; and, 
 with point or edge, it met them everyw^here, magically. 
 They were drawing back, when Delaney, recovering 
 from the first efiects of his fearful wound, crawled 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 161 
 
 forward, gasping out curses that seemed floatiug on 
 the torrent of his rushing blood, and tried to grasp 
 Mohun by the knees and drag him down. 
 
 Pah ! it was a sight to haunt one's dreams. — (You 
 might have fiUed my glass, some of you, when you 
 saw it was empty.) 
 
 Ralph looked down on him, and laughed again ; his 
 sabre whirled round once, and cleared a wide circle ; 
 then, trampling down the wounded man by main force, 
 he drove the point through his throat, and pinned him 
 to the floor. I tell you I heard the steel plainly as it 
 grated on the stone. There was an awful convulsion of 
 aU the limbs, and then the huge mass lay quite still. 
 
 Then came a lull for several moments. The Irish 
 cowered back to the door, like penned sheep ; their 
 ammunition was exliausted, and none dared to cross 
 the hideous barrier that now was between them and 
 the terrible cuirassier. 
 
 AU this took about half the time to act that it docs 
 to teU. I was hesitating whether to descend or to stay 
 where my duty clearly called me — near my wife. 
 Fritz knelt behind me, silent and motionless : he had 
 got his orders to stay by me to the last ; but the 
 sturdy keeper rose to his feet. 
 
 * Faix,' he said, * I'm but a poor hand at the 
 swoording, but I must help the masther, anyhow ; ' 
 and he began to climb over the breastwork. The 
 ColonePs quick glance caught the movement, and his 
 
162 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 brief imperious tones rang out over tlie tubbub of 
 voices, loud and clear. 
 
 ' Don't stir, Connell ; stay where you are. I can 
 finish with these hounds alone.' 
 
 As he spoke, he dashed in upon them with lowered 
 head and uplifted sword. 
 
 I don't wonder that they all recoiled; his whole face 
 and form were fearfully transfigured; every hair in his 
 bushy beard was bristling with rage ; and the incar- 
 nate devil of murder was gleaming redly in his eyes. 
 
 Just then there was a wild cry from without, 
 answered by a shriek from my wife, who had been 
 quite silent till now. At first I thought that some 
 fellows had scaled the window ; but I soon distin- 
 guished the accents of a great joy. My poor Kate ? 
 She had roughed it in barracks too long, not to know 
 the rattle of the steel scabbards. 
 
 "When the dragoons came up at a hard gallop, there 
 was nothing left in the court-yard but the dead and 
 d}dng. Mohun had followed the flyers to get a last 
 stroke or two at the hindmost. We clambered down 
 into the hall, and, just as we reached the door, we saw 
 a miserable crippled being clinging round his knees, 
 crying for quarter. Poor wretch ! he might as well 
 have asked it from a famished jungle-tiger. The arm 
 that had fallen so often that night, and never in vain, 
 came down once more ; the piteous appeal ended in a 
 death-yell, and, as we reached him, Mohun was wiping 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 163 
 
 coolly Lis dripping sabre — it had no more work 
 to do. 
 
 I could not lielp shuddering as I took his offered 
 hand, and I saw Connell tremble for the first time, as 
 he made the sign of the cross. 
 
 The dragoons were returning from the pursuit; 
 they had only made two prisoners ; the darkness and 
 broken ground prevented their doing more. Ralph 
 went up to the officer in command. 
 
 ' How very good of you to come yourself, Hard- 
 ing, when I only asked you for a troop. Come in ; you 
 shall have some supper in half-an-hour, and Fritz will 
 take care of your men. Throw all that carrion out,* 
 he went on, as we entered the hall, strewn with corpses. 
 ' "We'll give them a truce to take up their dead.' 
 
 Clontarf came to meet us ; he had only been stunned 
 and bruised by the fall. His pale face flushed up, as 
 he said, * I shall never forget that I have to thank 
 you for my life.' 
 
 * It's not worth mentioning,' Mohun replied, care- 
 lessly. * I hope you are not much the worse for the 
 tumble. Gad ! it was a near thing, though. The 
 quarrjTuan's arms were a rough necklace.' 
 
 At that moment they were carrying by the dis- 
 figured remains of the dead colossus. His slayer 
 stopped them, and bent over the hideous face with a 
 grim satisfaction. 
 
 * My good friend, Delaney,' he muttered, ' you will 
 
164 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 own that I have kept my word. If ever we meet 
 again, I think I shall know you. An rcvoir/ and he 
 passed on. 
 
 I need not go through the congratulatory scene, nor 
 describe how Kate blushed as they complimented her 
 on her nerve. Fortunately for her, she had seen 
 nothing, though she had heard it all. Just as we were 
 sitting down to supper, which Fritz prepared with his 
 usual stoHd coolness, and when Kate was about to leave 
 us, for she needed rest, we remarked the attorney 
 hovering about us, with an exultation on his face yet 
 more servile and repulsive than its late abject terror. 
 
 * Mrs Carew,* said Mohun, * if you have quite done 
 with your protege, I think we'll send him down-stairs. 
 Give him something to eat, Fritz; not with the 
 soldiers, though ; and let some one take him home as 
 soon as it's light. If you say one word, sir, I'll have 
 you turned out now. 
 
 Mr Kelly crept out of the room, almost as fright- 
 ened as he had been two hours before. 
 
 The supper was more cheerful than the dinner, 
 though there was a certain constraint on the party, 
 who were not all so seasoned as their host. He was 
 in unusual spirits ; so much so, that Clontarf confided 
 to a comet, his particular friend, that ' it was a pity 
 the Colonel could not have such a bear fight once a 
 fortnight, it put him into such a charming humour.' 
 
 We had nearly finished when, from the road outside, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 165 
 
 there came a prolonged ear-piercing wail, that made 
 the window-panes tremble. I never heard any earthly 
 sound at once so expressive of utter despair, and 
 appealing to heaven or hell for vengeance. 
 
 "We all started, and set down our glasses ; but 
 Mohun finished his slowly, savouring like a connois- 
 seur the rich Burgundy. 
 
 * It is the wild Irish women, keening over their 
 dead/ he remarked, with perfect unconcern. * They^il 
 have more to howl for before I have done with them. 
 I shall go round with the police to-morrow, and pick 
 up the stragglers. Your men are too good for such 
 work, Harding. There are several too hard hit to go 
 far ; and my hand-writing is pretty legible.' 
 
 The stout soldier to whom he spoke bent his head in 
 assent, but with rather a queer expression on his 
 honest face. 
 
 * Gad! ' he said, 'you do your work cleanly, Mohun.' 
 ' It is the best way, and the shortest in the end,' 
 
 was the reply ; and so the matter dropped. 
 
 ^The dragoons left us before daybreak ; their pro- 
 tection was not needed, we were as safe as in the Tower 
 of London. The next morning, while I was sleeping 
 heavily, Ralph was in the saddle, scouring the coun- 
 try, with what success the next assizes could tell. 
 
 I go there again this winter for the cock-shooting, 
 but I don't much think Kate wiU accompany me. 
 
 Now^ who says ' a rubber ' ? Don't aU speak at once. 
 
166 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 He has mounted her on a milk-'«hite steed^ 
 
 Himself on a dappled grey ; 
 And a bugelet-horn hung down by his side, 
 
 As lightly they rode away. 
 
 It is hard to describe the terrible prestige which, 
 after the event I have been speaking of, attached itself 
 to Ealph Mohun. As for attempting a second attack 
 on the fatal house, the peasantry would as soon have 
 thought of storming the Bottomless Pit. They did 
 not even try a shot at him from behind a wall ; con- 
 sidering him perfectly invulnerable, they deemed it a 
 pity to waste good powder and lead that might be 
 usefully employed on an agent or process server. As 
 his gaunt, erect figure went by, the men shrunk out 
 of his path, and the women called their children in 
 hastily, and shut their cabin-doors ; the very beggars, 
 who are tolerably unscrupulous, gave his gate a wide 
 berth, crossing themselves, with a muttered prayer, 
 * God stand betwixt us and harm.' If Palph perceived 
 this, I think he rather liked it ; at all events he made 
 no attempt, either by softening his manner, or by any 
 act of benevolence, to win the popular favour. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 167 
 
 Before going to the Lodge I had heard from Living- 
 stone. He said that his cousin's affair with Charley- 
 was progressing satisfactorily (I knew what that 
 meant), and that he himself was going to sell out. I 
 was not surprised at this ; for some time past even 
 the light restraint of service in the Household Brigade 
 had begun to bore him. But the intelligence, con- 
 veyed in a brief note from him, during my stay with 
 Mohun, startled me very much. It announced, with- 
 out any preface or explanation, that he was engaged 
 to Constance Brandon. 
 
 I had observed that lately he had never mentioned 
 or alluded to Miss Bellasys ; but he had been equally 
 silent about his present betrothed. I told my host of 
 the news directly. 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear it,* he said. * I never heard 
 anything but good of his fiancee. She is wonderfully 
 beautiful, too, I beKeve, and her blood is unexception- 
 able. And yet,' he went on musingly, ' I should hardly 
 have fancied that she would quite suit Guy. I don't 
 know any one who would exactly. By-the-by, was 
 there not a strong flirtation with a Miss Bellasys ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, so strong, that I should have been less sur- 
 prised to have seen her name in this letter.' 
 
 ' Then he has not got out of that scrape, yet,^ Mohun 
 observed. * That girl comes of the wrong stock to give 
 up anything she has fancied without a struggle. I 
 knew her father, Dick Bellasys, well. He contrived 
 
 M 
 
168 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 to compress as much, mischief into his five-and-thirty 
 years, before De Lawnay shot him, as most strong 
 men can manage in double the time. He was like 
 the Visconti — never sparing man ia his anger, or 
 woman in his love.' 
 
 I felt that he was right. I did not fancy the idea 
 of Flora's state of mind, when she heard that all her 
 fascinations had failed, and that her rival had won 
 the day. 
 
 * I think I must leave you sooner than I had ia- 
 tended,' I said ; * I should like to be in England to 
 see how things are goiug on.' 
 
 ' You are right,' answered Ealph, ' though I shall 
 be sorry to lose you. You have some influence with 
 Livingstone, I know, though he is so hard to guide 
 and self-reliant that advice is almost useless. If I 
 had to give you a consigne, it would be — Distrust. If 
 Miss Bellasys seems to take thiags pleasantly, be still 
 more wary. I never saw a peculiarly frank, winning 
 smile on her father's face without there being ruin to 
 some one m the backgroimd. After all, you can do 
 but little, I suppose. Che sara, saraJ He said this 
 drearily, and with something like a sigh. 
 
 I had some busiuess which detained me in Dublin, 
 and it was nearly a fortnight after I received Guy's 
 letter before I reached London. 
 
 Early on the morning after my arrival, I went down 
 to his lodgings in Piccadilly. I found him at break- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 169 
 
 fast ; after the first greetings, before I could say one 
 word about bis own afiairs, be began to speak eagerly. 
 ' Wbat a pity you sbould have come too late for 
 the catastrophe, when you had seen all the preface. 
 Five days ago Bella and Charley made their great 
 coupy and were married in Paris.^ 
 
 * And Bruce ? ' I said, recovering from the intelli- 
 gence, which was not so unexpected, after all. 
 
 * Ah ! Bruce,' Guy replied ; * I should be very 
 glad if I knew what he icas doing at this moment. I 
 have been expecting him every day ; but nothing has 
 been heard of him since he left my mother's presence, 
 in a rabid state of fury. Did I tell you it was from 
 Kerton they fled ? I thought he must have come to 
 me for an explanation, knowing that I was an accessory 
 before the fact. Indeed I lent Charley the sinews of 
 war, in the shape of a blank cheque, which I see, this 
 morning, he has filled up for a thousand — just like his 
 modesty. "Well, I hope they'll amuse themselves! 
 Bruce has never been near me. Suicide is the most 
 charitable suggestion I've heard yet ; but coroners are 
 silent, and the Thames, if it is conscious of that unlucky 
 though disagreeable man, keeps his secret so far.' 
 
 Then he went on to give me more particulars of the 
 escapade. It seems that Miss Eaymond had gone out 
 to walk alone, after luncheon^ and that nothing more 
 was heard of her till dinner-time, when a note was 
 found on her dressing-table, addressed to her aunt, 
 
170 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 containing the intelligence of her flight with Forrester, 
 and a little piece of ready-made penitence : the first, 
 for all whom it might concern ; the second, for her 
 father. 
 
 That placid Lord Ullin received the news by tele- 
 graph, when ie was well into his second ruhber at 
 the * Travellers ; ' he put the message into his pocket 
 without remark, and won the rubber before he rose. 
 It has been reported that he was somewhat absent 
 during its progress, so much so, as to rough his part- 
 ner's strongest suit ; but this I conceive to have been 
 an after-thought of some one's, or a canard of the 
 club. Impavid as the Horatian model-man — (just in 
 all his dealings J and tenacious of the odd- trick) — I 
 cannot imagine the convulsion of nature which would 
 have made him jeopardize by any sin of omission or 
 commission, the winning of the long odds. 
 
 He found Bruce that night, and told him all. He 
 never would give any account of that interview ; it 
 must have been a curious one. 
 
 Xvvb)}ioaav yap, ovreg ij(9iaroi to irpiv, 
 wvp Kul 6d\a<j<ja 
 
 Fancy the well-iced conventionalities of the one, 
 brought in contact with the other's savage tempera- 
 ment, maddened by baffled desires and the sense of 
 shameful defeat. 
 
 Before noon the next day, it was announced to 
 Lady Catherine, at Kerton Manor, that Bruce was 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 171 
 
 waiting for her in the drawing-room. It was with a 
 diffidence and sense of guilt very strange to her pure, 
 straightforward nature, that she obeyed the summons. 
 His back was to the door as she entered. 
 
 * I cannot tell you how sorry I am,' she began. 
 Bruce turned towards her his ghastly face, ravaged 
 
 and deformed by passion and sleeplessness, like a cane- 
 brake in the Western Indies over which a tornado has 
 passed. He did not appear to notice her words or her 
 offered hand ; but spoke in a strange broken voice, 
 after clearing his parched throat once or twice, 
 huskily — 
 
 * When did they go ? At what hour ? ' 
 She told him as well as she could. 
 
 * Where have they gone to ? ' 
 
 * I have not the least idea. Bella gave no hint of 
 this. Would you like to see her note ? ' and she 
 held it out to him. 
 
 The name appeared to sting him like the cut of a 
 whip ; for he started convulsively as he took the scrap 
 of paper. He read it through more than once, as if 
 unable to comprehend it ; the power of discrimina- 
 tion seemed blasted in his dry, red eyeballs; they 
 could only glare. 
 
 He made it out at last, and crumpled it up in his 
 hand, clenching it till the knuckles became dead- 
 white under the strain. 
 
 * We were to have been married this day month,' 
 
172 GUY LIVINGSTONE 
 
 he said to himself, in a hoarse whisper ; then raising 
 his voice, — ' You can guess, at least, which route they 
 have taken ? ' 
 
 * Indeed I cannot,' she answered ; * I would have 
 done anything to prevent this ; but you must see that 
 pursuit now would be worse than useless, it could 
 only lead to fresh evils.* 
 
 Then the smouldering passion burst into a flame. 
 
 * It is false ! ' he cried out ; you would have done 
 nothing. It is a plot ! You are all in it ; you, your 
 son, and more that I will know soon. I saw it from 
 the first moment I set foot in this cursed house. And 
 you think I will not be revenged ? "Wait, wait, and 
 see ! ' He spoke rapidly, but it seemed as if the 
 words could hardly force their way through his 
 gnashing teeth. 
 
 Good and kind-hearted as she was, there breathed 
 no prouder woman than Lady Catherine Livingstone. 
 Before he had ended, her hand was on the bell. 
 
 ' ' Not even your disappointment can excuse your 
 language,^ she said in her clear, vibrating tones ; * our 
 interview is ended. I have pitied you hitherto, and 
 blamedmy niece ; Ido neither now — she knew you better 
 than I. Not one word more. Mr Bruce's carriage. 
 
 Bruce glared at her savagely ; he would have sold 
 his soul, I believe, to have strangled her where she 
 stood ; but Guy's own peculiar look was in the cold, 
 disdainful eyes, which met his without flinching or 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 173 
 
 faltering. He knew that look very well, and quailed 
 under it now, as lie had done many times before. 
 
 ' A last piece of advice,' Lady Catherine said, as he 
 turned to go ; ' you had better curb your temper, if 
 you think of seeing my son. He may scarcely be so 
 patient with you as I have been.' 
 : If he heard it, he did not notice the remark ; but 
 left the room slowly. He lifted his hand but not his 
 head, in a stealthy gest\ire of menace, as he reached 
 the door. _^ 
 
 Lady Catherine stood for some moments after his 
 departure, as if in thought, unconsciously retaining 
 her somewhat haughty attitude and expression. Then 
 she went to her room, and prayed, with many tears, 
 that Isabel Raymond might never have to repent the 
 step she had taken so rashly. I think a presentiment 
 of danger made her pray for Guy too. But did she 
 ever forget him when she was on her knees ? 
 
 Nevertheless, Bruce had not shown upon the scene 
 since ; so that they could not convey to him the in- 
 telligence, when Isabel Forrester wrote from Paris to 
 communicate her marriage. 
 
 Guy went to Mr Eaymond, as a plenipotentiary 
 from the recently Allied Powers, to obtain, if possi- 
 ble, fair conditions of peace. His uncle was breakfast- 
 ing alone, and received him with perfect good- temper. 
 
 * My dear boy,' he said, * it was a match of your 
 poor aunt's making, not mine. If she had lived to 
 
174 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 see it broken oflP, I think she would have been very 
 much provoked.* (He gave a slight shudder of re- 
 miniscence here, and finished his chocolate.) * But 
 they say there is no marrying or giving in marriage 
 where she is gone ; so, let us hope, it will not seriously 
 affect her now. As to me, I have never been angry 
 since I was twenty-two. Personally, I very much 
 prefer Forrester to Bruce as a connection. I should 
 have allowed Bella £300 a year, and I suppose the 
 necessary outfit and presents would have cost me 
 about £500. I will do just the same now : neither 
 more nor less. You can tell Charley, he may draw 
 for the last sum and for the first quarter, when he 
 pleases. They had better travel for a year or so, I 
 think, till people have stopped talking about them. 
 Charley will sell out, of course ? ' 
 
 * His papers are sent in,' Guy replied. 
 
 * Just so,' Eaymond went on. * If they are in a 
 pleasant place, I may very likely go and see them this 
 summer. Suggest Hombourg. I should like to try 
 the waters. And tell Charley not to go about too 
 much alone after nightfall. The deserted one is 
 capable of laying a trap for him. I didn't like his 
 look when I saw him last. That is all, I think. Do 
 you go to Lady Featherstone's to-night ? ' 
 
 Raymond appeared at his clubs and elsewhere, with 
 a face so impenetrably cheerful and complacent, that 
 his bitterest friend dared not venture on a condolence. 
 
175 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Tu milii, tu certe (memini), Graecine, negabaa, 
 Uno posse aliquem tempore amare duas. 
 
 When I had heard all this, I questioned Guy about his 
 own affairs. He was not very communicative, though 
 he seemed perfectly happy and hopeful as to the 
 future. He said that his marriage was not to take 
 place till the autumn, when Miss Brandon's brother 
 (they were orphans) was expected to return from 
 India. I could not help asking what Flora Bellasys 
 thought of it ? 
 
 Livingstone bit his lip, and frowned slightly, as he 
 answered, * Well ! there was a scene, rather a tempes- 
 tuous one, to speak the truth ; but we are perfectly 
 good friends now. I wonder if she ever really expected 
 me to marry her ? she is the most amusing person alive 
 to flirt with ; but as for serious measures ' — he shrug- 
 ged his shoulders expressively. * Perhaps she has 
 something to complain of ; but if she has any con- 
 science at all, she ought to recognize the lex talio7iis* 
 
 I was not convinced or satisfied : but it was useless 
 to pursue the subject then. 
 
176 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ' Will you ride to-day ? ' Ghiy asked. * There are 
 always horses for you here. I should like to introduce 
 you to Constance. TVe shall be in the Park about 
 five.* 
 
 I accepted willingly, and left him soon afterwards. 
 
 A little after the hour he had named, I saw Living- 
 stone's tall figure turn the corner by Kensington Gar- 
 dens, riding on Miss Brandon's right : on her left was 
 her uncle, Mr Yavasour, her usual escort. 
 
 She was rarely lovely, certainly, as I was sure she 
 would be, for Guy's taste in feminine beauty was un* 
 disputed. Her features were delicate, but very clearly 
 cut ; the nose and chin purely Grecian in their out- 
 line ; the dark grey eyes met you with an earnest true 
 expression, as if they had nothing to conceal. Her 
 broad Spanish hat suited her well, shading as it did 
 cheeks slightly flushed by exercise, and shining 
 tresses of that colour which with us is nameless, and 
 which across the Channel they call — Uo7id cendr^. 
 Her hand was strikingly perfect even in its gauntlet. 
 It might have been modelled from that famous marble 
 fragment of which the Banker Poet was so proud, and 
 which Canova kissed so often. 
 
 There is a face that always reminds me of hers ; 
 though the figure in the portrait is far more matured 
 and developed than Constance's willowy form — the 
 picture of Queen Joanna of Naples, in the Palazzo 
 Doria. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 177 
 
 I have stood before it long, trying in vain to read 
 the riddle of the haughty lineaments, and serene un- 
 troubled eyes. Gazing at these, who could guess the 
 story of that most guilty woman and astute conspira- 
 tor — ^unbridled in sensuality — remorseless in state- 
 craft — who counted her lovers by legions, and saw, 
 unmoved, her chief favourite torn limb from limb on 
 the rack ? 
 
 But this is no singular instance. Marble and can- 
 vass are more discreet than the mask of the best- trained 
 living features. Messalina and Julia look cold and 
 correct enough, since they have been turned into stone. 
 Only by the magic of her smile, and by the glory of 
 her golden hair, do we recognize Her who, if all tales 
 are true, might have given a tongue to the walls of 
 the Yatican. We forget the Borgia, with her labor- 
 atory of philtres and poisons — we only think that 
 never a Duke of all his royal race brought home a 
 lovelier bride than Alfonso of Ferrara. 
 
 Perhaps it is best so. Why should a mark be set 
 upon those whom, it may be, history has condemned 
 unrighteously ? Let us not be more imcharitable than 
 the painter or the sculptor ; but pass on without 
 pausing to reflect — Desinit mpiscem. 
 
 If one had wanted to find a fault in Constance 
 Brandon's beauty, I suppose it would have been that 
 her forehead was too high, and her lips too thin and 
 decided in their expression, especially when compress- 
 
178 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ed under any strong feeling. But this defect it would 
 have been hard to discover on this first occasion of our 
 meeting. She looked so bright and joyous ; and the 
 light from her face seemed reflected on Guy's dark 
 features, softening their stern outline, and making 
 them radiant with a proud happiness. She received 
 me very cordially, and I well remember the pleasant 
 impression left on my ear by the first sound of her 
 voice, soft and low as Cordelia's. In these two attri- 
 butes it resembled that of Flora Bellasys ; yet their 
 tones were essentially difierent — as different as is to 
 the taste a draught of pure sparkling water from one 
 of strong sweet wine. We had taken two or three 
 turns, when a large party approached us, in the centre 
 of whom I recognised instantly Miss Bellasys. If 
 possible, she looked handsomer than ever, as she swept 
 by at a sharp canter, sitting square and firmly, but 
 yielding just enough to the stride of the horse — per- 
 fectly erect, but inimitably lithe and graceful. 
 
 Nothing in her demeanour betrayed the faintest 
 shade of emotion ; but I remembered the old maxim 
 of the fencing- school — 'Watch your enemy's eyes, 
 not his blade ; and I caught Flora's, as she raised her 
 head after returning our salutation, before she had 
 time to discipline them thoroughly. I saw them 
 glitter with defiant hatred as they lighted on her rival. 
 I saw them melt with passionate eagerness, as for one 
 brief moment they followed Guy's retreating figure 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 179 
 
 and averted face. Half of Moliuii's warning became 
 superfluous after that. I was in no danger of being 
 deceived by ' Miss Bellasys taking things pleasantly.* 
 
 Yet, as time wore on, the idea forced itself on me 
 more and more, that Livingstone's choice was, in some 
 respects, a mistake. They were not suited to each 
 other. Constance was as unsuspicious and as free 
 from common-place jealousies as the merest child ; 
 but some of her lover's proceedings did not please her, 
 and she told him so — perhaps without attending 
 sufficiently to the * suaviter in modo ' — for, when it 
 was a question of duty, real or fancied, to herself and 
 to others, she was rigid as steel. Besides this, she 
 was a strict observer of all Church canons and rituals ; 
 and more than once, when Guy had proposed some 
 plan, a Vigil, or Matins, or Vespers came in the way. 
 She did all for the best, I am certain, and judged 
 herself far more severely than she did others ; but she 
 could not guess how anything like an admonition or 
 a lecture grated on the proud, self-willed nature that 
 from childhood had been imused to the slightest con- 
 trol. To speak the truth, too, she was not exempt 
 from that failing which brought ruin on the brightest 
 of the angels, and punishment eternal on the Son of 
 the Morning; so that pride may often have checked 
 the evidence of the deep love she really felt, and 
 made her manner seem constrained and cold. 
 
 I only guess all this ; for neither then, nor at any 
 
180 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 future time, did I ever hear from Guy the faintest 
 whisper of accusation or complaint. 
 
 I do not think he contradicted her often ; I am 
 quite sure it never came to a quarrel, or even a dis- 
 pute. They were not a couple likely to indulge in 
 the amantium ircB ; but sometimes after quitting her, 
 his brow was so ominously overcast, that it would ha^'O 
 gladdened the very heart of Flora Bellasys to have 
 seen it. Once, I remember, after sitting some time in 
 silence, his eyes turned towards a table, where, among 
 other letters, lay a little triangular note unopened. 
 He broke the seal, and read it through, frowning still 
 heavily; after a few moments of what looked Hke 
 hesitation, he seemed to come to a decision, and bui'nt 
 it slowly at the flame of his spiiit-lamp. Then he 
 rose, and shook all his mighty limbs — as the Danite 
 Titian might have done, before his locks were shorn 
 — and sat down again with a long-drawn sigh, as of 
 relief. I longed to interpose with a warning word, 
 for in the handwriting I recognized the (jriffe of the 
 fatal Delilah. But I knew how dangerous it was to 
 attempt interference with Guy; and besides, this 
 time, I felt sure he had escaped the toils. Yet my 
 heart sank, as I thought of the seductions and tempt- 
 ations that the future might have in store. I could 
 hardly keep my temper that evening, when I saw at 
 the opera Flora Bellasys — triumphant, as if she coidd 
 guess what the morning's work had been — and thei^ 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 181 
 
 thouglit of the single, guileless heart whose happiness 
 she was plotting to overthrow. 
 
 She and Guy met constantly ; for he still went 
 everywhere, often unaccompanied by his Jia?icee, They 
 seemed to be on the most ordinary footing of old 
 acquaintances : though it was remarked that no one 
 could be said to have succeeded to the post of Grand 
 Vizier at the Bellasys Court, vacated by Livingstone. 
 I cannot trace the threads of the web of Circe. She 
 concealed them well, at the time ; and since — between 
 the knowledge of them, and me, is drawn the veil of a 
 terrible remorse, which I have never tried to penetrate. 
 
 I can only tell the end, which came very speedily. 
 
182 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 'Tis good to be merry and wise ; 
 'Tis good to be honest and true; 
 'Tis good to be oflf with the old love, 
 Before you are on with the new. 
 
 There was a sound of revelry by night in Mrs 
 "Wallace's villa at E-ichmond, and fair women and 
 brave men mustered there strong. Every one liked 
 those parties. The hostess was young and very 
 charming; while her husband, a bald, inoffensive, 
 elderly man, was equally eminent in his own depart- 
 ment of the commissariat. His wines were things to 
 dream of in after years, when, like Curran, ' confined 
 to the port ' of a remote country inn, one sacrifices 
 oneself heroically on the altar of the landlord, for the 
 good of the house. 
 
 The crowd was not so dense as at most London 
 parties, and the temperature consequently something 
 below that of a vapour-bath or of the Piombi ; but the 
 generality of the guests were either amusing, or pretty, 
 or otherwise eligible. To be sure it was rather an 
 expedition and a question of passports, to get down 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 183 
 
 there ; but tlie drive home through the cool dewy 
 morning made you amends. 
 
 Constance Brandon was present. I never saw her 
 look so lovely as on this, her last appearance on the 
 world's stage. Ko one could have guessed that, five 
 hours later, the light was to die in her eyes, and 
 the colour in her cheeks — never to return to either 
 ao-ain, till she shall wake on the Resurrection 
 morning. 
 
 Flora Bellasys was there, too, in all the insolence 
 of beaut}", defying criticism, and challenging the 
 admiration that was lavished on her. I should like 
 to describe her dress ; but I know how dangerous it 
 is for the uninitiate to venture within the verge of 
 those awful mysteries over which, as Hierophants, 
 Devy and Maradan- Carson preside. Conscious of my 
 sex I retire. Have we not read of Acta3on ? 
 
 Still I may say that I have an impression of her 
 beiag surroimded by a sort of cloud of pale blue tulle, 
 over which bouquets of geranium were scattered here 
 and there ; and I remember perfectly a certain serpent 
 of scarlet velvet and diamonds, flashing amidst the 
 rolls and braids of her dark shining tresses. 
 
 The evening began with private theatricals, which 
 were most successful. There was a soubrette — provok- 
 ing enough to have set all the parti-coloured world 
 by the ears — who traced her descent from a vavasor 
 of Dxike William the Nonnan ; and an attorney's 
 
 N 
 
ISl GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 clerk, who had evidently mistaken his profession when 
 he took a commission in the Coldstreams. 
 
 Soon after the ball which followed had beo-un, 
 Livingstone arrived. He had been dining at the mess 
 of his old regiment. I never remember seeing him, 
 what is called, the worse for liquor. His head was 
 marble under the influence of wine, and of yet stronger 
 compounds ; but the instant I met his eyes, I guessed 
 from their unusual brilliancy, and from the slight 
 additional flush on his brown cheeks, that the wassail 
 had been deep. 
 
 He paused for a moment to say a word or two to 
 me ; and I noticed that the first person whom his glance 
 lighted on was — not his betrothed, but Flora Bellasys. 
 The latter was resting after her first polka with her 
 usual staff" of admirers round her, Guy watched the 
 circle paying their homage, and I heard him mutter 
 to himself the formula of the Roman arena — Morituri 
 te salutant. Then he passed on ; and after retaining 
 Constance for her first disengaged turn, he began 
 talking to a lady, whom I have not noticed yet, but 
 who merits to be sketched hastily. 
 
 Eose Thornton was not clever. She was no longer 
 in her first youth, and had never been pretty or very 
 attractive. Her figure was neat, and her face had a 
 sort of nervous deprecating expression, that made you 
 look at it a second time. Nevertheless, she was always 
 deeply engaged, and generally to the best goers in the 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 185 
 
 room. She was a good performer herself, but this 
 would not account for it; ninety-nine girls out of every 
 hundred are that, after two seasons' practice. Those 
 who were in the secret did not wonder at her luck^ 
 She was the dme damnee of Flora Bellasj^s. 
 - When the latter ventured on any unusually daring 
 escapade, she was always really accompanied by Miss 
 Thornton, or supposed to be so. How the influence 
 was originally acquired, I know not ; at the time I 
 speak of she had no more volition left than a Russian 
 grenadier. She had some principles of action once, 
 I suppose, and considered herself as an accountable 
 being ; but all such vanities her ' dashing white Ser- 
 jeant ' had drilled out of her long ago. Poor thing ! 
 It was no wonder that the frightened look had become 
 habitual to her face, and that she always spoke with 
 reserve and constraint, as if to guard against the 
 chance betrayal of some terrible secret. It was no 
 sinecure her office — alternately scapegoat and conjl- 
 dante. My own idea is, that having still a little 
 feeble remnant of a conscience remaining, she suffered 
 agonies of remorse at times, in the latter capacit3\ 
 Dancing was her great — almost her only pleasure ; 
 and Flora, certainly, provided her regularly with 
 partners. Indeed, some one had irreverently desig- 
 nated Miss Thornton as The Turnpike ; inasmuch, 
 as before securing a waltz with the beauty, it was ne- 
 cessary to pay toll in the shape of a duty-dance with 
 
1^6 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 her protegee. Rose's gratitude was boundless. Slie 
 never wearied in rendering small services to her pa- 
 troness. She would write her notes for her, as La 
 Eaffe did for Richelieu, and fetch and carry like the 
 best of retrievers ; venturing every now and then on 
 a timid caress, which was permitted rather than ac- 
 cepted, with an imperial nonchalance. The only 
 subject on which she ever expanded into eloquence 
 was the fascinations of her friend. She spent all her 
 weak breath in blowing that laudatory trumpet, as if 
 she expected the defences of the best-guarded heart 
 to fall prostrate before it, lilve the walls of Jericho. 
 And yet, if all the truth were known, I think she had 
 as much reason to complain as the dwarf in the story 
 who swore fellowship -in-arms with the giant. 
 
 I was sorry to see Livingstone linger at her side ; 
 yet more sorry when, by an easy transition, he passed 
 on to Flora's, and the circle around her, from old 
 habit, made room for him to pass. He did not stay 
 there long, though — only long enough to make futui-e 
 arrangements, I suppose — and then, for some time, I 
 lost sight of him. 
 
 I had been driving heavily through a quadi'ille, in 
 the society of a very foolish virgin, whose ideas of 
 past, present, and future seemed bounded by the last 
 opera, which she had, and I had not seen. A horror 
 of great dulness had fallen upon me, and I went out 
 to restore the tone of my depressed spirits by a liba- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 187 
 
 tion, wlicrtiii I deyoted, solemnly, my late partner to 
 the infernal gods. AYlien I returned they were play- 
 ing ' The Olga/ and Flora was whirling round on 
 Guy Livingstone's arm. 
 
 Amongst her many perilous fascinations, have I 
 ever mentioned her wonderful waltzing ? She was as 
 untiring as an Almo ; and when once fairly launched 
 with a steer er who could do her justice, had a sway 
 with her — to use an Americanism — ^like that of a 
 clipper, three points off the wind. 
 
 As I watched her, almost reclining in her partner's 
 powerful grasp, her lips moving incessantly though 
 audibly only to him, as her head leant against his 
 shoulder, I thought of the old Ehine-land traditions 
 of the Wilis ; then the daughter of Herodias came 
 into my mind ; and then that scarcely less murderous 
 danseuse, at whose many-twinlding feet they say the 
 second Napoleon cast his frail life down. 
 
 If in his assault on St Anthony, the Evil One min- 
 gled no Terpsichorean temptation, be sure it was be- 
 cause the ancient man had no ear for music. I do 
 not think that weapon was forgotten when Don 
 Eoderic, who had once been a courtly king, did battle 
 through a long winter's night with the phantasm 
 of fair sinful La Cava. 
 
 The waltz was over ; and I saw Guy and Flora dis- 
 appear through the curtained door of the conservatory. 
 If there was one thing Mrs "Wallace was prouder of 
 
188 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 than another, it was the arrangement of this sanctum. 
 Yery justly so; for it had witnessed the commence- 
 ment and happy termination of more flirtations than 
 half the ball-rooms in London put together. When 
 you got into one of those nooks, contrived in artful 
 recesses, shaded by magnolias, camellias, and the 
 broad thick-leaved tropical plants, lighted dimly by 
 lamps of many-coloured glass, you felt the recitation 
 of some chapter in * the old tale so often told,' a neces- 
 sity of the position, not a matter of choice. Against 
 eybC vou were tolerably safe, though not against ears ; 
 but this is ui very secondary importance. The man 
 who would not assist a woman in distress (as the stage 
 sailor has it), by adhering to the whisper appropriate 
 to the imparting of interesting information, deserves 
 to be— overheard. 
 
 Flora sank down on a convenient caiiseiise, still 
 panting slightl}" ; not from breathlessness, but past 
 excitement — the ground-swell after the storm. 
 
 ' Ah, what a waltz ! ' she said, with a sigh. * And 
 what a pity it is so nearly the last ! I shall never find 
 any one else who will understand my step and pace 
 60 well.* 
 
 * Why should it be nearly the last ? ' Guy asked, 
 contemplating the var^dng expression of her face and 
 the somewhat careless 2'>osc of her magnificent figure, 
 with more than admiration in his eyes. 
 
 * On se ra?ige,' Flora answered, demurely. 'And 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 189 
 
 the first step iii the riglit dLrection will be to give up 
 one's favourite partners/ 
 
 He sat do^^Ti by ber, with a short laugh, that was 
 rather forced. 
 
 * Bah ! do you think because we are virtuous, there 
 shall be no more cakes and ale ? ' 
 
 * Of course I do. I could sketch your future so 
 easily. It will be intensely respectable. You will 
 become a model country sqmre. You will hunt a good 
 deal, but never ride any more. (You must sell the 
 Axeine, you know.) You will go to magistrates* 
 meetings regularly, and breed immense cattle ; and 
 you will grow very fat j^ourself. That's the worst of 
 aU. I don't like to fancy j^ou, stout and unwieldy, 
 like Athelstan.' 
 
 She ended pensively. The languor of reaction 
 seemed stealing over her ; but it only made her more 
 charming, as she leant still farther back on the soft 
 cushions, watching the point of her tiny foot tracing 
 the pattern of the carpet. 
 
 * What a brilliant horoscope,* said Guy ; * and so 
 benevolently sketched, too ! JN^ow your own, Improvi- 
 satrice ? ' 
 
 * I shall marry, too,* she answered, gravely. ' I 
 ought to have done so long ago. Perhaps I shall 
 make up my mind soon. Evil examples are so con- 
 tagious.* 
 
 * And v/ho wlU draw ihe great prize ? ' 
 
190 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ' I have not the faintest idea. I suppose some fine 
 old Eno;lisli gentleman, who has a great estate' 
 
 * I onl}^ hope the said estate will be near Kerton,' 
 Livingstone suggested ; and he drew closer to his 
 companion. 
 
 ' Ah, dear old Kcrton ! ' she said, sighing again. 
 * I shall never go there any more.' 
 
 * The reason ? * 
 
 * Perhaps, because my husband, whoever he may 
 be, will not choose to bring me.' 
 
 * Absurd ! ' Guy retorted, biting his lip hard. * As 
 if that individual would have any will of his o^^^l. 
 You want to provoke me, I sec.' 
 
 The answer came in so low a whisper, that, though 
 he bent his ear down, he had almost to guess at the 
 words. 
 
 * No ; I have never tried to do that, even during 
 the last three months. I am not brave enough. Per- 
 haps I should not come, because — I could not bear it.' 
 
 They were silent. She was so near him now that 
 her quick breath stirred his hair, and he could feel the 
 pulse of her heart beating against his own side. The 
 fiery Livingstone blood, heated seven-fold by wine 
 and passion, was surging through his veins like molten 
 iron. Memory and foresight were both swept away, 
 like withered leaves, by the strength of the terrible 
 temptation. 
 
 His arm stole round Lcr waist, and he drew her 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 191 
 
 towards him — close — closer yet ; then she looked up 
 in his face. The cloud of thoughtful gravity has 
 passed away fVom hers, and the provocations of a 
 myriad of coquettes and courtesans concentrated in 
 her marvellous eyes. 
 
 He bent down his lofty head, and instantly their 
 lips met, and were set together, fast. 
 
 A kiss ! Tibullus, Secundus, Moore, and a thousand 
 other poets and poetasters, have rhymed on the word 
 for centuries, decking it with the choicest and 
 quaintest conceits. But, remember ! — it was with a 
 kiss that the greatest of all criminals sealed the Un- 
 pardonable Sin — it was a kiss which brought on Fran- 
 cesca punishment so unutterably piteous, that He 
 swooned at the sight who endured to look on all other 
 horrors of Nine-circled Hell. 
 
192 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 God help thee, then ! 
 
 I'll see thy face no more. 
 Like water spilt upon the plain, 
 Not to be gathered up again, 
 
 Is the old love I bore. 
 
 Before tliat long caress was ended, close behind tliem 
 there broke forth a low plaintive cry, such as might be 
 wrung from the bravest of delicate women, in her ex- 
 tremity of pain, when stricken by a heavy brutal hand. 
 
 The hot blood ebbed back in Guy Livingstone's 
 veins, and froze at its fountain-liead. His punish- 
 ment had begun already. Before her face, white as 
 the dress she wore, was revealed througli a break in 
 the dark-green foliage of the camellias, he knew that 
 he had trifled away his life's happiness, and lost Con- 
 stance Brandon. 
 
 She came forward slowly : with a valiant effort she 
 had shaken off the first feeling of faintness that had 
 crept over her, and there was scarcely a trace of emo- 
 tion left on her features — calm and pale as the Angel 
 of Death. 
 
 Guy had risen, and stood still, ^^-ith his head bent 
 down on his breast. For the first time in his life he 
 
GtJY LIVINGSTONE. 193 
 
 was unable to raise liis eyes — weighed down by tbe 
 heavy sense of bitter disgrace and forfeited honour. 
 
 But the bright flush on Flora's cheek spoke more 
 of exultation than of shame ; the bouquet which she 
 raised to her lips only half concealed a smile of tri- 
 umph. She wreathed her slender neck haughtily, 
 while she met her rivaPs glance without flinching. 
 She thought that, if she had played for a heavy stake 
 — no less than the jeopardy of her fair fame — this 
 time, at least, the game was her own. 
 
 Constance spoke first, in a voice perfectly measured 
 and composed. There was not a false note in the soft, 
 musical tones. After once conquering her emotion, 
 she would have dropped dead at Flora's feet sooner 
 than betray how she was wounded. 
 
 * When you have taken Miss Bellasys back, will 
 3^ou come to me for a moment, Mr Livingstone ? I 
 will wait for j'ou here.' 
 
 Flora rose before Guj^ could answer. ' Don't 
 trouble yourself,' she said, gaily. *Here is my 
 partner for the polka looking anxiously for me. I am 
 ready. Captain Kavenswood.'' 
 
 She turned before reaching the door, to fire a last 
 shot. 
 
 * It is the next galop I am to keep for you, is it not?' 
 This was to Guy ; but there was no answer. He 
 
 stood in precisely the same attitude, without a muscle 
 of his face stirring, or an eyelash quivering. 
 
104 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 In all the Rifle Brigade there was not a more reck- 
 less dare-devil than Harry Ravenswood, nor one who 
 adhered more devoutly to the convenient creed — ' All 
 is fair in war or love/ But he saw that something had 
 happened quite out of his line, and he did not venture 
 on a single allusion to it, as he led his partner back to 
 the dancing-room with a perplexed expression on his 
 cheery face, which amused Flora intensely when she 
 remarked it. When the subject came on for discus- 
 sion afterwards, in the smoking-room at his club, he 
 thus expressed himself in language terse and ele- 
 gantly allegorical : — 
 
 * You see, Livingstone is a very heavy weight ; a 
 good deal better than most in the ring. When I saw 
 him so floored as not to bo able to come to time, I 
 knew there had been some hard hitting going on 
 thereabouts, so I kept clear.' 
 
 The two who were left alone in the conservatory 
 remained silent for a few seconds. Then Guy roused 
 himself and ofiercd his arm to his companion, with an 
 impulse of courtesy that was simply mechanical. 
 She took it without remark ; and they passed out 
 through the door which led into the garden. 
 
 There Constance left his side ; and, for the first time, 
 their eyes met as they stood face to face under the 
 bright moon. Guy read his sentence instantly— a 
 sentence from which there was no appeal. The very 
 hopelessness of his situation restored its elasticity to 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 195 
 
 the somewhat £ullen pride, which was the mainspring 
 of his character. He stood waiting for her to speak; 
 and his eyes were not cast down now, but riveted on 
 her face — gloomily defiant. 
 
 * I hope you will believe,' Miss Brandon said, ' that 
 it was quite involuntarily I became a spy on your ac- 
 tions. I did not overhear one word : and my partner 
 
 had that moment left me, when I saw .' Not all 
 
 her self-command could check the shudder that ran 
 through every limb, and the choking in her throat 
 that would interrupt her. 
 
 * I have very little to add,-' she went on, more steadi- 
 ly. ' After what I witnessed, I need hardly say that 
 we only meet again as the merest strangers. You might 
 think meanly of me, indeed, if I ever allowed your lips 
 to touch my cheek or my hand again. Remember, 
 I told you from the first we were not suited to each 
 other ; perhaps I deserve all I have met with for 
 allowing myself to be overruled. You cannot contra- 
 dict a word of this, or say that it is unjust or severe.' 
 
 Did she pause in the expectation, or the hope, of 
 an excuse, or an appeal from her hearer ? Only the 
 hoarse answer came, — • 
 
 * I have forfeited the right to defend myself, or to 
 gainsay you.' 
 
 ' You would find it difficult to do either,* Constance 
 rejoined, rather more haughtily ; perhaps she was dis- 
 appointed in the tone of his reply. * One word more ; 
 
196 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 if my name is ever called in question, I am sure no 
 one will defend it more readily than yourself. My 
 voice will never be heard against you ; and if, here- 
 after, you should desire my forgiveness more than you 
 now do, remember, I have given it unasked, and 
 freely.' 
 
 Guy's tone was pregnant with cold, cruel irony, as 
 he answered — 
 
 * I congratulate you on your position, Miss Bran- 
 don ; it is quite unassailable. You are in the right 
 now, as you always have been. You were right, of 
 course, in always doling out the tokens of your love in 
 such scanty measure as your pride and your priests 
 would allow. They ought to canonize you — those 
 holy men ; I doubt if they have another disciple so 
 superior to all human weaknesses. It must be very 
 gratifying to so eminent a Christian to be able to 
 forgive plenarily, without danger of the favoui' being 
 returned. I have nothing to urge against your de- 
 cision — that we part for ever. You will have no 
 difficulty in forgetting me, whom you ought never to 
 have stooped to. Yet I will give you one caution. 
 I am not romantic, as you know, and I generally 
 mean what I say. If you should think hereafter of 
 bestowing yourself on some worthier object, hesitate 
 a little, for his sake, or wait till I am dead ; other- 
 wise, the day that makes his happiness certain may 
 bring him very near his grave.' 
 
GUY LIVINGSTON K. 197 
 
 His voice had changed during the last words into a 
 growl of savage menace ; and his forehead was black 
 and furrowed with passion. 
 
 It might have been his otvtl excited fancy, or the 
 passing just then of a light cloud over the moon ; but, 
 for an instant, he thought he saw her steady lip quiver 
 and tremble. If so, be very sure it was not fear which 
 caused the emotion, though even that the circumstance 
 might have excused ; rather, I think, it was a pang 
 of self-reproach ; a consciousness of having acted 
 unwisely, though for the best; perhaps, too, the 
 stubbornness of the heart she had ruled once — so 
 strong and proud even in its abasement — was con- 
 genial to her own besetting sin ; she liked the fierce 
 threat better than the cool sarcasm. At any rate, 
 she answered more gently than she had yet spoken. 
 
 ' I believe j^ou. But you know me better than to 
 think a threat would influence me. Yet you need not 
 fear my ever again trusting this world with my hap- 
 piness. You will be very sorry hereafter for some 
 thiQgs you have said to-night. Ask yourself — If I 
 had loved you, as you seem to have expected, better 
 than my own soul, woidd the result have been difier- 
 ent ? It is too late now to say anything but — farewell. 
 Will you not say it, as I do, kindly, or at least not 
 in anger — Guy ? ' 
 
 She paused between the last two words, and their 
 imploring accent was almost piteous. There must 
 
198 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 have been a strange fascination about Livingstone, 
 for, saint as she was, no other living creature would 
 have won such a concession from the Christian 
 charity of Constance Brandon. 
 
 Had Guy spoken then, as he ought to have done, I 
 believe all might have been amended ; but an angry 
 devil was busy within him, and would not let go his 
 prey ; he stood with his black brows downcast, and 
 with folded arms, never seeming to notice the slender 
 fingers that sought to touch his hand. True it is, 
 that nothing makes a man so unforgiving as the con- 
 sciousness of having inflicted a bitter wrong. lie 
 heard a sigh, heavy and despaii-ing as Francesca's 
 when her d^'ing prayer was spurned, a light shadow 
 flitted across the streak of moon-lit grass, and, when 
 he raised his head, he was left alone, lilie Alp on the 
 sea-shore, to judge the battle between a remorseful 
 conscience and a hardened heart. 
 
 Livingstone was seen no more that night ; Con- 
 stance glided in, alone, and her absence had been 
 scarcely noticed. During the short time that she re- 
 mained, no one could have guessed from her face that 
 her heart was broken, any more than did Napoleon that 
 the aid-de-camp who brought the news of Lannes' 
 victory had been almost cut in two by a grape-shot. 
 
 I speak it diflidently, with the fear of the Diviue 
 Voice of the People before my eyes, as is but fitting in 
 these equalizing days, when territories, the title to 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 199 
 
 which is possession immemorial, arc being plucked 
 away acre by acre, and hereditary privileges mined 
 one by one ; but, it seems to mc, in this, perhaps 
 solitary attribute, * the brave old Houses * still keep 
 their pre-eminence. 
 
 They are not better, nor wiser in their generation 
 (forbid it, Manchester), nor even more daring in con- 
 fronting danger, than the thousands whose grandsires 
 are creations of a powerful fancy or of a complaisant 
 King-at-xirms. In that terrible charge which swept 
 away the E-ussian cavalry at Eylau, three lengths in 
 front of the best blood in France rode the innkeeper's 
 son. The * First Grenadier ' himself was not more 
 splendidly reckless, though he was a La Tour d'Au- 
 vergne. But in passive uncomplaining endurance, 
 in the power of obliterating outward tokens of suffer- 
 ing, physical or mental, may we not still say — 
 Noblesse oblige ? 
 
 Hundreds of similar isolated instances" may be 
 quoted from the annals of the Third Estate ; but, in 
 the class I speak of, this quaKty seems a sixth sense 
 wholly independent of, and often contradicting, the 
 rest of the individual's disposition. 
 
 I remember meeting in France an old Italian re- 
 fugee. He had not much principle, and very little 
 pride ; he was ready qiiidvis facere aut pati to get a 
 five-franc piece, which he would incontinently stake 
 and lose at baccarat or ecarte, as he had done afore* 
 
200 GUY LIVINGSTO^"E. 
 
 time with a large ancestral inlieritance ; but his quiet 
 fortitude, under privations that were neither few nor 
 light, was worthy of Belisarius. 
 
 Very often, I am sure, his evening meal must have 
 been eaten with the Barmecide ; but his pale, hand- 
 some face, finished off so gracefully by the white 
 pointed beard, still met you, courteous and unruffled, 
 the ideal of an exiled Doge, or a Rohan in disgrace. 
 Once only I saw him moved ; when the landlord of 
 our inn, a vast bloated bourgeois, smote the Count 
 familiarly on the shoulder, and bantered him pleas- 
 antly on the brilliant prospects of his eldest son. It 
 was not unkindly meant, perhaps ; but the old man 
 shrunk away from the large fat hand, as if it hurt 
 him, and turned towards us a look piteously appealing, 
 which was not lost on myself or Livingstone. When 
 mine host, later in the evening, shook in his gouty 
 slippers before an ebullition of Guy^s wrath, excited 
 by the most shadowy pretext, I wonder if he guessed 
 at the remote cause of that out-pouring of the vials ? 
 Count Massa did, for he smiled intensely, as only an 
 Italian can smile when amply revenged. 
 
 One instance more to close a long digression. I 
 have read of a baron in the fifteenth century, who 
 once in his life said a good thing. He was a coarse, 
 brutal marauder, illiterate enough to have satisfied 
 Earl Angus, and as unromantic as the Integral Cal- 
 culus. He was mortally wounded in a skirmish ; and 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 201 
 
 when liis men came back from the pursuit, lie was 
 bleeding to death, resting against a tree. "When they 
 lifted him up, they noticed his eyes fixed with a 
 curious complacent expression on the red stream that 
 surged and gurgled out of his wound ; just as a gour- 
 mand looks at a bumper of a rare vintage held up to 
 the light. They heard him growl to himself — ' QuHl 
 coule, rouge et forty le hon vicux sang de Bourgogne.^ 
 And then he fell back, dead. 
 
 PubHcola Thompson — Phosphor to the Tower 
 Hamlets and Boanerges of the platform — will you 
 not allow that, amidst a wilderness of weeds, this one 
 fair plant flourishes imder * the cold shade' ? 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Shy she was, and I thouglit her cold ; 
 
 Thought her proud, and fled over the sea ; 
 Filled I was with folly and spite, 
 
 When Ellen Adair was dpng for me. 
 
 "When I came to Livingstone's cliambers on the fol- 
 lowing morning, I found him alone. His head was 
 resting listlessly against the back of the vast easy 
 chair in which he was reclining ; and his face, thrown 
 out in relief against the crimson velvet, looked hag- 
 gard and drawn. The calumet — not of peace — was 
 between his lips, and the dense blue clouds were 
 wreathing round him Hke a Scotch mist. On a table 
 near lay a heap of gold and notes. He had finished 
 the night at his club, where lansquenet had been 
 raging till long after sunrise. Fortimc had been 
 more kind than usual, and the fruits of ' passing * 
 eight times lay before me. An open liqueur-case 
 close at his elbow showed that play was not the only 
 counter- excitement to which he had resorted. 
 
 I hoped to have found him in a repentant mood ; 
 but his first words undeceived me — * I start for Paris 
 by this evening's train' — and then I remarked all 
 about me the signs of immediate departure. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 203 
 
 I had only a confused idea of what had happened, 
 and was anxious to know the truth, but he was very 
 brief in his answers : the particulars of what had 
 passed I learnt long afterwards. 
 
 * Can nothing be done ? * I asked, when he had 
 finished all he chose to tell me ? 
 
 * Nothing,' replied Livingstone, decisively. * If 
 excuse or explanation had been of any use, I think I 
 should have tried them last night. You woidd not 
 advise me to humiliate myself to no purpose, I sup- 
 pose ? ' 
 
 There is a certain scene in ^schylus which camo 
 into my mind just then. 
 
 A group of elderly men, with grave, rather vacuous 
 faces, and grizzled beards, stand in the court-yard of an 
 ancient palace. On one side is the peristyle, ^dth its 
 square stunted pillars, looking as if the weight above 
 crushed them, though it wearies them no more than 
 the heavens do Atlas ; on the other, a gateway, vast, 
 low-browed, shadowy with Cyclopean stones. Some- 
 what apart is a strange weird figure, ever and anon 
 starting up and tossing her arms wildly as she utters 
 some new denunciation, and then cowering dov/u 
 again in a despairing weariness. There are traces, 
 yet, in the thin, wan face, of the beauty which en- 
 slaved Loxian Apollo, and of the pride which turned 
 his great love into a greater hate : round it hang the 
 black elf-locks, dishevelled, that have never beeij 
 
201 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 braided since the gripe of Tcliimouiaii A]ax ruffled 
 them so rudely. In her great troubled eyes, you 
 read terrible memories, and a prescience of coming 
 death — death, most grateful to the dishonoured 
 princess, but before which the frail womanhood can- 
 not but shudder and quail. 'No wonder that the 
 reverend men glance at her uneasily ; scarcely 
 mustering courage enough sometimes to answer her 
 with a pious platitude. Alas ! alas, Cassandra ! 
 
 While we gaze, forth from the recesses of tlie 
 gynocceimi there breaks a cry, expressing rather wrath 
 and surprise than mere pain. Then there comes 
 another, more plaintive, — the moan of a strong man 
 in the death-throe. 
 
 We know that voice very well ; we have heard it 
 many times, calm and regal, above the wrangle of 
 councils and the roar of battle ; often it prayed for vic- 
 tovy, or for the people's weal ; but it never yet called 
 on earth or heaven to help Agamemnon. The Chorus 
 hear it too ; but they linger and palter, while each 
 gives his grave sentence deliberately in his proper 
 turn. One or two advise action and interference, and 
 stand perfectly still. At last, we hear a heavy choking 
 groan, and a great stillness follows. We know that 
 all is over — we know that there is a stir already down 
 there in Hades — we seem to catch a far-ofi" murmur 
 raised b}' a thousand weak tremulous voices — the very 
 ghost of a wail — as the shadows of those who died 
 
GU\' LIVINGSTONE. 205 
 
 gallantly in tlieir harness before Troy gather to meet 
 tlieii- old leader — the mightiest Atride. 
 
 In the background of all, we fancy a hideous Eidolon, 
 from whose side even the danmed recoil in loathing. 
 There is a grin on the lips yet red and wet with the 
 traces of the unholy banquet. Th^^estes exidts over the 
 fulfilment of another chapter in the inevitable Curse. 
 
 Who has not grown savage over that scene ? We 
 hate the old drivellers less, when, a few minutes later, 
 they truckle and temporize with the awful Shape, who 
 comes forth with a splash of blood on her slender 
 wrist, and a speck or two on her white lofty 
 forehead. 
 
 Just so helpless and useless I felt at that moment. 
 I was standing by while a fo\A wrong was being 
 wrought. I saw notliing but ruin for Guy, and 
 desolate misery for Constance, in the black future. 
 Yet I could think of no argument or counsel that 
 would in the least avail. I felt sick at heart. It 
 was some minutes before I answered his last question. 
 At last the words broke from me almost unconsciously 
 ■ — 'Ah! how will you answer to God and man for 
 last night's work ? ■' 
 
 I forgot that I was quoting the cry of the Cove- 
 nanter's widow, when she knelt by her husband's 
 corpse, and looked up into Claverhouse's fiice, with 
 those sad eyes, that were ever dim and cloudy after 
 the carbines flashed across them. But Guy re- 
 
200 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 membercd it, and answered instantly in llie words of 
 liis favourite hero — 
 
 ' I can answer it to man well enough ; and I will 
 take God in my own hand/ 
 
 Years afterwards, we both recalled that fatal defi- 
 ance, when the speaker lay helpless, at the mercy of 
 the Oimiipotcnce whose might he challenged. Just 
 then his ser^'ant, who was busily preparing for de- 
 parture, entered the room.j 
 
 Willis was a slight, under-sized man, of about fifty; 
 his complexion was muddy and indefinite ; his small 
 whiskers, of a greyish red, were trimmed and pruned 
 as accurately as a box border- edging, and the partial 
 absence of eyebrows and eyelashes gave his face a 
 sort of unfinished look. The expression natural to 
 it was, I think, a low, vicious cunning ; but his 
 features and little green 03'es were so rigidly dis- 
 ciplined that, as a rule, neither had any characteristic 
 save utter vacuity. In his own line he was perfect. 
 No commission that could be intrusted to him would 
 draw from him a remark or a look of surprise. He 
 executed precisely what he was told, and fulfilled 
 the minutest duties of his station irreproachably, 
 with a noiseless, feline activity. He was like the 
 war-horse of the Douglas — 
 
 Though somcwliat old, 
 
 Swift ia his paces, cool, and bold. 
 
 lie held a miniature-case in his hand as he entered, 
 
GUY I.IVINGSTOXT!. 207 
 
 * Am I to put tliis in, sir ? * he asked in the slow, 
 measured voice that was hahitual to him. 
 
 His master gazed sharply at him, as if trying to 
 detect a covert sneer — it would have been safer to 
 have stroked a rattle-snake's crest than to have trifled 
 with Livingstone just then — but Willis's face was as 
 innocent of any expression as a dead wall. 
 
 ^ Put it down, and go on with your packing ; you 
 have no time to spare.' The man laid the case on a 
 marble table near, and went out. 
 
 Guy took the miniature and regarded it steadfastly 
 for some moments, then he looked up and caught my 
 eye. Perhaps there was an eager appeal there (for I 
 knew well whose likeness lay before him) which dis- 
 pleased and provoked his sullen temper ; for he 
 fro^vned darkly, and then his clenched hand fell with 
 the crushing weight of a steam-hammer. I^othing 
 but a heap of shivered wood, glass, and ivory re- 
 mained of what had been the life-like image of Con- 
 stance Brandon. 
 
 A thrill of horror shot through me, icily, and a low 
 cry burst from my lips. I felt at that moment as if 
 tlie blow had fallen not on the portrait, but on the 
 original. 
 
 But I kept silence. The dark hour was on Saul, 
 and I knew no spell to chase the evil spirit away. 
 
 Guy sj^oks at last. Ilis manner was unusually 
 chill and constrained. 
 
208 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ' I expect to meet !Mohuu in Paris, and we shall 
 probably go on to Vienna. I hardly like troubling 
 j'ou with commissions ; but I must. Listen. I leave 
 my own name — and another person's — in your keep- 
 ing. I wish it to be clearly understood that the en- 
 gagement was broken off by Miss Brandon — not by 
 me. If 3'ou hear any man speak disparagingly of her, 
 in connection with what has passed, you can insult 
 him, on my behalf, as grossly as you please. I will 
 be here, as ftist as steam can bring me, to back what 
 you may have said or done. This is the only point 
 in which I hope you will guard my honour. As for 
 blaming mc — they may say what they please. Do 
 you quite understand ? And will you promise ? ' 
 
 I did promise ; and so, after a few more last words, 
 we parted, more coldly that we had ever done in all 
 the years through which we had been intimate. 
 
 Guy left England the same evening, and descended 
 like a thunder-clap on the joyous little menage in the 
 Eue de la Madeleine, where Forrester and his bride 
 were still fluttering theii* wings in the honeymoon- 
 ehine of post-nuptial spring. 
 
 They were miraculously happy, those two. Indeed, 
 they seemed to have only one taste between them, and 
 that was Charley's. If he felt inclined, which was not 
 seldom, to utter inaction, his wife encouraged him in 
 his laziness — sitting contentedly for hours on her 
 footstool, with her silky hair just within reach of his 
 
GTTY MVIXf.'STONK. 209 
 
 indolent hand. If, after dinner, lie suggested tlie 
 * Italiens/ or tlie ' Bouffes/ it was always precisely 
 that theatre that she had been thinking of all the 
 morning. She was in the seventh heaven when he 
 won a hurdle race in the Champ de Mars. 
 
 They made excursions into the banlleice, and further 
 afield yet, like a couple of the Pa7/s Latin in their 
 first loves. The cabinets of Bercy and St Cloud knew 
 them ; so did the arbours of Asnieres, where, in oil- 
 skin and vareuse, muster for their Sabbat the ancient 
 mariners of the Seine. Nay, it has been whispered, 
 that, more than once — close-veiled and clinoin<> 
 tightly to her husband's arm — Isabel witnessed at 
 Ilabille and. the Chaumiere the chorographic triumphs 
 of Frisette, Pomare, and Mocjador. 
 
 My hand trembles while I record such enormities 
 and backslidings. Brougham-girls of Belgravia, 
 who 'never gave your mothers a moment's uneasiness/ 
 — stars of the western hemisphere, who can be trusted 
 anywhere, without fear of your wandering from your 
 orbits — think on this lost Pleiad, once your com- 
 X)anion, and be warned. Men are deceivers ever, 
 even when they mean matrimony ; and the tender 
 mercies of the light dragoon are cruel. 
 
 Isabel was dreadfully startled at the sudden appear- 
 ance of her cousin. Her notions of his power were 
 quite unlimited and irrational ; and, I believe, her first 
 thought was, that he luid changed his mind about the 
 
210 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 propriety of her marriage, and was come to carry her 
 back into the house of her bondage with the strong 
 hand. 
 
 When his curt sentences told her the facts, sorry as 
 she was, it certainly was rather a relief to her. Charley 
 was full of compassion, too, but he only confided this 
 to his \\iSo. lie knew better than to try condolence 
 with Guy, and felt instantly that the case was far be- 
 yond his simple powers of heaKng. 
 
 They did not see much of him. The contrast of 
 their happiness with his own state must have grated 
 on his feelings. His grim presence chilled and 
 clouded their little banquets at the Trois Freres, or 
 the Cafe de Paris. lie sat there amongst the bright 
 lamps and flowers, like a statue of dark marble that 
 it is impossible to light up ; drinking all the while, 
 moodily, of the strongest wines to that portentous ex- 
 tent that it made Isabel nervous and her husband 
 grave. 
 
 Perhaps Guy was conscious of the effect he produced; 
 at all events he rather avoided the Forresters, finding 
 in Mohun more congenial society. The latter pro- 
 bably regretted what had happened; perhaps he felt an 
 approach to sympathy, after his rough fashion ; but 
 with this mingled a dreary sort of satisfaction at the 
 sight of a strong mind and hardy nature rapidly de- 
 scending to his own misanthropical level. Such an 
 exultation was breathed in that ghastly chorus of the 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 211 
 
 dead Kings and Chief Ones of the Earth, when they 
 rose, each on his awful throne, and Hell from beneath 
 was moved, at the advent of The Son of the Morning. 
 
 These two did not stay long in Paris, before they 
 took their departure for Vienna. 
 
 We who were left behind in England talked a lit- 
 tle at first, of course, about the broken engagement ; 
 but I had no occasion to throw down the gauntlet 
 that had been left in my hands. I never heard any- 
 thing more spiteful about Miss Brandon than that 
 
 * she was never suited to her fiance — far too good for 
 him.' Others * had always thought how it would be ; 
 it would take a good deal more yet to tame Living- 
 stone.* Sir Henry Fallowfield observed — * Nothing 
 could be more natural and correct. The lady was a 
 saint ; and there is always a sort of incompleteness 
 about saints, if they are not made martyrs. Sufiering 
 is their normal state.' 
 
 It was remarked that he was unusually cheerful for 
 some dajs afterwards ; and when Guy's conduct was 
 canvassed, seemed inclined to quote the old school- 
 master's words, on witnessing his pupil's success — • 
 
 * Bless the ooy ! I taught him.' 
 
 Some other subject soon came up, and replaced the 
 week's wonder. 
 
 Constance left town with her uncle almost immedi* 
 ately ; and I heard nothing more of her for many 
 months. Miss Bellasys remained. Very few persons 
 
212 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 even guessed at the share slic had had in breaking off 
 the match ; so her credit was not much impaired, and 
 her campaign was as brilliantly successful as usual. 
 If she felt any disappointment at Guy's abrupt de- 
 parture, she concealed it remarkably well. In some 
 things, though naturally impetuous and impatient, 
 she was as cool as a Red Indian, and would wait and 
 watch for ever, if she saw a prospect of ultimate suc- 
 cess. So the days rolled on, bringing swiftly and 
 surely the bitter harvest- time, when he who had sown 
 the wind was to reap the whirlwind. 
 
213 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 And from his lips those words of insult fell — 
 His sword is good who can maintain them well. 
 
 It was the middle of October ; the reflux of the winter 
 season was beginning to fill Paris, and thither Mohun 
 and Livingstone had returned from their German tour ; 
 the latter decidedly the worse for his wanderings. 
 He had not sufiered much physically ; for the hard 
 living that would have utterly broken up some con- 
 stitutions had only been able to make his face rather 
 thinner, to deepen the bistre tints under the eyes, and 
 to give a more angular gauntness to his massive frame. 
 But morally he was not the same man. Play, 
 which had formerly been only an occasional excite- 
 ment, had now become a necessary part of his daily 
 existence. Mohun would never say — perhaps he did 
 not know — how much Guy had lost during those few 
 months. In spite of several gigantic coups (he broke 
 the bank both at Baden and Hombourg), the balance 
 was fearfully on the wrong side ; so much so, that it 
 entailed a heavy mortgage — the maiden one in his 
 time— on the fair lands of Kerton Manor. 
 
214 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 I wonder people have not got tired of quoting — 
 ^Ilcureuxcnjcu; malhcurcux en amour J It seems 
 one of the least true of aU stale, stupid proverbs. 
 Luck will run itself out in more waj'S than one ; and 
 sometimes you will never hold a trump, however often 
 the suit changes. The ancients knew better than wc, 
 when they called the double-sixes — * Ycnus's cast.' 
 The monotony of Guy's reckless dissipations was soon 
 broken by an event which ought to have sobered him. 
 ; lie had been dining ^*ith Mohun at the Trois Freres, 
 and they were returning late towards the Boulevards, 
 when their attention ^vas attracted by a group in one 
 of the narrow streets leading out of the Rue Yivienne. 
 Five or six raffish-looking men had surrounded a fair, 
 delicate girl, and were preparing to besiege her in 
 form ; deriving apparently intense amusement from 
 the piteous entreaties of their victim to be released. 
 Kot the roues of the Regency after the suppers that 
 have become a by-word — not the mousquetaircs after 
 the wildest of their orgies — were ever so unrelenting 
 in brutality towards women quite lonely and unde- 
 fended, as those unshorn ornaments of Yoimg France, 
 when replete with a dinner at forty sous, and with 
 the anomalous liquor that Macon blushes to own. 
 
 In all Europe there is no more genial companion 
 and gallant gentleman than the aristocrat of France 
 pur sang — in all the world no more terrible adversary 
 than her wiry, well-trained soldier ; but, from the 
 
GtJy LIVINGSTONE. 2l5 
 
 prolific decay of old institutions and prejudices, a 
 musliroom-growth has sprouted of child- atheists and 
 precocious profligates, calculating debauchees while 
 their checks are still innocent of doTni ; who, after the 
 effervescence of a foul, vicious youth has spent itself, 
 simmer down into avaricious, dishonest bourgeois and 
 bloated caf^-politicians. The teeth of the Eepublican 
 Dragon have been drawn, but they are sown broad- 
 cast from Dan even to Beersheba. Ancient realm of 
 Capet, Yalois, and Bourbon — Motherland of Du 
 Gucsclin and Bayard — you may well be proud of your 
 Cadmean offspring ! 
 
 Guy was passing the scene with a careless side 
 glance, when the accent of the suppKant caught hia 
 ear — not French, though she spoke the language 
 perfectly. 
 
 * By G— d,' he said, dropping Mohun's arm, * I be- 
 lieve it's an Englishwoman they are bullying ; ' and 
 three of his long strides took him into the midst of 
 the group. 
 
 Two of the aggressors reeled back right and left, 
 from the shock of his mighty shoulders ; and griping 
 another, the tallest, by his collar, he whirled him 
 some paces off on his back in the streaming kennel, 
 as one might do with a very weak, light, little child. 
 * Au large canaille ! * he said, as he advanced on the 
 two who still kept their feet. These drew back from 
 his path -without a second warning. One indeed, 
 
216 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 cmiuent in tlie savafc, made a demonstration for an 
 instant ; but his comrade, wlio had just gathered him- 
 self up, caught his arm, muttering, Ne fy frotte pas, 
 AIpJio7ise. Cest trop dur! None of them fancied an 
 encounter with the grim giant "svho confronted them 
 - -his muscles braced and salient — his eves gleaming 
 w^ith the gaudia certajnmis, and his nostrils dilated, 
 as if they snuffed the battle. 
 
 So they made way for Guy and his charge to pass, 
 only grinding out between their teeth the strange 
 guttural blasphemies that characterize impotent Gallic 
 wrath. 
 
 Mohun, a reserve scarcely less formidable, stood by 
 all the while, looking on lazily ; he saw that his com- 
 panion was more than equal to the emergency. 
 
 * I hope you have not been much annoyed,' Living- 
 stone said, kindly. ^ Where were you going to ? I 
 shall be too happy to escort you, if you will allow 
 me.' 
 
 She named the street, only a few hundred yards 
 off, and tried to thank him gratefully ; but her voice 
 was broken and scarcely audible, and the blinding 
 tears would rush into her eyes. Poor child ! it was 
 very long since she had heard gentle, courteous words 
 in her mother tongue. She recovered herself, how- 
 ever, during their short walk, and they had nearly 
 reached her destination when Livingstone said, ' For- 
 give me for being impertinent ; I have no right to 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 217 
 
 advise you ; but I tliink j'ou will find it better not to 
 walk alone, often, at this hour. There is always a 
 chance of something disagreeable.' 
 
 He could see her blush painfully, as she answered, 
 
 * I have no one to accompany me. I work hard at 
 drawing and painting as long as there is light ; and 
 I had gone out to see if I could sell what I have done. 
 But I fear I am a very poor artist ; no one would 
 offer me as much as they had cost me. And I tried 
 at so many places ! ' 
 
 It was piteous to hear the heav}^, heart-broken 
 sigh. 
 
 * Perhaps I have better taste,' replied Livingstone. 
 
 * Those printsellers are absurdly ignorant of what is 
 good and anonymous. At all events, they will in- 
 terest me, as a memorial of to-night. Will you give 
 them to me ? I will promise not to be too critical.' 
 
 He drew the roll out of her hand, as she spoke, re- 
 placing it by his note-case ; and before she could open 
 it, or make any objection, he followed Mohun (for they 
 had reached the artist's door hj this time), first rais- 
 ing his hat to her, in adieu, as courteously as he 
 would have done to a reigning archduchess. 
 
 How much did the case contain ? Gruy himself 
 could hardly have told you. But, be sure, the Re- 
 corder of his many misdeeds knew, and reckoned it 
 to the uttermost farthing, when he wrote down that 
 one kind action on the credit side. 
 
218 GUT LmNGSTO:>E. 
 
 ' Philanthropic, for a change ! ' Mohun remarked, 
 when his companion joined him. ' Well ! it's not 
 worse than many of your yagarics. We shall have 
 you founding an asylum next, I suppose ? ' 
 
 In his heart the savage old cjoiic approved ; but, 
 for the life of him, he could not check the sneer. 
 
 Livingstone made no reply. It was a habit of his, 
 very often not to answer Ralph ; and the latter did 
 not mind it in the least. In a few moments they 
 reached Guy's apartments, where they found abaut a 
 dozen men — French and English — awaiting their 
 arrival to begin an unbridled lansquenet. It was a 
 favourite rendezvous for this purpose. The thorough- 
 bred gamblers preferred it to the brilliant entertain- 
 ments of the Quartier BrMa. They liked to court or 
 fight Fortune by themselves, without being congratu- 
 lated in success or compassionated in defeat by the 
 fair PhrjTies and Aspasias, whose s^Tupathy was 
 somewhat expensive ; inasmuch as they always would 
 borrow from the heap whenever any one won, repay- 
 ing the loan in kind by smiles and caresses, which 
 cost the happy recipient about fifteen I^apoleons 
 apiece. Here was an Eden from which Eves were 
 excluded : and on the nights of the Mercurialia, the 
 brightest Peri that ever wore camellias might have 
 knocked at the gate disconsolately, but in vain. 
 
 While the tables were being prepared, Guy began 
 to tell his late adventure. lie spoke of it very lightly, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 219 
 
 but he tlioiiglit if he passed it over altogether, Mohun 
 would probably betray him. 
 
 Immediately there was a great cry for a sight of 
 the performances of the unknown genius. 
 
 Livingstone looked over the drawings himself care- 
 fully, and then passed them to the man who sat 
 nearest him. * I have seen worse,' he said. * There 
 is no signatui'e, and I shall not give you the address. 
 You are none of you just the patrons slie would fancy. 
 You don^t care much for high art.' 
 
 Amongst the guests was Ilorace Levinge, a pale, 
 dark man, with a face that was decidedly handsome, 
 in spite of its Jewish contour, and the excessive fulness 
 of the scarlet, sensual lips. His grandfather, report 
 said, had been a prize-fighting Israelite, and after- 
 wards a celebrated betting-man — equally eminent in 
 either Hing for an unscrupulous scoundi^elism which 
 made his fortune. His father had added to the family 
 treasure and importance by cautious usury and adven- 
 turous stock-jobbing. Horace himself was a gentle- 
 man at large, vdth no other profession than the con- 
 sistent pursuit of all kinds of debauchery. He was 
 calculating even in his pleasures; and, they say, 
 kept a regular ledger and day-book of the moneys dis- 
 bursed in his vices. 
 
 When the drawings came to him, he glanced at 
 them for a moment, and then threw them down with 
 ^ little contemptuous laugh. 
 
220 GUY IJVIXGSTONE. 
 
 ' I am sorry to spoil your romance, Liviiigsfone ; 
 but I have a pretty good right to recognize the artist's 
 touch. You know her, some of you : it is Fanny 
 Challoncr?' 
 
 ' AVhat, the girl you sent away about three weeks 
 ago?' someone asked. ^Poor thing! she was not 
 Borr}', I should think. She had a hard time of it be- 
 fore she left you.' 
 
 'Precisely,' Lc\dngc replied. *IIcr modest}^ and 
 high moral principles, which I never could quite sub- 
 due, gave a zest to the thing at first. You imder- 
 stand ; — a sort of caviare flavour. But at last it bored 
 me horribly. I really believe she had a conscience. 
 Can you conceive anything so out of place ? I did offer 
 her a little money when she went away ; but she 
 would not take anj-, and said she would try to main- 
 tain herself honestly. Bah ! I defy her. She was 
 a governess, you know, when I took her first ; so she 
 is trying some of the old accomplishments. I wish 
 3'ou joy of y OUT prof cffce, Livingstone ; and as for her 
 address, if any of you want it, I vrill give it you to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 Before Guy could reply, Mohun broke in. A\liile 
 Levinge had been spealdng, the colonel's face had 
 grown very dark and threatening. 
 
 ' Did her fiither live near Walmer ? And was he a 
 half-pay officer ? ' 
 
 ' Quite correct,' was the answer. 'lie died about 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 221 
 
 eigliteen montlis before I met Fanny. You knew liim, 
 perhaps ? How interesting ! Excuse my emotion.' 
 
 * I did know him/ E-alph said. * He was a gentle- 
 man, and well born. Perhaps that was the reason 
 you could not get on long with his daughter ? ^ 
 
 It is a popular error, that a bully is always a 
 coward. Certainly Horace was an exception to the 
 rule, if such exists. Nothing could be more calmly 
 insolent than his tone, as he answered deliberately — 
 
 * How admirable to find Colonel Mohun in the cha- 
 racter of the Censor ! A Clodius come to judgment. 
 I should hardly have expected it, from his past life, 
 either.' 
 
 The reply came from the depths of Ralph's chest, 
 very distinct, but with a strange effect of distance and 
 echo, as if the words had been spoken under the vault 
 of some vast dome. 
 
 * You will leave my past life alone, if you are wise. 
 I don't preach against immorality ; it is only brutality 
 that I find simply disgusting.' 
 
 * Bah ! ' the other retorted. * It comes to the same 
 thing. I shoidd have thought Lady Caroline Man- 
 ncring might have taught you to be less critical.' 
 
 The cuirassier rose from his seat, and strode a pace 
 forwards, the grey hair bristling round his savage 
 face, lil^e a wild boar's at bay. 
 
 * If you dare to breathe that name again^ except 
 
222 GUT LIVINGSTONE 
 
 with respect and honour — I'll cram the words down 
 your throat, by the Eternal God ! ' 
 
 Levinge crimsoned with passion. The brutal blood 
 of the dead prize-fighter, who, when he ' crossed ' a 
 fight, lost it ever by a foid blow, was boiling in his 
 descendant. He had been drinking, too, and, as the 
 French say — avaii le tin maiicais — so he answered 
 coldly and slowly, letting the syllables fall one by 
 one lOvO drops of hail — 
 
 *I shall mention it just as often as it pleases me; 
 and with just so much respect as is due to Manner- 
 ing's cast-ofi" wife and your — ' 
 
 The fold word that was on his lips never left tliem, 
 for Mohun's threat was literally fulfilled. His right 
 hand shot out from the shoulder, with a sudden 
 impulse that seemed rather mechanical than an action 
 of the will, and catching the speaker full in the moutb, 
 laid him on the carpet, senseless, and streaming with 
 blood. 
 
223 
 
 . CHAPTEPt XXIY. 
 
 Look doun, look doun now, layde fair, 
 
 On liim ye lo'ed sae weel : 
 A bi-a\ver man than yon blue corse 
 
 Never drew sword of steel. 
 
 The dead silence that ensued was broken first by Guy 
 Livingstone. ' It was well done ! I say it, and main- 
 tain it ; Moluin, I envy you that blow ! ' He looked 
 round, as if to cliaUenge contradiction ; but evidently 
 the general opinion was, that Levinge bad only got 
 his deserts. By this time the fallen man had recovered 
 his consciousness, and struggled up, first into a sitting 
 posture, then to his feet ; he stood leaning against a 
 table, swaying to and fro, and staring about him Tvith 
 wild eyes half- glazed. At last he spoke in a thick, 
 faint voice, stanching all the while the gushing blood 
 with his handkerchief. 
 
 ' Will any one here be my second ? or must I look 
 for a friend elsewhere ? ' 
 
 There was a pause ; and then from the circle stepped 
 forth Camille De Eosny. He did not like Levinge, 
 iind thought in the present instance he had behaved 
 
224 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 infamously, but it was tlie faslilon hereditary in liis 
 gallant house to back the losing side ; so, when he 
 saw every one else shrink from the appeal, he bowed 
 gravely and said — 
 
 * I shall have that honour, if you will permit me. 
 In an hour I shall be at the orders of M. le Colonel's 
 second. Where shall I find him ? ' 
 
 ^ Here,' replied Livingstone. * I think no one will 
 contest my right to see my old friend through this 
 quarrel.' 
 
 Mohun grasped his hand. * I would have chosen 
 you among a thousand. You understand me, and 
 know what I wish.' 
 
 * Then I shall expect 3^ou, De Eosny ? ' Guy went 
 on : the Frenchman assented courteously, and then, 
 turning to his principal — 
 
 * Let us go/ he said. * My coupe is at your disposi- 
 tion, M. Levingc. Messieurs, au plaisir.* 
 
 Horace followed him with a step that was still fal- 
 tering and imcertain ; but, at the door he turned, and 
 straightening himself up, faced his adversary with such 
 a look as few human countenances have ever worn. 
 There was more in it than mortal hatred ; it expressed 
 a sort of devilish satisfaction and anticipation, as if he 
 knew that his revenge was secui-ed. 
 
 Mohun read all this as plainly as if it had been 
 written down in so many words ; but he only smiled, 
 as he seated himself, and lighted a cigar. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 225 
 
 There was an end of lansquenet for that night. An 
 ordinary quarrel would have made little impression on 
 those reckless sj)irits, who had, most of them, at one 
 time or another, ' been out * themselves ; but they felt 
 that what they had witnessed now was the prologue to 
 a certain tragedy ; there was a savoui* of death in the 
 air ; so they droj)ped off, one by one, leaving Guy and 
 Ralph alone ; not before the latter had expressed, 
 with much politeness, his ' desolation at having been 
 compelled to interrupt apay^tie, which he trusted was 
 only deferred till the morrow/ 
 
 Before long De E,osny returned. The preliminaries 
 were soon arranged. Pistols were necessarily to be the 
 weapons, for Levinge had seldom touched a foil ; and, 
 as the Frenchman said with a bow that made his ob- 
 jection a compliment, * Colonel Mohun's reputation as 
 a swordsman was European.^ An early hour next 
 morning was fixed for the ve?itie, in the Pre aux Clercs 
 of the nineteenth century — the Bois de Boulogne. 
 
 When they were alone again, Guy turned gravely to 
 his companion. * It is a bad business, I fear, though 
 you could not have acted otherwise; but I would 
 rather your adversary were any one than Levinge. It 
 is a murderous, unscrupulous scoundrel as ever lived. 
 He can shoot — that's nothing, so can you, better than 
 most men — but, mark me, Ralph, he has been out 
 twice, and hit his man each time, the last mortally ; 
 ut on neither occasion was his fire returned. Men 
 
226 V.VY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 say he has au awkward knack of pulling the trigger 
 half a second too soon. I don't know if this is true ; 
 but I do know that Seymour, who seconded him at 
 Florence when he killed O'Neill, has been more than 
 cool to him ever since/ 
 
 * Faith, I can well believe it,' Mohun answered, 
 quietly, * and it is very probable I may get hard hit 
 to-morrow; but of killing him I feel morally cer- 
 tain. Do you believe in presentiments ? I do. 
 Before that di'unken brute had half done speaking, 
 I saw imminent death written in his face, as plainly 
 as if I had possessed the Highland second-sight. I 
 think I could almost tell you how it will look n/ler 
 my shot. TVell, we must talk of business. My ar- 
 rangements won't take me long. I have very little 
 to dispose of, it is almost all entailed property. I shall 
 leave you the choice of anything among my goods 
 and chattels. You will find some arms that you may 
 fancy. But if my pistols ftiil me to-morrow, so that 
 Levinse lives over it, do me the favour to throw them 
 into the Seine ; they deserve nothing better. As for 
 the ready-money I have with me, and some more at 
 my bankers — ' he hesitated, and then went on in a 
 gentler voice, *I should Hke it to go to that poor 
 child whom we met to-night. If I live I will take 
 care she is settled in England, where some one will 
 be kind to her. Her father was a good soldier, and 
 a true-hearted gentleman. And, Guy, I am sorry 
 
GirV LiVlNGSTOKE. 227 
 
 that I sneered at you to-night ; I hardly meant it, 
 when I said it/ 
 
 This was a great concession from Mohun, and his 
 hearer thought so, as he wrung his hand hard, and 
 replied, 
 
 * Don't think of that again. I did you justice an 
 hour ago.' ^ 
 
 There was this peculiarity about Ralph ; he was 
 not only insensible to danger, like other men, but he 
 absolutely seemed to revel in it. The genial side of 
 his character came out at the approach of deadly peril, 
 just as some morose natures will soften and brighten 
 temporarily under the influence of strong wine. 
 
 His mood seemed to change, however, suddenly ; 
 and when, after a long pause, he spoke again, it was 
 in a low, broken voice, as if to himself. 
 
 *■ " Be sure your sin will find you out." It is thirty 
 years since I heard that text ; I forgot it the same 
 day, and never thought of it again till now. There 
 may be truth in that. It hunted her to her grave, 
 and it will not leave her in peace, even there. And 
 yet she suffered enough to make atonement. She 
 tried not to let me see how much, but I did see it ; I 
 watched her dying for a year and more. I am sure 
 she is an angel now. I like to think so, though I 
 shall never see her again. I would not believe other- 
 wise if a thousand priests said it and swore it ; for I 
 never moved from her side, after she was dead, till I 
 
228 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 saw tlie smile come on her face. She must have been 
 happy then; do you not think so? They would 
 hardly have gone on, punishing her for ever. It was 
 all my fault, you know.' 
 
 He gazed at Livingstone anxiously, almost timidl3^ 
 Guy bowed his head in assent, but he could not find 
 words to answer just then. There was something 
 very terrible in that opening of the flood-gates, when 
 a life's pent-up remorse broke forth. 
 
 ' I think you will end better than I have done/ 
 Mohun went on ; ' though you are going down-hill 
 fast now. But I have no right even to warn you. 
 Only, take care — .' He broke off suddenly, and 
 roused himself with an effort. * I shall go home and 
 dress now, and get through what little I have to write, 
 and then lie down for an hour or two. Nothing 
 makes the hand shake like a sleepless night. I'll 
 call for 3^ou in good time.' So he went away. 
 
 Livingstone sat thinking, without ever closing his 
 eyes, till Mohun returned. The latter looked fresh 
 and alert ; he had slept for the time he had allotted to 
 himself quite calmly and comfortably — the old habits 
 of picquet-duty had taught him to watch or sleep at 
 pleasure. 
 
 After Guy had made a careful toilette, at the 
 special request of his principal, they started, and in 
 forty minutes were on the ground. Levingc and his 
 second, with the surgeon, arrived almost immediately; 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 229 
 
 the former stood somewhat apart, keeping the lower 
 part of his face carefully muffled. 
 
 It was a dull, chill morning ; the sky of a steely- 
 grey, without a promise of a gleam from the sun, 
 which had risen somewhere, but was reserving himself 
 for better times. There was a desultory sort of wind 
 blowing, just strong enough at intervals to bring the 
 moist brown leaves sullenly down. 
 
 After the pistols had been scientifically loaded, the 
 seconds placed their men fifteen yards apart — with 
 such known shots it was not worth while shortening 
 the distance. 
 
 The sensations of ordinary mortals under such cir- 
 cumstances are somewhat curious. Yery few are 
 afraid, I think ; but one has an impression that one's 
 own proportions are becoming sensibly developed — 
 ' swelling wisibly,' in fact, like the lady at the Pick- 
 wickian tea-fight — while those of our adversary 
 diminish in a like ratio, so that he does not appear 
 near so fair a mark as he did a few minutes ago. 
 But, with all this, there is a quickening of the pulse 
 not unpleasurable — something like the excitement of 
 the ^ four to the seven ' chance at hazard, when you 
 are backing the In for a large stake. 
 
 I do not believe Mohun felt anything of this sort. 
 It was not his own life, but his adversary's death he 
 was playing for ; the other was busy, too, with still 
 darker thoughts and purposes. 
 
230 Gtt LIVINGSTON^:. 
 
 ' Listen,' Guy said in French ; ' M. de Pcosny gives 
 the signal, w;?, deuXy trois ; if either fires before the 
 last is fully pronounced, it is murder/ He looked 
 sharpl}^ at Levinge ; but the latter seemed studiously 
 to avoid meeting his ej'e. Guy felt very uncomfort- 
 able and very savage. 
 
 The men stood opposite to one another, like black 
 marble statues, neither showing a speck of colour 
 which might serve as a j)oint de mirc^ each turning 
 only a side-front to his opponent. 
 
 De E,osny pronoimced the two first words of llic 
 signal in a clear, deliberate voice ; the last left his 
 lips almost in a shriek, for, before it was half syllabled, 
 his principal fired. 
 
 Quick as the movement was, it was anticipated ; as 
 Levinge's hand stirred, Mohun made a half-face to 
 the right, and looked his enemy straight between the 
 eyes. That sudden change of position, or the con- 
 sciousness of detection, probably unsettled the prac- 
 tised aim, for the ball, that would have drilled 
 Ralph through the heart, only scored a deep furrow 
 in his side. 
 
 Kg one could have guessed that he was touched ; he 
 brought his pistol to the level just as coolly as he 
 vrould have done in the shooting-gallery, and, after 
 the discharge, dropped his hand with measured de- 
 liberation. Before the smoke had curled a yard up- 
 wards, Horace Levinge sprang into the air, and, with 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 231 
 
 outstretched arms, fell crasliing down upon (lie grass 
 — a bullet through, his brain. 
 
 They turned him over on his back. It was a ghastly- 
 sight ; the ball had penetrated just below the arch of 
 the right eyebrow, and all the lower features were 
 swollen and distorted with the blow of last night, 
 adding to the hideous disfigurement. 
 
 Is that the face on which the dead man used to 
 spend hours, tending it, like an ancient coquette, with 
 washes and cosmetics, dreading the faintest freckle or 
 suuburn which might mar the smoothness of the deli- 
 cate skin ? No need of the surgeon there. Cover it 
 up quickly — the mother that bore him, if she could 
 recognize it, would recoil in disgust and loathing. 
 
 * Cen estfiniy Livingstone said to De Rosny, who 
 stood by shuddering in horror, not at the death, but 
 at the treachery which had preceded it. 
 
 None but a Frenchman could have given such an 
 accent to the low hissing reply — ^ je Vesjjh'e.^ 
 
 Then they looked to Mohun's wound ; it was no- 
 thing serious — there were a dozen deeper on the war- 
 worn body and limbs. Indeed, I imagine his general 
 health was materially benefited by the blood-letting. 
 The first remark he made was, when he was deposit- 
 ing his pistol in its case — tenderly as you would lay 
 a child in its cradle — *Do you believe in presenti- 
 ments 7ioiOy Guy ? * 
 
 The sullen sun broke out just as they turned to go, 
 
232 GUY LIVING STONE. 
 
 and peered curiously through the boughs till it found 
 out and lighted on the angular ominous heap, 
 shrouded with a cloak, that, ten minutes ago, was a 
 strong, hot-blooded man. 
 
 There the garde soon after discovered Horace 
 Levinge ; and, when he had been owned, they buried 
 him in Pere la Chaise. Such events were common 
 then, and the police gave themselves no trouble to 
 trace who had slain the stranger. Amongst his tribes- 
 men and kinsfolk in Hounsditch and the Minories 
 there was great joy at first, and afterwards bitter, 
 endless litigation. They screamed and battled over 
 the heritage like vultures over a mighty carrion — 
 tearing it at length piecemeal. He did not keep a 
 pet dog, and so no living creature regretted him, 
 unless it were the thin delicate girl, with white checks 
 and hollow eyes, who came once and knelt to pray by 
 his grave for hours, her tears falling fast. 
 
 Hard as they may find it to observe other precepts 
 of the Great Master, this one, at least, most women 
 have practised easily and naturally for eighteen 
 hundred years — 'Forgive, until seventy times seven.* 
 The acts of some of these — how they warred with 
 their husbands and were worsted ; how they provoked 
 the presiding Draco, and stultified the atttesting 
 policeman, by obstinately ignoring their injuries 
 written legibly in red, and black, and blue ; how they 
 interceded with many sobs for the aggressor — are 
 
GLT LIVINGSTONE. 233 
 
 they not written in the book of the chronicles of Bow 
 Street and Clerkenwell ? 
 
 This propensity leads them into scrapes, it is true, 
 for our world in its wisdom will take advantage of 
 such weakness. Perhaps the next will make them 
 some amends. 
 
 But the mourner strewed no flowers on the grave. 
 It would have been too bitter a mockery ; for, if there 
 were sympathy in sweet roses and pure white lilies, 
 on no other spot of God^s earth would they have 
 withered so soon ; she hung up no wreath of inmior- 
 tclles; for, if such things could be, the dearest wish 
 one could have formed for the dead man's soul would 
 have been swift, utter annihilation. 
 
 Yet Fanny Challoner would scarcely have accepted 
 Mohun's good offices, if she had guessed that the blood 
 of her seducer and tyrant was on his hand. She never 
 suspected it, and so went gratefully to the home he 
 found for her ; and there she lives yet, tranquil and 
 contented, though always sad and humble, among 
 people who know nothing of her history and love her 
 dearly, trying her best to be useful in her generation 
 — alone in her cottage that nestles under a sunny 
 cliff, just above the white spray-line of the Irish Sea. 
 
234 
 
 CnAPTER XXY. 
 
 Let me see her once again, 
 Let her hring her proud dark eyes, 
 And her petulant quick replies ; 
 Let her wave her slender hand 
 "With its gesture of command, 
 And throw back her raven hair 
 With the old imperial air ; 
 
 Let her be as she was then — 
 The loveliest lady in all the land 
 Iseult of Ireland. 
 
 MoHL'N and Liviugstone soon fell back into the groove 
 of their old habits ; if anything, the former was more 
 forbidding and morose; the latter, more reckless than 
 es'er. 
 
 Just at this time, Mrs Bellasys and her daughter 
 arrived in Paris. It was Flora's debut there, and she 
 had an immense success. The jcunesse dor4e of Iho 
 Chaussee d'Antin, and the cavaliers of the Faubourg, 
 thronged about her, emulously enthusiastic. Her 
 repartees and sarcasms were quoted like Talleyrand's. 
 They never wearied in raving over her perfections, 
 taking them in a regular catalogue — from her magnifi- 
 cent eyes and hair that flashed back the light from its 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 235 
 
 emootli bands, like clouded steel, down to tlie small 
 h^odequias of white satin, which it was her fancy to 
 wear instead of the ball-room chaussure of ordinary 
 mortals. The intrigues to secure her for a waltz or a 
 mazurka displa^^ed diplomatic talent enough to have 
 set half-a-dozen German principalities and powers by 
 the ears. The succession of admirers was never broken; 
 as fast as one dropped off, killed by her coldness or 
 caprice, another stepped into his place. It reminded 
 one of the old * Die-hards' at Waterloo, filling up their 
 squares torn and ravaged by the pelting grape-shot. 
 
 Here, as elsewhere, she pursued her favourite amuse- 
 ment, remorselessly. Fallowfield called it * her cut- 
 ting-out expeditions.' She used to watch, till a mother 
 and daughter had, between them, secured a good 
 matrimonial prize, and then employ her fascinations 
 on the captured one — seldom without effect — so as to 
 steal him out of their hands. 
 
 Do you remember Waterton's story of the osprey? 
 The hard-working bird, by dint of perseverance, has 
 brought up a good fish. Just as it emerges from the 
 water, there is heard a flap and a whistle of mighty 
 pinions ; and, from his watch-tower on the cliff fiir 
 above, swoops down the great sea-eagle. The poor 
 osprey a beau crier, it must drop its booty ; and the 
 strong marauder sails off with a slow and dignified 
 flight, to discuss it in the wood at his leisure. The 
 only faidt in the parallel was, that Flora always 
 
236 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 dropped tlic prey, with the coolest disdain, when it 
 was once fairly within her clutches. How the 
 match-makers did hate her ! AMiat vows for her dis- 
 comfiture must have been breathed into bouquets, 
 held up to conceal the angry flush of disappointment, 
 or the paleness of despair ! 
 
 I own this practice of hers did not raise her in my 
 opinion. I cannot thmk so hardly as it is the fashion 
 to do, of the junior and working members, at least, of 
 the manoeuvring Guild. It is not an elevating or 
 very creditable profession, certainly ; but it seems 
 such a disagreeable one, that none would take it up 
 from choice. The chief fault, at all events, lies with 
 the trainers; the jocke3^s (poor little things!) only 
 ride to orders ; and, by-the-wa}^, I think they 
 generally err in not knovring how to waity and in 
 making the running too strong at first. 
 
 As I meet, year after year, one of these — to whom 
 the seed sown in London ball-rooms and German 
 watering-places had produced nothing yet but those 
 tiresome garlands of the vestal — I look curiously to see 
 how she wears, thinking of the courtier's answer to 
 Louis XI Y., when the latter asked if he was looking 
 older — ' Sire, I see some more victories written on 
 your forehead.' It is more defeats that one can read 
 80 plainl}' on poor Fanny Singleton's. 
 
 How many shipwrecks close to port ; how many 
 races lost by a head ; how many games, by a point, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 237 
 
 slio must have known, before her silver laugh became 
 so hollow, and her pleasant smile so evidentl}^ theatri- 
 cal and lip-deep ; before what once was chanceful 
 became desperate, and she fell back into the ranks of 
 the forlorn hope — of the * liOst Children ! ' 
 
 On one of these occasions I met her. She was just be- 
 ginning her condotticre life then, and was ver}^ attract- 
 ive even to those on whom she had no designs — be- 
 lieved in balls, and had an ingenious talent for original 
 composition. I don't think those entertainments are 
 dangerously exciting to her now; and Heaven forcfend 
 that she should write poetry ! One shudders to think 
 of what it would be. Well — she was returning to the 
 house after a moonlight flirtation (if you can call it so, 
 when it was all on one side). She had been trying to 
 fascinate a stupid, sullen, commercial Orson — a boy 
 not clever, but cimning, w^ho calculated on his share in 
 the Bank as a means of procuring him these amuse- 
 ments, as other men might reckon on their good looks 
 or soft tongue. He had just left her, and I was wishing 
 her good night under the porch ; she forgot her cue for 
 a moment and became natural. — * I feel so very, very 
 tired,' she said. I remember how drearily she said it, 
 and how the tears glittered in her weary eyes. I re- 
 member, too, how, ten minutes later, I heard that 
 amiable youth boasting of what had happened, and 
 giving a hideous travestie of her attempts to captivate 
 him ; till at last my wrath was kindled, and, to his 
 
238 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 great confusion (for he was of a timid disposition), I 
 623oke, and sharply, with my tongue. 
 
 Ah, me ! I mind the time when men used to way- 
 lay Fanny Singleton in the cloak-room, and shoot her 
 flying as she went up the staircase, in their anxiety 
 to secure her for a partner ; and now — she is a refuge 
 for the destitute, except when some one, for old 
 acquaintance sake, takes a turn with one of the best 
 waltzers in Europe. 
 
 I like her for one thing — she has never tried the 
 gu'lish dodge on yet. She has never been heard to 
 eay * Mamma always calls me a wild thing.^ It is 
 better that she should be bitter and sardonic, as she 
 is sometimes, than that. Mars herself could hardly 
 play the ingenues, when in mature age. Grisi's best 
 part now is not Amina. 
 
 The last thing I heard of Fanny was, that she was 
 about to unite herself (the actice voice is iho, proper 
 one) to a very Low Church clergyman, a distinguished 
 member of the Evangelical Alliance, pregnant with 
 the odour of sanctity — bouquet de Baptiste treble dis- 
 tilled. I dare say they will get on well enough. If 
 the holy man wants to collect * experiences,' his wife 
 wiU be able to furnish them, — that's certain. It will 
 be very ' sweet.' 
 
 I pity, but I condemn. In the name of Matuta, 
 and of common sense, is there an imperative necessity 
 that all our maids should become matrons ? 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 239 
 
 If sucli exists, think, I beseecli you, virgins — 
 pretty but penniless — apt for tlie yoke, liow many 
 chances of subjection may turn up, without rushing 
 to put your necks under it. Is the aspiring race of 
 H.E.I.C.S. cadets extinct ? Are Erin's sons so good 
 or so cold, as not to be tempted by woman, even witii 
 out the gold? Are tliere not soldiers still to the fore, 
 too inflammable to bo trusted near an ammunition 
 waggon ? Are there not — the boime louche comes last 
 — are there not priests and deacons ? The instant 
 that a man takes orders, celibacy becomes intolerable 
 to him. I firmly believe that half the offers made in 
 the year throughout broad England emanate from 
 those energetic ecclesiastics. 
 
 After all, what specimens you do pick up sometimes, 
 in your haste ! If you are to lead apes, is it not better 
 to defer the evil day as long as possible, instead of 
 parading the animals about by your sides, here on this 
 upper earth ? 
 
 My sermon is too long for the occasion — too short 
 for the text. I close a discourse, not much wiser, per- 
 haps, than poor Wamba's, with his — 'Pax vohlsciim !' 
 
 Flora and Guy met with perfect composure on both 
 sides. She did not appear to think that she had any 
 claim upon him arising from what had passed ; but it 
 was evident he was still the favourite, and that all 
 others were complete 'outsiders.' 'No betting-man 
 would have backed the field for a shiUing. She 
 
240 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 waltzed witli liiin whenever he asked licr, to tlic utter 
 oblivion and annihilation of previous engagements ; 
 whereat the Frenchmen chafed inexpressibl}^, cursing 
 and gnashing their teeth when, after the ball was 
 over, they went forth into the outer darlmess. No- 
 thing but Livingstone's extraordinary reputation in 
 the shooting-galleries, added to a certain ferocity of 
 demeanour which had become habitual to him of late, 
 saved him from more than one serious quarrel. 
 
 Ke took it all as a matter of course. Flora amused 
 him, certainly : she s}Tnpathized with his tastes, and 
 perhaps flattered his vanity. For instance, she always 
 took an interest in his fortunes at play, watching and 
 sometimes backing him at ecarte, and often inquiring 
 the next morning how the battle had gone in her ab- 
 sence at the Board of Green Clctli. 
 
 Once when an unfortunate adorer — in bitterness of 
 spirit at being thrown over twice in one evening — 
 hinted at some of the intrigues which had made 
 Guy's name unenviabl}^ notorious (play was not the 
 guiltiest of his distractions to thoughts that would 
 come back) Miss Bcllasj^s only smiled haughtily, and 
 did not even deign to betray any curiosity on the sub- 
 ject. Those ephemeral passions were not the rivals 
 si 10 feared. 
 
 Iler mother all this while was ver}^ uncomfortable. 
 Though herself per fcctl}^ innocent of any connivance in 
 Flora's schemes, she was afflicted with a perpetual in- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 2-11 
 
 distinct sort of remorse. Once or twice, I believe, she 
 did venture on a remonstrance, but she was put down 
 decisively, and did not try it again. 
 
 One evening Guy bad been lingering for some time 
 in the Bellasys' box at the opera : as lie went out 
 into i\iQ foyer lie saw an old acquaintance coining to- 
 wards bim. 
 
 Lord Killowen was past sixty : the world bad used 
 bim rougbly, and be bad been ruined very early in 
 life ; but be bore botb j^ears and troubles ligbtly. 
 Looking- at bis smooth forebead and square erect figure, 
 and listening tu bis ready cheery laugh, you would 
 never have guessed how long he had led that guerilla 
 existence — for forty years keeping the bailiffs at bay. 
 His nerve and bis seat in the saddle were as firm as 
 
 they were on the first night of his joining the 
 
 Hussars^ when he rode Kicldng Kate over the iron 
 pales round Hounslow Barrack-yard, and hit the 
 layers of the long odds for a cool thousand. 
 
 He had been intimate with Colonel Livingstone, 
 and had kno"\vn his son from childhood ; but he was 
 a still closer friend of the Brandon family, with whom, 
 indeed, he was distantly connected. He bad never 
 seen Guy since the breaking off of the latter's en- 
 gagement till this night, when he caught a glimpse 
 of his lofty head bending over Flora Bellasj^s' chair. 
 
 Lord Killowen's blood was as hot, and bis impulses 
 as quick, as if he had not yet seen his twentieth win- 
 
242 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ter ; and the cliivalry within liim was stirred at wliat 
 he considered an insolent parade of treachery ; for he 
 had guessed muchi of what had happened, though he 
 did not know all the truth. So he passed Guy's ex- 
 tended hand, turning his head studiously aside. 
 
 The latter was startlev' for a moment ; but he could 
 not believe in an intentionul ' cut,' and he knew his 
 friend to be rather short-sighted ; so with one stride 
 he overtook him, and, touching him on the shoulder, 
 said, * I must be very much changed if you do not 
 know me. Lord Killowen.' 
 
 The bravo old Irishman turned short upon his heel 
 and confronted the ppcaker, bending on him all the 
 light of his clear blue eyes : Ae drew himself up to the 
 full height of a stature that nearly equalled Living- 
 stone's, and said, coolly and slowly, * Pardon me, you 
 are not changed in the least ; I know you very well.' 
 
 The insult was palpable. Guy fairly staggered, as 
 if he had received a sword-thrust ; thea tlie angry 
 blood rushed up to his temples, making the veins start 
 out like muscles, and he spoke in a voice hoarse and 
 indistinct with passion, * You will answer this ? ' 
 
 True, his antagonist was more than old enough to 
 have been his father ; but in feast, field, and fray. Lord 
 Killowen remembered his own age so seldom, that other 
 men might be excused for forgetting it sometimes. 
 
 The old man was going to answer eagerly, but he 
 checked himself with an effort, as if repressing a strong 
 
GUY LmNGSTONE. 
 
 243 
 
 temptation ; wlien, after some seconds, lie spoke, there 
 was more of sadness and warning than of anger, in 
 his tone. 
 
 * No ; I will not fight, even in this quarrel, with 
 your father's son ; besides, I might be anticipating 
 one who has a better right. Four days ago, Cyril 
 Brandon landed from India.' 
 
 It would have been difficult, I think, to have found 
 another, among living men, both by constitution and 
 temperament, so inaccessible to material terrors as 
 Livingstone ; yet when that name came upon him 
 thus suddenly, he felt a thrill and a start through his 
 nerves, so unpleasantly like commonplace physical 
 fear, that ever, when he thought of it, it made his 
 cheek burn with shame. lie could not, after that, 
 controvert gallant Lannes' maxim : ' It is only a 
 coward who says that he never was afraid.* 
 
 He stood silently, and allowed Lord Killowcn to 
 pass him, bowing courteously, though coldly, to him. 
 The latter never knew what mischief he had done. 
 After that momentary sensation had passed off, all the 
 worst elements of Guy's stubborn haughty nature rose 
 in rebellion at what he deemed a despicable weakness. 
 As if in defiance of the consequences, all that evening 
 and on the succeeding daja he devoted himself to 
 Ilora Bellasys with such unusual ardour that it made 
 her nervous : she thought it was too good to last. 
 Wlicu ^[ohun heard what had happened, he would 
 
244 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 not admit that there was the slightest chance of a 
 meeting with Cyril Brandon, though he knew the 
 character of the latter — fierce and intractable to a 
 degree. 
 
 * Don't flatter j^ourself you will wipe off the score in 
 that way,' he said to Guy, with his sardonic laugh. 
 * Men will quarrel over cards and about lorcttes, easily 
 enough ; but who fights for a " broken Covenant " 
 now ? ^^^^e live two hundred years too late.' 
 
 Ralph remembered how long he had lingered on the 
 French sea-board, waiting for a challenge from beyond 
 the Channel, which never came ; though there was 
 deeper provocation to justify it. 
 
 A few mornings after this had occurred, Living- 
 stone found himself without a servant. His demeanour 
 towards this estimable class had alwa3's been imperi- 
 ous and stern to a fault ; but latterly they, as well as 
 others, had felt the effects of his exasperated temper, 
 and he was sometimes brutally overbearing in his re- 
 primands. On this particular occasion he must have 
 been unusuall}^ oppressive, for it exhausted the pa- 
 tience of the much-enduring Willis ; so that the worm 
 turned again — insolently. 
 
 Before he had said ten words his master inter- 
 rupted him — his eye turning towards a heavy horse- 
 whip that lay near, with an expression that made 
 A\^illis retreat towards the door. 
 
 * So you have robbed me of enough to make you 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 245 
 
 independent ? Very well ! make your book up : the 
 maitre d' hotel will settle with you. You will carry 
 away some of my property, of course. I shall not 
 trouble myself to have your trunks searched ; but if 
 you take anything that I happen to want afterwards, 
 I'll have you arrested, wherever you are. Now go.' 
 
 The man left the room sulkily : an hour later he 
 returned. ' I am going this instant, Mr Livingstone ; 
 but I could tell you something first that you ought to 
 know, if you would promise not to be violent. I am 
 very sorry now I did it.' There was a curious ex- 
 pression — ^half spiteful, half frightened — on his cun- 
 ning face, as he spoke. 
 
 Guy looked at him carelessly. ' Thank you ; I am 
 in no humour to listen to your confessions. You may 
 be quite easy ; I give you credit for all imaginable 
 rascality. Kemcmber what I said ; if I miss any- 
 thing, the police will be after you the same day. Now, 
 once more, go. If I see j^our face about here again, 
 it will be the worse for you.' 
 
 There was a good deal of meaning in Willis's smile, 
 though his lips were white with fear. * You will never 
 miss what I was going to tell you about, sir/ he said ; 
 and then faded away out of the room, with his usual 
 noiseless step, closing the door softly behind him. 
 
 If his master could have guessed what was the 
 secret he had refused to hear, haughty as he was, I 
 do believe there is no earthly degradation to which ho 
 
246 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 would not liavG abased himself to gain its knowledgo. 
 
 But the hour for the humbling of the strong, self- 
 reliant nature had not come yet, though it was very 
 near. The wild bull never saw the net till its meshes 
 had trapped him fast 
 
 The same morning, Guy, who was lounging an hour 
 away at the Bellasys*, mentioned to them w^hat had 
 occurred. If he had glanced at Flora's face just 
 then, he would have been puzzled to guess what there 
 was in the intelligence to turn her so deadly pale. It 
 was only for an instant that the accomplished actress 
 forgot her part ; and when he looked at her next, 
 there was not a trace of emotion in her ftxce. 
 
 * Have you filled up his place ? ' she asked, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 * I have ordered my landlord to provide me,' replied 
 Gnj. * I shall find some well-trained scoundrel on 
 my return, I hope. I shall never get another like 
 Willis, though. It's just my luck. The great prin- 
 ciple of the Gazelle runs through life. AYhen they 
 come to know you well, &c. What made you ask ? 
 Surely you have no protegee to recommend ? ' 
 
 Flora laughed gaily, as she answered in the nega- 
 tive, and so the subject dropped ; but all the after- 
 noon she was pensive and absent, and flashes of vex- 
 ation gleamed every now and then fitfully in her 
 stormy eyes. 
 
247 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Let none tliink to fly the danger, 
 For, soon or late, Love is Lis own avenger. 
 
 OiiRiSTMAS-TiDE had conie round again ; and hall, 
 manor-house, and castle were filling fast. But the 
 pheasants had a jubilee at Kerton to the great dis- 
 couragement of Mallet, who ' could not mind such 
 another breeding season/ 
 
 Foxes were strong and plentiful with the Belvoir 
 and the Pytchley ; and, during two months of open 
 weather, many a straightgoer had died gallantly in 
 the midst of the wide pasture- grounds, testifying with 
 his last breath to the generalship of Goodall and 
 Payne. But the best shot and the hardest rider in 
 Northamptonshire lingered on still in Paris, wasting 
 his patrimony in most riotous living, and trying his 
 iron constitution presumptuously. 
 
 Lady Catherine sat alone in the grey old house, 
 paler and more careworn than ever. I think she 
 would have preferred the noisiest revel that ever broke 
 her slumbers in the old times, to the dead silence that 
 brooded like a mist in the deserted rooms. 
 
248 GUY LTVIXC.STONE. 
 
 Gu}' had always been a bad correspondent, and now 
 ho hardly ever wrote to her ; but rumours of his wild 
 life reached his mother often, though dimly and 
 vaguely. It was best so : what would that poor lady 
 have felt if she could have guessed at the scene in 
 which her son was the principal figure as the Christ- 
 mas morning was breaking ? 
 
 It is the close of a furious orgie ; the Babel of cries, 
 of fragments of songs, of insane meaningless laughter, 
 is d^^ing away, through the pure exhaustion of tlic 
 revellers ; on the gay carpet and the rich damask are 
 pools of spilt liquors, heaps of shivered glass, and bou- 
 quets and garlands that have ceased to be fragrant 
 hours ago. All around in different attitudes — ignoble 
 and helpless — are strewn the bodies of those who have 
 gone down early in the battle of the Bacchanals : they 
 lie in their ranks as they fell. One figure towers 
 above the rest — pre-eminent as Satan in the conclave 
 of the ruined angels — the guiltiest, because the most 
 conscious of his own utter degradation. The frequent 
 draughts that have prostrated his companions have 
 only brought out two roimd scarlet spots in the pale 
 bronze of his cheeks ; his voice retains still its deep, 
 calm, almost solemn tone. Listen to it, as he raises 
 to his lips an immense glass brimming-full of Bur- 
 gundy — * One toast more, and with funeral honours 
 — " To the memory of those who have fallen glori- 
 ously on the 24th of December." * 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 249 
 
 It is true that, six montlis ago, the soft, pui'e cheek 
 of Constance Brandon rested often on the broad breast 
 that pillows now the dishevelled head of that wild- 
 eyed, shrill- voiced Maenad ? Draw the curtains closer 
 yet : shut out the dawn of the Nativity, for very shame. 
 
 Mohun was breakfasting with Livingstone on a cold, 
 gusty January morning that succeeded a night of 
 heavy drinldng and heavier play. The Colonel would 
 see him through one of these readily enough ; but if 
 there was even a single female face present, he would 
 retreat in disgust and contempt unutterable. Guy 
 had been hit so hard, that it made him graver than 
 usual as he thought of it, though he was tolerably 
 inured and indifferent to evil fortune ; so the convers- 
 ation languished during the meal. After it was over, 
 Mohun rose to light a cigar, while his companion took 
 up a pile of letters and began to glance at them list- 
 lessly. Suddenly the former dropped the match from 
 his hand, starting in irrepressible astonishment. 
 
 He had seen strong men die hard, mangled and 
 shattered by sabre or bullet ; but he had never heard a 
 sound so terribly significant of agony as the dull, heavy 
 groan that, just then, burst from Livingstone's lips. 
 
 In those few seconds his face had grown perfectly 
 livid : his eyes were riveted upon a small note that he 
 held in his shaking fingers ; they glittered strangely, 
 but there was no meaning or expression in tlieir fixed 
 stare. 
 
250 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 * In the name of God, what has happened ? * Ealph 
 asked. 
 
 Guy's lips worked and moyed ; but no sound caino 
 from them, except an irregular catching of the breath, 
 and a gasping rattle in the throat. 
 
 Mohun took the note from his hand without his 
 seeming to be aware of it, and read it through. These 
 were the words : — 
 
 * I have tried very hard to persuade myself that you 
 never received the letter I wrote to you two months 
 ago. I think you would have answered it, for you 
 would know how much I must have suffered before my 
 pride broke down so utterly. Yet I could not have 
 risked being scorned a second time, if I had not learnt 
 yesterday that my life must now be reckoned by 
 weeks, if not by days. I do not know if I shall be 
 allowed to see j^ou, if you come. But you will come ; 
 will you not ? Dear, dear Guy, I cannot die as I 
 ought to do, contentedly, unless I speak to you once 
 again. In spite of all, I will sign my last letter, 
 
 * Your own, 
 
 * Constance Brandon.* 
 It was dated Ventnor. 
 
 Hard and cynical as he was, Mohun was thoroughly 
 shocked and grieved ; but the urgency of the crisis 
 brought back the prompt decision of thought and 
 purpose that were habitual to the trained soldier. He 
 sprang to his feet^ alert and ready for action, as he 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 251 
 
 would have done in the old times, from his bivouac, 
 to meet a night surprise of the wild Hungarians. 
 
 * Get everything ready,' he said to the servant, who 
 entered at that moment ; ' your master is going 
 to England immediately. The train starts for Havre 
 at two o'clock. You will catch the night boat for 
 Southampton.' 
 
 ^VTien the man had left the room, he turned to 
 Guy — ' Rouse yourself, man ! There is all a lifetime 
 for remorse, but only a few hours for the little amends 
 you can make. You will be at Yentnor to-morrow ; 
 and mind — you must see her, whatever difficulties ma}' 
 be thrown in your way. You won't lose your temper 
 if you meet her brother ? Ah ! I see you are not 
 listening.^ 
 
 Then Livingstone spoke for the first time, in a 
 hoarse, grating whisper, articulating the words one 
 by one, with difficulty. 
 
 * I never dreamt of this. I did not mean to kill 
 her.' 
 
 Mohun knew his friend too well to attempt conso- 
 lation or sympathy, even if these had not been foreign 
 to his own nature, so he answered deliberately and 
 coldly — 
 
 ' Of having brought bitter sorrow on Constance 
 Brandon, I do hold you guilty ; of having caused her 
 death — not ; and so you will find when you know all. 
 But her note of two months ago — of course you never 
 
252 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 saw it ? You must have overlooked it ; you are so 
 careless with your papers.' 
 
 * It never reached me/ Livingstone replied. * I 
 have alwa3^s looked at the outside of my letters, and 
 I should liave known tliat handwriting among ten 
 thousand. Some one must have intercepted it. I 
 wish I knew who.* He was recovering from the first 
 stunning efiects of the shock, and the old angry 
 light came back into his eyes. 
 
 * I will find out when you are gone,' said Mohun. 
 ' You have not a moment to spare. I won't ask you 
 to write ; I will join you in England in three days. 
 Only remember one thing — keep cool. Yes ; I know 
 what you mean ; but your patience may be tried more 
 than you have any idea of.' He was thinking of Cyril 
 Brandon. 
 
 The hurry of departure prevented any further con- 
 Tcrsation. At the station, just before the train 
 started, Ralph said, grasping his comrade's hand as 
 he spoke — ' I did not think you loved her so dearly.' 
 
 It was very long before he forgot the di-eary look 
 which accompanied the answer — * I did not know it 
 myself till now.' 
 
 * I must trace the note,' the Colonel muttered, as 
 he strode away from the station. * That handsome 
 tiger-cat has laid her claw on it, I am certain. But 
 she won't confess ; red-hot pincers would not drag 
 a secret from her, if she meant to keep it. I doubt 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONK. 253 
 
 if slie will even betray herself by a blusli. Poor 
 Constance ! Wbat cliance bad sbe against such a 
 Macbiavel in petticoats ? I am bad at diplomacy, too. 
 If I only bad tbe slightest proof, or if sbc bad any 
 weak point. Unless sbc loses ber bead wben sbe 
 bears wbere Guy is gone, I bave no cbance of finding 
 out mucb in tbat quarter. There's Willis, to be sure. 
 Sbe bribed bim, no doubt. D — n tbem botb ! * In 
 tbis complimentary and charitable mood, be went 
 straight to Flora Bellasys. 
 
 He found her alone. She was sitting in her riding - 
 dress ; and the broad Spanish hat, with its curl- 
 ing plimies, lay close beside her, with the gauntlets 
 and whip across it. 
 
 Sbe did not much like Mohun, for she had an idea 
 tbat bis sarcasms, with her for their object, bad made 
 Guy smile more than once approvingly. She knew, 
 too, that all her fascinations recoiled harmlessly from 
 tbat rugged block of ironstone. Whatever be might 
 have been in early years, be was harder of heart than 
 stout Sir Artegall now. Radigund, unhelming ber 
 lovely face, would never bave tempted bim to forego 
 bis advantage and throw his weapons down. 
 
 However, she greeted bim with perfect composure 
 and satisfaction. 
 
 '^Do you join our party this afternoon. Colonel 
 Mohun ? I expect them to call for me every moment. 
 "We are going to the Croix de Berny, to see the 
 
254 GUY J.IVINGSTONE. 
 
 ground for tlio race next week. Mr Livingstone was 
 to have lunched here ; but I never reckon on his 
 keeping an engagement.* 
 
 There was something in Ealph's manner which 
 made her uncomfortable. She took up her whip, and 
 began twisting its slender stock rather nervously ; 
 you would not have thought there was so much 
 strength in the delicate fingers. 
 
 * You are right/ he replied, coolly, ' not to count 
 too much on Guy's punctuality. He is very imcer- 
 tain in his movements. I fear he cannot accompany 
 you this afternoon. He would have charged me with 
 his excuses, I am sure, if he had not been so hurried.' 
 
 Flora looked up quickly. 
 
 * It must have been something very sudden, then. 
 Have you any idea where he is now ? ' 
 
 Ralph consulted his watch. 'About Mantes, I 
 should imagine. He started for Havi'e by the last 
 train. He will be at Southampton to-morrow ; and 
 the same day he can reach — .' 
 
 He stopped, gazing at his companion with a cold, 
 cruel satisfaction. The blood was sinking in her 
 cheeks, not with a sudden impulse, but gradually — as 
 the sunset rose-tints fade from the brow of the Jung- 
 frau, leaving a ghastly opaque whiteness behind them. 
 During the silence that ensued, a sharp tinkle might 
 be heard, as the jewelled head of the riding- whip, 
 snapped by a convulsive movement, fell at Flora's feet. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 255 
 
 It teas weak in lier to betray sucli loss of self-com- 
 mand; but remember the blow came unexpectedly. 
 She saw the edifice she had plotted, and toiled, and 
 risked so much to build, ruined and shattered to its 
 foundation-stone. How many whispers, and smiles, 
 and eloquent glances had been lavished, only to end 
 in this Pavia, where not even honour was saved from 
 the utter wreck ! 
 
 "Was not the perfect waxen mask of the First Napo- 
 leon shivered in that terrible Abdication-night at Fon- 
 tainebleau ? Where was Cleopatra's queenly dignity 
 when she heard that Antony had rejoined Octavia ? 
 
 * Why has he gone ? What called him back ? ' 
 Her voice had lost the clear ring of silver, and 
 
 sounded dull and flat, like base metal. 
 
 * Constance Brandon wrote to tell him she was 
 dying. Do you wonder that he went to her ? ' 
 
 A passing cloud of horror swept across Flora's pale 
 face ; but after it broke forth a gleam of strange fero- 
 cious exultation, which stifled the rising pity in her 
 hearer's breast, and changed it into contempt. 
 
 * I don't believe it,' she cried, passionately. * It is 
 a trick. She was quite well two months ago. At 
 least, she said nothing — .' 
 
 She checked herself, but too late. The practised 
 duellist laughed grimly in his moustache, as he might 
 have done on discovering the weak point in his 
 enemy's ward which laid him open to his rapier. 
 
256 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 * You make my task easier/ lie said; * I caine to in- 
 quire about a note v/hich miscaiTicd about tlie time 
 you speak of. I will know what became of it, Miss 
 Bellasys, thougb I wish to spare you unnecessary 
 exposure and shame.' 
 
 lie had gained a momentary advantage, but it did 
 not profit him much. There are swordsmen who 
 will not own that they are touched, though their 
 lilb-blood is ebbing fast. Flora rose without a sign 
 of yielding or weakness in her dry eyes, drawing up 
 lier magnificent figure proudly, llalph could not 
 help thinking how like her father she was just then. 
 
 'I will answer, though I deny youi* right to 
 question mo. I have not the faintest idea of what 
 you refer to. I have seen no note, except such as 
 were addressed to myself: and you will hardly think 
 that Miss Brandon would choose me as a confidante or 
 correspondent.' 
 
 Mohim saw that she would persist to the last, un- 
 daunted as Sapphira. So he rose to leave her, with- 
 out another word. 
 
 * You do not doubt me ? ' Flora asked, as he turned 
 away, after saluting her. It was a rash question, all 
 things considered, and scarcely worthy of the accom- 
 plished speaker. There is no more useful maxim in 
 diplomacy than this — Quieia non movere. 
 
 Ralph faced her directly. ' Miss Bellasys, when a 
 lady tells me what I cannot believe, I question — not her 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 257 
 
 word, but — lier agent/ He was lialf-way down-stairs 
 before she coiild answer or detain liim. 
 
 He found out Willis's direction at Guy's botel; but 
 lie bad to wait some time before obtaining it ; and 
 other things delayed him en route y so that it was 
 nearly two hours before he reached the modest lodg- 
 ings an quatneme, where the discharged valet was 
 hiding his greatness. 
 
 Willis had an extensive connection ; this, and his 
 well-knoAvn talents, made him tolerably sure of a 
 situation whenever he chose to seek one. He had 
 luxurious tastes, and thoroughly appreciated self-in- 
 dulgence ; so he determined to devote some time and 
 a portion of his perquisites to relaxation, before going 
 into harness again. 
 
 On this particular evening he had in prospect a 
 little dinner at Philippe's — not uncheered by the 
 smiles of venal beauty — and had just completed a 
 careful toilette. He was above the small peculations 
 of his order ; indeed, had he been inclined to plunder 
 his late master's wardrobe, the absurd disproportion 
 in their size would have saved him from that vulgar 
 temptation. He was somewhat choice in his tailors; 
 and his clothes fitted him and suited him well. He 
 was reviewing the general efiect in the glass with a 
 complacent, and rather egrillarde expression in his 
 little eyes, when — between him and his partie fine — 
 rose the apparition of the Colonel, like that of the 
 
258 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 commander before a bolder profligate, lie knew 
 that the interview must come, and did not wish 
 to avoid it ; but just at this moment it was singu- 
 larly ill timed. TVTiat a contrast between the stem 
 fixed gaze that seemed to nail him to the spot 
 where he stood and the well-tutored glances of fair, 
 frail Heloise ! He felt as if he had been put into the 
 ice-pail by mistake for the champagne. However, 
 he met his ill-luck placidly, and, handing his visitor 
 a chair, begged to know * what he could do to serve 
 him?* 
 
 * You can tell me what became of a letter from Miss 
 Brandon, which ought to have reached your master 
 two months ago, and miscarried.' 
 
 Willis was forewarned and armed for the question ; 
 but, even with this advantage given in, his blank un- 
 conscious look and start of astonishment did him in- 
 finite credit. 
 
 * A letter, sir?' he said, vaguely, as if consulting his 
 recollections. * From Miss Brandon ? I have never 
 seen or heard of such a thing. If I had, of course I 
 should have given it to Mr Livingstone. What else 
 could I have done with it ? ' 
 
 ' I will give a thousand francs for it,* Mohim went 
 on, without noticing the denial, * or for a written ac- 
 knowledgment of how you disposed of it, and at 
 whose orders.' He laid the bank-note on the table. 
 
 The flats changed ; the look of bewilderment gave 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 259 
 
 place to one of injured innocence — an appeal against 
 manifest injustice. It was really artistically done. 
 
 * I am soriy, sir, that you should think I want a 
 bribe to serve you or Mr Livingstone. It is quite out 
 of my power now. I don't know what you refer to.* 
 
 ' I have no time to bargain/ Ealph growled, and 
 his eyes began to glisten ominously. * Name your 
 price and have done with it.* 
 
 Finale and grand tableau — virtuous indignation — 
 the faithful servant asserting his dignity as a man. 
 There was a hitch here somewhere ; the scene-shifter 
 was hardly up to his work, so that it was rather a 
 failure. 
 
 * I have told you twice, sir, that I do not know any- 
 thing about it. I beg you will not insult me with 
 more questions. You have no right to do so ; I am 
 neither in your service nor Mr Livingstone's now.* 
 
 Mohun bent his bushy brows in some perplexity. 
 After all he had not a shadow of proof, though he felt 
 a moral certainty. His sheet-anchor was the avarice 
 of the scoundrel he was dealing with, and this seemed 
 to fail. Evidently a strong counter-influence had 
 been at work. 
 
 * Curse her ! * he muttered between his clenched 
 teeth ; ' she has been here before me.* 
 
 Then he looked up suddenly, and what ho saw 
 caused the shallow cup of his patience at once to 
 overflow. 
 
260 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 In Willises eyes was an ill-repressed twinkle of ex- 
 ultation and amusement, and on his thin lips the dawn- 
 ing of an actual sneer. It was but seldom the trained 
 satellite allowed himself the luxury of betraying any 
 natural feeling. In truth he chose his time badly for 
 its exhibition now. Before he could collect himself so 
 as to utter a cry, he lay upon his back on the carpet, 
 a heavy foot on his chest ; and the Colonel was gazing 
 down on him with a fell murderous expression, that 
 made the victim's blood run cold. 
 
 ' By G — d ! ' Mohun said, in the smothered tones of 
 concentrated passion, * if you trifle with me ten seconds 
 longer — if you open your lips except to answer my 
 question — I'll crush your breast-bone in.' 
 
 Willis knew the desperate character of the man who 
 held him in his power ; it was no vain threat he had 
 just heard ; the pressure on his breast was agonizing 
 already. 
 
 * For God's sake, don't murder me ! ' he gasped out ; 
 * I — I gave it to Miss Bellasys.' 
 
 * Of course you did,' Mohun said, coolly ; * I knew 
 it all along. Now get up, and write that down.' 
 
 He spurned away the fallen man as he spoke, till 
 he rolled over and over on the floor. 
 
 There is nothing which disconcerts a nature long 
 used to obey like a sudden brutal coup-de-main. Re- 
 member the Scythians and their slaves. The rebels 
 met their masters boldly enough on a fair field with 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 261 
 
 sword and spear, but they cowered before the crack of 
 the horse-whips. 
 
 All the spider-webs of the unfortunate Willis's 
 diplomacy were utterly swept away ; his powers of 
 thought and volition were concentrated now on one 
 point — to get rid of his visitor as soon as possible. 
 
 He rose slowly and painfully (for the mere physical 
 shock had been heavy), and placing himself at a table, 
 tried to write the few words of acknowledgment that 
 Mohun dictated ; but his hand trembled so excessively 
 that he could hardly form the letters. As he looked 
 up, in piteous deprecation, evidently fearing lest liis 
 inability to comply should be construed into un- 
 TNTilingness or rebellion, he presented a spectacle of 
 degraded humanity, so revolting in its abasement 
 that even the c^Tiic turned away in painful disgust. 
 
 It was done at last. As WiUis saw his confession 
 consigned to Mohun's pocket-book, his avarice gave 
 him courage to try one last effort to gain something 
 by the transaction — a salve to his bruises ; a set-off 
 against the relida non bene pm^mula. 
 
 * I hope you will consider I have done all I can, 
 sir,' he said, looking wistfully at the bank-note, 
 which stni lay on the table. ' I shall be ruined if 
 this becomes known.' 
 
 The cast-steel smile which was peculiar to him 
 hardened the Colonel's face. 
 
 * You must come down on Miss Bellasys for compen- 
 
262 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sation. She pays well, I have no doubt. You never 
 get another sott from our side, if it were to keep you 
 from starving. My second thought was the best after 
 all ; it saved time — and money.' (lie put the note 
 back into his purse.) * I'll give you one caution, 
 though. Keep out of Mr Livingstone's way. If ho 
 meets you, after hearing all this, he'll break your 
 neck, I believe in my conscience.' So he left him. 
 
 For the second time in the evening Willis looked in 
 the glass — the reflection was not so satisfactory. Was 
 that unseemly crumpled ruin, the white tie, sublime 
 in its scientific wriakles, on which its author had 
 gazed with a pardonable paternal pride ? No wonder 
 that he stamped in wrath, not the less bitter because 
 impotent, while he shook ofi" the dust from his gar- 
 ments as a testimony against Halph Mohun. 
 
 He repaired the damages though, to the best of his 
 power, and then went off to keep his appointment ; but 
 the pdt^s a la hcchamelle were as ashes, and the gelee au 
 marasquin as gall, to his parched, disordered palate. 
 He mad 3 himself so intensely disagreeable, that poor 
 Heloise thenceforth swore an enmity against his com- 
 patriots, which endured to the end of her brief mis- 
 spent existence. Gredin d' Angle is, vaf she was 
 wont to say, grinding her little white teeth melo- 
 dramatically, whenever she recalled that dreary 
 entertainment, and the failure of her simple strata- 
 gems to enliven her satunune host, 
 
263 
 
 CHAPTEH XXVII. 
 
 Tten let tlie funeral bells be tolled, a requiem be sung, 
 An antbem for the qucealiest dead that ever died bo young ; 
 A dirge for her, — the doubly dead, in that she died so young. 
 
 For the first few minutes after the train had moved 
 off, Guy \Yas unable to collect his thoughts. As the 
 tall figure of Mohun passed from his view, it seemed 
 as if a sustaining prop had been suddenly cut away 
 from under him, and he felt more than ever helpless. 
 The stubborn strength of his character asserted itself 
 before long, and he faced his great sorrow as he would 
 have done an enemy in bodily shape ; but neither 
 then, nor for many days after, could he pursue any 
 one train of reflection long unbroken. 
 
 First he began to think how Constance would look 
 when he saw her. Would she be much changed? How 
 beautiful she was the night they parted, with the 
 blue myosotis gleaming through her bright hair! 
 "Would her eyes be as cold as he remembered them 
 then (he had not seen their last look), or would they 
 forgive him at once, and tell him so ? Not if she knew 
 all. And then, in hideous contrast to her pure stately 
 beauty, there rose before him faces and figures which 
 
264 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 had shared his orgies dui*ing the past months, gay with 
 paint and jewels, and meretricious ornament. There 
 was a deeper horror in those mocking shapes than in 
 the most loathsome phantasms of corporeal corruption 
 that feverish dreams ever called up from the grave- 
 yard. If his lips were unworthy, months ago, to 
 touch Constance's cheek or hand, what were they now? 
 He ground his teeth in the bitterness of self-condemn- 
 ation. It would be easier to bear, if she met him 
 coldly and proudly, than if she yielded at once, as her 
 letter seemed to promise. Her letter! — what became 
 of the first one ? If that had reached him, how much 
 might have been saved ! Perhaps Constance's life — 
 certainly much of his own dishonour. The idea did 
 cross him, that Flora might have been concerned in 
 intercepting it; but it seemed improbable, and he 
 drove it away. With all his revived devotion to 
 Constance, he did not like to think hardly of her 
 rival ; in a lesser degree he had wronged her too. 
 
 You wiU rarely find the sternest or wisest of men 
 disposed to be harsh towards errors that spring from 
 a devotion to themselves. It is only just, as well as 
 natural, that it should be so. If the Second Cause of 
 the crime did not find an excuse for the defendant, I 
 don't know where he or she would look for an advocate. 
 St Kevin need not have troubled himself : there were 
 plenty of people ready to push poor Kathleen down. 
 I think it is a pity they canonized him. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 265 
 
 Tkrougli all Guy's reflections tliere ran this under- 
 current — * how easily all miglit have been avoided if 
 the slightest things had turned out differently ! ' 
 Just so, after a heavy loss at play, a man loill keep 
 thinking how he might have won a large stake, if he 
 had played one card otherwise, or backed the In 
 instead of the Out. I have heard good judges say, 
 that this pertinacious after- thought is the hardest 
 part to bear of all the annoyance. Of course he 
 worries himself about it — just as if ' great results from 
 small beginnings ' were not the tritest of all truisms. 
 I don't wish to be historical, or I would reflect how 
 often the Continent has been convulsed by a dish that 
 disagreed with some one, or by a ship that did not 
 Btart to its time. The Jacobites were very mso in 
 toasting ' the little gentleman in black velvet,' that 
 raised the fatal mole-hill. Does not the old romance 
 say, that an adder starting from a bush brought on 
 the terrible battle, in which all the chivalry of Eng- 
 land were stre^vTi like leaves around Arthur, on 
 Barren-Down ? 
 
 Guy could still hardly realize to himself the cer- 
 tainty of Constance's approaching death. He tried to 
 fix his thoughts on this, till a heavy, listless torpor, 
 like drowsiness, began to steal over him. He roused 
 himself impatiently, and began to think how slow they 
 were going. Nevertheless, the green coteaux that 
 swell between Bouen and the sea were flying past 
 
266 Gxnr Livingstone. 
 
 rapidl}', and they arrived at Ilavre as Mohun liad 
 said, just in time to catcli the Southampton packet. 
 
 There was threatening of foid weather to windward. 
 The clouds, in masses of indigo just edged with copper, 
 were banking up fast, and the * white horses,' more 
 and more frequent, were beginning to toss their manes 
 against the dark sky-line. 
 
 To the few travellers, whom the stem necessities of 
 business drove forth, lingering and shivering, from 
 their comfortable inns on to the deck, already wet and 
 unstead}^ Livingstone was an object of great interest 
 and many theories. His impatience to be gone was 
 so marked, that the conscientious official looked more 
 than once suspiciously at his passport. 
 
 Mr Phineas Hackett, of Boston, U.S., Marchand 
 (so self- described in the Livre des Yoyageurs at 
 Chamounix), made up his mind that he saw before 
 him the hero of some gigantic forgery, or a fraudulent 
 bankrupt on a large scale ; but, just as he had fixed 
 on the astute question which was to drive the first 
 wedge into the mystery, Guy turned in his quick 
 walk and met him full. I doubt if he even saw the 
 smooth-shaven eager face close at his elbow ; but he 
 was thinking again of the lost letter, and the savage 
 glare in his eyes made the heart of the * earnest in- 
 quirer' quiver under his black satin waistcoat. 
 * D — d hard knot, that,' he muttered, disconsolately! 
 and retreated with great loss, to writhe during the 
 
GUT LI\aNGSTONE. 2G7 
 
 rest of tliG passage in an orgasm of unsatisfied 
 curiosity. 
 
 The weather looked worse every moment, as the 
 wild north wind came roaring from seaward, with a 
 challenge to the Tessels that lay tossing within the 
 jetty to come forth and meet him. The waste-pipe of 
 the Sea-gull screamed out shrilly in answer ; and the 
 brave old ship, shaking the foam from her bows after 
 every plunge, as her namesake might do from its 
 breast-feathers, steamed out right in the teeth of 
 the gale. 
 
 A regular ' Channel night * — a night which Mr 
 
 Augustus Winder, Paris traveller to II and Co., 
 
 the might}^ mercers of Regent Street, spoke of in after 
 days, with a shudder of reminiscence mingling with 
 the pride of one who has endured and survived great 
 pern ; who has gone down to the sea in ships, and seen 
 the wonders of the deep. His associates — the elite of 
 the silk and ribbon department — j^ouths of polished 
 manners and fascinating address, than whom non alii 
 Jeviore saltu took the coimtcr in their stride — would 
 gather round the narrator in respectful admiration ; 
 just as the young sea-dogs of Nantucket might Hsten 
 to a veteran hunter of the sperm-whale, as he tells of 
 a hurricane that caught him in the strait between the 
 Land of Fire and terrible Cape Horn. 
 
 Mr Winder represented himself as having assisted 
 all on board, from the captain down to the cabin-boy, 
 
268 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 >viih his counsel and encouragement, and as having 
 been materially useful to the man at the wheel. The 
 fact was, that he cried a good deal during the night, 
 and was incessant in his appeals to the steward and to 
 ITcaYen for help. In his appeals to the latter Power, 
 he employed often a strangely modified form of the 
 Apostles' Creed ; for his religious education had been 
 neglected, and this was his solitary and simple idea 
 of an orison. However, no one was present to do- 
 tract from his triumph, or to controvert his conclud- 
 ing words — ' An awful night, gents ; but duty's 
 duty, and the firm behaved handsome. Mr Sassnett, 
 I'll trouble you for a light, sir.' And so he ig- 
 nited a fuller- flavoured Cuba, and drank, in a sweeter 
 grog, 'our noble selves' — olim hcec meminissc ju- 
 valat. 
 
 There was one striking contrast on board to the 
 gallant Winder. Livingstone did not go below, but 
 w^alked the deck all night long, straining his eyes 
 eagerly forward through the thick darkness and the 
 driving rain. 
 
 Captain "Wcatherby regarded him approvingly, as, 
 halting in his walk, Guy stood near him upright and 
 steady as a mainmast of Memel pine. * That's the sort 
 I like to carry,' the old sailor remarked confidentially 
 to his second-in-command, as they shared an amicable 
 grog under the shelter of the companion. 
 
 The wind abated towards morning ; and, as the 
 
GI;Y LIVINGSTONE. 269 
 
 dawn broke, tliey were under the lee of the Wight, 
 and moving steadily into the quiet Solent 
 
 Guy made his way straight to Yentnor. Twenty- 
 four hours after her summons reached him, Constance 
 knew that her lover had never received her first letter, 
 and that now he was within five hundred yards of 
 her, waiting to be called into her presence. 
 
 It was long before her answer came. It only con- 
 tained a few hurried words, saying, that it was im- 
 possible for her to see him that day, and begging him 
 not to be angr}^, but to wait. The handwriting was 
 far more faltering and uncertain than that which had 
 struck him so painfully with its weakness the day 
 before. It spoke plainly of the effort which it had 
 cost the invalid to trace even those brief lines. He 
 did not try to delude himself any more : but aU that 
 day remained alone, face to face with his despair. 
 
 He went out after nightfall, and stole up cautiously 
 to the house where Constance was staying. 
 
 It is not only ghosts that icalk. Men, as powerless 
 to retrieve the past as if they were already disem- 
 bodied spirits, will haunt the scenes and sepulchres of 
 their lost happiness, even before they die. Though 
 the world was all before them where to choose, I doubt 
 not that the exiles from Paradise lingered long, just 
 without the sweep of the Flaming Sword. 
 
 Two rooms in the house were lighted, one with 
 the faint glimmer peculiar to the shaded lamp of a 
 
270 GUY IJVINnSTOXE 
 
 Sick-room. Guy's pulse bounded wildly at first, and 
 then grew dull and still. In that room he knew Con- 
 stance lay dying. The other window was brightly 
 lighted, but half shaded by a curtain. A\^ile ho 
 gazed, this was torn suddenly aside, as if by an angry 
 impatient hand, and a man leant out, throwing back 
 the hair from his forehead, to catch the cold wind 
 which was blowing sharply. Guy had never seen the 
 dark passionate face before ; but he knew whose it 
 was very well, though there was little family likeness 
 to guide him. Cyril Brandon's features were small 
 and finely cut, like his sister's ; but there the resemb- 
 lance ended. His complexion, naturally sallow, had 
 been burnt three shades deeper by the Indian sun. 
 His fierce black eyes, and thin lips that seemed 
 always ready to curl or quiver, made the contrast 
 with Constance very striking. 
 
 Livingstone drew back into the farthest shadow of 
 the garden trees. He knew how much reason Cyril 
 had for hating him above aU living men ; and he did 
 not wish to risk a meeting. Mohun's warning shot 
 across his mind, and he felt it was rightly founded. 
 
 Brandon looked out for some minutes without 
 moving, then he dropped his head suddenly on his 
 arms with a heavy groan. The bright Hght was be- 
 hind him, and Guy could see his clasped fingers 
 twisting and tearing at each other, as if he wished to 
 distract mental agony by the sense of bodily pain. 
 
GUY LIVIN JSTONE. 271 
 
 The gazer saw that another bcsiiet himself had given 
 up all hope ; and, with a hea\der heart than ever, he 
 stole away home — not to sleep, but to think, and wait 
 for the morning. 
 
 About noon next day the expected message came. 
 
 * Dear Guy, — I have got leave to see you at last, 
 but it was very diflBcult to gain. It is only on these 
 conditions — you are not to stay with me a moment 
 beyond three hours ; and you must leave Yentnor 
 immediately afterwards, and not return. I have 
 promised all for you. It seems very hard ; but we 
 must not think of that now. Come directly. 
 
 ♦C. B.' 
 
 Ten minutes later there was only a closed door 
 between Livingstone and the interview he longed for 
 and dreaded so much. His steel nerves stood him in 
 good stead then ; it was not at the crisis that these 
 were likely to fail. When Constance heard his step, 
 it was measm-ed and firmly planted as she always re- 
 membered it. So it would have been, if he had been 
 walking to meet the fire of a platoon. Her aunt, 
 Mrs Vavasour, was with her, but left the room as 
 Guy opened the door, and so they met again as they 
 had parted — alone. 
 
272 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI II. 
 
 I charge thee, hj the living's prayer, 
 
 By the dead's silentness, 
 To wring from out thy soul a cry 
 
 That God may hear and bless ; 
 Lest Ileaven's o-\vn palm fade in my hand, 
 And, pale among the saints, I stand 
 
 A saint companionless. 
 
 Constance was lying on a coucli near the fire propped 
 up by many pillows. She felt weaker than usual : 
 what she had gone through in the morning had ex- 
 hausted her. Guy never knew, till long after, that 
 the effort she had made to secure the meeting with 
 him had, in all human probability, shortened her life 
 by weeks. She thought it cheaply purchased at that 
 price, — and she was right. Even the excitement of 
 the moment had hardly brought a tinge of colour into 
 the pure waxen cheeks ; but the beautiful clear eyes 
 were more brilliant than ever. A ribbon of the blue 
 which was Guy's favourite was twisted in her bright 
 glossy hair. 
 
 He saw nothing of this at first ; he did not see her 
 raise herself with a faint joyful cry, as he advanced with 
 hJs eyes cast down ; he never knew how it was that he 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE 273 
 
 fouud himself kneelmg by Constance, with her arms 
 clinging fondly round his neck, and her voice mur- 
 muring in his ear, — ' I said 3'ou would come — I knew 
 you would come/ 
 
 Though her soft cheek lay so very near his lips, 
 they never touched it. He drew back, shuddering 
 all over, and said, hoarselj^ — 
 
 ' I cannot ; I dare not ; I am not worthy.' 
 
 I do not know if she guessed what he meant ; but 
 she tried to lift his head which was bent down on 
 the cushion beside her, so that he might look into her 
 true ej^cs, as she answered — 
 
 You must not think that ; you must not say so. I 
 know you have been angry and almost mad for many 
 months, but you are not so now, and you never will 
 be any more. It was my fault ; — yes, mine. If I 
 had not been so cold and proud, you would never 
 have left me. You thought I did not love you ; but 
 I did ; my own, my darling ; I did — so dearly ! * 
 
 All Gruy's stout manhood was shivered within him, 
 utterly and suddenly, as 4000 years ago the rock was 
 cloven in Horeb, the Moimt of God. Now, too, from 
 the rift in the granite the waters flowed : the first 
 tears that he had shed since he was a very little child 
 — the last that any mortal saw there — streamed hot 
 and blinding from his 03^03 down on the thin trans- 
 parent hand that he held fast. 
 
 Would those with whom he was a byword for hard 
 
274 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sternness of character, have known him then ? They 
 would have been almost as much surprised to see Con- 
 stance Brandon — though so haughty and cold — over- 
 coming her terror at his passionate burst of grief, to 
 soothe him with every tenderest gesture and with 
 words that were each a caress, till the convulsion 
 passed away, and calm self-government returned. 
 
 Guy did not speak till he could quite control him- 
 self ; then he said firml}^, but vdih a sob in his voice 
 still— 
 
 * Yet I have killed you ! ' 
 
 * No, no,' Constance answered, quickly : ' indeed it 
 is not so. A cold which attacked my chest caused 
 this illness ; but they say that my lungs were affected 
 long ago, and that I could hardly have lived many 
 months. You must think of that, dear ; and perhaps 
 it is much better that it should be so. Life is very 
 hard and difficult, I think ; and I should never have 
 been strong enough to bear my part in it well.' 
 
 Guy shook his head sadly, is if only half convinced ; 
 though he knew she would not have said an untrue 
 word, even to save him from suffering. 
 
 ' U 3'ou could only stay with me — if I could only 
 keep you ! ' he cried out, and threw his arms round 
 her, as if their strong clasp would hold her back one 
 step on the road, along which the messengers of God 
 had been beckoning her for many days past. 
 
 * Hush I ' Constance whispered : ' you must be 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 275 
 
 patient. Yet I Kke to think that you will not forget 
 me soon. Now, Ksten — ' and she held up her finger, 
 with something of the ' old imperial air.' * I have 
 something to ask of you. Will you not like to do it 
 for my sake, even if it is hard ? * 
 
 He did not answer ; but she understood the pres- 
 sure of his hand, and went on. 
 
 * I have been fearing so much that something ter- 
 rible will happen between you and Cyril. He is so 
 passionate and wilful, he will not listen to me ; though 
 he loves me dearly, and though I have tried every 
 entreaty I could think of (She grew paler than 
 ever, and shuddered visibly.) *And you are not 
 patient, Guy, dear ; but you would be, this time, would 
 you not ? Only think how it would grieve me if — * 
 
 The deep hollow cough that she had tried hard to 
 keep back would break in here. 
 
 * You cannot doubt me,' Guy replied, caressing her 
 fondly : ' I promise that nothing he can say or do 
 shall tempt me to defend myself by word or deed. How 
 could I, even if you had not asked this ? Has he not 
 bitter cause ? Ask me something harder, my own ! * 
 
 Constance hesitated ; then she spoke rapidly, as if 
 afraid to pause, when she had once made up her mind. 
 The lovely colour came and flickered for a moment 
 on her cheek, and then went out again as suddenly. 
 
 * I know it is easier for me to submit than for you ; 
 yet it is very hard to be obliged to leave you, Guy ; 
 
276 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 it is harder still to leave you to Flora Bellasys I 
 hope my jealousy — I r/m jealous— does not make me 
 unjust ; but I don^t think she will make you better, 
 or even happier in the end. Now, do forgive me ; 
 perhaps I ought not — * 
 
 Guy interrupted here : he had not stopped her till 
 she began to excuse herself. 
 
 * I must see her once again ' (the laiitting of his 
 black brows omened ill for the peace of that inter- 
 view) ; * afterwards, on my honour and faith, I will 
 never speak to her one word, or willingly look uj)on 
 her face.' 
 
 true heart ! that had suffered so long, and hitherto 
 imavailingly, till your life-blood was drained in the 
 struggle, be content, for the victory is won at la^t. 
 Never did loyalty and right triumph more absolutely, 
 since those who stood fast by their King in the dies 
 tree of the great battle saw the rebel angels cast head- 
 long down. 
 
 If, in the intense joy that thrilled through every 
 fibre of Constance's frame, there mingled an element 
 of gratified pride, who shall blame her ? Not I ; for 
 fear of being less indulgent than, I believe, was her 
 Eternal Judge, when, not many days later, she stood 
 before him. 
 
 She needed no fui'ther protest or explanation ; she 
 never thought that, because her lover had once been 
 entangled, there was danger of his falling into the 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 277 
 
 net again ; site never doubted, for an instant, — and 
 she was right. The gaze of the spirit is far-seeing 
 and rarely fallible, when so near its translation as 
 was hers. 
 
 As she leant her head against his shoidder, mur- 
 muring, * You have made me so very, very happy,' 
 there were pleasant tears in the beautiful eyes that 
 had known so many bitter ones, and had not lost 
 their brightness yet. 
 
 There was silence for some minutes ; then Constance 
 spoke again, looking wistfully, and more sadly than 
 she had yet done, on her companion — 
 
 *Do you know, Guy, I have been thinking that 
 yours wiU not be a very long life. You are so strong, 
 that it seems foolish in me ; but I cannot help it.' 
 
 The faintest glimmer of satisfaction, like the ghost 
 of a smile, came upon Livingstone's miserable haggard 
 face : there had been nothing like it there for many 
 hours : there was nothing like it again for many days. 
 *You may be right,' he said, very calmly. *I 
 trust in God you are.' 
 
 * Yes,' Constance went on ; * but I was thinking 
 more than that. I was hoping that, perhaps, for my 
 sake, if not for your own, you would try to grow better 
 every day. Only think what it would be, if, through- 
 out all ages, we were never to meet after to-day.' She 
 drew him closer to her, and her voice almost failed 
 her. * I don't believe you ever could be what is called 
 
278 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 a very religious character. I am so weak — strong- 
 m in (led as you thought me— that I fear I have found 
 an attraction in this fault of yours : but you could 
 keep from great sins, I am sui*e. Try and be gentler 
 to others first ; and with every act of unselfish kind- 
 ness, you will have gained something. Any good 
 clerg}Tnan will tell you the rest better than I. Re- 
 member how happy you will make me. I believe I 
 shall see and know it all. It may be hard for you, 
 dear, but, it may not be for long.' 
 
 The same strange, wistful look came into her eyes 
 again, as if shadows of the dim future were passing 
 before them. 
 
 Poor child ! Pure as she was in principle and fii-m 
 in truth, she would have made but a weak controver- 
 sial theologian ; but her simple words went straight 
 to her hearer's heart, with a stronger power of con- 
 version than, could have been found in the discourses 
 of aU the surpliced Chrysostoms that ever anathema- 
 tized a sinner or anatomized a creed. 
 
 Yet Guy did not answer so soon this time. "When 
 he did, he spoke firmly and resolutely — ' Indeed, in- 
 deed, I will try.' 
 
 Constance nestled down on his broad chest, wearily, 
 but with a long-di-awn breath of intense relief. 
 
 * I have said all my say,' she whispered ; ' I have 
 not tired you ? Now, I wiU rest, and you shall pet 
 me, and talk to me as you used to do.* 
 
GtJY LIVINGSTONE. 279 
 
 What broken sentences — what pauses of silence yet 
 "Cxore eloquent — what lavish, tender caresses passed 
 between those two, over whom the shadow of desola- 
 tion was closing fast, I have never guessed, nor if I 
 could, would I write them in these pages. I hold, 
 that there are partings bitterer to bear than a father's 
 from his child, and sorrows worthier of the veil than 
 those of Agamemnon. 
 
 Though Guy repressed now all outward signs 
 of painful emotion, he suffered, I believe, far the 
 most of the two. It is always so with those whom 
 death is about to divide. The agony is unequally 
 distributed, falling heaviest on the one that remains 
 behind. If the separation were for years, and both 
 were healthy and hopeful, very often the positions 
 would be reversed ; but — whether it be that bodily 
 weakness blunts the sharp sense of anticipated sorrow, 
 or that, to eyes bent forward on the glories and ter- 
 rors of the Unknown world, earthly relations lessen 
 by comparison — you will find that with most, however 
 impetuous it may have been in mid-channel, the Rive?? 
 of Life flows calmly and evenly, just before its junction 
 with the Great Ocean Stream. Besides, the dying girl 
 had suffered so much of late, that the present change 
 left no room for other feelings than those of unalloyed 
 happiness ; and the words of love murmured into her 
 ear brought with them a deeper delight than when ska 
 heard them for the first time from the same Kps. 
 
280 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Both were so engaged with their own thoughts and 
 with each other that they never noted how the narrow 
 space of time allotted to them was vanishing, rapidly 
 as the last dry islet of sand when the spring-tide is 
 flowing. They never heard the footsteps, more impa- 
 tient at every turn, sounding from the room beneath, 
 where Cyril Brandon paced to and fro. Constance 
 had cut off one of her long sunny braids, and was twin- 
 ing it, in and out, in fetterlocks round Guy^s fingers, 
 as she lay nestling in the clasp of his other arm ; it was 
 only their eyes that were speaking then. They started, 
 as the door opened suddenly, and Mrs Yavasour came 
 in, her face white, and her eyes wild with terror. She 
 was too frightened to be gentle or considerate. 
 
 * You must go this instant ! ' she cried out, catching 
 Livingstone's arm. * Constance ! make him go ; he 
 has stayed too long already. You know you promised.* 
 
 'I did promise,* Constance answered, calmly, 
 almost proudly ; ' and he will keep it.* 
 
 Then she turned to Guy, who was kneeling by her, 
 and hid her face in his neck, locking her arms round 
 him. Her aunt caught the words — ' Not forget ! * 
 Beyond these her farewell was a secret known only 
 '.0 her lover and the angels. 
 
 But the parting, which had come so suddenly, 
 di-ained the last weak remnant of strength already 
 taxed too hardly. Guy felt the lips that were mur- 
 muring in his ear grow still at fii'st, and then cold ; 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 281 
 
 the tender arms unknit themselves ; and his imploring 
 eyes could draw no answer from hers that were closed. 
 
 ' She has only fainted/ Mrs Yavasour said, answer- 
 ing his look ; ' I wlU recover her. But pray, pray go ! ' 
 
 He laid the light burden that scarcely weighed 
 upon his arm down on the pillows, very softly and 
 gently, smoothing them mechanically with his hand. 
 Then he stooped and pressed one kiss more on the 
 pale lips ; they never felt it, though the passion of 
 that lengthened caress might almost have waked the 
 dead. And so those two parted, to meet again — ^upon 
 earth, never any more. 
 
 The next time that a woman's lips touched Guy 
 Livingstone's they were his mother's, and he had been 
 a corpse an hour. 
 
 He went, without looking back ; his step was slow 
 and unsteady, very different from the firm even tread of 
 three hours ago. The power of volition and self-direc- 
 tion was very nearly gone. Through a half-open door 
 on the lower storey, he caught a glimpse of a haggard 
 face lighted up by wolfish eyes, and heard a savage, 
 growling voice. He felt that both eyes and voice cursed 
 him as he passed; and afterwards, recalling these 
 things vaguely, as one does the incidents of a hideous 
 dream, he knew that, for the second time, he had seen 
 Cyril Brandon. Guy could hardly tell how he reached 
 London that night, for the brain fever was coining on, 
 that, the next morning, held him in its clutches fast. 
 
282 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Quanto minus est cum reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse. 
 
 The tidings of her son's illness reached Lady Ca- 
 therine quickly, at Kerton Manor. I did not hear of 
 it till a day later ; and when I arrived I found her 
 nearly exhausted by sleeplessness and anxiety, though 
 she had not been Guy's nurse for more than thirty - 
 six hours. 
 
 The sick-bed of delirium taxes the energies of the 
 watcher very differently from any other. There is a 
 sort of fascination in the roll of the restless head, toss- 
 ing from side to side, as if trying to escape from the 
 pressure of a heavy hot hand ; in the glare of the 
 eager eyes that follow you everywhere, with a ques- 
 tion in them that they never wait to have answered ; 
 in the incoherent words, just trembling on the verge 
 of a revelation, but always leaving the tale half told 
 — that creates a perpetual strain on the attention, 
 enough to wear out a strong man. 
 
 There have been mei., they say, who, sensible of 
 the approach of delirium, chose the one person who 
 flhould attend them, and ordered their doors to be 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 283 
 
 closed against all others, preferring to die almost alone 
 to tlie risk of what their ravings might betray. But 
 I have heard, also, that there are secrets — secrets 
 shared, too, by many confederates — to which neither 
 fever nor intoxication ever gave a clue. The hot blood 
 grew chill for an instant, and the babbling tongue was 
 tied, when the dreamer came near the frontier-ground, 
 where the Oath reared itself distinct and threatening 
 as ever, while all else was fantastic and vague. 
 
 There was something of this in Guy's case. We 
 could hear distinctly many of his broken sentences, 
 relating sometimes to the hunting- field, sometimes to 
 the orgies of wine or play. There were names, too, 
 occurring now and then, which to his mother were 
 meaningless, but to me had an evil significance. Once 
 or twice — not oftener — ^he was talking to Flora Bel- 
 lasys. But when the name of Constance Brandon 
 came, the harsh loud voice sank into a whisper so low 
 that if you had laid your ear to his lips you would 
 not have caught one syllable. Yery, very often I 
 had occasion to remark this, and to wonder how the 
 heart could guard its treasure so rigidly, when the 
 brain was driving on, aimless as a ship before the 
 hurricane with her rudder gone. 
 
 On the fifth day after Guy's illness began, an angel 
 might have interceded for him in the stead of a pure 
 true-hearted woman ; for Constance was dead. 
 
 I saw Lady Catherine tremble, and bend her head 
 
284 OUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 down low, when she heard the news, as if herself 
 crushed by the blow which would fall so heavily on 
 her son. She had known but very little of Con- 
 stance : that little had made her love her dearly — who 
 could help doing that ? Yet it was not Constance she 
 was regretting then. I could see the same thought 
 was in her mind as in mine — who will tell Guy this 
 if he recovers ? I did all I could to spare her ; but 
 the anxiety she felt when out of the sick-room tried 
 her almost more than the bodily fatigue. It was best 
 to let her have her way. I never guessed, till then, 
 the extent of a weak woman's endurance. 
 
 It was a close struggle, indeed, between life and 
 death. The fire of the fever died out, when there 
 was little left for it to feed on. The arm which, a 
 month ago, was fatal as old Front-de-bceuf's, had not 
 strength enough in its loosened sinews to lift itself 
 three inches from the coverlet. 
 
 Guy had fallen at last into a heavy sleep. The 
 doctors said it was the turning-point. If he woke 
 quite calm and sane, the immense power of his con- 
 stitution would probabl}^ enable him to rally ; if not, 
 the worst that could be feared was certain. 
 
 He woke after many hours. There was such a 
 stillness in the room as he unclosed his eyes, that you 
 might have heard his mother's heart beat as she sat 
 motionless by his bedside. They recognized her at 
 once — heavy and dija as they were — for he tried to 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 285 
 
 turn his head to kiss her hand that lay on the pillow 
 beside him. Then we knew that he was saved ; and 
 I saw, for the first time, tears stream down Lady 
 Catherine's worn cheeks. She could check the evi- 
 dence of her grief better than that of her joy. 
 
 He saw me, too, as I came forward out of the 
 shadow. *Is that you, Frank?' he said, faintly. 
 * How very good of you to come ! ' We could not let 
 him speak any more. 
 
 On the third day after the change for the better, I 
 was alone with the invalid. He turned to me sud- 
 denly, and spoke in a low voice, but so steady that it 
 surprised me. * Frank, what have you heard of Con- 
 stance ? ' 
 
 Had I been arming myself to meet that question — 
 disciplining my voice and countenance for days — only 
 to fail so miserably at last ? I felt unspeakably angry 
 and self-reproachful, when I saw that my face had 
 told him all. 
 
 * When did she die ? ' he went on in the same 
 measured tone, without taking his eyes off me. I 
 think he had nerved himself just enough for the effort, 
 and was afraid of breaking down if he paused. 
 
 I could speak now, and told. him. I was going on 
 to tell him, too, how calmly and happily her Kfe had 
 ended (her aunt had written all this to Lady Cather- 
 ine), when Guy stopped me — not coldly, but with a 
 hopeless sadness in his accent very painful to hear. 
 
286 GUY LmNG STONE. 
 
 * Thank you, it is meant kindly ; but I would rather 
 not speak of this, even to you — at least for some time.* 
 
 His self-command carried him through bravely, 
 but it only just lasted out. Then he turned his head 
 aside, and threw his arm across it. As I drew back 
 to the window, I saw the quivering of the long emaci- 
 ated fingers that veiled his face. I did not look 
 again till Guy's voice called to me, quite composedly ; 
 for I did not dare to pry into or meddle with the secrets 
 of the strong heart that knew its own bitterness so well. 
 
 I told Lady Catherine what had passed. She was 
 very much relieved to hear that it was all over. She 
 never opened her lips on the subject to her son : indeed, 
 though those two understood each other thoroughly, 
 there were wonderfully few confidences between them. 
 
 Guy's convalescence was slow — far slower than we 
 had hoped for. It seemed as if some spring was 
 broken in his being, not easily to be replaced. He 
 was moody and listless always, speaking very seldom ; 
 but his words and manner, when he did talk, were 
 gentler and more kindly than I ever remembered them. 
 
 One of his first visitors was Colonel Mohun. He 
 had been incessant in his inquiries, and had ofi*ered 
 to share our watching; but Lady Catherine would 
 not hear of it. She had a sort of dread at the idfea of 
 that grim face lowering over the sick man's bed. 
 
 No one was present at their first interview. Ralph 
 was more moved than he cared to show at his old 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 287 
 
 friend's altered looks and ways ; but he gave him the 
 account of his search after the lost letter conscien- 
 tiously, without sparing a single detail. * It must 
 have gone hard with Guy/ he remarked to me, 
 thoughtfully, as he came away. ' He's very far from^ 
 right yet. When I told him what WilKs had done, 
 I made sure he would be very angry. He only said 
 " Poor wretch ! he acted under orders, and did not 
 know what mischief he was doing." Ho wants rous- 
 ing ; but I am sure I don't know what is to do it.' 
 
 Forgiveness and forgetfulness of injuries seemed to 
 that hard old heathen the most dangerous sign of 
 bodily and mental debility. 
 
 He came almost daily after that ; and I think his 
 rough ways and sharp sarcastic remarks acted on 
 Livingstone as a sort of tonic — bitter, but strength- 
 ening. 
 
 A few days later Mrs Yavasour called. She, too, 
 saw Guy alone. She surely had a message to deliver, 
 or she would not have ventured on an interview which 
 must have been so painful to both. It did not last 
 long ; but when she came down, her thick black veil 
 was drawn closely over her face ; and that evening 
 Guy was denied to Ealph Mohun. 
 
 One afternoon Livingstone was quite by himself. 
 The Colonel had gone into Warwickshire for a few 
 days' hunting ; Lady Catherine had paid her usual 
 visit and had gone back to her hotel, and I was out 
 
288 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 for an hour or two. We did not mind leaving him 
 a good deal alone ; indeed, he preferred it very often, 
 and said so. 
 
 His servant came in, looking rather puzzled, to say 
 that a lady wished to see him. She woidd not give 
 her name, but said that she would not detain him 
 many minutes. 
 
 Guy had not time to refuse admittance to the visitor, 
 she followed so close upon her message. Though she 
 was closely wrapped in her mantle, and her veil fell 
 in triple folds, there was no mistaking the turn of the 
 haughty head, the smooth elastic step, and the lithe 
 undulations of a figure matchless between the four 
 seas. No wonder that he drew his breath hard as he 
 recognized Flora Bellasvs. 
 
289 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Treu und fest. 
 
 As the door closed, Flora advanced quickly. * Confess 
 you are surprised to see me/ slie said, holding out 
 her little gloved hand. The courtesy towards the 
 sex, which was hereditary with the Livingstones, con- 
 trasting strangely with their fierce, ungovernahle tem- 
 pers, made him not reject it ; but his lay passive and 
 nerveless in her slender fingers, never answering their 
 eager pressure ; it had no longer the elastic quiver of 
 repressed strength that she remembered and liked so 
 well. 
 
 * I am surprised to see you here, and so soon,* he 
 answered, coldly : * but I knew we should meet before 
 long.* 
 
 * The surprise does not seem too charming,* Miss 
 Bellasys said, pouting her scarlet lip, as she threw 
 herself into a deep bergere opposite to the couch on 
 which Livingstone had already sunk down again — he 
 was very weak and unsteady in his movements still. 
 
 Was it by chance or calculation that a fold of her 
 dress disarranged displayed the slender foot with its 
 arched instep — set ofi* by the delicate J)rodequin, a 
 
290 GVY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 labour of love to the Parisian Crispin — and the 
 straight, beautifully- turned ankle, cased in dead- white 
 silk ? The latter, I think ; for Flora knew how to fall 
 as well as Caesar or Polyxena, and had studied her 
 part to its minutest shade. It was by the senses that 
 she had always been most successful in attacking Gu}^ 
 and she knew that, in old days, no point of feminine 
 perfection had a greater attraction for him. 
 
 The temptation, if so it was intended, had about as 
 much effect upon him now, as it might have had on 
 weather-beaten St Simeon Stylites when his penances 
 had lasted twenty years. 
 
 After a minute's silence, during which Flora was 
 gazing intently on her companion, leaning her chin 
 upon her hand, she spoke again : 
 
 ' I fear you must have been very ill. IIow — how 
 changed you are ! ' 
 
 Li^ingstone was, indeed, fearfully altered. The 
 healthy brown of his complexion had given place to a 
 dull, opaque pallor ; there were great hollows under 
 the prominent cheek-bones, and his loose dressing- 
 robe of black velvet hung straight down from the 
 gaunt angles of the immense joints and bones. His 
 voice sounded deeper than ever, as he replied : — . 
 
 * Yes, I have been very ill, and I am utterl}^ changed. 
 But you must have had something more important to 
 say to me, or you would hardly have ventured on this 
 ttep.* 
 
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 291 
 
 She was getting very nervous — inexplicably so for 
 lier, wlio generally kept her head, while she made 
 others lose theirs. 
 
 *No. I only wished — * she hesitated, trying to 
 force a smile, and then broke off suddenly — ' Guy, do 
 speak kindly to me. DonH look at me so strangely.' 
 
 His answer came, brief and stern. 
 
 *I will speak, then. Miss Bellasys, on what au- 
 thority from me did you venture to interfere in my 
 concerns so far as to intercept my correspondence ? * 
 
 She tried denial still ; it was her way ; she always 
 would do it, even when it could avail nothing — per- 
 haps to gain time. 
 
 * I don't know what you mean. I never — ' 
 Livingstone interrupted her, with a curl of con- 
 tempt on his lip. 
 
 * Stop, I beg of you. It is useless to stoop lower 
 than you have done already. I have WiUis's written 
 confession here. Ah ! I know your talents too well 
 to accuse you without material proof.* 
 
 She raised her head, haughtily enough now. There 
 was something Spartan about that girl. She had such 
 an utter recklessness of exposure — it was in failure 
 that she felt the shame. 
 
 * At least you ought not to reproach me. You 
 might guess my motive — ^my only one — without forc- 
 ing me to confess it. Have I not gratified your pride 
 enough already ? * 
 
292 GUY LI^^NGSTONE. 
 
 'You know tliat is not the question ? ' Guy answered, 
 gravely. * Yet you are lialf riglit. I could not re- 
 proach you for any fair, honest move. In much I 
 own myself more guilty than you. But this is very 
 different. Miss Bellasys, you must have distrusted 
 greatly your own powers of fascination before you 
 stooped to such cruel treachery.' 
 
 *I did not know what I was doing,* she whispered, 
 * I did not know she was dying. Ah, Guy ! — have 
 pity.' 
 
 *But you knew it might kill her, to find her letter — 
 such a letter — unanswered. You knew what she must 
 have suffered before she wrote it. You did all this in 
 cold blood, and now you say to me, " have pity I '•' If 
 an accountable being — not a woman and her miserable 
 instrument — had wronged me so, I would have risked 
 my soul to have revenge ; and, because that is im- 
 possible, you think I feel less bitterly ? You might 
 have known me better by this time.' 
 
 Instead of being softened by her appeal, his heart, 
 features, and tone were hardening more and more. 
 
 The sting of defeat, imminent and unavoidable, 
 that, ere this, has driven strong and wise men headlong 
 into the thickest of the battle to hunt for death there, 
 proved too much for a temper never well regulated. 
 
 * You have decided, then?' she cried, passionately, 
 her QyQs flashing and her lip quivering. * After all I 
 have risked and borne for vou, I am to be sacrificed to 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 293 
 
 a shadow — a memory — the memory of that cold, pale 
 statue of propriety ? ' She checked herself suddenly, 
 only just in time. 
 
 Guy had sprung to his feet, excitement bringing 
 back for the moment all his lost strength. If Ralph 
 Mohun had seen him, he would not have feared that 
 the wrathful devil was cast out. It was raging 
 within him then, untamed and dangerous as ever. 
 
 * Do you dare to insult her now that she is dead — 
 and to me, not a month after I have lost her ? It is 
 not safe — take care, take care ! ' 
 
 The tempest of his passion made him forget, for the 
 first time in his life, the weakness of her who had 
 roused it. 
 
 Elora was only a woman after aU, though haughty 
 and bold of spirit as any that had breathed. Her own 
 outbreak of anger vanished before that terrible burst 
 of wrath, just as the camp-fire, when the prairie is 
 blazing, is swallowed up in the great roaring torrent 
 of flame. She bowed her head on her hands, trem- 
 bling all over in pure physical fear. Guy felt 
 ashamed when he saw the efiect of his violence, and 
 spoke more gently than he had done yet. 
 
 * Forgive me. I was very wrong ; but I have not 
 learnt to control myself — I never shall, I fear; but you 
 ought not to say such words, even if I could bear them 
 better. Now, it is time that we should part ; you have 
 stayed here too long already. You must not risk your 
 
294 GTJY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 reputation for mc, who cannot even be grateful for the 
 venture. We shall never meet again, if I can avoid it ; 
 it would be strange to do so as mere acquaintance, 
 and in any other way — no, don't stop me — it is impos- 
 sible. It will be long before I go much into society 
 again, so I shall not cross your path.* 
 
 Flora knew it was hopeless then. She was quite 
 broken down, and did not raise her head from her hand, 
 through the fingers of which, half shading her face, the 
 tears trickled fast. Guy heard her murmur, very low 
 and plaintively — *I have loved you so long — so 
 dearly ! * 
 
 Mistress as she was of every art that can deceive, I 
 believe she only spoke the simple truth then. "With 
 all the energy of her strong sensual nature, I believe 
 she did worship Livingstone. To most men she would 
 have been far more dangerous thus, in the abandon- 
 ment of her sorrow, than ever she had been in the 
 insolence of her splendid beauty. — -^ 
 
 There are some women, very few (Johnson's fair 
 friend, Sophy Streatfield, was one), whom weeping does 
 not disfigure. Their eyelids do not get red or swollen, 
 only the iris softens for a moment ; and the di"ops do 
 not streak or blot the polished cheeks, but glitter there, 
 singly, Like dew on marble ; their sobs are well regu- 
 lated, and follow in a certain rhythm ; and the heav- 
 ing bosom sinks and swells, not too stormily. It is a 
 rare accomplishment. Miss Bellasys had not prac- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 295 
 
 tised it often, being essentially Democritian — not to 
 say Rabelaisian — in her pbilosopby ; but she did it 
 very well. Like every other emotion, it became her. 
 
 Guy hardly glanced at her, and never answered a 
 word. 
 
 She rose to go ; then turned all at once to try one 
 effort more. * Yes, we must part,' she said. ' I know 
 it now. But give me a kind word to take with me. I 
 shall be so lonely, now that you are my enemy. Will 
 you not say you wish me well? Ah, Gruy ! remember 
 all the hours that I have tried to make pleasant for 
 you. Say " good-bye. Flora," only those two little 
 words, gently.* Her voice was broken and uncertain, 
 but full of music still, like the wind wandering 
 through an organ. 
 
 Just at that moment I opened the door. (I had 
 not an idea Livingstone was not alone.) I closed it 
 before either had remarked my entrance, but not be- 
 fore I had caught sight of a very striking picture. 
 
 Guy was leaning one arm against the mantelpiece ; 
 the other was crossed over his chest ; on that arm 
 Flora was clinging, with both her hands clenched in 
 the passion of her appeal. Her slight bonnet had 
 fallen rather back, showing the masses of her glorious 
 hair, and all her flushed cheeks, and her eyes that 
 shone with a strange lustre, though there were tears 
 still on their long trailing lashes. I saw the imper- 
 gpnation of material Ijfe, exuberant and vigoroug^ 
 
296 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 3'et dellcatel}'' lovely — the Lust of the Eye incarnate. 
 
 He stood perfectly still, making no effort to cast her 
 off. Had he done so with violence, it would scarcely 
 have evinced more repidsion than did the expression of 
 his face. There was no more of yielding or softening 
 in the set features and severe eyes than you would find 
 in those of a corpse three hours old, whose spirit has 
 passed in some great anger or pain. Can you guess 
 what made him more than ever hard and unrelenting? 
 He was thinking loho tried to win a kind farewell from 
 him six months ago, and utterly failed. Should her 
 rival have this triumph, too, over the dead ? 
 
 As he answered deliberately, each slow word shut 
 out another hope, like bolts shot, one by one, in the 
 lock of a prison-door. 
 
 * I remember nothing of the past except your last 
 act, for which I will never, never forgive you. I form 
 no wish for your welfare or for the reverse. There 
 shall not stand the faintest shadow of a connecting link 
 that I can break asunder. _ Between you and me there 
 is the gulf of a fresh-made grave ; and no thought of 
 mine shall ever cross it — so help me God in heaven!^ 
 
 Florals last arrow was shivered : if she had had 
 another in her quiver she would have had no courage 
 to try it, after hearing those terrible words. She 
 caught his hand, however, before he could guess her 
 intention, and pressed her lips upon it, till they left 
 their print behind ; and then she was gone. Her light 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 297 
 
 foot hardly sounded as it sprang down tlie stairs, but 
 its faint echo was the last living sound connected with 
 Flora Bellasjs that ever reached the ear of Guy- 
 Livingstone. 
 
 "When I heard more of the interview, I thought, and 
 think still, that he erred on the side of harshness. He 
 vras so fixed and steady in his purpose, that he could 
 have afforded to have compromised a little in express- 
 ing it. But he did things in his own way, and fought 
 with his own weapons — effective, but hardly to be 
 wielded by most men, like the axe of the King-maker 
 or the bow of Odysseus. In carrying out his will, he 
 was apt to consider the softer feelings of others as 
 little as he did his own. It was just so with him, 
 when riding to hounds : he went as straight as a line, 
 and if he did not spare his horses, he certainly did not 
 himself. 
 
 To each man alive, one particular precept of the 
 Christian code is harder to realize and practise than all 
 the rest put together. It was this, perhaps, which 
 drove the Anchorites on from one degree of penance to 
 another, and made them so savage in self- tormenting. 
 "\^nien the macerated flesh had almost lost sensation, 
 the thorn that had galled it sometimes in their hot 
 youth rankled incessantly, more venomous than ever. 
 That one injunction — 'Forgive, as you would hope to 
 be forgiven ' — was ever a stumbling-block to Guy. 
 
 Besides all this, he knew, better than any one, what 
 
298 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sort of an adversary he was contending against ; one 
 with whom each step in negotiation or temporizing was 
 a step towards discomfiture. It was like the Spaniard 
 with his navaja against the sabre : your only chance 
 is, keeping him steadily at the sword's-point, without 
 breaking ground ; if he once gets under your guard, 
 not all the saints in the calendar can save you. 
 
 Perhaps, then, he was right after all. Certainly, 
 E,alph Mohun thought so, as he listened to a sketch 
 of the proceedings with a grim satisfaction edifying to 
 witness. 
 
 As for me, before I went to bed that night, I read 
 through those chapters in the * Mort d' Arthur * that 
 tell how the long guilty loves of Launcelot and Guen- 
 ever ended. In the present case, there was certainly 
 wonderfully little penitence on the lady's side ; but yet 
 there were points of resemblance which struck me. (I 
 always think the Queen must have been the image of 
 Flora.) It is worth while wading through many 
 chapters of exaggeration and obscurity to come out 
 into the light of the noble epilogue at last. 
 
 Good King Arthur is gone. It bit deep, that blow 
 which Mordred the strong traitor struck when the 
 spear stood out a fathom behind his back : and Morgan 
 la Fay came too late to heal the grievous wound that 
 had taken cold. The frank, kind, generous heart that 
 would not mistrust till certainty left no place for sus- 
 picion, can never be wrung or betrayed again. The 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 299 
 
 bitter parting between the lovers is over too ; and 
 Launcelot is gone to his own place, without tlie fare- 
 well caress he prayed for when he besought the Queen 
 ' to kiss him once and never more.' After a very few 
 short months the beautiful wild bird has beaten her- 
 self to death against her cage, and the vision comes 
 by night, bidding Launcelot arise and fetch the corpse 
 of Guenever home. She wandered often and far in 
 life ; but where should her home be now^ but by the 
 side of her husband ? Hardly and painfully in two 
 days, he and the faithful Seven accomplish the thirty 
 miles that lay between ; so utterly is that unearthly 
 strength^ before which lance-shafts were as reeds, and 
 iron- bars as silken threads (remember the May night 
 in Meliagraunce's castle), enfeebled and broken down. 
 He stands in the nunnery- church at Almesbury ; he 
 hears from the Queen's maidens of the prayer that 
 was ever on her lips through those two days when she 
 lay a-dying, how * she besought God that she might 
 never have power to see Sir Launcelot with her 
 worldly eyes.* Then, says the chronicler, * he saw her 
 visage ; yet he wept not greatly, but sighed. And so 
 he did all the observance of the service himself, both 
 the dirge at night and the mass on the morrow.* Not 
 till every rite was performed, not till the earth had 
 closed over the marble coffin, did Launcelot swoon. 
 
 I know nothing in fiction so piteous as the words 
 that tell of his dreary, mortal sorrow. * Then, Sir 
 
300 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Launcelot never after eat but little meat, nor drank, 
 but continually mourned until he was dead ; and then 
 he sickened more and more, and dried and dwined 
 away ; for the bishop nor none of his fellows might 
 make him to eat, and little he drank ; so that he waxed 
 shorter by a cubit than he was, and the people could 
 not know him ; for evermore day and night he prayed ; 
 but needfully as nature required sometimes he slum- 
 bered a broken sleep ; and always he was lying 
 grovelling on King Arthui-'s and Queen Guenever's 
 tomb. And there was no comfort that his fellows 
 could make him ; it availed nothing.' 
 
 'We know that it cannot last long ; we know that 
 the morning is fast approaching, when they will find 
 him * stark dead, and lying as he had smiled ; ' when 
 they will bear him forth, according to his vow, to his 
 resting-place in Joyous Guard ; when there v.ill be 
 pronounced over him that famous funeral oration — the 
 truest, the simplest, the noblest, I think, that ever 
 was spoken over the body of a sinful man. 
 
301 
 
 CHAPTEH XXXI. 
 
 I pray God pardon me, 
 That I no more, without a pang, 
 His choicest works can see. 
 
 IT was long before Livingstone's health recovered the 
 check to its improvement given by that interview. 
 However, as the spring advanced he began to regain 
 strength rapidly ; and towards the end of May he and 
 I started in the Petrely which he had just bought, for 
 a cruise in the Mediterranean. 
 
 It would seem hard that any one, coasting for the 
 first time along the shores of Italy, and penetrating 
 ever and anon far into the interior, should not feel and 
 display some interest in the succession of pictures, of 
 living Nature and dead Art, that meet you at every 
 step. I cannot say that I ever detected the faintest 
 symptom of such in my companion. He strayed with 
 me through the old Forum, and through Adrian's 
 villa, and lingered by the Alban lake ; but it was 
 more to keep me in countenance than anything else. 
 I liked them better this second time of seeing them 
 than I did the first ; I doubt if they left an impression 
 
302 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 on his mind equal to the dimmest photograph that 
 ever was the pride of an amateur and the puzzle of 
 his friends. The brilliant landscapes made up of 
 bold headlands, hanging woods, and sunny bays, fared 
 no better. Guy did not come on deck for two hours 
 after we cast anchor off Mola di Gaeta. 
 
 Out ciceroni were much pained and scandalized at an 
 indifference which exceeded all that they had yet en- 
 countered in the matter-of-fact Signori Inglesi. I saw 
 one of them look quite relieved_, when, after quitting 
 us, he had to listen to an excitable young Jewess en- 
 deavouring to express her raptures in the most 
 execrable Italian. The physical effort it cost her was 
 awful to witness, especially as she was wintering in 
 Italy for her lungs. 0, long-suffering stones of the 
 CoKseum ! which returned the most barbarous echo 
 — the growls from the cells when their tenants scented 
 the Christian ; the jargon of the Goth and the Hun ; 
 or the lingua Anglo- JRo?na?ia in hocca Bloomshuriana ? 
 The two first-named classes at all events confined 
 themselves to their own dialect, and spoke it, doubt- 
 less, with perfect propriety. However, in the present 
 instance, the custode took the sentimental ebullition 
 of the Maid of Judah as an amende honorable, and 
 rubbed his key complacently. 
 
 I do not believe that our travels brought to Guy a 
 single distraction to the great sorrow that all the 
 while held him fast. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 303 
 
 A Gorman pLilosopher under similar circumstances 
 would have written reams and spoken volumes (eating 
 and drinking all the while PantagruelicaUy), theoriz- 
 ing and abstracting his emotions till they vanished 
 into cloud and vapour. A true disciple of Rousseau 
 or Lamartine would have analyzed his grief, dividing 
 it into as many channels as Alexander did the Oxus, 
 till the main- stream was lost, and each individual 
 rivulet might be crossed dry-shod. Both would have 
 shed tears perpetual and profuse. I read the other 
 day of a Frenchman who, in the midst of a mixed 
 assembly remembering that on that day ten years he 
 had lost a dear friend, instantly went out and wept 
 bitterly. He was so charmed with the happiness of 
 the thought that, as he says, * I took the resolution 
 henceforth to weep for all whom I have loved, each 
 on the anniversary _of their death.* 
 
 Can you conceive anything more touching than the 
 picture of the Bereaved One consulting his almanack 
 and then ' going at it with a will ? ' It was an athletic 
 performance, certainly ; but remember what condition 
 he must have been in from the constant training. 
 
 From the episode of Niobe down to the best song in 
 the * Princess,' how many beautiful lines have been 
 devoted to those outward and visible signs of sorrow ! 
 
 Sadder elegiacs, more pathetic threnodies might 
 have been written on the tears that were stifled at 
 their source, either from pride or from physical in- 
 
301 GUY LIVliNGSTONE. 
 
 ability to let tliein flow. Great regrets, like great 
 Bcheines, are generally matured in the shade. If I 
 had to choose the tombs where most hopes and af- 
 fections are buried, I should turn, I think, not to those 
 with the long inscriptions of questionable poetry or 
 blameless Latinity, but to where just the initials and 
 a cross are cut on the single stone. 
 
 The philosophical and poetical mourners hardly 
 suffered much more than Guy did during those months, 
 and for long after too, though he w^as always quite 
 silent on the subject, and would speak cheerfully on 
 others, now and then ; and though, from the day that 
 he parted with Constance to that of his own death, 
 his eyes were as dry as the skies over the Delta. He 
 used to lie for hours in that state of utter listlessnesa 
 which gives a reality to the sad old Eastern proverb, 
 *Man is better sitting than standing, lying down than 
 sitting, dead than l^'ing down.' 
 
 With all this, however, his health improved every 
 day. After the wHd. life he had led latel}', the per- 
 fect rest, and the clear pure air, refreshed him 
 marvellously. It had the effect of coming out of a 
 room heated and laden with smoke into the cool sum- 
 mer morning. His strength, too, had returned almost 
 completely. I found this out at Baiae. 
 
 The guardian of the Cetito Catnerelie, a big hzzarone, 
 became inordinately abusive. My impression is that 
 he had received about fifteen times his due; but seeing 
 
GUT LIVINGSTOXK. 305 
 
 our yacht in. the offing, he conceived the idea that 
 we were princes in our o\vti country, and ought to be 
 robbed in his proportionally. Guy's eyes began to 
 gleam at last, and he made a step towards the offender. 
 I thought he was going to be heavily visited ; but 
 Livingstone only lifted him by the throat and held 
 him suspended against the wall, as you may see the 
 children in those parts pin the Kzards in a forked 
 stick. Then he let him drop, unhurt, but green with 
 terror. A year ago, a straightforward blow from the 
 shoulder would have settled the business in a shorter 
 time, and worked a strange alteration in good Gfiu- 
 eeppe's handsome sunburnt face. But the old hard- 
 ness of heart was wearing away. I had another proof 
 of this some days later. 
 
 We were dropping down out of the Bay of Naples. 
 Though we weighed anchor in early morning, it was 
 past noon before we cleared the Bocca di Capri^ for 
 there was hardly wind enough to give the Petrel 
 steerage-way. The smoke from our long Turkish 
 pipes mounted almost straight upwards, and lingered 
 over our heads in thin blue curls ; yet the sullen, dis- 
 contented heave and roll in the water were growing 
 heavier every hour. The black tufa cliffs crested with 
 shattered masonry — the foundations of the sty where 
 the Boar of Caprese wallowed — were just on our star- 
 board quarter, when Riddell, the master, came up to 
 Livingstone. * I think we'd better make all snug, 
 
306 OUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sir/ he said. * There's dirty weather to windward, 
 and we haven't too much sea-room.' He was an old 
 man-of-war's boatswain, and had had a tussle, in his 
 lime, on evciy sea and ocean in the kno^vn world, 
 with every wind that blows. He had rather a con- 
 tempt for the Mediterranean, esteeming it j ust one 
 degree above the Cowes Roads, and attaching about 
 as much importance to its vagaries as one might do 
 to the fractiousness of a spoilt child. If he had been 
 caught in the most terrible tempest that ever deso- 
 lated the shores of the Great Lake, I don't believe he 
 would have called it anything but * dirty weather.' 
 He was too good a sailor, though, not to take all pre- 
 cautions, even if he had been sailing on a piece of or- 
 namental water : and he went quickly forward to 
 give the necessary orders, after getting a nod of as- 
 sent from Guy. 
 
 The latter raised himself lazily on his arm, so as to 
 see all round over the lower bulwarks. There was a 
 blue-black bank of cloud rolling up from the S. W. 
 Puffs of wind, with no coolness in them, but dry and 
 uncertain as if stirred by some capricious artificial 
 means, struck the sails without filling them, and 
 drove the Petrel through the water by fits and starts. 
 
 *I really believe we are going to have a white 
 squall,' Guy remarked indifferently. * Well ! we 
 shall see how the boa!; behaves. Eiddell only spoke 
 just in time.* 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 307 
 
 Suddenly his tone changed, and he said, quickly 
 and decidedly, * Hold on everything ! ^ 
 
 The master turned his weatherwiso eye towards the 
 quarter where the danger lay, and frowned. * We're 
 none too soon with it, Mr Livingstone. If there's a 
 yard too much canvas spread when that reaches us, I 
 won't answer for the spars.' 
 
 Deeper and deeper the blackness came rushing 
 down upon us, an angry ridge of foam before it — the 
 white squall showing its teeth. 
 
 Guy took the old man by the arm, and pointed to 
 an object to leeward that none on board had remarked 
 yet. It was a small harca with four men in it. 
 They were Capriotes, as we found afterwards, the 
 boldest boatmen in the Bay. Had they been pure- 
 bred Neapolitans, they would have been down on their 
 faces long ago, screaming out prayers to a long mus- 
 ter-roll of Saints. As it was, they stood manfully to 
 their oars, straining every muscle to reach us ; there 
 was no other safety for them then. * They will never 
 get alongside in time, unless we bear down to meet 
 them,' Li^dngstone said, ' and what chance will they 
 have in ten minutes hence ? ' 
 
 Riddell was only half satisfied. His creed evi- 
 dently was, that a sailor's first duty is to his own ship ; 
 but neither he nor any one else ever argued with 
 Guy. 'As you like, sir,' he grumbled, soniewhat 
 
308 OUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 discontenteaiy. ' Keep her full, Saunders ; we shall 
 fetch them so/ 
 
 If a stitch of sail had been taken off our vessel she 
 could never have reached the harca, though her crew 
 strove hard to meet us. She forged down slowly 
 enough as it was, but we were just in time to tako 
 them on board. 
 
 ' Reef everything now ! ' Eiddell shouted, leaping 
 himself first into the rigging, like a wild cat. 
 * Cheerily men — with a will ! ' All his ill-humour was 
 gone when the peril became imminent. 
 
 We were strong-handed, and the four Capriotes did 
 us seamen's service : but it was ' touch and go.' The 
 last man had scarcely reached the deck when the line 
 of foam was within half-cable's length. Then there 
 came a sound unlike any I had ever heard before in 
 the elements, beginning with a whistling sort of scream 
 and deepening into a roar as of many angry voices, 
 bestial and human, striving for the mastery ; and 
 then the Petrel staggered and reeled over almost on 
 her beam-ends, in the midst of a white boiling caldron 
 of mad water. She recovered herself, however, 
 quickly, quivering and trembling as a live creature 
 might do after severe punishment ; and we drove on, 
 the strong arms at the wheel keeping her well before 
 the blast. In a very few minutes, I suppose (though 
 it seemed very long), I heard old Hiddell say, * Sharp 
 
GVY LIVINGSTONE. 300 
 
 while it lasted, Mr Livingstone ; but they're right to 
 call it a squall. TheyVe nothing down here-away 
 like a good right-do's\Ti hard gale.' 
 
 I looked up, clearing my eyes blinded with tlie 
 hissing spray, just as Guy answered, coolly as ever. 
 He had run his arm through a becket, and did not 
 seem to have moved otherwise ; whereas I disgraced 
 myself by falling at full length as the squall struck us. 
 
 * Ah, youVe got difficult to please ; it's always so 
 when one sees so much of life. IsTever mind, Riddell, 
 the Mediterranean does its best, and perhaps we'll go 
 and try your tornadoes some day. Where's the harca 
 now ? ' 
 
 "Where ? The eyes that could have told you that 
 must have looked a hundred fathoms deep. There 
 was not the faintest vestige of such a thing to be seen ; 
 not even a shivered plank. The poor Capriotes' * bread- 
 winner ' had gone the way of Antonio's argosies — 
 another whet to the all-devouring appetite, for which 
 nothing that swims is too large or too small. 
 
 It was almost calm again when we landed the res- 
 cued men at Salerno ; we were glad to get rid of them,, 
 for their gratitude was overpowering, especiaU}^ as all 
 the salt-water that had soaked them could not dis- 
 guise the savour of their favourite hjerb. 
 
 You may break, you may ruin the clay if j^-ou will, 
 but the scent of the garlic ^vill cling to it still. 
 
 Guy gave them enough to buy two such boats as 
 
310 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 they had lost — about as much as one wins or loses in 
 an evening's whist, with fair luck and half-crown 
 points. 
 
 This incident showed the change that was coming 
 over my companion. His principle had always been 
 that, a man who could not help himself was not 
 worth helping. He never asked for aid himself, and 
 never gave it to his own sex, as a rule. I believe his 
 
 rescuing me at B was a solitary case, and I took 
 
 it as a great compliment. You will say this one was 
 only an act of common humanity. If you had known 
 the man, you would have thought, as I did, that the 
 words of her, who was an angel then, were bearing 
 fruit already. 
 
 Nothing happened of the slightest interest as we 
 ran down through the Straits of Messina, and up the 
 eastern coast of Calabria. We did not stay to see 
 Sicily then, for we had settled to be in Venice by a 
 certain day, to meet the Forresters. 
 
 If I were to be seduced into ' word-painting,* the 
 Queen of the Adriatic would tempt me. I know no 
 other scene so provocative of enthusiasm as the square 
 acre round St Mark's. AU things considered, the 
 author of the * Stones of Venice ' seems very suffi- 
 ciently rational and cold-blooded. 
 
 We cannot all be romantic about landscapes. 
 Nature has worshippers enough not to grudge a few 
 tp Art. For rayselfj admiring both when in perfeq* 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 311 
 
 tion, I prefer hewn stones to rough rocks — the Canal- 
 azzo to any cascade. The glory of old days that clings 
 round the Palace of the Doges stands comparison, in 
 my mind's eye, with the Iris of Terni. 
 
 But why trench on a field already amply cultivated ? 
 I will never describe any place till I find a virgin 
 spot untouched by Murray, and then I will send it to 
 him, with my initials. Does such exist in Europe ? 
 * Faith, very hardly, sir.' Nil intentatiim reliquit. 
 What obligations do we not owe to the accomplished 
 compilers? Earely rising into poetry (I except 'Spain^* 
 — the field, and bar one), never jocose, they move on, 
 severe in simplicity, straight to their solemn end of 
 enlightening the British Tourist. Upright as E-hada- 
 manthus^ they hold the scales that weigh the merits 
 of cathedrals, hotels, ruins, guid-es, pictures, and 
 mountain-passes, telling us what to eat, drink, and 
 avoid. Let us repose on them in blind but contented 
 reliance. 
 
 I heard of one man, clever but eccentric, who be- 
 came so exasperated at seeing the volumes in every- 
 body's hand, and hearing them in everybody's mouth, 
 that he conceived a sort of personal enmity to them, 
 impiously dissenting from their conclusions and 
 questioning their premises. The well-known red 
 cover at last had the same efiect on him as the scarlet 
 cloak on the buU in the corrida^ making him stamp 
 and roar hideously. The angry gods had demented 
 
312 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 him. VcB miscro ! How could sucli sacrilege end but 
 badly ? Braving and deriding the solemn warning of 
 the Prophet, he attempted a certain pass in the Tyrol 
 alone, and losing his way, caught a pleurisy which 
 proved fatal. lie died game, but, I am sorry to say, 
 impenitent, speaking blasphemy against The Book, 
 with his last breath. Discitejustitiam, moniti, ct 7ion 
 temnerc — . 
 
 Such heresy, be it far from me ! If I had my will, 
 I protest I would found a ' Murray's Travelling Fel- 
 lowship ' in one or both of the Universities. If I 
 had the poetic vein, I would indite a pendant to 
 Byron's Iambics to that enlightened bibliopole. He 
 published *Childe Harold,' and the Handbook to 
 Everywhere. Could one man in one century do more 
 for the Ideal and the Real. 
 
313 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Sweetest lips that ever were kissed, 
 Brightest eyes that ever have shone, 
 
 May sigh and whisper, and he not list, 
 
 Or look away, and never be missed 
 Long or ever a month be gone. 
 
 It was a very curious manage that of tlie Forresters. 
 They were wonderfully happy, yet you could not call 
 theirs domestic felicity. They went out perpetually 
 everywhere, and were scarcely ever alone together at 
 home. The cold-water cure of matrimony had not 
 been able to cool either down into the dignity and 
 steadiness befitting that honourable state. As far as 
 I could see, Charley flirted as much as ever ; the only 
 difference was, that he stole upon his victims now 
 with a sort of protecting and paternal air, merging 
 gradually, as the interest deepened, into the old con- 
 fidential style. The whole effect was, if anything, 
 more seductive than before. 
 
 The fair Venetians admired him intensely. His 
 bright, clear complexion and rich chestnut hair had 
 the charm of novelty for them. Though without the 
 faintest respect for granmiar or idiom, he spoke their 
 
314 GUY LmNGSTONE. 
 
 language with perfect composure, confidence, and 
 self-satisfaction ; and his tones were so well adapted 
 to the slow, soft, languid tongue, that his blunders 
 sounded better than other men's correctness of speech. 
 MaUem mehercule cum Platone errare. When ho said, 
 * Si Siora/ it seemed as if he were calling the lady 
 by a pet-name. 
 
 Isabel did a good deal of mischief too in her unas- 
 suming way ; but I think she confined her depreda- 
 tions chiefly to her compatriots. 
 
 The best of it was, that neither objected in the 
 least to the other's proceedings, appearing, indeed, to 
 consider them rather creditable than otherwise. Per- 
 haps it would be as well if this principle of reciprocal 
 free-agency were somewhat extended, though not 
 quite to the latitude to which they carried it. 
 
 We cannot send our wives about surroimded by a 
 detachment of semiviri to keep the peace ; our cli- 
 mate is too uncertain, and influenza too prevalent, for 
 us to watch their windows ourselves, as they do at 
 Cadiz. Fancy mounting guard in Eaton Square, at 
 four p.m., shrouded in a yellow fog, on the chance of 
 surprising a forbidden morning- visitor ! 
 
 Supposing that we could adopt either of thos« 
 methods, why should they prove more efiicacious than 
 they are said to be on their native soil ? If the British 
 husband will allow nothing for the principles, chari- 
 tably supposed by others to be inherent in the wife of 
 
GTJY LIVINGSTONE. 315 
 
 his bosom — notliing for tlie Damoclean damages hang- 
 ing over the imaginary plotter against his peace — 
 why should he depreciate his own merits and powers 
 so completely as to consider himself out of the lists al- 
 together ? If he would only desist from making him- 
 self consistently disagreeable, I believe, in most cases, 
 his substantial interest would be little endangered. 
 
 That poor Ilephcestus ! The net was an ingenious 
 device, and a pretty piece of workmanship, but — it 
 didn't answer. 
 
 In despite of Mrs Ellis, there are women whose 
 mission it is not to be good housewives ; they can't be 
 useful if they would, any more than May-flies can 
 spin silk. Like them, they can attract fish (and 
 sometimes get snapped up if they go too close), that's 
 all. If you marry them, you must accept them as 
 they are, and take your chance. Be generous, then, 
 and don't stop their waltzing. I believe there may 
 be flirting without the most distant idea of crimin- 
 ality — fencing with wooden foils, where no blood is 
 drawn. 
 
 A lady was asked the other day, * what she did 
 when an admirer became too lover-like ? ' Her answer 
 was — ' I never had such a case.' I think she spoke 
 the truth ; yet she was a coquette renowned through 
 a good part of two hemispheres. 
 
 As for the doubts and fears of the other sex, the 
 subject is too vast for me. To the end of time there 
 
3l6 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 will be Dcianiras (with imaginary lolcs), Zaras, and 
 Mrs Caudles. Tragedy and comedy have tried in rain 
 to frighten or to laugh them out of the indulgence of 
 the fatal passion that wreaks itself indiscriminately on 
 the best and the worst, the youngest and the oldest, 
 ih.Q simplest and the most guileful of adult males. 
 Let us not attempt to argue then ; but, wrapping our- 
 selves in our ^nrtue, endure as best we may the ground- 
 less reproaches and accusations of our ox-eyed Junes. 
 
 "V\''e did Venice very severely, with the exception 
 of Forrester, who, after strolKng once through the 
 Palace of the Doges (a pilgrimage interrupted by 
 many halts and profuse lamentations), declined seeing 
 anything more than what he could view from his gon- 
 dola. I never saw any one so completely at home in 
 that most delicious of conveyances. His Venetian 
 friends encouraged and sympathized with him in his 
 laziness, and pitied him with eyes and words, for ever 
 being teased about it. Indeed he was generally left 
 alone ; but one day we were landing to see a church of 
 great repute, and Miss Devereux made a strong appeal 
 to him to follow her. She was a handsome clever girl, 
 a great favourite of Charley's. I believe they used to 
 quarrel and make it up again about six times in every 
 twenty-four hours. We saw that it was hopeless ; but 
 she was obstinate enough to try and persuade him. 
 
 * Now, Captain Forrester, you must come. I have 
 set my heart upon it.* 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 317 
 
 He lifted his long eyelashes in a languid satisfaction. 
 ' Thank you very much ; I like people to be interested 
 about me ; but you see it's simply impossible. Look at 
 Ptinaldo ; there's a sensible examj)le for you. He 
 doesn't mean to stii- till he is obliged to do so/ The 
 handsome gondolier had already couched, to enjoy a 
 bask in the sun, which was blazing fiercely down on 
 his bi'own face and magnificent black hair. 
 
 * There is the most perfect Titian,' she persisted. 
 
 * ]N"o use. I should not appreciate it,^ he replied. ' I 
 have been through a gallery with you before. It's a 
 delusion and a snare. I never looked at a single 
 picture. The canvas won't stand the comparison.' 
 
 ' I did not think you w^ould have refused me,' Miss 
 Devereux went on, 'particularly after last night, when 
 you were so very — amusing.'' She hesitated out the 
 last word with a blush. It evidently was not the 
 adjective that ought to have closed the sentence. 
 
 'Amusing!' replied Charley, plaintively. 'You 
 need not say any more. I am crushed for the day. I 
 meant to be especially touching and pathetic. Well, 
 there's some good in everything, though. I enter- 
 tained an angel unaw^ares.' 
 
 ' I shall know how far to believe you another time, 
 at all events,' she retorted, getting rather provoked. 
 
 'Don't be unjust,' said Forrester, profoundly regard- 
 less of the fact that his wife was within three paces of 
 them. ' I said I was ready to die for you. So I am. 
 
313 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 You may fix tlie time ; but I may clioose tlie place. 
 If you insist upon it, I'll make an end of it now — 
 here.* And he settled himself deeper into the pile of 
 cushions. 
 
 "We had no patience to listen to any more, but went 
 off to perform our duty. Long before he had exhausted 
 his arguments against moA'ing, we had returned. 
 Margaret Devereux missed seeing the church and its 
 Titian, but she got a ' great moral lesson.* She never 
 wasted her pretty pleadings in such a hopeless cause 
 again. 
 
 I remember when we mounted the Campanile the 
 solemn way in which he wished us huon viaggio. 
 When we reached the top, we made out his figure 
 reclining on many chairs in front of ' Florian's.' 
 
 He saw us, too, and lifted the glass before him to his 
 lips with a wave of approval and encouragement, just 
 as they do at Chamounix when the telescopes make 
 out a few black specks on the white crests of the 
 mountain. "\ATien we came down, he stopped us be- 
 fore we could say one word. * Yes, I know — it was 
 magnificent. Bella, I see you are going to rave about 
 the view. If you do, I'll shut you up for a week en 
 penitence, and feed you on nothing but " Bradshaw " 
 and water.* 
 
 "We spent a very pleasant month in Venice. It did 
 Guy good, being with the Forresters. He lu\d always 
 been very fond of his cousin, and she seemed to suit 
 
GUY LIVINGSTOXE. 319 
 
 him better than any else now. She would sit by him 
 for hours, talking in her low caressing tones that 
 soothed him like a cool soft hand laid on a forehead 
 fever-heated. Isabel was not afraid of him now ; but 
 a great awe mingled with her pity. 
 
 It is curious, and tells well perhaps for our human 
 nature ; neither pride of birth, nor complete success, 
 nor profound wisdom, surrounds a man with such 
 reverence as the being possessed with a great sorrow. 
 At least none can envy him ; and so those who were 
 his enemies once — like the gallant Frenchman when 
 he saw his adversary's empty sleeve — bring their 
 swords to the salute and pass on. 
 
 At last we started for Rome, our party nearly filling 
 tvro carriages. There are only two w^ays of travelling : 
 in your own carriage, with courier and fourgon, like a 
 Russian or transatlantic noble ; or in vetturino. This 
 last mode, which was ours, is scarcely less pleasant, if 
 you are not in a hurry. The charm of having, for a 
 certain period, every care as to ways and means off 
 your mind, compensates for the six-miles- an-hour pace. 
 So we moved slowly southward, through Yerona — 
 where one thinks more of the Avon than the Adige — 
 where, in tombs poised like Mahomet's coffin, the 
 mighty Scagliari sleep between earth and heaven, as if 
 not quite fit for either — where are the cypresses in the 
 trim old garden, soaring skyward tiU the eyes that fol- 
 
320 GUY LIVINGSTON'E. 
 
 low grow dizzy, the trees that were green and luxuri- 
 ant years before the world was redeemed. So, tlirough 
 Mantua and Bologna down to Florence, where, I think, 
 the spirits of Catherine and of Cosmo linger yet ; — • 
 the women and the men are all so soft-toned, and silk}-, 
 and sinful, and cruel. We did not stay long there, 
 for we had all visited it before, once or twice, but kept 
 on our way, by the upper road to Pcome, till we 
 reached our last halting-place — Civita Castellana. 
 
 We were gathered round the wood-fire after dinner 
 (for the October evenings grew chilly as they closed 
 in) ; I don^t know how it was that Forrester began 
 telling us about their flight. 
 
 * You ought to have seen Bella's baggage,' he said 
 at last ; * it was so compact. You can't fancy an}'- 
 thing so tiny as the sac-de-nuit. A courier's money- 
 bag would make two of it. Then a vast cloak, and 
 that's all. Quite in light marching order.^ 
 
 * I wonder 3'ou are not ashamed to talk about bag- 
 gage,' his wife retorted. * When we got to Dover, 
 there was his servant with four immense portmanteaus 
 and a dressing-case nearly as large, waiting for us. 
 Was it not romantic ? ' 
 
 ' Bah ! ' Charlej^ said. ' A man must have his com- 
 forts, even if he is eloping. I am sure I arranged 
 everything superbly. I don't know liow I did it. An 
 undeveloped talent for intrigue, I suppose.' 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 321 
 
 * 'Was it not kind of him to take so mucli trouble?' 
 Isabel asked, quite innocently, and in perfect good 
 faith, I am sure ; but her husband pinched the little 
 pink ear that was within his reach. 
 
 * She means to be sarcastic,' he said. * You've spoilt 
 her, Guy. If I had had time to deliberate though, I 
 don't think I should ever have come to the post. I 
 wonder how any one stands the training.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you what would have suited you exactly/ 
 Livingstone remarked — 'to have been one of those men 
 in the Arabian Nights, who wake and find themselves 
 at a strange city's gate, 10,000 leagues from home, 
 to whom there comes up a venerable vizier, saying, 
 " My son, Heaven has blessed me with one daughter, 
 a very pearl of beauty ; many have sought her in 
 marriage, but in vain. Your appearance pleases me, 
 and I would have you for my son-in-law." ' 
 
 * Exactly,' said Forrester. 'I should not have 
 minded turning out somebody else's child eventually 
 — (they all did that, didn't they ?) — for such a piece 
 of luck as to be taken in and done for offhand, with- 
 out the trouble of thinking about it.' 
 
 Instead of looking vexed, Isabel laughed merrily, 
 and her eyes glittered as they rested on him, full of 
 a proud loving happiness. 
 
 * The best of it was,' Charley went on, ' she was in 
 the most dreadful state of alarm and excitement all the 
 
322 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 way to Dover ; looldng out at every station, under tlie 
 impression that she should see the bridegroom there, 
 *' dangling his bonnet and plume/' (Though how he 
 was to have got ahead of us, unless he came by elec- 
 tric telegraph, does not appear.) What sport it would 
 have been ! I should have liked so to have seen the 
 " laggard in love " once more/ 
 
 * He was not quite that,'' Isabel interrupted, rather 
 mischievously. 
 
 * Ah ! I dare say you kept him up to the traces,' 
 her husband remarked, languidly. * You have a talent 
 that way. "What " passages," as Yarney called them, 
 there must have been, eh, Guy ? We won't hear 
 your confession now. Puss. In pity to Mademoiselle 
 Agliie's eyes (which are very fine), if not to j^our own 
 (which are very useful), I think you had better go to 
 bed. That ferocious vctturino will have us up at un- 
 holy hours, and is not to be mitigated.' 
 
 We sat talking for a little while after Isabel left 
 us ; then Forrester rose and strolled to the window. 
 The flood of light that poured in when he drew the 
 curtain was qiute startling, making the three beaked 
 oil lamps look smoky and dim. 
 
 * I shall smoke my last cigar al fresco ,' Charley said; 
 ' I suppose it's the correct thing to do, with such a 
 moon as that. Won't you come, Guy ? I must not 
 tempt you out into the night air, Hammond.' 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 323 
 
 ' Not to-night/ Livingstone answered. * I am not 
 in the humour for admiring anything. I should bo 
 rather in your way.' 
 
 One of his gloomy fits was coming over him, at 
 which times he always chose to be alone. 
 
 * Well, I shall go and consume the " humble, but 
 not wholly heart-broken weed of every- day life," as 
 Tyrrel used to say — (Don't you remember his double- 
 barrelled adjectives ?) If you hear any one singing 
 very sweetl}^ don't be alarmed ; you'll know it's the 
 harmless lunatic who now addresses you; the fit 
 won't last more than an hour. We shall be in Rome 
 to-morrow. The only thing on my mind now is, 
 whether I shall find anything there to carry me 
 
 across the Campagna. K has a very fair pack, 
 
 I understand, and no end of foxes.' 
 
 Have you ever watched the completion of a photo- 
 graph, when the nitrate of silver (or whatever the last 
 lotion may be) is applied ? First, one feature comes 
 out, that you may indulgently mistake for a tree or a 
 gable- end, or a mountain- top ; then another, till the 
 whole picture stands out in clear brilliant relief. 
 
 Just so, when I recall that scene — little heed as I 
 took at the time of them — every gesture, and look, and 
 tone of Forrester's becomes as distinct as if he stood in 
 the body, before me now. I can see him standing in 
 the shadow of the doorway, the red glare from the 
 
324 GUY LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 blazing wood with whicli he was lighting his cigar 
 falling over his delicate features and bright chestnut 
 hair — I can hear his kind soft voice as he speaks these 
 last two words — ' Al rivederci.* 
 
 Whether that wish will be accomplished hereafter, 
 God alone can tell: if so, it must be beyond the 
 grave. In life we never saw him any more. 
 
325 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 But time at length makes all things even. 
 And if we do but bide the hour, 
 There never yet ^Yas human power 
 
 That could evade, if unforgiven, 
 The patient search and vigil long 
 Of him who treasures up a wrong. 
 
 Three-quautehs of an hour later, Guy was sitting in 
 his room, gazing at the embers on the hearth, in the 
 attitude of moody thought, that of late he was apt to 
 fall into. Suddenly there came a timid knock at his 
 door. "When he opened it, his cousin stood on the 
 threshold — ghost-like, against the background of 
 darkness, with her white dressing-gown, pale cheeks, 
 and long hair unbound. 
 
 * Guy, don't be angry,' she said; * it's very foolish of 
 me, I know; but Charley has not come in yet, and, just 
 now, I am certain there was a shot quite near. Agliie 
 heard nothing, but I did. You know he always carries 
 a pistol. I made him do so. It is nothing, I am sure ; 
 but I am so frightened. If you would ' 
 
 She tried to smile ; but that ghastly look of terror 
 that he had seen once before, long ago, in the library 
 
326 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 at Kcrtou Manor, again swept over, and possessed all 
 her face, like a white chill mist. 
 
 * Don't be absurd, you silly child,' Guy said, kindly. 
 * Of course I'll go out directly, and bring him in in five 
 minutes, to laugh at you. Now go back to your room; 
 there's nothing on earth to be alarmed about.' 
 
 But the instant she had gone, I heard his voice quick 
 and stern, * Frank, come here.* There was a door of 
 communication between our rooms, and, though it was 
 closed, I had caught some words of this conversation, so 
 I was ready nearly as soon as he. Guy only stayed to 
 take a short lance- wood club, headed vath a spiked steel 
 head, which was his constant travelling companion — a 
 very simple weapon, but deadly in his hands as the axe 
 of R-ichard the King — and then we sallied out, taking 
 our servants and some other men that wxre below, with 
 torches, in case the moon sliould fail us unexpectedly. 
 
 Twice, three times, when we had gone a short dis- 
 tance, Livingstone shouted Forrester's name, llis 
 powerful voice rang far through the ravines, and 
 struck against the rocks, rolling and reverberating in 
 their hollows, like a blast fired in a deep mine ; but 
 no answer came. 
 
 I looked at my companion very nervously ; he never 
 spoke, but I saw him gnaw his under-lip till the blood 
 ran down. 
 
 We had gone a hundred paces or so further along a 
 narrow path outside the town. On our right the cliff 
 
GtJT LIVING STONt!. 32? 
 
 fell almost abruptly towards tlie river. Guy was a few 
 paces in front ; when suddenly there broke from his 
 lips such a sound as I have never heard from those of 
 any mortal before or since. 
 
 It is impossible to describe it. It was utterly invol- 
 untary, as if some spirit had spoken within the man — a 
 cry of horror and of unspeakable wrath, such as might 
 have burst from the chestof oneof the old-world giants, 
 when the rock fell from heaven that crushed him like a 
 worm. The Italians, used to every tone that can ex- 
 press passion, shrunk and cowered back in terror. 
 
 Our ej^es all followed the direction of his, that were 
 staring down upon a flat open space, clear from brush- 
 wood, down in the hollow on our right. Our search 
 was ended, and we knew it. The moon that flickered 
 and quivered elsewhere through bough and brake, 
 settled there steadily on a single white spot. 
 
 In all the world there is but one object on which She 
 can cast so ghastly a reflection — a dead man's face. 
 
 Guy recovered himself first, and plunged recklessly 
 down the cliif side ; when we reached him, he was 
 supporting on his knee the head of poor Charley 
 Forrester, stone-dead, and foully murdered. 
 
 The first glance told how unavailing all human aid 
 must be. One small deep wound just above the left 
 temple must have been fatal instantly. Close by his 
 side lay the instrument of the slaughter — a thin, tri- 
 angular piece of granite — and, ten paces off — his pistol. 
 
328 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 one barrel discharged. Ilis watcli and (as we after- 
 wards found) his purse were gone ; but an emerald 
 ring of great value was still untouched on his finger. 
 
 I staggered back, heart-sick and faint. "WTien I re- 
 covered, I saw dimly the group of men awe-stricken 
 and whispering, and Guy still gazing down at the face 
 that rested on his knee, as if it fascinated his eyes. I 
 could not bear to look upon the piteous sight. All 
 through the bright hair the dark blood had soaked, 
 and a slow stream was stealing through it still ; the 
 fair features were all defaced and deformed with the 
 wrath and agony of the last mortal struggle. Yet I 
 do remember that, if any one definite expression still 
 lingered there, it was bitter contempt and scorn. 
 
 ' In God's name, sir, what is to be done ? ' It was 
 Hardy who spoke, poor Forrester's own servant, the 
 only Englishman among our attendants. He was 
 choking, and could hardly gasp out the words. 
 
 Livingstone rose slowly, first pilloTNing the mangled 
 head on a soft tuft of moss, tcnderl}^ as if it were con- 
 scious stiU. His nature was such, that no shock, or 
 pain, or sorrow to which humanity is liable, could bend 
 or quell it, so as to deprive him, beyond a brief instant, 
 of self-possession and calmness. It was not inscnsi- 
 biKty now, and hardly stoicism, but an elasticity of 
 resistance and strength of endurance that, in my own 
 knowledge, have never been matched. In history, or 
 in Indian life, you might find many parallels. 
 
GtlT LIVINGSTONE. 329 
 
 He answered quite steadily, though in a low tone, 
 as if reverencing the presence of the dead. 
 
 ' There is no hope ! It is useless to send for a sur- 
 geon. Hard J, you will take all the men whom you can 
 collect, and scour the country. Send to the shirri im- 
 mediately, they will go with you. There must be 
 traces of the murderer. Frank, will you see that — ^he 
 — is brought carefully to the house ? I will ' — ^he 
 stopped, and drew a long, hard breath — ' I will go and 
 break it to Isabel.* His hand, that happened to touch 
 mine as he spoke, was damp and icy cold. 
 
 In his life, Guy Livingstone had done and dared 
 more than most men ; but he never ventured on any- 
 thing so thoroughly brave, and vaKant, and strong- 
 hearted as when he left me, without another word, on 
 that errand. For myself, though weak both in body 
 and nerve, I swear I would rather have gone up the 
 breach at Badajoz with the forlorn hope, than up that 
 bank, with the certainty before me of what awaited him. 
 
 Trees overhanging, and high walls on either side, 
 and the change from the bright moonlight, made it so 
 dark just as you approached the Inn, that Guy scarcely 
 saw a white figure crouching down a few paces from 
 the door, till he was close upon it. 
 
 He threw his artn round Isabel Forrester's waist 
 before she could pass him. Half his task was done ; 
 there was nothing to break to her now. She under- 
 stood all when she saw him come back alone. 
 
3(i0 GUY LIVIS^G STONE. 
 
 For a few moments there they stood in tlie dark, no 
 \\ord passing between them ; the only sound washer 
 quick panting, as she struggled in his grasp, battling 
 to get free. 
 
 'Isabel/ he said, at last, gravely, *come in ; I must 
 speak to you/ 
 
 Ko answer still, but the same desperate struggle to 
 get loose. There was a savage, supernatural power in 
 her writhings that taxed even his gigantic strength to 
 hold her ; as it was, he j^ielded unconsciously to her 
 impulse so as to recede some paces, till they issued 
 out into the moonlight. He could scarcely recognize 
 her features ; they were all working and contorted, 
 the lips especially horribly drawn back and tense. 
 She bent her head down at last, and made her teeth 
 meet in the arm that detained her. 
 
 Guy never flinched or stirred, but spoke again in 
 the same slow, deliberate tone. 
 
 ' Isabel, come in. I swear that joii shall see him 
 when it is safe. They are bringing him back now.' 
 
 She ceased struggling, and stood straight up, shak- 
 ing all over, straining her ej^es forward to the turning 
 in the path where the torches began to gleam. 
 
 ' Is he not dead, then ? ' she said, in a strange, 
 harsh voice, utterly unlike her own. Her cousin did 
 not try to delude her ; all the stem outline of his face 
 softening in an intense pity told her enough. 
 
 Such a scream — weird, long drawn out, and un* 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 331 
 
 eartMy, such as we fancy the Banshee's — as that which 
 pierced through my very marrow (thougli I stood 
 three hundred yards away), as if it had been uttered 
 close at my ear, I trust I shall never hear again. 
 
 Then followed the contrast of a great stillness ; for, 
 as the last accents died away on her lips, Isabel sank 
 down, without a struggle, into a dead swoon. 
 
 A sad satisfaction came into Guy's face. 'It is best 
 so,' he muttered; 'I hope she won't wake for an hour,' 
 and he carried her into the house. They were trying 
 to revive her, unsuccessfully, when I reached it with 
 those who bore the corpse on a litter of pine-branches. 
 By Guy's directions it was laid on his oa^ti bed ; and 
 there the Italian women rendered the last offices to the 
 dead man, weeping and wailing over him, as though he 
 had been a brother or dear friend — only for his rare 
 beauty — even as the Moorish girls mourned over that 
 fair-faced Christian knight, whom they found lying, 
 rolled in blood, by the brook of Alpujarro. 
 
 Soon they came to tell Guy that Isabel was recover- 
 ing from her swoon. She was hardly conscious when 
 he entered the room, and he heard her moaning — ' I 
 am so cold, so cold,' shivering all over, though she 
 was warmly wrapped in cloaks and shawls. 
 
 The village doctor, a mild, helpless-looking man, was 
 sitting by her bedside ; he tried to feel her pulse just 
 then, I suppose to show that he could be of some use; 
 but she shrunk away from him^ and beckoned to her 
 
332 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 cousin to come near. lie motioned to the others to 
 leave them alone, and, kneeling down by her, took her 
 hand in his. 
 
 *Giiy, dear,' she said, ' I know I have been so very 
 wicked and ungrateful to you ; but you must not be 
 angry. I have no one left to take care of me but you, 
 now. I will try to be patient ; indeed, indeed I will.' 
 Iler voice was faint and exhausted, but as gentle as 
 ever. 
 
 lie held her hand faster, and bent his forehead 
 down upon it. 
 
 * You are not wicked — only too weak to bear your 
 sorrow. If I only knew what to do to comfort you ! 
 But I am so rough and harsh, even when I mean to be 
 kind. I can say nothing, either. I suppose you ought 
 to submit, but I cannot teU you how ; it is a lesson I 
 have never been able to learn.* 
 
 * You can do this,' she said. ^Let me go to him. 
 Ah ! don't refuse. I will be calm and good ; indeed, I 
 will. But I must go,' — she sank her voice into a lower 
 whisper yet — * I have not kissed him to-night.' 
 
 There was something so unspeakabl}' piteous in her 
 tone and in her imploring eyes that had grown quite 
 soft again, though no tears had moistened them, that 
 Guy could hardly answer her. 
 
 ' I did not mean to refuse you, dear,' he said, at 
 last. *I won't even ask you to wait. If 3'ou are not 
 strong enough to walk I will carry you.' 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 333 
 
 She rose slowly and painfully, as if her limbs were 
 stiff with cold, but she could stand, and walk with his 
 arm round her ; and so these two moved slowly along 
 the deserted passages towards the room where the 
 corpse lay. 
 
 There was nothing shocking in its appearance now. 
 All the traces of murder had been washed away, and 
 they had arranged the silky chestnut hair till it con- 
 cealed the wound, and fell in smooth waves over the 
 white forehead. That sweet calm which will sometimes 
 descend on the face of the dead, even when their end 
 has been violent — the sad Alpen-gluth that comes only 
 when the sun has set — was there in all its beauty. Save 
 that the features were somewhat sharper than in life, 
 there was nothing to mar their pure classical outline. 
 It was well, indeed, that Guy held her back two hours 
 ago. If Isabel had looked on them then, I believe she 
 woidd have gone mad with terror if not with sorrow. 
 It matters much, the expression of a face, when it is 
 sure to mingle in our dreams for many after years. 
 
 Guy led her up to the bedside, and left the room as 
 she sank down on her knees. He remained outside 
 the closed door, for he thought she might need help if 
 her strength failed suddenly; and I joined him there. 
 
 For some time we heard only the quick stormy sobs, 
 and the kisses showering down ; then came the piteous 
 heart-broken wail that called upon her husband's 
 name; and then, the great gush of tears that saved her. 
 
o34 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 After that tlierc was a murmur, often broken off but 
 always renewed : we both bowed our beads reverently, 
 for we knew tbe widow was praying. 
 
 She came fortb at length, her head buried in her 
 hands ; but she could walk to her room unassisted, and 
 allowed them to undress her there, without a word 
 but thanks. Lefore long Nature would have her way, 
 and she was sleeping quietly. 
 
 AVhilc we were waiting the return of the men who 
 had gone out in pursuit, Livingstone went alone into 
 the death-chamber. He stayed there some minutes; 
 when he came out his face was paler than ever, and 
 there was a sort of horror in his eyes. 
 
 He took my arm and led me into the room, without 
 spealdng. * Do you see that ? ' he asked, lifting the 
 hail*, gentl}^, that fell over the left cheek of the corpse. 
 
 Distinctly and lividly marked on the waxen flesh 
 were the five fingers of a man's ojwn hand. 
 
 * Do you think that was a brigand's work?' he went 
 on, his gripe tiglitening till I could scarcely bear the 
 pain. 'They always strike vrith a weapon or with 
 the clenched fist. Shall I tell you wlioso mark that 
 is ? — Bruce's. If he did not murder him himself, he 
 struck him after he was dead.* 
 
 ' Impossible,' I said ; * how could he ? — He has 
 never ' 
 
 Livingstone cast my arm loose somewhat im- 
 patiently. * We shall know all some day,' he growled, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 335 
 
 his whole face black with passion. I am convinced 
 of it. If he's on earth I'll find him ; and when I do, 
 if I show him mercy or let him go ' The impre- 
 cation that followed was not less solemn and terrible 
 because it was muttered to his own heart. 
 
 * We must never let Isabel guess the truth/ he said, 
 when he became calmer. * It would be worse than all. 
 She would always think she had caused this ; and she 
 has enough to bear up against abeady, God help her ! ' 
 
 Soon Agliie came to tell us that her mistress was 
 asleep. The Frenchwoman's first impulse had been to 
 be hysterical and helpless ; it was only her terror of 
 Guy prevailing over all others that made her, as she 
 was — very useful. 
 
 He went to the door for an instant, and looked at 
 Isabel. Dreamland was kinder and pleasanter to her 
 than real life, poor child ! for there was a smile on her 
 lips that, when she was waking, would be long in visit- 
 ing them. How would ships or men ever last out, if 
 there were not some harbours of refuge to rest in before 
 going out into the wild weather again ? Truly she 
 had won hers for the moment : it looked as if an angel 
 had come down to smooth, this time, instead of troub • 
 ling the waters. 
 
 The pursuers came back empty-handed ; they had 
 not come upon the faintest trace, nor could they hear 
 of any suspicious character having been seen in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
333 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Guy betrayed no impatience when he heard this ; 
 but he went out himself with some of the best men, and 
 spent the rest of the night and all the following morn- 
 ing on the quest. All to no purpose. He returned 
 about noon, with his companions quite fagged out; but 
 iiitigue and sleeplessness seemed to have no grasp upon 
 his frame. 
 
 Isabel was up, and had been asking for him several 
 times. When he saw her, she offered no opposition to 
 his wish to go on straight to Bome the next day. 
 Neither then nor at any future time did she ever ask 
 for any particulars of her husband's death. 
 
 Her old child-like dependence and trust in her cousin 
 had come back, and all through the journey she was 
 quite tranquil. It is true, we hardly ever saw her face, 
 for her veil was closely drawn. Her grief was not the 
 less painful to witness because it was so little demon- 
 strative. Yery old and very young women, in the 
 plenitude of their benevolence, are good enough to 
 sympathize with an}^ tale of woe, however absurdly ex- 
 aggerated ; but men, I think, are most moved by the 
 simple and quiet sorrows. 'SVe smile at the critical 
 point of a spasmodic tragedj^, complacently as the 
 Lucretian philosopher looking down from the cliff on 
 the wild sea ; we ya^vn over the wailings of Werter and 
 Haphael; but we ponder gravely over the last chapters 
 of the Heir ofEeddyffe; and feel a curious sensation in 
 the throat — perhaps the slightest dimness of vision — 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 337 
 
 when we read in The NewcomeSy how that noble old 
 soldier crowned the chivalry of a stainless life, dying 
 in the Grey Brother's gown. 
 
 There were many at Eome who had known For- 
 rester and loved him well, and all these followed him 
 to his grave. I do not think he had an enemy on 
 earth except the man who slew him. 
 
 What are the qualifications of a General Favourite? 
 Good looks, good birth, good humour, and good as- 
 surance, Tvall do much; but the want of one or more of 
 these will not invalidate the election, nor the union of 
 all four insure it. It must be very pleasant to serve 
 in the compagnie d^elite. They have privileges to 
 which the Line may not aspire. It does not much 
 matter what thoy do. Their victories make them no 
 enemies, and their defeats raise them up hosts of sym- 
 pathizers and apologists. When they err gravely, if 
 you hint at the misdemeanor, a * true believer ' looks 
 at you indignantly, not to say contemptuously, and 
 
 says — ^ What could you expect ? It^s only poor .^ 
 
 Yes, it is a great gift — Amiability ; and when the pos- 
 sessor dies, it is profoundly true that better men might 
 be better spared. 
 
 Yery soon, HajTuond came to take his daughter back 
 to England. That calm old calculating machine was 
 more deranged and shocked by the catastrophe than I 
 should have thought it possible he would have been by 
 any earthly disaster. lie was getting older now, and 
 
338 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 more broken, it is true ; and so, perhaps, was more 
 accessible to the weakness of sympathy. At all events, 
 nothing could be kinder and more considerate than his 
 conduct to Isabel. 
 
 Guy and I still lingered on in E-ome. lie was un- 
 tiring in his researches, but quite unsuccessful. Yet 
 it was not that the police were remiss, or the country- 
 people inclined to shield the murderer. The best of 
 them would have sold his own father to the guillotine 
 for half the reward offered by Livingstone ; for he 
 lavished as much gold in trying to clear up that crime, 
 as in old da3's the Cenci or Colonna did to smother 
 theirs. At length we were forced to give it up, and 
 returned home in the Petrel. I own I despaired of ever 
 being more successful ; but my companion evidently 
 had not done so ; for I heard him, more than once, 
 mutter to himself, in the same low determined tone, 
 *If he is on earth, I'll find him.' 
 
 Immediately on our arrival, Guy went up to Bruce's 
 home in Scotland. He only learnt that the latter had 
 not been there for a long time ; but that some months 
 back, Allan Macbane, a sort of steward and old de- 
 pendent of the family, had left suddenly, summoned, 
 it was supposed, b}^ his master. More the people 
 could not or would not tell. 
 
 At his bankers' it was discovered that, immediately 
 after the Forresters' marriage, he had drawn out a very 
 large sum — not in letters of credit, but in bank-notes — 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 339 
 
 and had not been heard of since. After much trouble 
 we did find out that one of the large notes had been 
 changed at Florence, about the time of the murder ; 
 but the description of the person did not answer in tho 
 least to that of Bruce or the man who was supposed 
 to be his attendant. All trace stopped there. So the 
 months rolled away. I constantly saw Guy, and 
 sometimes was with him both in town and at Kerton, 
 where Isabel was staying with Lady Catherine. He 
 still appeared to have no doubt of the ultimate result 
 of the search, which, personally or by deputy, he never 
 intermitted for a day. 
 
840 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 lie threw 
 His -wrathful hand aloft, and cried Away. 
 Earth could not hold lis both, nor can one heaven 
 Contain my deadliest enemy and me. 
 
 AVe were sitting in Livingstone's chambers one night 
 in the following March, and dinner was just over, 
 when the Detective was announced, who, for months, 
 had been in Guy's pay and on Bruce's track. 
 
 He was a stout, hale man, rather past middle age, 
 with a rosy face, a cheerful moist eye, and full sensual 
 lips ; just the proper person to return thanks for 'The 
 Successful Candidates' at an agricultural meeting. 
 Originally of a kindly convivial nature, he had grown 
 familiar with crime till he despised it. The reward set 
 upon the criminal's capture was his only standard of 
 guilt. He took a real pleasure in the chase, I imagine ; 
 but had no preference for any game in particuLir, and 
 was quite indifferent whether the cover he had to draw 
 was a saloon or a cellar. He would hunt a fraudulent 
 bankrupt or a parricide with equal zeal, and, when he 
 had caught him, be just as jocularly affable with the 
 
OL'Y LIVINGSTONE. 341 
 
 one as with, tlie other. In a drama of life and death, 
 the fierce passions of the actors were only so many 
 gleams of light showing him where the right path lay, 
 for which assistance he thanked them heartily. The 
 foulest mysteries of the sinful himian heart touched 
 and shocked him no more than the evidences of disease 
 do the dissecting surgeon : with both it was a simple 
 question of defective organization. The possession of 
 secrets, far less weighty than some that he never told, 
 have made men look worn, and miserable, and grey ; 
 but he would pat his corpulent leather pocket-book 
 with a self-sufficient satisfaction, scarcely hinting that 
 the pubKcation of its contents would have caused 
 more devastation in some well-regulated families 
 than the bursting of a ten-inch shell in their front 
 drawing-room. 
 
 His lips and eyes wore a smile pleasantly signifi- 
 cant, as he entered ; and, before he could speak, Guy 
 leapt up, wa^dng his hand high in irrepressible tri- 
 umph. * I told you so, Frank. I knew we should 
 find him. Come — come quickly.' He was more ex- 
 cited than I had seen him in the last dozen years. 
 
 I exulted too ; but I confess a certain repugnance 
 and nervousness mingled with, that feeling : it was a 
 new thing to me, to stand face to face with a murderer. 
 
 Neither of us gave as much, attention as it deserved 
 to the narrative with which the officer favoured us en 
 route J of how lie had been gradually getting the clue to 
 
312 GVY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 thefugitivc's many doublings and disguises tillhecarae 
 upon his retreat at last. ' They mostly make for home 
 when they're dead-beat/ he remarked, alluding to 
 B ruce's having selected London as his final hidin g-placc. 
 
 AYe soon reached the spot, one of those dreary by- 
 ways that trend westward out of the Waterloo Road. 
 As we drew up, the outline of a figure revealed itself 
 out of the darkest nook of the dim street, and a man 
 came forward and opened the door of a cab, inter- 
 changing a word or two with our companion. 
 
 As we got out, the Detective laid his hand on 
 Guy's arm. * Grentl}^, sir,' he said. * You must be 
 careful. We've not quite so much proof as I could 
 wish. It would be straining a point to arrest him, as 
 it stands I'd do it though — -for you. Get him to talk, 
 and don't luuuy him ; he's safe to commit himself ; 
 and we'll nail him at the first word. M}^ comrade 
 says he has not left his bed since yesterday. Per- 
 haps he's ill. All the better. We can frigliten him, 
 if we get his man out of the way. 
 
 Guy's hand was on the bell before the last words 
 were said, and he rang it sharply. The two officers 
 drew back into the shadow. 
 
 In a few moments an old man opened the door, 
 whom we guessed to be Bruce's attendant. lie had 
 one of those stubborn rough-hewn faces that even 
 white hair cannot soften, any more than hoar-frost 
 can the outline of a granite crag. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 343 
 
 *AVhat's ye'rc wull ?' he drawled out, in the rugged 
 Aberdeen Doric. 
 
 * I wish to see Mr. Bruce/ 
 
 ' No sic a pairson here/ was the reply, accompanied 
 by a vigorous elFort to close the door. 
 
 A heavy groan proceeding from a room on the 
 ground- floor gave him the lie as he spoke. Guy threw 
 up his head, like a hound breaking from scent to view, 
 and thrust Macbane back violently. The old man stag- 
 gered and fell; but he clung round Livingstonc^s knees, 
 as he grovelled, till he was actually trampled down. 
 There was a difficulty in the lock somewhere ; but bolt 
 and staple were torn away in an instant by the furious 
 hand that grasped the handle ; and so at last we stood 
 in the presence of the man we had sought so long. 
 
 Do you remember that hideous picture in Hogarth's 
 * Two Apprentices,' where the sleeping robber is alarmed 
 by the crash in the chimney? That was exactly Bruce's 
 attitude. lie had started into a sitting posture, and was 
 braced up on his hands — his face thrust forward, half 
 covered by the straight unkempt hair. What a face it 
 was ! White and flecked with sweat- drops, marbled 
 here and there with livid stains — the lips quivering and 
 working till they twisted themselves sometimes into a 
 ghastly mockery of a smile — the long teeth gleaming 
 more wolfish than ever. The iris of the prominent eyes 
 had grown yellowish, and the whites were bloodshot, 
 60 that the light seemed to flush from them iawnily. 
 
344 GUT LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Bruce had always been very mucli afraid of Living- 
 stone. His terror had gone on increasing during 
 months of relentless pursuit ; it had reached its cli- 
 max now. Guy stood at the foot of the bed, contem- 
 plating the unhappy wretch with a cruel calmness that 
 seemed to drive him wild. lie writhed and cowered 
 under the fixed gaze, as if it gave him physical pain. 
 
 * What are you here for ? ' lie screamed out at last. 
 
 In strong contrast to the shrill strained voice, the 
 answer came slow and stern. * To arrest Charles 
 Forrester's murderer.* 
 
 Then Bruce seemed to lose his head all at once, and 
 began to rave. It is impossible to transcribe the string 
 of protestations, prayers for mercy, and horrible blas- 
 phemies : but there was enough, of self-betrayal to 
 complete the proof we wanted ten times told. The 
 Detective chuckled more complacently than ever, as 
 he insinuated the handcuffs round Macbane's wrists. 
 Over all Bruce's cries, I remember, the old man's 
 harsh voice made itself heard — ' "VVhisht, whisht, I tell 
 ye, and keep a quiet tongue ; they canna harm ye.* 
 The other did not seem to hear him, or to notice his 
 removal by the officers — muttering, as he went, that 
 * we had driven his master mad, and were killing him.' 
 
 Livingstone waited patiently till the outbreak had 
 spent itself, then he said — ' Get up, and come with us 
 instantly. You shall finish your night in Xewgate.* 
 
 The sick man lay back for some moments with his 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 345 
 
 eyes closed, panting and evidently quite exhausted. 
 When he opened his eyes, there was a steadiness in 
 them which surprised us. He spoke, too, quite calmly. 
 * I do not mean to deny anything, nor to resist, even if 
 I could. I am tired of running away. It is as well 
 over: but I was taken by surprise at first. Guy 
 Livingstone, do you choose to listen to me for five 
 minutes ? My head is clear now. I do not know how 
 long that will last ; but I do know that, after to-night, 
 I wiU never speak about Forrester's death one word.' 
 
 * Will you tell me how you killed him?' Livingstone 
 asked, controlling his voice wonderfully. 
 
 * That is what I wish to do,' Bruce said. I believe 
 he was glad of the opportunity of showing us how much 
 we had misjudged him in thinking him harmless ; for 
 a curious sort of grin was hovering about his mouth. 
 Guy, whose eyes were bent down at the moment, did 
 not see it, or the tale would never have been told. 
 
 'You know how you were all against me at Kerton,' 
 he began. * She did not care for me then, perhaps ; but 
 I would have been so patient and persevering, that 
 she must have loved me at last — only you never gave 
 me fair play. Ah, do you think, because I was ugly 
 and awkward, I had no chance ? ' 
 
 ' No — but because she knew you were a coward/ 
 Guy said. 
 
 There was something grand in the utter indifier- 
 ence with which Bruce met the insult. 
 
346 GtY LI^^NGStOj^l5. 
 
 ' You aro wrong,' lie replied, coolly, ' she did not 
 know it. You all did, and reckoned on my being long- 
 suffering and inoffensive. I saw, at last, what Forrester 
 had done ; yet I never guessed but that she would 
 marry me. I trusted to her father and her own fears 
 for keeping her straight. After marriage, I would 
 have tried still, what great love and tenderness could 
 do. I meant — never mind what I meant. It's all 
 over now. I was nearly mad for a week after their 
 flight. Then I became quite cool, and I said — " I will 
 kill him myself." And so I did. Mind, I swear, 
 Allan knew nothing of it till all was done. I thought 
 I should be brave enough for that. Fifty times 
 during the months that I tracked them, always 
 changing my disguise, I nearly caught him alone ; 
 but each time I was balked. Wherever they went, I 
 watched under their windows for the chance of his 
 coming out ; but I only saw .* 
 
 lie gnashed his teeth, and rolled over and over in 
 a paroxysm of jealous recollection. We guessed what 
 he meant. Then he went on — * That night, he saunt- 
 ered backwards and forwards for some time. I thought 
 he would not go far enough away, and I called to the 
 Devil to help me. lie did ; for, very soon, Forrester 
 walked straight down the path. I crept after him till 
 he had gone some hundred j-ards — my heart was beat- 
 ing so quickly that I could hardly breathe — then I 
 ran forward and stood before him. I had taken off 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 347 
 
 the black wig and beard that I always wore, and he 
 knew me directly. 
 
 * *' Mr Bruce, I believe ? '* he said, raising his hat, 
 just as if he had met me by appointment. 
 
 *"Yes,^' I said. "I have got you at last, as I 
 wished.^' I tried to speak as steadily as he had done ; 
 
 but, as the moment for action came near, my d d 
 
 cowardice made me stammer. 
 
 f * " I am not invisible, as a rule," he replied. " You, 
 
 or any friend of yours, might have found me long ago. 
 
 You have been some time making up your mind. It's 
 
 that imfortunate constitutional — caution, I suppose. 
 
 Well, I'll meet you in Eome : it's more than you 
 
 deserve.'* 
 
 ' " You'll fight me here — now," I said. 
 
 '"I shall do nothing half so melodramatic," he 
 answered. "I'll give you a fair chance on the 
 ground ; but if you don't move out of my path now, 
 I'll shoot you as I would any other disagreeable 
 ruffian," and he put his hand into his breast, where I 
 knew he carried a pistol. 
 
 * I was brave then. I sprang in upon him all at 
 once. " You may shoot now, if you like," I said. *'I 
 swear I am quite unarmed. But show that to your 
 wife when you go back," and I struck him with my 
 open hand.' 
 
 (I remembered the mark on the corpse's cheek, and 
 looked at G uy eagerly. I could not see his face^, which 
 
348 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 was hidden by the curtain, but all his lower limbs 
 were shaking and quivering.) 
 
 * I thought how it would be/ Bruce went on ; * he 
 drew his hand out with the pistol in it, but he only 
 flung it over the bank — one barrel went off in the fall, 
 then we grappled. After wrestling for a minute or two 
 on the narrow path, we lost our footing and rolled 
 down the rocks ; neither quitted his hold, but I fell 
 uppermost and kept him do-s^Ti. He struggled des- 
 perately at first; but when he found I was much the 
 stronger, he lay quite still, looking up into my face. 
 I said, " It's my turn at last. Do you think I'll let 
 you off?" 
 
 * lie did not answer at first. I believe he would not 
 tiU he had quite recovered his breath ; then he said, 
 coolly, " No, I don't. Finish it quicldy, if you can, 
 that's all.'' I would have delayed a little, to enjoy my 
 triumph, but I thought the pistol-shot might bring 
 some one ; so I tightened my grip on his throat, and 
 looked roimd for a weapon. I found none at first, and 
 my purpose actually began to soften when I saw him 
 so lielpless ; but, as I relaxed my fingers, I heard him 
 whisper to himself, ^' Poor Bella — we have been very 
 happy — I wish we had had more time — " I got mad 
 again dii-ectly. " D— n you ! " I cried out, ** I'll kill 
 you now, and marry her some day." His old insolent 
 smile came on his lip. "No, you wont," he said ; 
 "you don't know how she hates you, and how we have 
 
GUY I-IVIXGSTONE. 349 
 
 laughed — ** he had no time to say more, for I fomid 
 my weapon then — a stone, triangular and sharp- 
 pointed, like a dagger — and I struck him over the 
 temple with all my force. He gave one convulsive 
 spring that threw me clear of him ; and never stirred 
 again. 
 
 ' I did not repent when it was done ; I have never 
 repented since ; I do not now. I only thought how 
 best to escape the consequences. I took his watch 
 and purse that brigands might be suspected, and 
 threw them into the river a mile off. I robbed him 
 of one thing more — this ! ' All his haggard face was 
 transfigured with a ghastly triumph as he opened a 
 small leathern case that hung round his neck, and 
 held up before us two locks of hair. 
 
 There they were — the love-gift and the death-spoil 
 — the memorials of defeat and of victory, of foiled 
 affection and of gratified hate — the one, beguiled from 
 Isabel by Bruce himself, with many earnest pleadings, 
 in the early days of their engagement ; the other, 
 torn from her husband's temples before they were cold. 
 The long light -brown tress was scarcely more soft 
 and satin-smooth than the chestnut curl ; but one end 
 of the last was matted, and discoloured by a dark 
 rusty stain — the stain that, the Greek poet said, all 
 the rivers of earth flowing in one channel could never 
 wash away — the testimony, to our ears mute enough 
 now, but which perhaps Tvdll make itself heard above 
 
350 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the Babel of all other cries, at the Day of Judgrnent. 
 
 The two tokens were twined together lovingly, as 
 if they were sensitive and conscious still. Bruce 
 plucked them asunder — 'I never can keep them 
 apart,' he said, querulously. Then he put them back 
 into the case separately, and began to mutter to him- 
 self many words that I could not distinguish. 
 
 ' Ilavo you anything more to say ? ' Livingstone 
 asked. His lips were rigid and compressed like a 
 steel-trap, opening and closing mechanically. As he 
 spoke, he snatched the leathern bag from Bruce'* 
 hand and threw it into the fire. 
 
 A sharp howl, like a flogged hound's, broke from 
 tlie sick man as he saw his treasure shrivel up in the 
 flame. Then he began to whimper out all sorts of 
 incoherent supplications ; crj'ing, ' that we did not 
 know how much he had suffered before he killed 
 Forrester, and since, too ; that he had been cruelly 
 used from the beginning ; that he was very, very ill, 
 now ; would not we let him die in peace ? ' The tears 
 were streaming down his face. It was a sight of 
 abasement that sent a shiver through one's veins. 
 
 Guy laid his hand on tlie miserable creature's 
 shoulder. Though he scarcely touched it, I saw the 
 great muscles starting out on his arm like ropes from 
 the intensity of his supprcvocd emotion ; his lower 
 lip trembled, but his tones did not in the least. I 
 can give no idea of their pitiless, deliberate ferocity> 
 
GUI' ijvingsto.se. 351 
 
 * Listen/ he said. * I told you before to get up, 
 and come with us — that is my answer now. If you 
 have life enough left to be carried to the gallows-foot, 
 you shall never cheat the hangman.* 
 
 Bruce looked up into the speaker's face for some 
 moments. Gradually the agonized appeal in his wild 
 eyes died away into vacancy; an expression, half 
 cunning, half amused, stole over his face ; and, lean- 
 ing gently back, he began pulling threads out of the 
 coverlet, laughing low. 
 
 The blood gushed from Guy's clenched hand,, as he 
 struck it furiously against the stone mantel. 
 
 ' By ' he said, with a fearful oath, ' he has 
 
 escaped me after all.' 
 
 It was so. The mind, worn and strained by the ter- 
 rors of the long pursuit, perhaps by remorse not ac- 
 knowledged even to himself, and by the last great 
 effort at self-control, had given way at last — for ever. 
 G od had recorded his verdict, and no earthly court 
 could try the criminal again. Bruce is living now 
 (and I dare say will outlive most of us, for his bodily 
 health is perfect), vicious sometimes, but never con- 
 scious ; hard to please, but easy to manage, so long 
 as his attendant is a man, and a strong one ; access- 
 ible only to the one emotion which drove him mad — • 
 physical fear. 
 
 Li\dngstone called the officers ; they came in with 
 ^acbane. The 0I4 man pretended to be very wroth 
 
352 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 when lie saw his master's state, but, I believe, he re- 
 joiced secretly. The credit of the family, with him, 
 outweighed all considerations of personal attachment, 
 and he would think public disgrace cheaply averted 
 at any price. 
 
 On our poor Detective, perhaps, the blow fell 
 heaviest ; for, after some time, Guy did come round 
 to my idea, that no punishment we could have brought 
 about would have been so ample and terrible ; but 
 Mr Fitchett could not see it in that light at all. Not 
 only was the termination of the affair dreadfully un- 
 professional, but the little triumph he had antici- 
 pated at the trial was spoiled. If human weakness 
 ever could touch this great man, it was when he heard 
 the judge pay a compliment to * the sagacity and zeal 
 of that most efficient officer.' On such occasions his 
 bow of conscious merit abnegating praise was, I am 
 told, wonderful to see. After a few words of explan- 
 ation, he glanced wistfully at Bruce, and shook his 
 head, like a broken-hearted Lord Burleigh. Then 
 he unloosed the handcuffs from Macbane's wrists ; 
 whistling all the while softly a popular air, lively in 
 itself, with a cadence so plaintive, that it might have 
 been a penitential psalm. No romantic school-girl 
 opening the cage to her pet starling, ever displayed 
 more hesitation and reluctance than Mr Fitchett, 
 setting that grim old bird free. 
 
 In truth there was no evidence to attach to the 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 353 
 
 servant, so wc left him and his master together. I 
 could not have stood that room much longer. The 
 ceaseless complacent chuckle of the idiot, and his fear- 
 ful grimaces when he could not make the threads 
 match, had the effect on my chest of a nightmare. 
 Very slowly and silently we walked home through 
 the darkness. 
 
354 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Be tlie day weary, or never so long, 
 At length it ringeth to even song. 
 
 There is little to clironicle in tlie events of the next 
 few years. Livingstone resided almost entirely at 
 Kerton. lie rode as liard, and distinguished himself 
 in all other field-sports as much as ever ; but even in 
 these, his favourite pursuits, he had lost the intense 
 faculty of enjoyment which once seemed a part of 
 his powerful organization. 
 
 Do you remember that scene in the NeKma, where 
 the Eidolon of Achilles comes slowly through the 
 twilight, to meet his old brother- in-arms? Not only are 
 liis form and features altered after so ghastly a fashion, 
 that even the wanderer, wave-worn and travel-stained, 
 Jooks brilliant by comparison ; but all his feelings are 
 utterly and strangely changed. Listen. lie asks after 
 the father from whom he parted when quite a child ; 
 after the son, whom he never saw ; but not one word of 
 his fair first love — not one of her who was the passion 
 of his manhood, whom he bucklered once against ten 
 t]]oiisai;d. IJe had rq,tlier hear of Peleus and Neopto- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTOKE. 355 
 
 lemus, than of Deidamia or Brisois. Of Polyxena, bo 
 siire that he remembers nothing, but that he was hold- 
 ing her hand when her brother slew him. Will he 
 ever forgive her that ? Not if she could have made 
 amends by the sacrifice of ten lives, instead of that 
 one which she gave, willingly, on Sigacmn. Has am- 
 bition any hold on him either ? Only to breathe the 
 fresh clear air above instead of that murkj^, hea^^'' 
 atmosphere, he would resign the empire of the Dead, 
 and be a drudge to the veriest boor. Yet once, if we 
 remember right, he chafed fiercely enough at a word 
 of authority uttered by the King of Men. One of his 
 old tastes clings to him still — a v^ry simple one. 
 He has forgotten the savour of Sciote and Chian wine ; 
 but — were it only for the sake of the carouses they 
 have had together — Odysseus will not grudge him 
 another draught out of the black trench ? It is so 
 long since he tasted blood ! 
 
 Guy was no more like his former self than the 
 shadow was like the substance of Pelides. He was 
 not languid, but simply apathetic and indifierent ; so 
 that one could not help being constantly struck by 
 the contrast between his moral and physical state : 
 the latter was still the perfection of muscular power. 
 
 He was everything that was kind to his mother, 
 and to Isabel Forrester, too, who spent much of her 
 time at Kerton, and whose health was very delicate. 
 If Lady Catherine could only have seen him more 
 
3§6 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 cheerful, she would have been too happy. It was her 
 great delight to try and spoil him, as she used to do 
 when he was a child ; trying to suit his tastes to the 
 minutest shade. For instance, Guy was always find- 
 ing in his own rooms some new ornament or addition 
 to their comfort. Indifierent as he was to everything, 
 it was good in him that he never failed to remark 
 these instantly. You would not have thought a cold 
 haughty face could light up so brilliantly as his 
 mother's always did when he thanked her. Poor 
 lady ! Those last few years were her Summer of St 
 Martin — not the less pleasant because winter was 
 gathering already on the crests of the whitening hills. 
 
 There were a good many guests in the house at 
 times, almost invariably men ; but none of the wild 
 revels of the old daj^s ; very little hard drinliing, and 
 no play, to speak of. 
 
 One thing was remarkable — the great eagerness 
 Guy displayed to keep the party together at night. 
 He would engage us in arguments, and employ all sorts 
 of ingenious devices to prevent us from going to bed ; 
 so that it became very trying to a weak constitution. I 
 observed this to him one night when the rest had gone. 
 
 The slight flush left by the excitement of convers- 
 ation was vanishing rapidly from his cheeks, and a 
 grey tinge was creeping over them like that which 
 we see on a sick man's, very near his end. 
 
 * It is too bad to keep you up, and too selfish/ ha 
 said ; ' but I find the nights so long I * 
 
GtlY LIVlNGStONfi. 357 
 
 I left him without another word ; but I lay long 
 awake, haunted by that haggard face and dreary eyes. 
 I wish I did not see them so often, still, in my dreams. 
 
 There were changes in other houses besides Kcr- 
 ton Manor, and a vacancy in the most luxurious set 
 of chambers in the Albany. 
 
 Duns, and rheumatic gout, and satiet}'-, had proved 
 too much at last for the patience of Sir Henry Fallow- 
 field. So one night he preached his farewell sermon 
 
 in the smoking-room of the ; in which he was 
 
 especially severe and witty, on the absurdity and bad 
 taste of a'man condescending to suicide under any cir- 
 cumstances. The next morning they found him with 
 — 'that across his throat that you had scarcely cared 
 to see.^ The hand whose tremor used to make him so 
 savage when he was lifting a glass to his lips, had 
 been strong and steady enough when it shattered the 
 Golden Bowl and cut the Silver Cord asunder. 
 
 Whether he was looking death in the face while 
 he uttered those last cynicisms, and calculated on 
 heightening the stage effect of the morrow ; or 
 whether a paroxysm of pain drove him mad, as it has 
 done better men — who can tell ? I think and hope the 
 latter was the case, but — I doubt. Though Sir 
 Henry Fallowfield had never read Aristotle, he had 
 studied, all his life, the principles of the TreptVercta. 
 
 Godfrey Parndon no longer ruled over the Pytch- 
 ley. He had backed his own opinions and other 
 merits bills once or twice too often j and had retired, 
 
358 
 
 GUY L1\LNGST0XE. 
 
 tcmporaril}', into private life, till he could ' get liis 
 second wind.^ The new M. F. II. was his complete 
 contrast — pale-faced, low- voiced, mild-eyed, and mel- 
 ancholy as a Lotus-Eater, one of the class of * weak- 
 minded but gentlemanly 3'oung men ' that Tom Crad- 
 dock used to ask his friends to recommend to him, 
 as pupils. The farmers missed sadly Godfrey's bluff 
 face and stalwart figure at the cover-side ; while the 
 * bruisers ' from Leamington, and the * railers ^ from 
 Town, hearing no longer his great voice, good-na- 
 turedly imperative, adjuring them to 'hold hard, and 
 not spoil their own sport,' — rode over the hounds, 
 rejoicing. 
 
 Flora Bellasys was married. 
 
 It was just the match I thought she would make. 
 Sir Marmaduke Dorrillon's possessions were vast 
 enough to satisfy any ambition, and his years put 
 love out of the question. 
 
 His friends had been as prophetic in their warnings 
 as Januarj^'s were ; but even they never guessed what 
 he would have to endure at the hands of that cruel 
 May. He tried very hard not to be jealous, but he 
 could not help being sensitive ; and so, day by da}', 
 she inflicted on him the peine forte ct dure, ' lajdng on 
 him as much as he could bear, and more.' It was sad 
 to see how the kind old man withered and pined away; 
 yet he never complained, and quarrelled mortally 
 with his best friend for daring to compassionate him, 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 359 
 
 He was so courteous, and gentle, and chivalrous ; so 
 conscious of his own disadvantage in age ; so generous 
 in trusting her, and in hoping against hope ; so con- 
 siderate in anticipating all her wishes and whims, 
 that it might have moved even Flora to pity. But 
 her great disappointment had strangely altered and 
 embittered her character. She was quite "merciless 
 now, and never seemed really amused unless she was 
 doing harm to some one. 
 
 It vv^as not that her manner had become harsh or 
 repellant, or even more sarcastic ; she was to the full 
 as fascinating as ever; but she was cool and calculating 
 in her caprices. She took pains to make the momen- 
 tary pleasure as exquisite as possible, that the after 
 suffering might be the more terrible ; just like that 
 ingenious Borderer who fed his enemy- with all pun- 
 gent and highly -seasoned dishes, and then left him to 
 die of thirst. 
 
 Yet, all the while, her own feelings must have been 
 scarcely enviable. They say that great enchantresses 
 from Medea and Circe downwards, have generally been 
 unhappy in their loves. Either they could not raise 
 the Spirit, or it proved unmanageable ; either their 
 affection was not returned, or its object was unfaith- 
 ful at last. In the single case, where they put their 
 science and their philtres aside, and were womanly, 
 and natural, and sincere ; where, to gain or to keep 
 their treasure, they woidd gladly have broken their 
 
 2a 
 
360 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 wand, they failed utterly, and found they were only 
 half-omnipotent. The justice was retributive, but it 
 was very complete. Be sure, with those passionate 
 natures, the honey of a thousand triumphs never dead- 
 ened the sting of the one discomfiture. Suitors flock- 
 ing from every shore and island of the -<9Egean never 
 made Sappho forget, for one hour, that stubborn im- 
 passible Phaon. No wonder such are cruel and un- 
 just to their subjects in after days. Poor innocent 
 iEgeus very often has to do penance for the infidel- 
 ity of Jason. 
 
 I have little more to tell ; and that is of the sort 
 that is best told briefly. 
 
 The hounds met one morning, not far from Kerton. 
 A three-days* frost had broken up ; but it was not out 
 of the ground yet — ^making the 'take-ofi"' slippery, and 
 the north side of the fences dangerously hard. Living- 
 stone rode the Axeine that day. The chestnut was 
 still his favourite, and the crack himter of three coun- 
 ties, though he had never lost his habit of pulling. 
 
 It was a large, straggling cover that we drew ; but 
 the fox went awaj very^soon. From the lower end 
 of the wood a great pasture sloped down ; at the bot- 
 tom of which was a flight of post-and-rails — very 
 high, new, and strong, with a deep cutting on the 
 further side. At one end of this was an open gate, 
 through which the whole field passed. 
 
 The hounds were just settling to the scent, when I 
 happened to turn my head, and saw Livingstone 
 
GUY LI\^NGSTONE. 361 
 
 coming down at the rails. He had got a bad start, 
 and saw that, by taking them straight in his line, he 
 would gain greatly on the pack, which was turning 
 towards him. 
 
 ' As the Axeine tore down the hill at furious speed, 
 pulling double, it was evident that neither he nor his 
 rider had the remotest idea of refusing. 
 
 It was the last fence that either of them ever charged. 
 As the chestnut rose to the leap his hind legs slipped ; 
 he chested the rail,' which would not break, and 
 turned quite over, crushing Guy beneath him. 
 
 I hadseenthelatterfallahundred times, without feel- 
 ing the presentiment that seemed to tighten round my 
 heart, as I galloped up to the spot. Many others must 
 have felt the same ; for they let the hounds go away 
 without another glance, and some were before me there. 
 
 The Axeine lay stone dead, with his neck broken, 
 the huge carcass pressing on the legs of his rider. 
 Guy was quite senseless ; his face of a dull ghastly 
 white ; there was a deep cut on his forehead ; but we 
 all felt we did not see the worst. With great trouble 
 w^e drew him from under the dead horse. StiU we 
 coidd discover no broken bone, or further external 
 injury. We dashed water over him. In a few minutes 
 he opened his eyes, and seemed to recognize every one 
 directly ; for he looked up into the frightened face of 
 the first-whip, who w^as supporting him, and said — 
 
 *You always told me I went too fast at timber, 
 Jack.' 
 
362 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 I was sure, then, lie was desperately injured. His 
 voice w^as so weak and changed. 
 
 'Where are you hurt, Guy?' some one asked. I 
 could not speak myself. 
 
 ' I don't know/ he said, looking down in a strange, 
 bev/ildered way. ' My head and arm pain me ; but I 
 feel nothing helow the waist.' 
 
 His lower limbs were not much twisted or dis- 
 torted ; but they bore a horribly inert, dead appear- 
 ance. There was not even a muscular quiver in them. 
 
 I saw the Squire of Brainswick turn his head away, 
 with a shudder and a groan (he loved Guy as his own 
 son), and I heard him mutter — ' The sjnne ! * 
 
 It was so, and Livingstone soon knew it himself. 
 lie sighed once, drearily ; but not a man there could 
 have commanded his voice as he did, when he said — 
 
 * You must carry me home, heavy as I am. My 
 walking days are ended.' 
 
 We made the best litter we could of poles and 
 branches ; and, I remember, as we bore him past the 
 carcass of the Axeine, he made us stop for an instant, 
 and di'opping his hand on the stiff, distorted neck, 
 stroked it softly. 
 
 ' Good-bye, old horse ! ' he said. ' It was no fault 
 of yours. IIow well 3^ou always carried me ! ' lie 
 never spoke again, till we reached Kerton Manor. 
 
 Isabel Forrester was, fortunately, out ; but Lady 
 Catherine met us on the hall-s(ops. She did not 
 
GU^ LIVINGSTONE. 363 
 
 shriek or faint when she saw the horror, which had 
 haunted her for years, fulfilled there to the uttermost. 
 She knelt by her son when we laid him down, and 
 wiped off a spot or two of blood from his forehead, 
 and then kept his hand in hers, kissing it often. We 
 had sent on before to warn the village doctor, and he 
 visited Guy alone in his room. 
 
 Powell had been a surgeon's-mate in his youth, and 
 was serving under Collingwood at Trafalgar, when 
 his ship stood first into action, and, like a Sovereign 
 of the old days, led the van of the battle. There was 
 no shape of shattered and maimed humanity with 
 which he had not been familiar ; and my last hope 
 died away when I saw him come forth, trembling all 
 over, his rugged features convulsed with grief. 
 
 * I saw him born,' the old man sobbed out. * I 
 never thought to see him die — and die so ! ' 
 
 Guy had received a mortal injury in the spine ; 
 though how long he might linger none could tell. 
 
 There broke from Lady Catherine's white lips one 
 terrible heart-broken cry — ' If God would only take 
 me first ! ' Then her self-control returned, and she 
 went into her son's room, outwardly quite calm. 
 
 I have never tried to fancy what passed at the 
 meeting of those two strong hearts, after the one had 
 been brought suddenly, face to face, with an awful 
 death ; the other, with a yet more awful sorrow. 
 
364 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 Ah, Sir Launcclot, there thou liest, that never wert matched of 
 earthly hands. Thou wert the fairest person, and the goodliest of any 
 that rode in the press of knights : thou wert the truest to thy sworn 
 brother of any that buckled on the spur ; and thou wert the faithful- 
 lest of any that have loved pay-amours : most courteous wert thou, and 
 gentle, of all that sate iu hall among dames ; and thou wert the sternest 
 knight to tliy mortal foe that ever laid spear in the rest. 
 
 "NYiiEN Powell's self-command gave waj^so completely, 
 after lie saw the nature of Guy's case, it was not be- 
 cause he knew it must end fatally, but because his 
 skill told him what fearful agonies must precede the 
 release. All the surgeons who were called in could 
 do nothing but confirm these forebodings. The colos- 
 sal strength and vital energy of Livingstone's frame 
 and constitution yielded but slowly to a blow which 
 would have crushed a weaker man instantly. All the 
 outworks were ruined and carried; but Death had 
 still to fight hard before he won the citadel. I cannot 
 go through the details ; I will only say that, some- 
 times, none of us could endure to look upon sufferings 
 which never drew a complaint or a moan from him. 
 Almost every Pleasure has been discussed and dis- 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 365 
 
 sected ; but we kiiow comparatively nothing of the 
 physiology of Pain. There is no standard by which 
 to measure it, even if the courage and endurance of 
 any mortal man could enable him to analyze his own 
 tortures philosophically. Was it not always supposed 
 that the guillotine is merciful, because quick in anni- 
 hilation ? Look at Wiertz's pictures at Brussels. 
 If his idea (shared, too, now by many clever sur- 
 geons) be true, jou will see the amount of a long 
 life's suffering exceeded by, what seems to us, a 
 minute^s agony. But it is lilie the Eastern King^s 
 gaining the experience of fifty years, by dipping his 
 head for a second in the magic water. For a soul in 
 torment there is no horologe. 
 
 Of one thing be sure ; the strong temperaments 
 who enjoy greatty, suffer greatly too — those who en- 
 dure in silence, most of all. I think the wolf's 
 death-pang is sharper than the hare's. 
 
 But Gu}^ was not only patient ; he was actually 
 more cheerful than I had seen him since Constance 
 died. He liked to see his old friends, and to hear 
 accounts of their sport with hound and gun. To do 
 these justice, there was not one who would not give 
 up, gladly, the best meet of the Pytchley, or the 
 shooting of the best cover in the county, to sit, for 
 half a day, in that sick room. He talked, too, always 
 pleasantly and kindly to his mother and his cousin. 
 
 Poor Isabel Forrester was quite broken down by this 
 
866 GUY LIVINGSTON^. 
 
 second blow. Next to her dead husband, I belieye, she 
 loved Guy better than any one ; not unnaturally, for 
 he had petted and protected her all her life long. 
 She could not help giving way ; though she tried 
 hard, for the sake of others. It was piteous to see 
 her, sitting alone for hours, gazing out on the bleak 
 winter-landscape, while the tears welled slowly from 
 under her heavy eyelids. 
 
 Foster, who was still at Kerton, came often to visit 
 Livingstone. No one could do him so much good. The 
 curate was just as confident and uncompromising in 
 the discharge of his office, as he was yielding and 
 diffident when only himself was in question. He was 
 so honest, and straightforward, and true — so free 
 from rant or cant — so strong in his simple theology 
 — that Guy soon trusted him implicitly when he 
 spoke of the Past and of the Future that was so near. 
 The repentance that was begun by Constance's dying 
 bed, was completed, I am sure, on his own. 
 
 * Frank,' Guy said, one morning, suddenly, * I have 
 written to ask Cyril Brandon to come to me. He will 
 be here to-day. It would make me very happy if I 
 could hear him say, he forgave me.* 
 
 * Do you think you will succeed ? ' I asked, sadly ; 
 for I felt a nervous certainty that the pain the inter- 
 view must cost him would be unavailing. 
 
 ' I cannot teU,' he answered, firmly ; * but Foster 
 says, and I know, that it is my duty to try. You may 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 307 
 
 oe present, if you like, on one condition — you must 
 promise, whatever lie may say or do, not to interfere 
 by a look or a word/ 
 
 I did promise ; but I looked forward witb dread to 
 Brandon's coming. In an hour's time he was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 It was the first time I had seen him ; and I was 
 much struck by the mingled expression of suffering 
 and ferocity that sat, like a mask, on his worn dark 
 face. I have seen its like but once — in a dangerous 
 maniac's. He walked straight up to Guy's couch, 
 without noticing me, and stood there silent ; glaring 
 down on the sick man with his fiery black eyes. 
 
 * It is very good of you to come,^ Guy said ; ' I 
 scarcely hoped you would. I have wronged you more 
 deeply than any living man ; so deeply that I could 
 never have dared to ask jouv forgiveness if I had not 
 been very near my death. Can j^ou give me your 
 hand-? Indeed, indeed, I have repented sorel}^' 
 
 Brandon's hoarse tones broke in. 
 
 * I came, because, years ago — to see this sight, to see 
 you lying there, like a crushed worm — I would have 
 sold my soul. Wronged me ? Shall I tell you what 
 j^ou have done ? There was only one creature on earth 
 I cared for ; that was my sister. All those years in 
 India I had been fancying our meeting. I came back, 
 and found her dying: more than that, I found her love 
 turned away from me. You did all this. I tell you, I 
 
368 GUY LIVINOSTONE. 
 
 never could get one of her old fond looks or words from 
 her all the time she was dying. She was only afraid of 
 me. By hell ! you stood between us to the last. Do 
 you know that she dragged herself across the room at 
 my knees — mine — who never refused to indulge her in 
 a whim before — first, to be allowed to see you, and 
 then to make me swear not to attempt your life!' 
 
 He stopped — gnashing his teeth. 
 
 All Guy^s features — wan and worn by pain — were 
 lighted up with atendernessand joy inexpressible, ashe 
 heard what his dead love had borne and done for him. 
 He would have hidden his face, had he guessed how its 
 expression would exasperate Cyril's furious temper. 
 
 * D — n you ! ' he howled out, like a madman. * Do 
 you dare to triumph ? ' and, tearing oiF his glove, he 
 struck Livingstone on the cheek with it, a sharp blow. 
 
 A great shudder swept through every fibre of the 
 maimed giant's frame, in which sensation lingered still; 
 the blood surged up to his forehead, and ebbed again 
 instantly, leaving even the lips deathly white ; he raised 
 his hand quickly, but it was only to wami me back, for 
 — mild and peaceable as I am — I leapt up then, as 
 savage as Cain. With that hand he caught Bran- 
 don's wrist. The latter stood with his eyes cast down 
 suUenl}^— already, I am sure, horror at the act of foul 
 cowardice into which his passion had driven him was 
 creeping over him — he did not try to disengage him- 
 self. Had he done so, thrice his strength would not 
 have set him iree. 
 
(iUY Ln^NGSTONE. 3G0 
 
 *I tlianli God, fVom my heart/ Guy said, very 
 slowly and stead%, * that, if I meet your sister here- 
 after, I shall not shrink before her : for, I believe, all 
 I promised her has been kept. Listen — you would 
 feel shame to your life's end, thinking that you had 
 struck a helpless, dying cripple. It is not so. You 
 don't know what you risked. You were within arm's 
 length ; and at close quarters I could be dangerous 
 still. Look.' 
 
 He took up a small silver cup that lay near, and 
 crushed it flat between his fingers. 
 
 There was silence then : only Brandon's breath was 
 heard, drawn hard and irregularly, as if he was try- 
 ing to throw off a weight from his chest. 
 
 Guy looked up at him, and said very gently, hold- 
 ing out his hand, ' Once more, forgive me.' 
 Cyril answered in a thick smothered voice — 
 * I will not take your hand. I will never forgive 
 you. But I forgive Constance ; for — I understand 
 her now. 
 
 He turned on his heel, and left the room without 
 another word : still with his head bent down, as if in 
 thought. I gazed after him till the door shut softly. 
 Then I looked round at Guy. His head had fallen 
 back, and the features looked so drawn in and changed, 
 that I cried out, thinking he w^as dead. It was only 
 a long, long swoon. 
 
 Just another scene, and my talc is told. 
 
370 GUY LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 I was reading in Guy's room one evening. He tad 
 not spoken for some time, and I fjincied lie was asleep. 
 Suddenly he called to me — 
 
 ' Frank, come here — nearer. I have several things 
 to say to you, and I feel I must make haste. No — 
 don't call any one. I said farewell to my mother 
 yesterday, and we must spare her all we can.' 
 
 In the presence of that sublime self-command, I 
 dared not betray m}^ grief by any outward sign. I 
 knelt down by his side silentl3\ 
 
 He went on in a voice that, though hollow and 
 often interrupted by failing breath, was perfectly 
 measured and steady 
 
 ^ You can only be glad that the end has come at 
 last ; though it is well I have had time to prej)are 
 myself. Am I ready nov/ ? I cannot tell. Foster says 
 I ought to hope. I trust it is not wicked to say — I do 
 not fear. I have sinned often and deepl}^ ; but He 
 who will judge me created me ; and He knows how 
 strong the passions of my nature were. He knows, 
 too, how much I have suffered. I do not mean from 
 this (he threw his hand towards his crippled limbs 
 with the old gesture of disdain) ; but from bitterness 
 and loneliness of heart. More than all — I am sure 
 my darling has been pleading for me ever since she 
 died. I will not believe her prayers have been wasted. 
 
 * I want to tell you what I have done. You know 
 the direct line of my family ends with me. I am glad 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 6i i 
 
 it does. The next in succession would be a cousin, who 
 has taken to some trade in Edinburgh. A good man, 
 I believe — but he would not do here. So I have left 
 Kerton to my mother for her life, and then — to you. 
 Hush — the time is too short for objections or thanks ; 
 and death-bed gifts show little generosity. Besides, 
 I would have left it to Isabel, only it would be more 
 a trouble to her than anything else. You mil take 
 care of everything and everybody. Say farewell for 
 me to my old friends, especially to Mohun. Poor 
 Halph ; he will be sorry — though he will not own it — 
 when he comes back from Bohemia, and finds me gone.* 
 
 He raised himself a little, so as to rest his hand on 
 my shoulder, as I knelt, while his voice deepened in 
 its solemn calm. 
 
 * Dear Frank — one other word for yourself, who have 
 borne so patiently with my perverse temper since we 
 were boys together. I have been silent, but, indeed, 
 not ungrateful. For all your kind, imselfish thoughts, 
 and words, and deeds — for all the good you would 
 have counselled — for all j'our efforts to stand between 
 me and wrong-doing — tried friend, true comrade ! I 
 thank j^ou now, heartily, and I pray God to bless you 
 alwa3^s.' 
 
 It was only self-control, almost superhuman, that 
 enabled him to speak those words steadily, for the 
 fierce death-throe was possessing him before he ended. 
 Through the awful minutes that followed, not another 
 
372 GUY LlA^NGSTONE. 
 
 sound tlian the hissi^jg breath escaped through his set 
 lips ; his face was not once-distorted, though the hair 
 and beard clung round it — matted and dank with the 
 sweat of agony. The brave heart and iron nerve ruled 
 the body to the last imperially — supreme over the 
 intensity of torture. 
 
 When he opened his eyes, which had been closed all 
 through the protracted death-pang, there was a look 
 of the ancient kindness in them, though they were 
 glazing fast. He found my hand, and grasped it, till 
 I felt the life ebbing back in his fingers. I saw his 
 lips syllable ' Good-bye ; * then he leant his head back 
 gently, and — without a sigh or a shiver — the strong 
 man's spirit went forth into The Night. 
 
 A sense of utter desolation — as it were a Horror of 
 great Darkness — gathered all around me, as I leant 
 my forehead against the corpse's cheek, sobbing like 
 a helpless child. 
 
 You will not care to hear how we all mourned him. 
 
 Will you care to hear that — often as his mother visits 
 his grave — there is owe woman who comes oftener still? 
 
 None of us have ever met her ; for she comes always 
 at late night, or early morning. But, finding in the 
 depth of winter, or in the bleak spring, the ground 
 about strewed with the choicest of exotic flowers — not 
 carefully arranged, but showered down by a reckless, 
 despergte hand — we know that Flora Dorrillon has 
 been there. 
 
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 373 
 
 Do not laugli at licr too much, for clingmg to tlie 
 one romance of her artificial existence. Remember, 
 while he lived, there was nothing so rare and precious 
 — ay, even to the sacrifice of her own body and soul 
 — that she would not have laid, ungrudgingly, at 
 Guy Livingstone^s feet. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PBISTED BT WILLIAM CLOWES AND SOKS, LIMITED, 
 10NIK>» AXD BECCLES. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 BERKELEY 
 
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