I
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN 
 
 BY 
 
 BERTHA M. CLAY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 DORA TBORUE," "THE EARLE'S ATONEMENT," "FOILED BY LOVING, 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 DONOHUE BROTHERS, 
 407-429 DEARBORN ST.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE LEGACY. 
 
 " It is true, Kate every word of it. I was, like you, in- 
 credulous at first ; but I heard the will read, and I assure 
 you that Mrs. Hardman hao left me six thousand pounds." 
 
 "I cannot believe it, Darcy. Seehow rry hands tremble. 
 I have hardly the strength to speak. It is impossible. 
 Six thousand pounds ! Oh, Darcy, if there should be any 
 mistake, let me know it at once, before I begin to found 
 any hopes upon such good fortune before I take it into 
 my heart of hearts as a truth." 
 
 "My dear Kate, there is no mistake there can be no 
 mistake. I should not have told you had there been the 
 least probability of such a thing. The money is our own, 
 and will be paid to us when the estate is settled." 
 
 "Six thousand pounds! Why, Darcy, that means three 
 hundred a year, does it not?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied Darcy Lonsdale, "properly in- 
 vested." 
 
 "And three hundred a year means freedom from anxiety, 
 trom the constant toil of trying to make both ends meet. It 
 means a larger and better house, a tfoveniess for t ho chil- 
 dren. Oh. R-ii-ey. how ran we be thankfnl enough f 
 
 "My dear Kate,' 1 said the lawyer, s : mp]y, "I assure you 
 that for some time after I had heard it I did not know how 
 I felt. The most pleasant part of it was coining homo to 
 tell vou. I knew how deli-bled YOU would be." 
 
 " ilave you told Felix '{" asked the anxious wife. 
 
 2135140
 
 6 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 u No ; I have not seen him yet. He is gone over to Nun 
 combe He will be pleased. I can take him into partner- 
 ship now. which is a thing that I have long wished to do. 
 We have had a hard struggle together, Kate, but it is al- 
 most over now. I should not have believed that money 
 could make such a difference in any one's sensations. 
 !-day I felt that the world was my master; to-day I 
 feel that I have mastered the world." 
 
 " We shall be able to go to the sea-side now, and you can 
 take a rest occasionally ; and we can get some good port 
 wine for little Nellie." 
 
 The lawyer smiled. 
 
 "And my bonnie Kate shall have a superb dress, " ho 
 said, "one that shall make her look young and beautiful 
 to others as sh: does to me. In truth, Kate, I see no end 
 to the relief, the ease, the happiness, that this unlocked 
 for legacy gives us." 
 
 4> We must take Vale House; it is to be let," remarked 
 Mrs. Lons'lale. " It is just such a house as I always longed 
 for; it is so large, so convenient, and has a much better 
 drawing-room than that of the Mertons. What do you 
 think, Darcy ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I think we might take Vale House. I will go out 
 to-day, and inquire about the rent, rates, and taxes." 
 
 "What will Mrs. Merton say?" mused Mrs. Lonsdale. 
 
 " Never mind about that," replied the lawyer. " All that 
 we have to do is to enjoy our good fortune. I really do 
 not know, but I think that such a sum of money never 
 made people so happy before. Kiss me, Kate, and we will 
 not forget to thank Heaven together. ' ' 
 
 The speakers were Darcy Lonsdale and his wife. Darcy 
 Lonsdale was the principal lawyer in the clean and well- 
 built town of Lilford in Loomshire a man who had had a 
 hard hand-to-hand struggle with the world. He had been 
 twice married. His first wife died in her twentieth yer, 
 leaving an only son, Felix ; and ten years afterward ihe 
 lawyer married again. His second wife was a blithe, 
 bonnie, rosy girl who loved him with all her heart, a-nd 
 thought no one in the wide world so clever, so great, or so 
 good. For his sake she took little Felix to her heart, and 
 loved the dark-haired, handsome boy as much as she did 
 her own children. The lawyer's one drawback was his 
 large family; nearly every year a pretty, rosy, smiling 
 baby appeared, until, as he pleasantly declared, he had 
 ceased to count them, for their mimber frightened him. 
 "small army" he called them; and, though he was
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 7 
 
 proud of them and fond of them, though he would not have 
 missed one fair head from the circle for the whole world, 
 yet the number told upon him he could not save money, 
 ikl not even buy a house, his ingenuity was taxed to 
 make both ends meet. The bills were so numerous little 
 feet must be shod, little fair heads must be covered, little 
 minds trained ; and nothing could be done without money. 
 Still Darcy Lonsdale was a very happy man; he \. 
 charming wife, beautiful children, a good practice, and ho 
 liked work. The one pride of his life was his tall, hand- 
 some son, Felix, in whom the honest, simple-hearted 1. 
 hail concentrated all his hopes and ambition. The "small 
 army" were all under twelve, so that he oould not build 
 any hopes on them at present. 
 
 ilis life had on the whole been a pleasant one ; but he did 
 wish at times that he had a little more money. His prac- 
 tice was a good one ; still it could hardly be called lucra- 
 tive in the small pleasant town of Lilford. There was not 
 miK-h to occ\ipy a lawyer ; the setting forth and renewal of 
 3, the drawing up of title deeds, the making of wills, 
 the framing of agreements, composed the whole of his busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Among his clients was an eccentric widow lady, named 
 Martha Hardman, and Darcy Lonsdale had for twenty 
 been her faithful friend, adviser, and guide. She said 
 to him, laughingly, one day: 
 
 You will have something to thank me for when I am 
 dead." 
 
 "How can I thank you when you are dead ?" he asked. 
 nodded her head gravely. 
 
 i will see," she replied. "You have done everything 
 for me since you began to practice ; but I shall not 1> 
 make my will. Tell me whom you would advise me to 
 send for to d 
 
 Thinking that she was in a capricious mood, he an- 
 cd . 
 
 ud for George Malcolm ; he is an honest laws or and 
 an honest man. But why not let me make your will. 
 Hardman?" 
 
 "Because I am going to leave y<>u something in it ; and I 
 have not read of the glorious uncertainties of the English 
 law for so many years without wishing to be on the safe 
 side. I may fail, but I will take all reasonable precau- 
 tions." 
 
 He laughed at the time, giving little heed to what slm 
 said, and soon afterward he forgot all about the incident
 
 8 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Three years later Mrs. Hardman died, and her nephew, her 
 heir-at-law, came upon the scene. Darcy Lonsdaie had all 
 her papers, an exact list of all her moneys, her deeds, 
 leases, documents of various kinds but he had no will. 
 
 " Did she make a will ?" asked the heir-at-law. 
 
 "I cannot tell," replied Darcy Lonsdaie. "I have cer- 
 tainly drawn up no will for her. ' ' 
 
 " Has she ever mentioned a will ?" pursued James Hard- 
 man. 
 
 Suddenly the lawyer remembered that she had men- 
 tioned a will, and his face flushed as he thought of the 
 conversation. James Hardman looked at him suspiciously. 
 
 " She did speak of her will to me once ; she told me that 
 I should not draw it up for her, and asked me to name 
 some lawyer. I told her that George Malcolm was an hon- 
 est lawyer and an honest man ; but I never heard whether 
 she sent for him or not." 
 
 "You know, of course, of what her property consists, 
 and that I am her heir-at-law." 
 
 "Yes, "was the cheerful reply; "we have often talked 
 about you. I can give you the particulars of the late Mrs. 
 Hardman's property. She owned the estate called Wood- 
 burn, consisting of a large farm and a good substantial 
 house ; and she had, besides this, twelve thousand pounds 
 in the Funds." 
 
 " And that is, of course, mine ?" said James Hardman. 
 
 " I know nothing as to that," replied Darcy Lonsdaie. " I 
 did not make her will, nor did she ever ask my advice 
 about it. ' ' 
 
 After the funeral George Malcolm came "with the will and 
 the instructions that he had received from Mrs. Hardman. 
 It was read aloud ; and then it was discovered that the 
 lady had left Woodburn and six thousand pounds to her 
 nephew, James Hardman, while to her true friend and 
 adviser, Darcy Lonsdaie, in acknowledgment of his long 
 friendship and faithful services, she had bequeathed the 
 sum of six thousand pounds. 
 
 On hearing that the lawyer hurried home, delighted 
 with the intelligence, to his wife. What a vista of com- 
 fort this legacy opened out to them ! For the first time in 
 his long honorable career the lawyer felt some relief he 
 could meet his expenses now, and when he died there 
 would be something for his wife and children. 
 
 Nor was his wife less delighted. In her heart she had 
 longed for the same luxuries that the wives of other pro- 
 fessional men enjoyed for a drawing-room like Mrs. Mer
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 9 
 
 ton's, for a nursery governess such as the doctor's wife, 
 Mrs. Dalverley, had engaged, for a silk dress like the one 
 that the rector's wife wore. But of these desires she had 
 never spoken. She knew that her husband did his best in 
 every possible way, and gave her all the money that he 
 could. But now she ventured for the first time to indulge 
 in such blissful reveries. They were no longer idle dreams ; 
 they would be realized. She would live in Vale House, 
 that delightful residence she would have a charming draw- 
 ing-room, a nursery governess, and a costly silk dress. 
 
 While she sat dreaming with a smile on her face her 
 step-son, Felix, entered the room. There was the warmest 
 attachment between these two kindly liking and respect 
 for his step-mother on his part, the highest admiration and 
 the truest love for a step-son on hers. She was so young 
 when Darcy Lonsdale brought her to the great white square 
 house in Castle street, Lilford, that it seemed absurd for 
 Felix to call her mother. As he grew older it appeared to- 
 him that, with her soft Italian beauty, the most suitable 
 title for her was madre. He looked at her now. 
 
 "J/ac?re," he said, "you are looking very pleased and 
 bright ; what is the good news ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lonsdale went up to him and clasped her arms 
 round his neck. She drew the handsome face down to hers. 
 
 "Kiss me, Felix," she said; "I have ne\vs to tell you 
 the best you have ever heard. I know you will be pleased 
 indeed the very thought of the news makes me tremble 
 with joy. You could never guess it, Felix. " 
 
 " I suppose I never could. Have any of the 'small fry' 
 distinguished themselves?" 
 
 "No; it is nothing of that kind. It is this. You re- 
 member Mrs. Hardman, of Woodburn ?" 
 
 "I should remember her, madre ; some of the dreariest 
 hours of my life nave been spent in copying deeds bearing 
 her name." 
 
 " My dear Felix, her name must be held blessed among 
 us for evermore. She has left your father a legacy of six 
 thousand pounds and to us, my dear, that means so much. 
 It means Vale House to live in, a governess for the chil- 
 dren, and a partnership for you." 
 
 His handsome face flushed hotly. 
 
 " Ami that, mudre that means for me Violet Have." 
 
 A tender light came into Kate Lonsdale 's clear eyes. 
 
 "I hope so," she said, gently ; " I shall be so pleased if it 
 is so. Now, Felix, people call money dross. Could you
 
 10 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 or I estimate the amount of happiness that lies in six thou- 
 sand pounds ?" 
 
 " I value it because it will give me Violet, ' ' declared the 
 ardent young lover. 
 
 "And I because it will give me every desire of my 
 heart," said Mrs. Lonsdale. "And, above all, it will give 
 your dear father a little rest." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WOOING VIOLET HAYE. 
 
 Violet Haye ! There is something in a name. More than 
 one man murmured this one over and over again, won- 
 dering to himself what sweet magic, what wonderful sor- 
 cery lay in it. Violet Haye the very sound evoked a vis- 
 ion so beautiful, so full of witching grace, so dainty, so 
 delightful, that dwelling on it proved too much for minds 
 and brains not overstrung. What had not Violet Have to 
 answer for ? How many prosperous young farmers had 
 wasted the best hours of the summer days while the hay 
 spoiled in the meadows and the corn grew over-ripe in the 
 fields, watching in Castle street, or waiting in the green 
 lanes, for one glance at the peerless face of Violet Haye? 
 The young doctor, who had bought the old physician's 
 practice had almost gone mad for love of her ; and when 
 she told him, with a sweet, bright smile, that she disliked 
 medicine and everything connected with it, in pique and 
 despair he married a prim little old maid who had ceased for 
 u years to dream of a wedding-ring. Young curates 
 came, saw, and were comquered ; but beautiful Violet res- 
 olutely refused to help any parish work she would have 
 nothing to do with the schools. One after another the 
 curates went away, with a bitter memory of one of the 
 lovelist girls in Loomshire. The young tradesmen of the 
 iilac^ had never dared to lift. their eyes to her, for she be- 
 longed to the class known in Lilford as the gentry; but 
 when by chance Violet Haye did enter a shop the mas- 
 ter of it had need of patience during the next twenty-four 
 hours, for Violet Haye was a most beautiful girl, and 
 reigned queen of the country round Lilford. 
 
 There was a wonderful charm about the girl. It was not 
 simply for the sheen of her golden hair, for the wonderful 
 light of her violet eyes, the exquisite tints of her face, the 
 beauty of her rosebud mouth, that men loved her so ; it was
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 11 
 
 not that she was tall and slender, with a perfect figure ; it 
 was not that she had white hands that wove wondrous 
 spoils, that she moved with grace that was all harmony, that 
 she spoke with a voice sweeter than sweet music ; that, 
 when she laughed, the silvery chime stirred a man's heart 
 like the sound of silver bells ; it was not for this that men 
 
 her. She was not a flirt, not a coquette she never, 
 by word or looks, made any man believe that she loved 
 him ; but she could no more have helped the way she had 
 of (/harming men than she could have helped living. She 
 
 be only child of Francis and Margaret Haye, who lived 
 in a pretty villa called the Limes, on the outskirts of Li 1 ford. 
 By kind indulgence the Hayes were permitted to rank with 
 
 ntry. They were not poor, they were not professionals ; 
 they were not in trade. Francis Haye had an income 
 that kept his family in comfort, but it would cease at his 
 death. He had insured his life for the benefit of his wife 
 and child, and the money that would come to them from 
 that insurance was all that he had to leave them ; still they 
 belonged to the gentry. It was not a numerous cl; 
 Li 1 ford, and was by no means to be identified with county 
 
 ' v ; that was a far-off and greater glory a world that 
 even beautiful Violet with her Greuze-like face had never 
 
 : to enter. The gentry comprised old Colonel Maddox 
 and )r Mr-;. Urownson. a widow lady with a daughter 
 
 of uncertain age ; the late rector's widow. Mrs. Uoulders; 
 a maiden lady. Miss Stanley, the pride of whose life was 
 that her second cousin had married a baronet, and who, in 
 
 i'lence. piqued herself on her high connections, and 
 
 1 in a similar way of the aristocracy: and a few 
 others of the same caliber. It was notf a brilliant circle 
 but to Violet Haye it was a world. 
 
 If, of her numerous lovers she preferred one, it was Felix 
 It was an old story. He had certainly been her 
 
 from the early agi n. He had never thought 
 
 of anyone else; to him and for him the world w. 
 Violet. In the sun'x rays shone Violet; the birds 
 'Violet;" no sweet (lower bloomed that w 
 she. He had lived with this one thought; he had studied 
 iled all for Violet, hoping that the day would 
 come when he would be able to marry her. He had do 
 
 life to this one ohjcct. 
 
 Darcy Lonsdalo h.-id contrived to <end his son to Oxford 
 and at Oxford he had distinguished himself as a scholar 
 of no mean abilities ; after that he had passed some time in 
 London ; and now he was with his father, sharing h' '
 
 12 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 labors and toils, and working hard, hoping one day to 
 secure a partnership, and then to marry Violet. He had 
 once thought of leaving Lilford ; he felt that the place was 
 but small, the circle of interests limited. Then he put 
 aside the thought as a temptation ; he mustn't desert his 
 father or leave his business to the hands of strangers. 
 There was something almost heroic in the way in which he 
 looked round upon the great bright glittering world, with 
 its magnificent battle-fields of skill and intellect, its great 
 arenas where mind and brain fought mind and brain, and 
 then said to himself, u No, my duty lies at home, and I will 
 work there." 
 
 He was singularly gifted, this young Englishman, who 
 was brave enough to make duty his guide. People often 
 looked at him in wonder, asking themselves whence had 
 come his clear-cut face a face of the purest type, with 
 dark clustering hair that waved back from a low, broad 
 brow his beautiful mouth, that could be rigid and firm, 
 yet often wore a smile as sweet as a woman's, the dark 
 eyes that were as true and eloquent as the soul they re- 
 vealed. It was a poetical face, yet combining with the in- 
 tellectual and the ideal something of the practical keenness 
 of a clever man. 
 
 Darcy Lonsdale formed great hopes for his son ; he had 
 rightly estimated his abilities, and he had said to himself 
 that in time the best business of the county would be 
 brought to him. He himself was industrious, honest, and 
 in some degree a good laAvyer ; but his son was a genius, 
 and the father told himself with a sigh that in these days a 
 touch of genius was needed before one could make a mark 
 in the world. 
 
 As boy, youth, and man, Felix had loved Violet Haye 
 to win her, to make her his wife, had been the one dream 
 of his life. He had had no other ; and it was equally cer- 
 tain that up to the present time his love had brought him 
 far more pain than pleasure, far more torment than rest, 
 far more strife than peace. He could never tell whether 
 beautiful Violet cared for him or not all the country-side 
 knew that he loved her. It seemed to him that the very 
 birds in the trees and the flowers in the hedges knew that. 
 It had never been a secret ; but he could not guess whether 
 she cared for him. If ever he felt hopeful and augured 
 much from a kinder word or a sweeter smile than usual, 
 the next time she saw him Violet would be cold. She was 
 BO proud that he could hardly extort a word from her ; and
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 13 
 
 yet he had a dim, a faint conviction, that she preferred hm 
 to any other. 
 
 Now was his opportunity. He was already making a 
 fair income by writing reviews and essays. If his father 
 took him into partnership, his share, though perhaps small 
 at first, would be certain, and would increase. Now was 
 his opportunity ; he would delay no longer, but would at 
 once ask Violet Haye to be his wife. 
 
 " It seems almost too good to be true," he thought to 
 himsolf, " that I should succeed in my profession, that I 
 should win the girl I love for my wife, that I should be 
 happy and blessed. What have I done to deserve it?" He 
 looked up to the sunlit skies. "Done, "he repeated "I 
 have done nothing. It is the goodness of Heaven that has 
 given it to me. Heaven grants all to industry," he 
 thought, "and while I work I need not fear." 
 
 In that hour no thought came to him of the storm-clouds 
 that darken men's lives of the terrible tempests that 
 rend heart and brain of the despair that looks for death as 
 a relief. He saw only the blue sky and the golden sunshine. 
 
 He saw nothing but the beauty of the fair earth and 
 the laughing sky when he went to woo beautiful Violet 
 Haye and ask her to be his wife. He had been waiting 
 only until he saw a prospect clear and bright before him. 
 Francis Haye might have objected to a man with an un- 
 certain future ; Francis Haye would not object to the 
 junior partner of the old-established house of Lonsdale. He 
 was only twenty-four, and, after selecting a very choice 
 flower for his coat, was to be forgiven, if he looked once at 
 his clear-cut face and dark mustache. As he quitted his 
 father's house on that lovely summer afternoon there was 
 perhaps not a handsomer, truer, more noble, or gallant 
 younir lo\-.-r in all broad England than Felix Lonsdale. 
 
 Wish me good fortune, nta<ln;" he said, bending to kiss 
 Kate Lonsdale's lovely face "I am going to the Limes." 
 
 Kate looked up with a smile. She made no answer. 
 She kissed him as his own mother would have done, and 
 watched him as he walked down the str> 
 
 "There is no need to wish him good fortune," she said to 
 herself ; " the girl does not live who would say ' No' to him. 
 
 As she went through her round of duties. Mrs. Lonsdale 
 thought often and anxiously that she would like to know 
 how Felix was speeding in his wooing.
 
 H WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 "l HAVE NOT QUITE PROMISED." 
 
 It was a glorious afternoon. The country about Lilford 
 was beautiful in the extreme, with lovely undulating 
 meadows, great chain of green hills that stretched into the 
 far distance, dark shady woods with some of the finest 
 trees in England, lovely green lanes where wild flowers 
 raised their bright heads. The town itself was quaint and 
 picturesque ; the pretty old-fashioned houses were almost- 
 buried in foliage. The one long main street of the town 
 Castle street might have been a Parisian boulevard, it 
 was so regularly planted with trees. 
 
 This afternoon seemed to Felix Lonsdale one of the finest 
 that he ever remembered. He walked through the clover 
 meadows, his heart singing for joy, snatches of song rising 
 to his lips. The hedges were all pink and white with haw- 
 thorn, long sprays of woodbine twined round the rugged 
 trunks of the tall trees, the clover was thick and odorous. 
 He crossed the path at the end of Oakwoods, where he saw 
 most glorious vistas of light and shade, entered a long green 
 lane, and then he reached the fair green fields that led to 
 the Limes, the home of his love. 
 
 Presently he saw Violet Have. He gazed at her in mute 
 wonder that earth should hold anything so fair. She car- 
 ried a little basket filled with flowers, and on her golden 
 head she wore a simple garden hat. Her dress seemed to 
 him a wonderful combination of white and blue. A feeling 
 of humility came over him who was he that he should 
 hope to win this brilliant young beauty and make her his 
 own ? Then his pride reasserted itself ; his love ennobled 
 him ; he could hope to win her because he loved her so 
 dearly. Violet did not see him. She was walking in the 
 other direction, and he hastened after her. 
 
 It was no wonder that he loved her ; the smiles with 
 which she greeted him would have turned many a wisej 
 brain than his. 
 
 " Felix, "she cried, " I did not dream of seeing you." 
 
 "And seeing you, Violet, is like a dream," he replied, 
 "and after I have left you I think of a hundred things that 
 I wanted to say to you, and meant to say, and yet forgot. " 
 
 "That proves that you have a bad memory, Felix,* 
 
 I
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. IS 
 
 laughed Violet ; " but what has brought you to the Lnnea 
 
 on this warm afternoon?" 
 
 "I have come to see you, Violet." 
 
 "I ought to be much obliged to you," she replied ; "buc 
 the afternoon is a, very busy time with me. I attend to all 
 
 (lowers myself." 
 
 "I will help you with the. flowers, and I hope that I shall 
 be no obstacle to your pleasant thoughts, Violet," he said. 
 
 They walked together until they readied an opening in 
 the 1 :s\-n ; there was a bank gay with wild Mowers, a hedge 
 full of wild roses, and hawthorns crowned it. Felix took 
 the basket from her hand and placed her on the bank. 
 
 "1 have come to talk to you, Violet," he said. "You must 
 
 forget your flowers for a few minutes and listen to me. 
 
 Such a day as this, Violet, was made for a, love-story. I 
 
 an idea that everything in nature is interested in 
 
 mine." 
 
 "Your ideas are not of the ordinary kind," she remarked. 
 ''No. tl icy are not, I own. Still they please me, Violet. 
 I have % sweet fancy, Shakespeare says all sweet fancies 
 L'ome to lovers.'' 
 
 "But we are not lovers, Felix," she said, gravely. 
 "Then I hope we soon shall be. I have a fancy, Violet, 
 that every bird singing in the trees knows why 1 am here, 
 chat the (lowers and the sunshine know it." 
 "Then," observed Violet, "they are wiser than I." 
 "No, not wiser or sweeter or brighter than you; but it 
 >i idle, pretty fancy, Violet. As 1 walked under the 
 shady trees every leaf seemed to stir as l j. 
 the roses in the hedges nodded ; they said, 'The sun shines 
 and the earth is fair: now is the time for youth and ! 
 Violet, looked up at him with a resigned little sigh. 
 " Not being either a bird or a. llov. not in their 
 
 confidence, Felix ; and perhaps when you have finished 
 \vitli them you will tell me what you have to say." 
 
 "I will tell you now. I have such good news, Violet. 
 Mrs. llardman, one of my father's clients, lias left him six 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 Violet's violet :-yes opened wide in wonder. 
 "Six thousand pounds ! That is a great deal of money, is 
 it not, Felix P' 
 
 "Yes, a very great deal. You know my father has an 
 excellent business, but he did certainly want a little more 
 money. This legacy has made him happier than I can tell 
 you."
 
 16 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " I should not think that money would make any one 
 happy," said Violet, thoughtfully. 
 
 '' No, it would not. Never hold with that idea, Violet. 
 But this is the important thing my father will now give 
 me a partnership. My darling, do you understand a 
 partnership ?" 
 
 "Yes, Felix what then?" 
 
 " I have one hundred a year that my dear mother left 
 me ; I make quite another by reviews and articles for legal 
 papers that makes two hundred ; then from the business I 
 am sure to obtain at least three hundred more that will 
 give me five hundred a year, Violet; and, my darling, 
 there is a beautiful little cottage orne near Oakwoods ; and, 
 oh, Violet, Violet, will you be my wife ? My darling, you 
 know how long and how faithfully I have loved you. I 
 have come to-day to ask you to be my wife. " 
 
 Her white hands dropped listlessly ; she turned her face 
 to his ; no warm flush covered it, no love-light shone in the 
 violet eyes. 
 
 "How cruel of you," she said, in soft, lingering tones 
 ""how very cruel on this sunny day to ask me such a ques- 
 tion !" 
 
 There was no anger in her face, no annoyance nor was 
 there pleasure or happiness ; she looked rather like a child 
 who had been disturbed at play. He was neither anxious 
 nor dismayed, for he understood the expression on her face 
 well. 
 
 " Why is it cruel, Violet ?" he asked. 
 
 u It is cruel. You know I do not want to be married, 
 Felix. I do not like being teased about love. " 
 
 " But, my darling, no one can look at you and not love 
 you. " 
 
 " That is not my fault. And, Felix, you should not call 
 me 'darling ;' do you not know that is hardly proper?" 
 
 " If I knew a word that conveyed more, and sounded 
 more sweetly, I should use it," he said, looking with pas- 
 donate admiration at the pure, perfect face. u Oh, Violet, 
 do accept me. No one else in the wide world loves you half 
 so much. I would make you so happy that you would never 
 regret it." 
 
 "I am very happy now," she murmured, plaintively. 
 
 "That little cottage orne is so pretty, Violet. There is a 
 charming drawing-room that opens on to a flower garden 
 imagine that all furnished in white and gold ; then there is 
 a little room up stairs I should furnish as a boudoir for you 
 a room that would be a fitting shrine for my pearl of
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 17 
 
 pearls. My darling, you should have everything that your 
 heart desires. " 
 
 She touched his face gently with her dainty hands. 
 
 " You would buy the moon for me if I wanted it, and you 
 could obtain it," she said, laughingly. "But, Felix, I do 
 not want the moon, and I do not want to be married. Do 
 talk of something more pleasant." 
 
 " Violet, my heart is so full of this ; it seemed to me as I 
 came along that I walked on air. I have loved you so 
 long ; I have no life apart from you ; and I have been wait- 
 ing so impatiently until I could see a chance of making a 
 beautiful home for you. Now, I see it do not be cruel to 
 me, Violet, I implore you." 
 
 " It is you who are cruel to shadow this fair day by talk- 
 ing of love and marriage, Felix." 
 
 The words sounded hard and cold, but there was no cold- 
 ness on her fair face. 
 
 " You know that I have loved you, Violet, ever since we 
 were children.'" 
 
 11 Yes, I know it. I should know it you tell me so every 
 day." 
 
 u And you you have had admirers of every kind, I be- 
 dark and fair, tall and short ; but, Violet, you love 
 me best, do you not?" 
 
 The lovely face drooped over a bunch of wild thyme. She 
 did not answer ; but he persisted in his questioning. 
 
 " You love me best, do you not ? Oh, my darling, be ft 
 little kind to me !" 
 
 There was such passionate love in his handsome eyes, 
 such passionate pain in his face, that she was touched. 
 
 " Yes, I do love you, Felix," she said, gently; and then 
 she looked up in alarm. He had clasped her hands in his 
 and covered them with kisses; his dark eyes were dim 
 with tears. 
 
 " < >h, my love," he cried, "you hold my heart in the hol- 
 low of your hand. If you had said you did not love me, the 
 words would have killed me as surely as ever a man was 
 slain. My darling, do you not see that if you love me you 
 must of necessity be my wife ? You must of necessity be 
 my wife," repeated Felix, "or what is the use of love?" 
 
 "It is pleasant," she replied; "still, marriage well, 
 Felix, you will laugh if I tell you that it seems to me like 
 calling a child into a gloomy house from the sunshine and 
 from play. " 
 
 "That is not a pleasant comparison, Violet, my darling," 
 he remarked, smiling. " You will be very happy. Now
 
 18 WEAKER Th^N A WOMAN. 
 
 you spend your life among all kinds of bright pretty things. 
 You shall do the same then. No shadow of care shalJ come 
 near you. You shall know no trouble. You shall be one 
 of the most worshiped as you will be one of the most beau- 
 tiful of wives. " 
 
 u But, Felix," she said, slowly, with an air of perplexity 
 on her beautiful face, "it seems to me that marring* is the 
 end of everything. Once married, there is nothing for one 
 to look forward to, nothing, as it were, to hope for : it is 
 the beginning of a dull, gray, monotonous stretch of life." 
 
 "You will not always say so, Violet," Felix laughed. 
 " You must marry you love me. Promise to marry me. " 
 
 She was looking away beyond the green trees, as though 
 she were trying to peer into some far-off future. 
 
 - 1 do love you," she returned, thoughtfully. " I am sure 
 that I love you but there seems to be something more 
 wanting. I cannot think this is all that life holds for me ; 
 yet I cannot tell what it is I want." 
 
 "You love me," said Felix. "I am quite content. The 
 rest is nothing but the natural fear that a young girl has 
 of a new life. Tell me again my heart hungers for the 
 words that you love me, Violet. " 
 
 Slowly she turned her eyes from the distant hills ; slowly 
 she raised them to her lover's face. Love him? Certainly 
 she did. His ardent young face had some of the pi*oud 
 stern beauty that immortalized the Greek heroes. There 
 was none like him in Lilford. Certainly she loved him 
 very much. Why hesitate to say so ? She spoke slowly, 
 in a sweet, clear voice. 
 
 "Most surely, Felix, I love you" and the words seemed 
 to fill him with delight. He took the soft white hands in 
 his, and held them while he made her repeat again and 
 again that she loved him. 
 
 " You can never go back from your word, Violet. No 
 human ear hears us; but behold the great broad sky. 
 Your vow is made to me, darling, before Heaven." 
 "I have made no vow, Felix." 
 
 "You have said that you love me. Violet, make me 
 quite happy now. Already I am so happy that the air 
 seems to intoxicate me. Say you will be my wife." 
 She was thinking again, with the same far-off look in her 
 eyes, and she said, suddenly : 
 
 " A cottage orne. Do you mean that pretty villa where 
 the Hendersons staid ?" 
 
 The question seemed to him almost decisive. She would 
 not have asked it had she meant to refuse him. He could
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 19 
 
 hardly answer her calmly, but he beat back his emotion. 
 "She is so easily startled," he said to himself "I must be 
 very cautious what I say to her. " He answered : 
 
 s, and many of the beautiful things that Captain 
 
 Henderson bought are there now. To my mind it is the 
 
 prettiest house in Lilford ; and, my darling, I have a vision 
 
 of you standing in that pretty entrance-hall, waiting for 
 
 me when business hours are over. I can see the light 
 
 ieil glass window falling on your golden 
 
 hair. I can see the sunlight lying outside on the flowers. I 
 
 ee my wife's sweet face gro\v brighter for my coming. 
 
 1 can see your hands stretched out to welcome me. I can 
 
 'e the years pass on, and life grow brighter and more 
 
 iful. Do you like the picture, Violet { Will you make 
 
 it real?" 
 
 ilis gn at passionate love, shining in his eyes, trembling 
 on liis lips, touched her. Her beautiful 1. pale. She 
 
 was woman enough to feel the beauty of the future he had 
 painted for her woman enough to appreciate the deep, 
 
 -', true love offered to her. 
 
 " 1 would rather not promise," she said ; " but I will think 
 of it, Felix/' 
 
 You do not refuse, Violet?" 
 "No, I do nut refuse," she answered. 
 
 "Why, then," he cried, "the victory is won! You will 
 be my My darling, I love you all the better for your 
 
 shy, - rve. How could I be so foolish as to fear 
 
 that I should not marry my sweet girl-love Violet? 
 darling, I have been keeping this for you ever since I came, 
 home from London last year." He drew a little morocco 
 case from his pocket, and, opening it, took out a j 
 
 'f gold, set with pearls. "You will let me 
 put this on yo.ir iinjjvr. Violet, This is your betrothal-ring. 
 
 i will never part with it promise me." 
 She look*- 1 at the pretty jewel shining on her finger. 
 "No. I will i t with it," she said; "but remem- 
 
 ber, Felix. 1 have not quite promised." 
 
 "Not quit <.' in- ivt.urned, with a happy laugh. "You 
 will 1. the Limes with you, Violet, and tell 
 
 Mr. liav.- what I have asked you?" 
 
 "Must you teU them now so soon!" she asked. "It will 
 be almost tin- s. i;ie thing as being married if yon t<Ti 
 
 tll'Mll. " 
 
 It will ! on! '!)' foresha lowing of a happy future, my 
 Violet Yes. 1 must t.'.i u-ieiu to-niebt. It would not bo
 
 20 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 honorable to keep silence ; besides, I am so proud of the 
 treasure I have won that I could not be silent if I would. v 
 
 They went back to the Limes ; tea was ready in one of 
 the sunny little rooms that looked into the garden, and 
 Mrs. Haye sat waiting for her daughter. She smiled as 
 the beautiful girl entered with her lover. 
 
 "I am not surprised," she said. "I thought it was so. 
 Violet is two hours later than she intended to be, and then ' 
 does not return alone. That is like Violet. " 
 
 Later on in the evening Felix told his love-story to Vio- 
 let's parents, who were pleased with it pleased, but not 
 elated. Violet was very lovely; she belonged to the 
 gentry. Her beauty ought to have done much for her ; 
 still Felix would certainly one day be the leading lawyer 
 in Lilford, and the legacy had quite altered matters. But 
 for that and the partnership, Mr. Haye would not have 
 been willing for his daughter to engage herself to Felix 
 Lonsdale ; however, in that country spot he was now a 
 good match. They talked for some time about the pros- 
 pects of business, about the cottage orne, about Lilford, 
 and then Felix knew that it was time for him to go. 
 
 Violet went with him to the garden gate. How many 
 times he had blessed that garden gate ! A great lilac bush 
 shaded it, and some of the happiest hours of his life had 
 been spent there. The moon was shining and the flowers 
 were steeped in glittering dew as the lovers walked 
 through the garden. It was a long good-night. They stood 
 under the sweet-smelling lilac, and the moonlight seemed 
 to soften Violet's heart just as it softened the beauty of 
 her marvelous face. 
 
 "Violet," said her lover, "will you give me one kiss? It 
 is customary at all betrothals, and this has been our be- 
 trothal day." 
 
 She raised her fair face to his in the moonlight, and he 
 kissed the sweet lips. 
 
 "Remember," she told him, "I have not quite promised." 
 
 "I have been thinking of your wedding-dress, Violet," 
 he said ; "it shall be of white silk. My darling, you will 
 be such a beautiful bride that every one who sees you will 
 want to take you from me." 
 
 The lilac leaves were wet with dew, and the lovers 
 laughed as the dew-drops fell over them. They laughed as 
 the night wind swept over the sleeping flowers as the 
 great boughs swayed and murmured. All the world 
 seemed so fair. Then Felix found that it was growing
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 21 
 
 late. Tt was hard to shorten this, the happiest hour of his 
 life, but it must be done. 
 
 " Violet, I could stand here saying good-night until morn- 
 ing dawned ; but that must not be. Good-night. 1 ' 
 
 Once more he kissed the beautiful face, and whispered 
 to her that she was dearest, sweetest, truest, that the world 
 had no other jewel so rare, that he loved her with his 
 whole soul ; but she, when her fair face was resting on his 
 breast and his strong loving arms infolded her, whispered : 
 
 " I have not quite promised. Felix, do not forget that." 
 
 " I shall remember it only to love you the more, " he 
 answered, as he left her ; and he smiled to himself each 
 time that he thought of the words. 
 
 "You have brought good news home, Felix," said Mrs. 
 Lonsdale, when she saw the happy light shining in his 
 dark eyes. 
 
 "Yes, madre, good news," he replied. "I have seen Vio- 
 let, and she was more beautiful and charming than I have 
 ever seen her yet." 
 
 "And she promised," began Mrs. Lonsdale and then she 
 stopped suddenly, thinking to herself that after all she 
 had no right to put the interrogatory that was on her lips. 
 Felix looked at her with a bright smile. 
 
 "She will be my wife, madre. Mr. and Mrs. Hay 
 both willing. She has not exactly promised, but she will 
 marry me when I have a house ready for her. 1 ' 
 
 Love and youth were strong within him; the mighty 
 passion stirred his heart ; he could not hre.-iihe within the 
 narrow compass of four walls. He went out into the moon- 
 light; he could think of it all realize it ail better there. 
 Ho had won Volet. She was his own, the beautiful girl 
 who?. 1 every one loved and admired his own, to love him 
 and bless him, to crown his life. 
 
 The union was a, settled thintc. Both families met and 
 talked it over. It was a certainty : and a few days after 
 Felix had placed the little, pearl ring on Violet's finger he 
 went to make inquiries about ti _' m-nc, while .Mrs. 
 
 Lonsdale said to herseii' moie than once. - ] do not know 
 how it is, but I wish that he h;,d chosen Kvelyn 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A STRON:;-:\I:>:!>I:I> WOMAN. 
 
 The news of an encca. was always well r 
 
 in Lilford ; it was sometinng Lo discuss, to think of
 
 22 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 thing in which both maids and matrons took a lively in- 
 terest ; and it was certain that no engagement ever courted 
 so much discussion as this. How intensely the young farm- 
 ers in the neighborhood detested Felix Lonsdale for having 
 won beautiful Violet ! Each one made up his mind that 
 Felix Lonsdale should do no more business for him, and 
 wondered why she preferred a lawyer to a farmer. All the 
 old people thought it a most suitable alliance. Felix and 
 Violet, they said, were equal in position, and marriages of 
 that kind were the best. Mothers who had daughters of 
 their own to marry were thankful that beautiful Violet 
 would rival them no longer. The girls thought that Violet 
 had Avon a prize, for there was certainly no one in all the 
 country-side like Felix. 
 
 There was one pure, gentle heart to whom the news of 
 the engagement came like a terrible blow, although it had 
 long been expected. Evelyn Lester had ne\ r<i r even owned 
 to herself that she loved Felix Lonsdale, yet, when she 
 heard the news, it seemed to her that the bright face of 
 heaven was hidden from her by a dark funereal pall. They 
 had all been children together, and in their childish quar- 
 rels it was always Evelyn who defended Felix. He could 
 do no wrong in her eyes ; in her opinion the wide world 
 held no other so brave, so handsome, or so noble ; and the 
 childish love had .nconsciously grown with her she called 
 it friendship, and b:lieved it to be nothing else. Felix had 
 a real friendship for her, a real admiration, a great esteem, 
 but nothing like love. He lent her books, he frequently 
 asked Mrs. Lonsdale to invite her to the house ; but it was 
 all because he was sorry for her, and thought her life 
 lonely and sad. Evelyn was an orphan, left to the tender 
 mercies of a strong-minded aunt, Jane Lester, mistress of 
 the pretty little farm known as the Outlands. Miss Lester 
 would say of herself, u I am nothing if I am not strong- 
 minded," and therein she spoke the truth. 
 
 She looked like a strong-minded woman. She was thin 
 and angular ; she had what she called a useful complexion 
 the sun did not darken it, nor did the wind ever freshen 
 it into deeper bloom ; her gray hair was braided in most 
 severely uncompromising style ; her dress was of plain, 
 rich material. In writing the word " woman" she always 
 used a capital " W," and a capital U H" in "Humanity." Of 
 men as a whole she had the poorest possible opinion ; she 
 had the profoundest contempt for all their sentiments, 
 principles, and inventions. She went to extreme lengths 
 in her views about the rights of women. Where there was
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 23 
 
 a man she was accustomed to say there was mischief. " If 
 you want anything done well, do it yourself," she coun- 
 seled ; " do not leave it to men. " She had a certain convic- 
 tion that if the world were governed by women it would be 
 quite another place. She did not dislike men, she had 
 simply a superb contempt for them a lofty pity and com- 
 passion that were infinitely amusing even to the objects of 
 them. 
 
 It was the puzzle of the whole neighborhood how so 
 sweet a girl as Eve Lester could have grown up under the 
 charge of one like her Aunt Jane. Eve was not beautiful. 
 She was the perfect type of an English girl graceful, 
 healthy, with a rounded figure, a clear complexion, fair 
 brown, hair, red, ripe lips, a face that one would call sweet 
 rather than beautiful ; the dark gray eyes were clear and 
 tender, long lashes shading them a frank, noble soul 
 spoke from her eyes ; her lips were firm and sensitive, 
 with sweet and gracious curves about them. Of a hun- 
 dred men perhaps ninety-nine would have passed Eve by 
 and thought but little of her; the hundredth would h;ive 
 considered her face one of the sweetest and dearest. There 
 was a quiet dignity about her, a graceful ease and self-pus- 
 11 that delighted her aunt. Evelyn had a small for- 
 tune entirely at her own command, but her aunt WHS al- 
 ways at hand to see that there was no undue expense. 
 
 The Outlands was a pretty farm not more than half a 
 mile from Lilford, and Miss Lester WHS supposed to have 
 made money. She, with her niece, belong'''! to tl.<- uvntry, 
 but, owing to the elder woman's peculiarities, tin- t\vo la- 
 dies visited but seldom and seldom received any visitors. 
 
 If there was one man in Jane Lester's eyes less contempt- 
 ible than another it was certainly Felix Lonsdale. "The 
 boy has a beautiful face," she was accustomed to sny of 
 him. "and be uity is a woman's gift." So because he had a 
 "^woman's gift" Miss Lester looked more kindly on him. 
 She Ifked to see him at the Outlands. She gave him any 
 amount of rood ;>dvice ; she was pleased that he should be 
 s, friend of Evelyn's. 
 
 No one was more delighted than Jane Lester to hear of 
 the legacy, but the engagement did not please her so well. 
 Love and marriage were folly in her e\ 
 
 "I am disappointed in you, Felix Lonsdale," she 
 sharply. " I thought you had a little more sense than the 
 generality of men. Pray expect no congratulations from 
 me I have none to give." 
 
 But Eve smiled at him with her clear, tender eyes.
 
 24 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I am very pleased," she said, "for I know that you 
 love Violet dearly." 
 
 u We shall always be friends, " he told her. 
 
 And she answered him with a happy smile on her sweet 
 face : 
 
 " Always. " 
 
 They would always be friends ; for she desired nothing 
 better in life than the friendship of Felix Lonsdale. 
 
 Miss Lester was perhaps a trifle more disagreeable than 
 usual for the next two or three days, and then, to all out- 
 ward appearance, everything went on as usual at the Out- 
 lands ; but to Eve Lester life was never quite the same 
 again. She was innocently unconscious of her love. If 
 any one had suddenly taxed her with it she would most in- 
 dignantly have denied it. She hardly knew that the love 
 of the woman differed from the love of the child. She did 
 not know why the smiling earth and the fair heavens had 
 so suddenly grown dark to her. She did not know why the 
 spring of her life had left her. 
 
 Darcy Lonsdale had taken Vale House ; he had for once 
 in his life-time the pleasure 01 ordering new carpets and 
 pretty furniture. Mrs. Lonsdale was delighted. She had 
 engaged a treasure of a nursery governess, and prepared 
 herself to enjoy life in real earnest. The deed of partner- 
 ship had been drawn up, and the firm was known as Lons- 
 dale & Son. Every one agreed that Darcy had done a very 
 wise thing in making his clever, bright, intellectual son a 
 partner. Felix had taken the pretty cottage orne, and his 
 spare time was devoted to preparing it for his beautiful 
 hride. He had seen some fine photographs one day that 
 he fancied would look well framed and hung upon the 
 walls. He asked Violet to look at them, but he could not 
 get her to speak freely upon anything. The photographs 
 wore beautiful with the most charming of smiles she con- 
 desceiaded to say so ; that was all. She was evidently in 
 an amiable humor, and Felix resolved to make the most 
 of it. 
 
 " Violet, do come and sefe the house ?" he begged. " You 
 "ay that you never visited it while the Hendersons lived 
 there. You canot tell how pretty the rooms are ; do come 
 and see them." 
 
 It was a brilliantly beautiful day in July ; the sun shone 
 on lilies and roses, on flowers of every hue ; the earth lay 
 in the warm heat and brilliant haze there was a hush and
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 25 
 
 sweet brooding silence over all. Violet could not refuse ; 
 putting aside all other thoughts, it would be pleasant to see 
 the interior of a pretty house. Mrs. Lonsdale offered to go 
 also, and the three started together. But Mrs. Lonsdale 
 had been in love herself, and she had pity on her step-son. 
 When they had admired the beautiful grounds and gardens 
 she said, laughingly : 
 
 " The kitchen will not interest you ; it does me. I will go 
 and inspect it." 
 
 Then Felix showed Violet the pretty rooms he had 
 planned for her. 
 
 "The charm of them," he said, "is that they are full of 
 light and brightness ; from every window you see flowers 
 and trees, through every door comes a breath of perfumed 
 air. Oh, my Violet, we can be so happy here !" 
 
 " Is that jessamine growing yonder?" she asked. "Do 
 gather a few sprays, Felix. I think I am fonder of jessa- 
 mine than I am of any flower that blows.' 7 
 
 He went in compliance with her wish. What request of 
 hers could he have refused ? And Violet Haye stood alone 
 in the home that her lover sought to make hers. She stood 
 there dainty and bewitching; she looked round. The 
 rooms were very pretty ; she tried to imagine herself mis- 
 tress there ; she tried to picture herself living there, going 
 in and out, waiting for Felix, giving orders. She tried to 
 realize what life would be like when she was married and 
 lived there. There would be no future to look forward to, 
 no sweet, bright possibilities. "I should know all my life, 
 then," she thought, "it would hold nothing brighter than 
 tins.' 1 and the dainty little foot tapped the floor. "Here it 
 would all >egin and end ; there would be no more dream- 
 ing," and she had dreamed wildly of a different life from 
 this. Sti 1 ! she loved Felix. 
 
 " I wonder," said the dainty young beauty to herself, "in 
 what I d'.ffer from other girls. I know not one but many 
 who would gladly change their fate for mine, who would 
 marry Felix Lonsdale and be happy in his love, who would 
 think t'lis pretty house a palace, and would find the coii- 
 tentmrnt and true happiness of a life-time within its walls ; 
 why r innot I do the same .' What is it that 1 am always 
 look) ig for, hoping for, expecting^ What more do I want ? 
 I ca- not understand myself and I am sure no one e\> 
 understand me." 
 
 The violet eyes glanced wistfully round the pretty rooms ; 
 
 ' y was sh-' not e< .nt'-nt '. 
 'Hove Felix," she told herself; "and it seems to m&
 
 26 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 that if I made an effort I could be happy and contente-- 
 here. What is the effort that I have to make ? I love 
 Felix ; nothing on earth can make me alter that fact." 
 
 Yet she did not feel quite at ease. There was a vague, 
 shadowy feeling of something wanting that she had not yet 
 found. 
 
 Felix amused her with his raptures when he returned. 
 It was so novel, so delightful to see her there ; and the day 
 was never forgotten by him, because she had been gracious 
 to him upon it. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "YOU WILL NEED A FRIEND." 
 
 The inhabitants of Lilford were pleased at Darcy Lons- 
 dale's good fortune. He deserved it, they said ; his honest, 
 honorable, industrious life had been spent among them ; 
 they had known him as boy and man ; they had been inter- 
 ested in his marriages, in his children, in his business ; he 
 was one of themselves ; they had been interested in his 
 joys and sorrows and in his welfare, and now they were 
 pleased at his good fortune. 
 
 With this sudden and unexpected gleam of prosperity 
 came other gleams ; his business increased ; and Darcy 
 Lonsdale owned to himself that he was a most fortunate 
 man. He removed with his household to Vale House ; and 
 Felix began to think that he might induce Violet to marry 
 him before the end of the year. He did not often speak to 
 her of their marriage, for it was a difficult task ; she would 
 evade the question in a hundred different ways ; she would 
 laugh, yet look charming do anything, in fact, but reply 
 to his inquiry as to when they should be united. 
 
 He went to the Limes one lovely summer evening, quite 
 resolved upon not coming away without a definite answer. 
 Violet was looking even more charming than usual ; she 
 wore a white dress with blush roses, arid her fair girlish 
 face was like a sweet flower. He persuaded her to come 
 out with him, beguiling her on to the lawn under the pre- 
 text of showing her the gorgeous western sky. 
 
 "I do not care for sunsets, Felix," she said. "I cannot 
 go into raptures over them. I see the sun set in some 
 fashion or other every evening." 
 
 But he was so determined that she thought it less trouble 
 to accede to his wish. The sight of the glorious sky made 
 her thoughtful ; then, when she was in a frame of mind
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 27 
 
 proper for listening, he turned to her. How dazzlingly 
 beautiful her face was in the sunlight. 
 
 " Violet," he said, " I want to quote a couple of lines from 
 a familiar ballad to you. Can you guess what it is ?" 
 
 "No, I cannot; I do not care for familiar ballads," he 
 replied. u What is it?" 
 
 " You know ' My Pretty Jane, ' " he said. " The lines I 
 want to quote to you are these : 
 
 'Name the day, the wedding-day, 
 And I will buy the ring.' 
 
 Now, sweet Violet, that is just what I want you to do tell 
 me when that happy day will dawn for me. Do not lei 
 the summer sunshine and the summer flowers all die be- 
 'ore you are my wife." 
 
 She turned her startled face to his. 
 
 " You are cruel, Felix," she said. " You always spoil these 
 lovely sunny days by talking about marriage." 
 
 " My heart is full of it," he replied u at least it is full of 
 you. I do not wish to startle you, Violet, but give me OIKS 
 kind word to dream about now. I am always wondering, 
 ' When will our marriage take place? When will my darl- 
 ing consent? When will the end corne to all my uncertain- 
 iiMs. and fears.' When shall 1 be able to say to my 
 < )n such a day I shall bring home my wife ?' " 
 
 She answered, half impatiently. 
 " Yon make so terribly sure of everything, Felix." 
 
 "Have I not the rightttodo so in this case?" he asked, 
 lanuliing hall' sadly at her. 
 
 " I did not quite promise, you know, Felix." 
 
 haps n. it in so many words, Violet, but in honor 
 yon are hound to.be my wife." 
 
 "lam willing to be your wife. Felix, but let me enjoy 
 my youth a little longer. I am only nineteen there is no 
 hurry." 
 
 "You forget," he interrupted, " bow dearly I love you, 
 Violet, and how I long for you to he with me. If 1 thought 
 yon did not loves me, Violet, 1 would not urge my request 
 I would go far away, and occupy my life as \\ell as I 
 eouM nay, I would rather die than make you unhappy. 
 ; do not love me, I will not hold you pledged to me, 
 Viol 
 
 "But I do love you," she said, looking up at him with 
 weet perplexed eyea ; "still, Felix, it seems so sudden 
 
 "Hardly sudden, darling," he interrupted, "when 1 have
 
 28 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 loved you since you were seven years old. You will be 
 just as happy when you are my wife as you are now will 
 you not?" 
 
 "I cannot tell," she replied. 
 
 If she had spoken the real truth she would have told him 
 that she was unwilling to lay down her sovereignty that 
 the homage and admiration she received were very precious 
 to her that she enjoyed them that she liked to know she 
 was the queen of the country-side. All that of course 
 would end when she was married. The married ladies she 
 knew led dull lives or dull they seemed to her spent in 
 the routine of duty. They superintended their households, 
 nursed their children, directed heir servants. It seemed 
 dreary work to her a life that held 1 ittle. She had hoped 
 for more than this ; her brilliai t beauty ought to bring her 
 a brighter fate than that which these plain-faced matrons 
 had met. 
 
 While she sat musing with these thoughts plainly writ- 
 ten on her fair face Felix was looking earnestly at her. 
 
 " Let me say September, Violet, " he pleaded ; " that is a 
 glorious month, and the house will be quite ready. My 
 darling, gladden my heart with one word. " 
 
 But he was never quite sure whether she had spoken that 
 word or not ; her eyes were dim with tears, and she mur- 
 mured something to the effect that she loved him had al- 
 ways loved him ; while something of remorse seemed to 
 tinge her manner. Her fingers thrilled him with their 
 soft touch, her lovely lips quivered as she talked to him 
 but he could never tell whether she had whispered the 
 word he wanted. 
 
 That evening, when he reached home, Evelyn Lester 
 was there, and a sense of rest came over him at the first 
 glance at her sweet face. She went up to him with the 
 gentle grace and dignity that characterized her. 
 
 " Felix, I have heard good news you are favored in for- 
 tune and in love. Is it all true ?" 
 
 u Yes" he told her it was all true ; he had been spend- 
 ing the evening at the Limes he had just left Violet. 
 
 He walked home with Evelyn, and he was struck with 
 the strange sense of rest that came over him. She was not 
 beautiful, but the sweet face was very fair and very ten- 
 der, her voice musical and full of sympathy ; she spoke so 
 kindly of beautiful Violet, she praised her so generously 
 and warmly, she spoke with such real enthusiasm of her 
 loveliness, of the admiration she excited, of her brilliancy, 
 that his heart warmed to her. She listened with such
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 29 
 
 sweet sympathy to all that he had to say to his history of 
 the cottage, and of the pretty furniture and pictures he 
 hoped to place therein ; she was interested in it all. He 
 said to himself that it was strange what perfect rest he 
 found with her, a something which he could not describe, a 
 sense of deep tranquillity and repose. 
 
 "I think, Evelyn." he said, as he stood at the hall door 
 of the Outlands, "that no man was ever so blessed. I have 
 the truest and fairest of loves, and the truest and warmest 
 of friends.'' 
 
 The moon was shining brightly, and Eve stood in silence 
 for a few minutes, watching him. 
 
 "You will need a friend," she thought, "and, when you 
 do, you shall not fail to find one. ' ' 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FOREBODINGS. 
 
 " That young man ought to be satisfied with his lot in 
 life, " said Jane Lester, as her niece told her of Felix Lons- 
 
 dule's si !< -i -esses. 
 
 "He is quite satisfied, auntie," Evelyn returned, gently. 
 
 "The worst thing that any mtm can do is to marry a girl 
 with a pretty fare." said the aunt. "Pretty girls are a 
 mistake they think themselves too good for anything. 
 Felix Lonsdale has acted foolishly Violet Haye will never 
 make hi in a good wife." 
 
 "She is young, and she loves him very dearly," re- 
 marked Evelyn. 
 
 "Youth and love would any wise man build his house 
 on such foundations r said her aunt. "I tell you, Evelyn, 
 a mistake, and Lonsdale will find it so. I read a 
 character quickly, and 1 have read Violet Hay. 
 
 "She loves him,'' repeated Evelyn, who could imagine 
 nothing more unanswerable. 
 
 know what a lasting sentiment that is," 
 sneered Miss Lester. "If he married a sensible woman 
 with a nice little fortune. I should have some hope; but 
 the very curl of that girl's hair shows what she is." 
 
 :yn laughed as she thought of the glorious golden 
 hair that had always been Violet's glory. 
 
 "There is no other hair in Lilioid like it, auntie," she 
 rep! 
 
 "It is a very good thing," was the retort. "I am no 
 friend to nonsense."
 
 30 WEAKER THAN A 
 
 No unfriendly criticisms reached Felix Lonsdale's ears 
 none could have hurt him. He had now the one great 
 prize of his life ; he was happy beyond all power of words 
 to tell. It pleased him, too, that all his friends and neigh- 
 bors took such kindly interest in him : it was pleasant to 
 meet with congratulations and good wishes to see life 
 lying so fair and so clear before him to feel his youth and 
 his sti-ength to feel his happiness thrilling every vein. He 
 felt that he had nothing left in life to wish for ; H< 
 had been good to him, and had granted him his heart's de- 
 sire. He would have felt a little happier perhaps had 
 Violet been less coy. But that very coyness had a charm 
 of its own ; it suited her ; he could not imagine her other 
 than coy ; and, as for doubt or tear or mistrust, such 
 shadows never darkened his mind. The heaven of his 
 love was clear and cloudless. Violet would grow less coy 
 in time ; it was better for her to be shy and reserved as she 
 was than lay herself out for admiration as some did. 
 
 He had settled in his own mind that he would persuade 
 her to become his wife before chill October killed the 
 flowers and stripped the trees. So he thought and hoped 
 and dreamed, while a cloud was rising in the distance no 
 larger than a man's hand. 
 
 One day Darcy Lonsdale returned with a perplexed look 
 on his face to his new house. His wife, wondering at it, 
 asked him : 
 
 " What is the matter, Darcy ?" 
 
 After thinking for a few minutes he answered : 
 
 "Nothing, my brain seems to be full of foolish fancies." 
 
 The next time le returned home it was evening, nml the 
 pleasant tea-table th happy circle of bright faces, n.i.^ht 
 have gladdened any man's heart; but Darcy Ldnsdale 
 looked dull. Again his wife asked what was wrong, and 
 he laughed uneasily, she thought. 
 
 "The very air seems thick with fancies," he answered. 
 "I saw three of my best friends this morning standing in 
 a group in Castle street, and when I joined them I knew 
 by the startled, embarrassed expression on each man's face 
 that they had been talking about me." 
 
 " What could they have to say about you ?" asked Kate. 
 " It was all fancy, Darcy. : ' 
 
 " No ; I am sure Jiey were speaking of me. I went to 
 the bank this morning, and as I was entering the door I dis- 
 tinctly heard the manager say, 'Mistaken in Lonsdale.' I 
 heard the words as plainly as you hear them now. He was
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 31 
 
 talking to one of the partners, and they were both cool, I 
 thought, in their manner. 1 ' 
 Kate, threw her arms around his neck and kissed his 
 
 anxious face. 
 
 " Why should any -one talk ahout yo~7 or be cool to you, 
 dear? You have lone m wring. " 
 
 "No. but there is soi lam quite sure there is 
 
 something, Kate in WK T oinds of people about me. I 
 cannot imagine what : i 
 
 Kate tried, to ell' 1 "!- him; shf- laugaed at the notion. 
 What could there be '. She knew hat there *vas< no one like 
 him. No one could accuse iiin c,t a mean a -'.v.n; his life 
 had always been fair c~>en, loyal, and transparent. It 
 i'lsurd. ile must be rit of health ; he should go away 
 and rest himself for a time. People cool to him, indeed! 
 She would like to see any one treat him with less resjiect 
 and honor than he deserved. The kind, tender face flushed, 
 the soft eyes filled with tears. She would have done bat- 
 him with the Avhole world. There was nothing in 
 what lie said, sin- felt quite sure, but failing health. 
 
 Yet she waited anxiously for him the next day She was 
 somewhat surprised, for there had been a perfect deluge 
 of tradesmen's '-ills an occurrence that had never hap- 
 pened bei'ore. The bakei' 'ia-i sent in his bill, and the 
 butcher want".] ready me the upholsterers who had 
 furnished Vale ifonse j.,es-ed fora, settlement in conse- 
 quence of unlocked-*! jr Kate showed the bills to 
 
 her husband. 
 
 "What does it mea. she asked, wonderingly. 
 
 "It means, my dear, that there is some subtle agency at 
 work against us I cannot tell what. It means also that 
 the tradespeople must be paid at once. Indeed, Kate, we 
 should have been wiser had we waited till the legacy had 
 been pa. id to us befor-- here." 
 
 " Hut it is eel-tain," 1 said Kale, a little anxiously. 
 
 eeri.lin as fate," he replied ; and then they talked ft 
 little more cheerfully about what they would do when the 
 money was at command. 
 
 That same evening I'elix came home looking slightly 
 preoccupied. He had seen one <,f their oldest/clients ^o 
 into George Malcolm's office, and the vicar of the parish, 
 the Reverend Daniel Hunter-, had passed him witli the 
 coldest of bows. He also had an impression thai there 
 Was something wrong. He could te.l neither what it was 
 nor why it was. 
 
 Felix thought that there would be time to walk over to
 
 32 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN: 
 
 the Limes. He had a very beautiful hook that he had 
 bought for Violet, and he wanted to give it to her. 
 
 It struck him, when he entered the drawing-room at the 
 Limes, that the three assembled there had been speaking 
 of him, their greeting was so awkward, so constrained, so 
 unlike the genial, kindly reception that had always been 
 given to him hitherto. Mrs. Haye held out her hand to 
 him, but her eyes fell, and her husband's half -murmured 
 words were inaudible ; Violet looked embarrassed, and for 
 the first time under that hospitable roof the young lover 
 felt ill at ease. 
 
 When he laid the volume on the table Mr. Haye took 
 it up. 
 
 " This must have cost something," he said, " for it is very 
 handsome. It would be better to save money than to 
 spend it we none of us know when an evil day may 
 come." 
 
 " I do not fear evil days," remarked Felix, with all the 
 sanguine hope of a young man. 
 
 "The wisest among us may expect them," said Mr. 
 Haye, briefly. 
 
 Then the conversation languished, and Felix grew so 
 uncomfortable that he decided upon returning home. He 
 had no misgiving he thought he had called at an inauspi- 
 cious moment he had perhaps interrupted some domestic 
 conference. He cared only to see Violet. If she would go to 
 the gate with him, so that he would have time for. a few 
 words, all would be well. 
 
 But when he had said good-night to the two seniors, and 
 asked Violet if she would walk to the gate with him, Mrs. 
 Haye interposed. 
 
 " It is too cold," she said. "Violet has been complaining 
 of headache all day ; she must not go out. " 
 
 And the tone was so decided, so stern, that Felix could 
 not oppose Mrs. Haye. He held Violet's hand one minute in 
 his ; he tried to look into the depths of her beautiful eyes, 
 but they drooped from his, and he could not see them. He 
 left her with a few whispered words, feeling more un- 
 happy than he had ever felt before. 
 
 The night was beautiful : the wind was soft and fragrant, 
 the sky calm and clear, the moon shining brightly. He 
 smiled as he asked himself why he should be unhappy. 
 What was there to make him so? Why need he feel do- 
 pressed? Yet the very air around him was filled with 
 whisperings the night-wind full of sighs. " I am growing
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 33 
 
 fanciful," he said to himself ; "and what tangible evil have 
 I to grasp ?" 
 
 There was nothing but a cloud of fancies ; his prospects 
 were bright enough. He said to himself over and over 
 again that no one was so fortunate. Had he not a partner- 
 ship ? Had he not a certainty of calling the loveliest girl 
 in the county his wife ? What had he to fear? Yet what 
 was the strange dull pain that made his brave young heart 
 fail him ? What caused the strange shuddering that came 
 over him ? Why had he a keen and penetrating, a vague 
 indefinite feeling of an evil day to come ? He tried to re- 
 press it ; he could understand women being nervous, but 
 not men. 
 
 For the first time he noticed that night a look of anxiety 
 on his father's face, and he asked what had brought it 
 there. 
 
 " Shadows nothing but shadows ; fancies troublesome 
 fancies," was the reply ; yet it was strange the son turned 
 away with a feeling almost of despair. 
 
 Nor was the mystery lessened when on the day following, 
 Mrs. Lonsdale, going on her daily round of shopping, met 
 the vicar's wife, Mrs. Hunter, who stopped to speak to her. 
 
 "This is a very sad affair, Mrs. Lonsdale," she said, and 
 Kate, looking at her, asked quietly what affair she meant. 
 
 She looked so entirely unconscious that the vicar's wife 
 urprised. 
 
 " Have you heard no bad news of of any one ?" she 
 asked, and Kate answered, "No." 
 
 Then Mrs. Hunter related some trifling little story, and 
 even as she related it Kate told herself that she was in- 
 venting it. With her honest, straightforward eyea she 
 looked at the vicar's lady. 
 
 "You are not telling me what was in your mind when 
 you first spoke to me," she said. "What were you think- 
 ing of. Mrs. Hunter?" 
 
 But Mrs. Hunter, after laughingly parrying the remark, 
 hastily said good-morning in a very embarrassed fashion, 
 and walked away. 
 
 Mrs. Hunter's remark could mean nothing ; yet the heart 
 of the loving, anxious wife ^i-e\v heavy within her. Sad 
 news '. What sad news could there be affecting her or hers? 
 And, if there was sad news about any one else, why could 
 she not have said what it was .' 
 
 She was the third who went home that day with a terri- 
 ble sense of foreboding. Her pretty house seemed almost 
 to oppress her. Sne wished that she had not burdened her
 
 34 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 self with a nursery governess ; as for the new silk dress, 
 it no longer gave her the least pleasure. What was this 
 cloud hanging over her husband and her children >. Was 
 it only nervous fancy, or was there evil looming in the 
 distance ? 
 
 She was soon to know, and when she did know it proved 
 to be even g-reater than she feared. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "GIVE THE MONEY BACK AGAIN." 
 
 " I am very sorry I think it unjust ; but it is quite im- 
 possible to say how it will end," said George Malcolm, the 
 lawyer. 
 
 For the secret was known now the shadow had become 
 a substance, the vague fancies had all assumed a form, the 
 airy nothings had become realities so stern and so cruel 
 that they had driven Darcy Lonsdale almost to despair. 
 Mrs. Hardman's heir-at-law, James Hardmaii, had given 
 legal notice that he intended to contest his relative's will 
 on the ground of undue influence. He maintained and 
 nothing could shake his opinion that Darcy Lonsdale had 
 taken undue advantage of his position, that he had influ 
 enced a weak-minded woman, and had persuaded her to 
 leave him the half of her money. It was a clever ruse, ad- 
 vising her to send for another lawyer ; but it would not 
 help him. 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale found that the rumors about him had been 
 growing daily, that his friends and neighbors were all 
 talking of him, while he himself had not the faintest idea 
 of the mischief that was abroad. James Hardman had been 
 in Lilford that he knew, and the fact had not interested 
 him in any way ; but he did not know that James Hard- 
 man had been silently destroying his reputation, had called 
 upon his old friends, and had, in the most subtle fashion, 
 insinuated that there had been a conspiracy against him, 
 and that he intended to dispute the will. Every one in 
 Lilford knew this before the least rumor of it reached Darcy 
 Lonsdale. He went at once to Mr. Malcolm, but the hon- 
 est lawyer had no cheering news for him. 
 
 " I am a lawyer my self ," he said, " but I can never tell 
 how a lawsuit may end ; it may take the right turn, and 
 again it may take a wrong one. " 
 
 "But," returned Darcy Lonsdale, "Mrs. Hardman meant
 
 WEAKER THAN A WO^fAN'. 35 
 
 me to have the money, did she not ? That one broad fact no 
 one can dispute." 
 
 " I believe honestly that she intended you to have it. I 
 know she did. She talked to me for some time about the 
 good it would do to you and your children." 
 
 "Then what can there !>;> foun^ to dispute? She intended 
 to give me the money, /.ml she did give it what is it to 
 any one?" cried Darcy Lonsdale. 
 
 "The law deals heavily with cases like this. James 
 Hard man will plead that lie is heir-at-law, that he is the 
 rightful heir of the late Elizabeth Hardman, that he had 
 brought up in expectation of receiving the money, 
 and that yon 1; n an undue advantage of your posi- 
 
 tion as her legal adviser and friend to induce her to leave 
 it to you.'' 
 
 "But," declared Mr. Lonsdale, "I did no such thing. I 
 
 to you I never asked, influenced, or said one word 
 
 to her about it. How dare any man say such a thing of 
 
 "James Hardman hns been brought up to believe that he 
 would inherit twelve thousand pounds, and, finding six of 
 n elsewhere, he is very angry about it, and says some 
 bitter tbii . 
 
 u But how is it possible that any one who knows me could 
 believe that I have acted unfairly: 1 H<>\v can my old 
 friends and neighbors believe it ? I have lived among 
 them all my life they oujrht to know me better. I should 
 not believe such a scandal of any one of them 1 ' and tears 
 of wounded pride and wounded alTection stood in his eyes. 
 "What are a man's friends worth, Malcolm, if they be- 
 "vil of him so easily }" 
 
 " Perhaps they do not all believe it," said George Mal- 
 colm. 
 
 "Then why do they not say so? Why not say, 'We havft 
 known you for years, and we believe in you?' Why n >t 
 
 say that instead of looking coldly on me. As I pass by 
 they converse about me in whispers, and are startled when 
 1 meet them." 
 
 ".lames Hardman has talki d a great deal among them," 
 said Mr. Malcolm, slowly. "He has said some hard things 
 of you." 
 
 "But my old friends," rejoined Darcy Lonsdale, "the 
 people I have lived among so long, how can they believe 
 such slander C 
 
 " I am not much of a cynic, but this I must say, that I
 
 38 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 believe our misfortunes are not always displeasing even to 
 those we call our friends. " 
 
 "But these people have known me so long." 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale could think of nothing so strange as that 
 no argument was so potent. He had lived among them 
 all his life. Why did they not trust him as he trusted 
 them? 
 
 " If any one among them had come to me and had told 
 me such a thing of another, I would not have credited it 
 and they are only too ready, it- seems, to believe it of me. 
 Malcolm, how in Heaven's .ame am I to go home and tell 
 this to my wife ? Am I to tell h r that a blameless life 
 spent in the mi<\st of people wh have known me since I 
 was a child, is no shield against slander?" 
 
 " I am very sorry for you, " said George Malcolm ; " I can 
 say no more. I do not believe it, and I shall stand by you 
 through it all. " 
 
 The two men shook hands, but Darcy Lonsdale's face 
 wore a puzzled, wondering look. 
 
 " Can it be a jest, do you think, Malcolm a jest to try 
 me?" 
 
 "No, it is no jest. Hardman will get the money if he 
 can. " 
 
 " I would not take it unless I thought it were really mine 
 I would refuse to touch it ; but I cannot do that, for I 
 am sure my old friend left it to me _for the children. I 
 must be just to them. Great Heaven, I have kept a blame- 
 less name all my life only to meet with this fate to see 
 my old friends point at me as a man who would cheat his 
 client. I wish I had been dead before I had known this. 
 Tell me what Hardman is going to do." 
 
 " He has placed the whole matter in the hands of a Lon- 
 don firm, and the trial will come on about the end of Sep- 
 tember. You must prepare your defense and look up your 
 witnesses. " 
 
 " If my whole life does not witness for me," said Darcy 
 Lonsdaie, with quiet dignity, " then the words of no man 
 can benefit me." 
 
 He dreaded going home for the first time in his life he 
 disliked passing through the streets of his native town, 
 for the first time he shrank from the glances and words of 
 his old comrades. 
 
 " Heaven help Kate I" he said to himself. " How am I to 
 tell her ?" 
 
 But Kate knew already such news travels fast. It was 
 no weeping, hysterical wife who clung to him, half mad
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 37 
 
 with womanish fear ; a bright, tender face looked into his, 
 sweet, warm, white hands clasped his, loving lips kissed 
 him, a brave, bright voice cheered him with the music of 
 home words. 
 
 "I have heard all about it, Darcy," said his wife. "Never 
 mind no one can injure you. You are innocent, honest, 
 and honorable. Never mind what any one says Heaven 
 knows the truth, and I love you all the more that you bear 
 this blame so well." 
 
 Darcy Lonsdale was relieved to find his wife so cheerful, 
 and they sat down to discuss their difficulty. 
 
 "Give the money back again, Darcy," said his wife. "If 
 I were in your place I would not touch one shilling of it. " 
 
 " If I did that it would lock as though I feared inquiry, 
 as though I knew that I had gained it by wrong means, 
 and remorse compelled me to return it. It seems to me now 
 that I am compelled, in justification of my own honor, to 
 keep it Mrs. Hardman certainly meant me to have it. 
 Then there are the children I cannot rob them; I must 
 not take from them what is really theirs." 
 
 "But," said his wife, "if there should be a trial, and it 
 should go against you ?" 
 
 " Then I must bear it like a man, Kate. I have had many 
 blessings- if it pleases Heaven to send me a reverse, I 
 must not complain." 
 
 But, for all that, she knew that his heart was soro and 
 heavy, and that he was disturbed by a hundred doubts and 
 fears. She soothed him, comforted him, and did her best 
 to encourage him; but she could not persuade him to for^ul 
 his trouble for a moment it was always in his thou^iirs. 
 
 Vresently Felix came in, and one glance at his son's face 
 
 told Darcy Lonsdale that he had heard the whole story. 
 
 The handsome young face was full of emotion, lie went 
 
 straight up to his father, and laid his hand lovingly upon 
 
 boulder. 
 
 "Let me help you, father," lie said. "No man shall 
 one word against you while T live." 
 
 And the two men father and son shook hands. There 
 was more expressed in that silent grasp than there could 
 have been in a volume of wor 
 
 " You have heard the story, I suppose, Felix?" said Mrs. 
 Lonsdale. 
 
 "Yes, I have heard it, and a more cruelly unjust story 
 never was told. Let me help to fi^ht your battle, father. 1 
 should like to 1a! every man who believes the story, or 
 who affects to believe it, and thrash him."
 
 38 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " My dear Felix !" exclaimed gentle Mrs. Lonsdale. 
 
 "So I should, madre," and the young, handsome faco 
 deepened with angry scorn for every one who should har- 
 bor an evil thought of one so beloved. The love between 
 father and son was almost pathetic in its intensity. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Lonsdale said, musingly : 
 
 " What will Violet say when she hears it ?" 
 
 " Say ?" cried Felix. " She will be indignant. She will 
 agree with me that any man who listens to it ought to be 
 shot. Why do you look so strangely at me, madre ?" 
 
 "I was wondering," she said, "whether this would make 
 any difference to her or to her parents I mean in respect 
 to yourself. " 
 
 " Difference ? No yet I am wrong. Yes, it will make 
 this one difference. She will love me the better, and cling 
 to me the more. I have no doubt about Violet my swrvt 
 Violet. It is the one thing needed to quicken her love for 
 me with a new, strange life." 
 
 He wondered why Mrs. Lonsdale sighed. Why need any 
 one sigh? Violet's love, Violet's faith, was his rock of 
 refuge. To doubt her would be death. 
 
 " I have no fear," he said, throwing back his head 
 proudly. "Violet will love me now as she has never loved 
 me before. My only trouble is about my dear father, and 
 what I can do to help him. " 
 
 They talked until long after midnight ; they looked the 
 evil in the face. If they went to law, and the law was 
 against them, what then ? They would be dreadfully em- 
 barrassed for ready money. The nursery govei'ness must 
 go, but they could remain at Vale House, and the partner- 
 ship should not be dissolved. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "YOU ARE AN ANGEL." 
 
 The autumn was come ; the golden glory of summer had 
 given way to it. The luxuriant trees made the woods a 
 picture. The yellow leaves lay in dank heaps, the corn 
 had all been cut and carried, the fruit gathered ; the gloam- 
 ing was longer, the sunset had clouds of deeper crimson. 
 
 The little town of Lilford had experienced a social earth- 
 quake. The great trial of Lonsdale versus Hardmai had 
 been decided, and the verdict no one but the twelve in- 
 telligent jurymen who gave it knew why was against 
 Darcy Lonsdale ; the will was declared null and void, and
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 39 
 
 the whole of the property was to be given to James Hard- 
 man. 
 
 That was hard ; but hardest of all were the cruel things 
 said by the plaintiff's counsel. Darcy Lonsdale listened tc* 
 them like one in a dream. He heard all kinds of under- 
 hand motives attributed to him ; he heard himself described 
 as a conspirator, as one who had taken advantage of his- 
 position to influence a weak-minded woman. He listened 
 to words which burned him, branded him which almost 
 robbed him of his self-respect which so completely bewil- 
 dered him that, if he had been a weaker man, he would not 
 have known whether he was guilty or not. The blameless 
 life of which he was so proud, the blameless name which 
 he valued above all other blessings, were bespattered. As. 
 he listened to the cruel words, which fell like molten lead 
 on his heart and home, he could have cried aloud that it was 
 all false be had lived in Lilford both as boy and man, and 
 all his old friends knew that he was incapable of doing any 
 ire a wrong or an injury. 
 
 He called few witnesses. He might have made a far bet- 
 ter defense than he did but that he trusted so entirely to> 
 the notion that his own innocence must be patent to all men. 
 The verdict was against him unjustly so, some saiJ, for 
 the judge had summed up favorably for him and Darcy 
 Lonsdale went home crushed and heart-broken. 
 
 Those were dreary days in Vale House. 
 
 " 1 slia.ll never hold up my head again," said Darcy Lons- 
 dale, with a deep sob. "I shall never look my fellow-men 
 in the face." 
 
 That his old friends should have believed this of him. 
 pained the brave, honest heart. He had a long illness, 
 from which it was feared at first that he would never re- 
 eover. 
 
 It was a dreary time. The business fell away ; the towns- 
 people said to each other, with a grave shake of the head, 
 that they eo-ibl not trust a man of whom such tilings had 
 been said they could not leave their interests, as before, in 
 his hamls. One after another the old names disappeared 
 from his books. Men he had known all his simple life- 
 fought shy of him, avoided him, and the dreary time 
 I on. 
 
 Felix worked hard, but it was like rowing against an 
 jui^ry current. There were some gleams of comfort; one of 
 them neither father nor son ever forgot. 
 
 ft was an evening in ( >ctober, dark and chill. For the 
 ~rst time the invalid had come down stairs, and the weight
 
 40 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 f)f anxiety upon him was like a weight of lead. Those were 
 days of strict economy in Vale House. There was no tempt- 
 ing fruit for the feeble appetite, no generous wine to give 
 strength to the feeble frame. Tne best medicine that the in- 
 valid had were the cheering kindly words of his wife, the 
 love of his son. 
 
 That evening Felix came home late from his office ; he 
 was tired owing to the hard work and ill fortune of the 
 day. He fought nobly with misfortune, but he fought in 
 vain. His kind face brightened when he saw a letter for 
 him. It must be from Violet. Who would write to him 
 except Violet? And despite all his sorrows his heart 
 glowed as he thought of her, his beautiful love. Oh, to es- 
 cape, if only for one hour, and sun himself in the light of 
 her presence ! He saw her so seldom now. He was hard 
 at work during the day, and the nights were too cold for 
 walks and rambles. He occasionally went over to the 
 Limes ; but the welcome that he received there was not of 
 the warmest, and he could not see Violet alone. 
 
 He took up the letter with a smile*, and read it. It was 
 not from Violet, but from her father, Francis Have, saying 
 that the marriage must be deferred for at least a year, as 
 lie was quite sure that under the circumstances Felix could 
 not hamper himself with a wife. "Violet was," he said, 
 "of the same opinion, as he would see," and, indeed, there 
 was a rose-tinted, sweet-scented note from Violet just a 
 few lines to the effect that she thought her father was 
 right. 
 
 He laid the notes down with a feeling of burning pain, a 
 thrill of passionate anguish that frightened him. Nothing 
 on earth, no power of man, should take her from him. She 
 was his own, and he would hold her xmtil life was ended. 
 Then he owned to himself that Mr. Haye was right 
 cruelly right that without money, with an invalid father, 
 a failing business, he could not take a wife. It was right 
 to defer it. He must be patient. After all, he had not lost 
 her. he reflected. She \vas still his own. 
 
 There came to him a mad desire to see her, to caress the 
 golden hair, to kiss the lovely lips that had on them the 
 hreath and fragrance of roses, to clasp the sweet white 
 hands in his own, to hear the music of the voice that had 
 no equal a wild, mad longing. He read her note through 
 again to see if he had overlooked some kindly word, to sen: 
 if she had written "my love." Then he thought to himself 
 that the little note was written for her father to see for 
 his faith in her was great ; he could not believe that her
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 41 
 
 love for him was not as true and as fervent as his love for 
 her. 
 
 " Have you some good news there, Felix ?" asked the 
 feeble voice of his father ; and the next moment Felix had 
 repressed the emotion so rapidly mastering him, as he 
 crushed the letter in his hand. 
 
 "It is only a note from Violet, father," he replied, and 
 the satisfied smile on his father's face rewarded him. 
 Darcy i.onsdale knew that while Violet was true to his 
 idoli/ed son nothing else would hurt him. 
 
 They were alone father and son for Kate had gone to 
 the nursery when the hall-door bell rang. Felix said, 
 cheerfully : 
 
 "Here is a visitor." 
 
 "Few visitors will come here; we have lost a fortune, 
 not found one," said Darcy Lorisdale, who had never spoken 
 ;i cynical word before. 
 
 But it was a visitor, and one whom they were both well 
 cont"nt t :> see. It was Evelyn Lester, with a basket of 
 gr;ipes and delicacies of all kinds for the invalid, and, what 
 was heller still, with the light oc love; and kindness on her 
 swi-et face, and with words of sympathy on her lips. As 
 Felix saw her bending over his father, he half wished for a 
 moment that Violet had done something like this had 
 pome to see them in their distress. Then he blamed him- 
 self for wishing that she were other than she was. Violet 
 : goddess to lie worsh ipcd - - K velyii a mortal woman. 
 w His father's face brighten as the girl's sweet voice; 
 soothed him with, well-chosen words. 
 
 "I knew you would come, Eve," he said. "Felix, place a 
 chair for her close here by my side ; it is like breathing the 
 fresh air of May to look at you, Eve. Now tell me, child, 
 something that will brighten me." 
 
 It was a pretty picture- the invalid lying on his conch, 
 
 rl with her sweet face and earnest eyes bending over 
 
 him, and, watching them at a, distance, the handsome son; 
 
 the fire burned brightly, the lamps were lighted, while 
 
 outside the north wind "wailed mournfully. 
 
 Evelyn look up a bunch of ripe purple grapes. 
 
 " I want to see you eat some of these, "she s.-iid. "Mrs. 
 Lonsdale told me that you ate nothing yesterday." And 
 taking the grapes one by one in her white lingers she held 
 them to his lips. 
 
 How could he refuse? He was so weak and feeble, he 
 had been so !y crushed by cruel words, that the 
 
 girl's simple kindness moved him.
 
 42 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I have been heart-broken, Eve," he said. "I did not 
 care to get well. " 
 
 " You will live it down," she returned, gently ; u and those 
 who have doubted you will be the first to feel ashamed of 
 their injustice." 
 
 " You have never doubted me, Eve ?" 
 
 " Oh, never ! How could I ? I should doubt all the world 
 first. " 
 
 Then she arose from her chair and knelt down by his 
 side ; she took both his hands such thin, worn hands ! 
 in hers, and held them there. 
 
 "I came to say something to you, Mr. Lonsdale," paid 
 she ; " and now that I am here I have hardly the courage. 
 Promise not to be angry with me." 
 
 "I could not be if I tried, dear child," he replied. 
 
 Her face flushed, and the light deepened in her eyes. 
 
 "You have known me all my life,'' she said "have you 
 not ? ever since I came here, a little friendless child. " 
 
 lv Yes, it is true, Eve." 
 
 " And you have always been kind to me. I have come to 
 you in a score of childish troubles, and you were always 
 kind to me. Now I want you to let me repay you for all 
 your kindness." She spoke so quickly that he could not 
 interrupt her. " I want to help you. You know that I have 
 money, plenty of money, all lying idle for I want none, 
 and Aunt Jane will not touch it. Do accept it ; let me give 
 it to you. I shall never want it, for I shall never marry. 
 Do take it ; you would make me happier than any one in 
 the wide world if you would. I am so grieved and so sorry 
 that I would go out and work for you if you would let me. 
 If you will not accept it, borrow it until you can repay me. 
 Do not refuse me let me help you." 
 
 Felix had come /nearer to her, listening in wonder to the 
 passionate words. Mr. Lonsdale drew the fair head 
 down near to him. 
 
 " So you would give me all your fortune, Eve ?" 
 
 There was a glad light in her eyes when she raised them 
 to his. 
 
 u I would double my fortune if I had it," she replied. 
 
 " And why, Eve tell me why you would be so good to 
 me ?" 
 
 The rich crimson flush burned her fair face ; she knew 
 why, but she could not tell him. 
 
 " Because I love you all, and you are my dearest friends, " 
 she replied. 
 
 " And you would give it to me all without reserve, Eve ?"
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 43 
 
 " A.11, and more if I had it," washer answer; and then 
 there was silence for some minutes, while the fire burned 
 brighter and the north wind wailed. 
 
 " My dear Evelyn," said Darcy Lonsdale and his voice 
 was broken with emotion "how shall I ever thank you '."' 
 
 An expression of perfect rapture came over the girl's 
 
 Vou will let me do it ?" she cried. " You have made me 
 t the happiest girls in the world !'' 
 
 The thin hands clasped hers, and the sunken eyes looked 
 tenderly into hers. 
 
 "Will I let you give it to me, my dearest Eve? No a 
 thousand times no ! It is not for the money I am thanking 
 you, but for the thought, for the intention. You have 
 gladdened my heart, you have gladdened my life you 
 have given me the courage to get better, you have given 
 me hope. I shall be so much the better for your coming." 
 
 "But that is not the point !" she cried. "Dear Mr. Lons- 
 dale, do accept the money. Ah, if you knew how little I 
 care for it, and how much I care for you if you knew the 
 pleasure it would give me, you could not refuse !" 
 
 He drew the sweet face down to his, and kissed it. 
 
 " My dear Eve, I would rather have this offer made to me 
 1 1 urn any other. You have restored some' of my self- 
 esteem, child, some of my self-respect." 
 
 Evelyn looked up in wonder, for Felix had bent down 
 and kissed her hand ; he gazed at the sweet, flushed face 
 with wonder. 
 
 Eve," he said, "you are an angel. I shall never forget 
 what you have said and done. I shall never forget that you 
 have given a desponding, almost despairing m;m, hope." 
 
 And again there came to him just a passing wish, a faint 
 deeting desire, that Violet had shown the same a fleet ion 
 for them ; but again he checked the thought. Violet was a 
 golden-haired goddess, and goddesses did not go about 
 making offers of their possessions to unfortunate men. 
 
 Kve could hardly be comforted because they would not 
 iier money. She did win one promise from Darey 
 Loiisdale, and that was. that if lie saw himself very hardly 
 pushed he would borrow a few hundreds at least to 
 with. But, though she had not suceeeded in the one great 
 object of her visit, she had at least done good she left 
 more hopeful hearts behind her. 
 
 Later on, when Felix had seen Eve home and Katie had 
 listened with eyes dimmed by tears to the story of her
 
 44 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 generosity the family sat around the fire discussing the 
 event. 
 
 "I shall get well now, Katie," said Darcy Lonsdale ; 
 "yesterday I felt that it was a matter of indifference to me 
 whether I lived or died, and now I have hope. Some 
 persons in the world retain their old faith in me. I shall 
 get well, and, as Evelyn says, I shall live my trouble 
 down. " 
 
 He had not heen so cheerful since the first shadow of the 
 cloud appeared, and from the depths of her heart, Kate 
 Lonsdale blessed the generous girl who had done so much 
 good. 
 
 "I wish," she said to herself, "that Felix had chosen 
 Evelyn. I should think of his future with hope if he were 
 going to marry her." For in the depths of Mrs. Lonsdale's 
 loving heart there lurked some little fear of beautiful Vio- 
 let Hayfe. 
 
 8< the winter passed. Mr. Lonsdale recovered his health 
 but slowly ; the spring of his life seemed broken he found 
 living his trouble doAvn more difficult than he had antici 
 pated. lie had withdrawn himself from all positions of 
 trust ; he gave up nis office 0s church warden, he would no 
 longer be overseer. 
 
 " If they could believe that of me," he said, "I will hold 
 no trust among them." 
 
 And he did not. What business was brought to his office 
 he did, but he no longer mixed with his fellow-men. He 
 had taken a leading part in all the business of the town ; 
 now he was absent from all the meetings, and there was a 
 of remorse among his old friends a slight feeling 
 that perhaps after all they had misjudged him. Still he 
 found life hard. There were times when the brave heai't 
 would have given way but for the remembrance that the 
 few nearest and dearest to him had trusted him. 
 
 Felix had had his difficulties ; lie had hastened to the 
 Limes a* soon as possible after the receipt of his letter. 
 Francis Have received him coolly. 
 
 "I do not wish," he said, "to part you from Violet I do 
 not say that the engagement must be broken off ; but I 
 do say that the marriage must not take place until you 
 are in a better position to support a wife." 
 
 There was nothing then but for Felix to submit; he had 
 to irample down the wild longing, the passionate love, and 
 his sorrow educated him. He learned patience, persever- 
 ance, endurance, and self-control. The trial would have 
 been easier to bear had he found that Violet was distressed
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 45 
 
 about it. He looked in vain tor some trace of sorrow on 
 the lovely laughing face for some sign of iv.mvt ; there 
 was none. She had written a wry pretty note of condo- 
 lence to Parry Lonsdale, and when Felix talked to her she 
 shook her golden head and said it was very sad ; hut when 
 he went, to her with his heart full of passionate love, pas- 
 sionate longing and regret, and spoke ahont their marriage 
 deferred, she looked very gravely at him and said : 
 .anuot lie helped, Felix : and, after all, what does it 
 matter.' What differneco will a few years make .' By not 
 marrying now we both escape the misery of li\-ing on lim- 
 ited means.'' 
 
 IHit he was half mad with his misery, and was not to be 
 put off with such words. He took her white hands in his, 
 and held them in an iron grasp. 
 
 "Hive you r,o pity to extend to me T he cried. "Have 
 you no word to comfort me? Have you no heart ? That 
 which is a relief to you is deadly torment, deadly anguish, 
 to me. Oh, Violet, you would have been a truer woman if 
 you had clasped your arms around my neck, if you had laid 
 your f.ice on my shoulder, and consoled me." 
 
 The ring of passion in his voice frightened her, as it al- 
 ways did : she shrank with a scared face from the great 
 oiild not understand. 
 
 "1 hav:- to work and wait," he said. "Oh, my beautiful 
 
 love, 1 would work for you as no man has worked, if need 
 
 should be. It is not that, but. I had built up my hopes, and 
 
 them all destroyed. I had helieved thai 
 
 this year I should take my darling honfte to begin the life- 
 that would be joy for me. 1 am young, and feel keenly; it 
 ;.-rril>le disappointment to me a terrible blow. Oh, 
 Violet, help me to lie;-.r it !" 
 
 d her beautiful, half-frightened face to his. 
 "What can I do to help you '." 
 
 "Ki have a shy. coy. formal kiss, Vio- 
 
 let. Kiss mo ?s th"iigh your heart answered mine. Say 
 you are sorry {or me. and thai you will love me and help 
 me to v< a .dl this my heart is hungry 1* 
 
 wished. She laid her golden head on his 
 > him that she was sorry for him, 
 
 and then she raised her fair face and kissed him. In that 
 M! he welcomed pain it was all changed into untold 
 
 him because it won a little kindness from her. 
 "1 shall bear it all now, my darling," h> "The 
 
 wailing, the suspense, the uncertainty, tho d;
 
 46 WEARER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 enall bear it all. I shall remember these moments, and I 
 shall bless the pain that brought me this happiness. " 
 
 A few moments afterward she looked up and gave a lit- 
 tle low laugh. 
 
 " How strange it is !" she said. " After all, you know I 
 never qaite promised." 
 
 Felix smiled. He was too happy just then to think se- 
 riously of her words. 
 
 "I have give.: you the greatest love, Violet, that a man 
 can give a v oman. You will not give me ashes in return. 
 I have no fear my heart rests on you. The only thing 
 that I deplor stha u months ust pass yet before I can 
 call my darling my own ; yet I shall Avait and work in hope. 
 All things come to him who knows how to wait ; and you 
 will come, my beautiful love, in time." 
 
 There was something pathetic in his deep love and his 
 great trust. 
 
 He left her that evening feeling happier than he had felt 
 for some time. Violet loved him. She had never been so 
 kind to him before. He forgot that he had asked her for 
 the kindness it had not been spontaneous. " There is a 
 silver lining to every cloud," he thought, as he walked 
 home. " But for this trouble I should never have known 
 how Violet loved me. She was so shy and reserved before, 
 now she is kind and gracious. Sorrow has been my sun it 
 has brightened my love. " 
 
 Felix kept his word. He worked hard and denied him- 
 self much that makes life bright, but the labor was one of 
 love. He could notrsee Violet so often as he had seen her 
 his days were entirely devoted to business but he went 
 to the Limes in the evening. On the part of Francis Haye 
 there was a sort of armed neutrality. He watched the 
 young lovers, he took care that they should not enjoy many 
 tete-a-tetes, but he did not take any active proceedings. 
 He was a worldly man, and after all Felix Lonsdale might 
 accomplish something out in the world. The chances were, 
 all things considered, in his favor. Felix had his consola- 
 tions in the shape of little love-letters, inclosing violets, 
 forget-me-nots, pretty leaves, or some rare flower letters 
 that in after years were like strains of half-forgotten music 
 to him. They were very simple letters, but they were far 
 more dear and precious to him than if they had contained 
 gems of poetry and wonders of prose. The arrival of one 
 of them brightened his whole day. How he read and re- 
 read it, pondering each word in his mind, to see how much 
 it conveyed, and then locking the letter away at night with
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 47 
 
 his treasures. In what words of rapture he answered Vio- 
 let's notes for he had but one love, Violet; one hope, 
 which was to win Violet; one faith, which was centered in 
 Violet. 
 
 So winter wore away, and genial, lovely spring, heralded 
 by snow-drops and crocuses, came to gladden the hearts 
 and souls of men. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SIR OWEN CHEVENIX. 
 
 " Sir Owen Chevenix. " The inhabitants of Lilford ut- 
 
 'icred the name with awe and respect. Those who had never 
 
 Been Sir Owen made a point of talking about him; while 
 
 who had not only scon him, but talked to him, wore, 
 
 elevated almost to another sphere. Sir Owen was a man of 
 
 note. He was that much-to-be-envied person, a millionaire, 
 
 and lie had just purchased the finest estate in Loomshire. 
 
 It was called Garswood Hall, and lay between Lilford and 
 
 >wn of Oldstone. 
 
 There had been great excitement about this property. It 
 bad belonged to Lord Garswood, who was chiefly famous 
 for his great love of travel It was seldom that he spent 
 two years together in England ; ami now that he had re 
 solved upon living entirely in the east, Garswood Hall, 
 with the grand estate belonging to it, came into the market, 
 and the fortunate purchaser was Sir ( >WOTI ( 'hevenix. 
 
 Sir Owen had arrived in great state at Garswood. Ser- 
 vants, carriages, horses, {rrandour of all kinds, had pre- 
 ceded him. Every one, was talking of him. The number 
 of horses in his stables and of servants in his household, 
 the marvels of gnld and silver plate at the Hall, the won- 
 ders in the shape of magnificent furniture these things 
 formed the staple of conversation in every house inLilfonl. 
 Then came the crowning intelligence, he was not married 
 this millionaire on whom Fortune had lavished her ^ifts; 
 and the excitement rO66 to a great height when this he- 
 came known. Maids and' matrons took the greatest inter- 
 est in him, the grandees of the county waited upon him, 
 fashionable mothers offered him advice about his house- 
 hold, about the parties he intended giving, and about tho 
 people h must invite, while the squires were much inter- 
 ested in his stable and pack of hounds. The younger la- 
 dies wondered what ho would be like, and which among
 
 48 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 them would be the happy one chosen as queen of Gars- 
 wood. 
 
 He must marry ; that was very certain he could not live 
 alone at such a place as Garswood. The matrons looked 
 mysteriously at each other, and said that it was to be 
 hoped he would settle soon ; it was so much better for a 
 man to marry young. Sir Owen himself made inquiries 
 about the fairer portion of the population. 
 
 " Have you any pretty girls in this part of the world ?" 
 he asked one day of Captain Hill, the sporting man par 
 excellence of the neighborhood. 
 
 " I believe so, " he replied " I have heard people say so. 
 It is not in my line, you understand." 
 
 " Exactly Well, it is in mine and a very pleasant line 
 I find it. The only thing I dreaded in coming hither was 
 that I should find nothing but rustic beauty of the milk- 
 maid sort. I have decided distaste for it, and the fact of 
 the matter is, I am looking out for a beautiful wife." 
 
 "It is a very sensible thing to do," said Captain Hill. 
 
 "It is all very well," continued Sir Owen, "for philoso- 
 phers to say there is nothing in beauty. That is all a mis- 
 take ; every woman ought to be beautiful. I will go so far 
 as this I would rather marry a woman with great beauty 
 and a thousand faults than a plain woman with the virtues 
 of an angel. I like something pleasant to look at." 
 
 And these ideas of the millionaire were soon known 
 throughout the neighborhood. Beauty was at a premium ; 
 the plain faces gave up the contest. 
 
 Sir Owen Chevenix very soon became the great man of 
 the county. He did not like Oldstone, but he did like Lil- 
 f ord ; he had little patience with the gentry, but he liked 
 the sporting squires. He was so lavish in his orders, so 
 extravagant in bis expenditures, that the tradesmen of Lil- 
 ford looked upon him as an especial gift of Povidmre, 
 while his coming seemed to have given fresh life to the 
 .county. 
 
 When the month of blossoms came round Sir Owen was 
 quite settled at Garswood. He had won golden opinions 
 by not going up to town for the season. Now that he was 
 a landed proprietor, he declared his intention of remaining 
 on his land. 
 
 He had already attended one or two meetings of differ- 
 ent kinds at Lilt'ord, and he received an invitation from 
 Doctor Hunter, the vicar, to attend the annual festival of 
 the school-children, held always in the month of May. At 
 first he had thrown it contemptuously aside. What ha.d
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 49 
 
 he, the sporting baronet, as he liked to hear himself called, 
 if) do with school-children? He sent a check which caused 
 the good vicar to open his eyes. Then, some one having 
 told him that all the elite of the neighborhood attended the 
 
 fcti', ho went. 
 
 In a. field near the vicarage the school-children played to 
 their hearts' content ; while in the vicarage grounds the 
 .' f /ff on joyed themselves in quieter fashion. The military 
 i >and from Oldstone was there, pretty white tents were 
 d, there were croquet and law tennis, quadrilles for 
 those who liked dancing, and archery for those who en- 
 joyed shooting. Sir Owen Chevenix, having heard that all 
 the pretty tfirls in the neighborhood would be there, de- 
 cided on going himself. No one but Doctor and Mrs. Hun- 
 ter knew of his intention, and they had kept it a secret, in- 
 tending to surprise their guests. As a matter of course, 
 beautiful Violet Haye was to be there. Evelyn Lester had 
 been invited, and the vicar had discussed with his wife the 
 advisability of sending an invitation to Felix Lonsdale. 
 
 "There is a black mark against the whole family," said 
 the vicar, who forgot at times that his gospel was the gos- 
 pel of peaee, and thought more of justice than of mercy. 
 "1 do not say that Darcy Lonsdale was guilty of that which 
 was laid to his eharge, but there is a mark against him.' 1 
 
 - A-a.inst the father, David, but not the son," corrected 
 his wife. 
 
 You might as well try to distinguish between husband 
 and wife as between father and son," rejoined the vicar. 
 
 "There is another thing," said the diplomatic lady; "we 
 must ask Violet. Have. She is, in truth, the greatest at- 
 traction we shall ha ve to ofl'er, and, as they are lovers, I 
 do not quite see how they can be parted on such an occa- 
 
 " 1 shall do it against my will," remarked the vicar. 
 ' Well, that is tar Letter than not doing it at r.ll," replied 
 Mrs. Hunter. "It will be a kind of test; if we see that poo- 
 -<-em shy of Felix Lonsdale, we must not ask him 
 in." 
 
 So Felix received an invitation. If he had known how 
 and why it uas iriven to him he would have placed it under 
 his heel and have gone twenty miles in an opposite direc- 
 tion; as it was, it gave him unbounded pleasure. He was 
 to meet Violet; he would spend a whole half day with her; 
 uld see her beautiful and admired, yet with the proud 
 consciousness that she was his all his his promised wife; 
 and when he reached that point in his reflections he re-
 
 50 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 membered how she had raised her face to his with the 
 laughing words, " I have not quite promised. " Still that 
 meant nothing ; there was no truth so sure as Violet's. 
 
 The prospect of that one day to be spent with her de- 
 lighted him. He sat up the greater part of the night, so 
 that by his unusual holiday business might not suffer. It 
 seemed to him the time would never come when he would 
 meet Violet. 
 
 Nor had beautiful Violet Haye been unmindful of the 
 coming fete. Her father had looked grave over the milli- 
 ner's bill when it was given to him ; but Violet had deter- 
 mined on being queen of the fete. Mrs. Brownson, Mrs, 
 Boulders, and Miss Stanley would certainly be there, per- 
 haps even Lady Balfe, and she must be dressed suitably to 
 meet these potentates. 
 
 A beautiful costume of white muslin, rich lace, and blue 
 ribbons was provided, with a wonderful little hat that 
 seemed to be made of feathers ; and Violet decided that she 
 had never looked so well before. She pictured to 1. 
 an easy sovereignty. Eve Lester was the only one she 
 feared, but then Eve was never given to dress and flirta- 
 tion. 
 
 The month of May had never set in more beautifully. 
 The world was all thrilling with new life, the green leaves 
 were springing on the trees, the hedges pink and white with 
 hawthorn, the violets nestling in the fields, the primroses 
 growing in great golden clusters at the foot of the trees ; 
 the air Avas fragrant with the odor of a thousand sweet 
 flowers, all nature glad and bright. To be in the midst of 
 all this beauty, and with Violet, was something for Felix 
 to dream of. 
 
 Lovely, laughing May had given her fairest hours for the 
 fete ; every one was full of congratulations the sunshine, 
 the music, everything was so beautiful. Felix saw nothing 
 but the bright face of his love. They walked over the 
 smooth green lawns together, and then Violet, turning sud- 
 denly to her lover, said : 
 
 " Have you heard all the wonderful stories about the new 
 corner, Sir Owen Chevenix ?'' 
 
 "I find but little time for gossip," he replied; "still I 
 have heard that he is wealthy, and likes to spend his money 
 freely." 
 
 Violet's face had quite a light upon it as she continued : 
 
 " People say that his plate is superb. Felix, I should 
 like to eat my dinner off a golden plate. " 
 
 "It would be no better for that. Violet.'* he replied, long-
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 51 
 
 ing with all his heart to be able to make her such a pres- 
 ent. " You know the saying about the dish of herbs?" 
 
 " Yes, I know it, but I do hot believe in it. How won- 
 derful it must be, Felix, to live in such a grand house, to 
 have so much money and so many luxuries !" 
 
 "I know something that I would rather have than all Sir 
 Owen's luxuries," said Felix. 
 
 " What is it f she asked, eagerly. 
 
 " Your love, Violet. " And she knew that he meant what 
 he said. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 "WHAT A HORRIBLE MAN!" 
 
 Under one of the spreading elms on the vicarage lawn 
 sfood Violet Haye, talking to her lover. They were wat.ch- 
 te contest for a silver arrow, enjoying the failures 
 and mistakes which were out of all proportion to the sue- 
 . The sunlight fell on her, tinging the golden hair 
 with deeper gold, making the fair ilower like face still 
 More fair, brightening the white dress with golden gleams. 
 As she stood there her crimson lips parted, smiling at the 
 bright s-cene before her, she looked like a, picture of some- 
 thing almost too fair and ethereal for earth. Her lover was 
 near her. For him the fete held naught hut Violet, lie 
 ipposed to be watching the archers- he was looking 
 at Violet. The sunlight was not so fair to him as IN- light 
 )ii her eyes. The harmony that came from the whispering 
 wind, the silvery murmur of laughter, the notes of the air 
 xhat the hand was playing held not such music as her 
 voice. Many eyes lingered mi the handsome rm;ple under 
 the great elm. Men looked with envy. Many a man there 
 would have given half he had in the world tn stand by 
 Violefssideasa.n accepted suitor. Women looked with 
 jealous admiration; they could say just what they liked 
 about her, they could criticise her dress and her manner, 
 out each one knew she was simply the most beautiful 
 woman present. 
 
 The fete \\ as at its height. From the meadow came the 
 hearty shouts of the children at play. Suddenly there 
 seemed to be. a . slight commotion amon^the guests, and 
 Felix saw the vicar standing with a gentN-ma.ii who was. 
 certainly not remarkable for the handsomeness of his per- 
 appearance, but the vicar seemed to be impressed by
 
 52 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 his presence. Then Captain Hill joined them, and the vicar 
 went away, leaving the two men together. 
 
 The new-comer, Sir Owen Chevenix, turned to his friend 
 with a smile. 
 
 "It is not bad," he said, "but I see nothing that repays 
 me for the trouble of coming. " 
 
 Captain Hill turned slowly, and motioned to the great 
 elm tree. 
 
 "That is the prettiest sight in the grounds," he re- 
 marked ; and a curious light came over the heavy face of 
 Sir Owen Chevenix as he gazed. At the same time some 
 keen, subtle instinct which he could not understand told 
 Captain Hill that he had acted cruelly. 
 
 "You are right," agreed Sir Owen Chevenix, looking in- 
 tently at Violet " that is by far the prettiest sight in the 
 grounds. Who is that young lady ?" 
 
 " Miss Violet Haye," replied the captain. An honest im- 
 pulse prompted him to add, " She is engaged to Felix Lons- 
 dale," but a subtle sense that such a statement would be 
 displeasing to Sir Owen restrained him. 
 
 "Will you introduce me to Miss Haye?" asked the baro- 
 net. The light in his eyes had groAvn lurid ; the captain 
 did not like it. 
 
 " It would be better for Mrs. Hunter to do that," he re- 
 plied. " I am not one of Miss Haye's friends." 
 
 Sir Owen walked quickly away. There was a look on his 
 face as of earnest purpose, when he saw Mrs. Hunter. She 
 listened to his request, and she wondered at the strange 
 light on his face. 
 
 " Introduce you to Miss Haye ?" she said. " Of course I 
 will, with the greatest pleasure." Then, oddly, some subtle 
 doubt crossed her mind ; but she would not think of it for 
 one moment. Sir Owen Chevenix was the great personage 
 of the entertainment, the great attraction of the fete. She 
 must certainly do as he requested. Why not? Violet Haye 
 was a beautiful girl, and it was only reasonable that every 
 one should admire her. So she walked across the lawn with 
 Sir Owen, who was the observed of all observers. 
 
 The sun shone just as brightly, there was no cloud in the 
 blue sky, no wail in the sweet western wind ; the flowers 
 did not droop or tremble, the leaves did not quiver, as they 
 might have done could they have known what was draw- 
 ing near. 
 
 Neither Violet nor her lover saw the two until Mrs. Hun 
 ter spoke.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 63 
 
 "Miss Haye," she said, "Sir Owen Chevenix has asked 
 me to introduce him to you." 
 
 Violet's face flushed hotly it was so sudden, it was such 
 a surprise. This was the rich baronet of whom so short a 
 time before she had bern speaking with such awe and 
 wonder. She bowed, and murmured a few words she 
 never remembered what they were ; then, as a matt 
 course, Mrs. Hunter was compelled to introduce Felix. Sir 
 Owen acknowl ed th introduction by a few careless 
 words. The whole scene occurred in the radiant sunlight 
 ID the midst ol " looming flowers and happy faces, yet it 
 was the prelude to a te rible tragedy. 
 
 u A beautiful da^ " said S'r Owen to Violet "a charm 
 ing scene, too, quite rural, quite pastoral the kind of 
 thing I like." 
 
 Bur. Violet had not recovered her composure. She was 
 quite unused to society, and the consciousness that she was 
 talking to a rich young baronet, the great man of the 
 neighborhood, was for the moment too much for her. Ho 
 liked her shy, pretty embarrassment. He had been ac- 
 customed to women whose eyes met his boldly, who 
 him word for word, repartee for repartee ; he liked tin- 
 drooping eyes that showed the long fringed lashes, the 
 downcast face, so attractive in its sweet confusion. Felix 
 iiimlo some remark, and again the baronet answered him 
 with a careless word or two. 
 
 '' I hear that we are to have quadrilles," said Sir < )wen to 
 ct. "Will you favor me with the first. Miss Ha; 
 
 She answered "Yes," because she did not know how to 
 refuse him. 
 
 i-ai -no idea that this kind of thing could b 
 
 in f. place like Lilford," said Sir < >wen. " 
 spir.-H me with an idea I must really give a /</ at < iars- 
 
 ' That would be very pleasant," returned Violet, shyly. 
 
 \voui<. \i YOU were there," thought Sii o\\. 
 there you shall he queen or the./'. i<- if I can n 
 Alou< he said- ' Have von -wood. Miss Hay.' ." 
 
 ' have been in the 'p ark >" replied Violet, " but i . 
 not seen tiie house.'' 
 
 ' There ;- plenty of room for a f<-h- there. I an -inite in 
 love with the place mvself if. has such line old ; 
 grand oak* and elms, such ferns, and all thai ki: 
 
 till?! 
 
 Violet wondered for one moment whether it was fashion 
 able to be always speaking oi " that, kind ot tiling," and
 
 &* WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 why it was that the baronet had such a dearth of ideas. 
 She looked up at him so inquiringly that Sir Owen almost 
 involuntarily said : 
 
 " Were you going to ask me anything ?" 
 
 Her face flushed again, rememberiner what she had 
 thought. He thought her rich, lovely color going and 
 coming the most attractive thing he had ever seen in his 
 life. To give her time to recover herself he addressed 
 some indifferent remark to Felix. 
 
 He was not gifted with any remarkable comeliness, this 
 young baronet to whom fortune had been so kind. He was 
 tall and thin, without any dignity or ease of manner ; his 
 gait was awkward, his hands and arms always gave one the 
 impression that they were more than he could manage. His 
 hair was black, his eyes were dark, with furtive expression ; 
 he had a dark heavy mustache, which drooped over cruel 
 lips ; his face was a strange mixture of moral weakness 
 and brute force. His voice was unpleasant ; there was no 
 mellow ring in it, no music ; it was high, clear, and shrill ; 
 but then he wore a superb diamond pin ::nd diamond rings, 
 his dress was a marvel of the tailor' ; art, and he had an in- 
 come of forty thousand a year. What was the grand manly 
 beauty of Antinous, the grace of Apollo, compared with 
 that ? 
 
 *' You will remember you have promised me the first quad- 
 rille, Miss Haye. I see Lady Rolfe. I must pay my devoirs 
 to her." and with a low bow Sir Owen turned away. 
 
 "What splendid diamonds !" cried Violet. 
 
 "What a horrible man !" thought Felix. 
 
 Violet had been struck with the gems, Felix had been 
 chiefly impressed by the awkward gait and ungainly car 
 riage. He turned to Violet. 
 
 " My darling." L~ said, " why have you promised to dance 
 with that horrible man '." 
 
 kk Horrible !" cried Violet. " Do you know how rich and 
 how great he is, Felix ?" 
 
 " That makes him even more horrible it is so many mag- 
 nificent gifts wasted. You must not dance with him, Vio- 
 let, but with me. You are mine you belong to me. I 
 cannot let you go to him even for one dance even for five 
 minutes." 
 
 Violet laughed. 
 
 "I must dance with him now that I have promised, 
 Felix." 
 
 "I do not think that t shall be able to endure it, Violet
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 55 
 
 I am afraid, if I see his hand touching you, I shall strike 
 it aside. " 
 
 She laughed again as a child laughs who points a loaded 
 gun for mischief, never dreaming that it may cause sudden 
 death. , 
 
 " I feel that I ought to have danced that quadrille with 
 you, Felix, " she said, u but really I did not know how to 
 refuse. I was quite embarras d you must have seen it. 
 How jealous all the other girls will be ! How Lady Rolfe 
 will watch me ! She said the other day that her daughter, 
 that insipid-looking girl, was far more beautiful than 1. 
 She is not, is she, Felix ?" 
 
 The lips that asked the question were of the loveliest 
 crimson, the eyes that looked into his were like violets 
 steeped in dew, the face smiling before him was like a 
 blush-rose ; that the words were foolish never occurred to 
 him. 
 
 "My darling, you are more beautiful than any one else," 
 he said. " Violet, you must dance this quadrille with Sir 
 Owen, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, I must, indeed," she replied. 
 
 " It drives me half mad to think of it. Violet, do not look 
 at him as you look at me do not, do not let him know how 
 sweet your smile is. Oh, Violet, I shall go mad if you do !'' 
 
 Again she laughed. " You will have to go mad then, Felix, 
 for I cannot dance with him like a stoic, can I ?" 
 
 " You are mine, Violet. Ii I had a lovely, rare, and prec- 
 ious lily, should I like every one to touch it and inhale its 
 sweetness? You are my own you belong to me." 
 
 "Here comes Sir Owen," said Violet, cutting short the 
 passionate words. "I shall not be long away from you, 
 Felix," and, laying her white hand on Sir Owen's arm, 
 they went away together. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "I BELONG TO YOU, FELIX." 
 
 As Violet had foreseen, glances of wonder followed her 
 and her companion. Lady Rolfe was bitterly annoyed ; 
 here was this girl chosen by Sir Owen, whilo her own 
 dauirhters sat unnoticed. Mrs. Hunter did not know 
 whether to be .triad o- sorry; of course it was a, ^reat thing 
 to have Sir Owen there, and to see him enjoy himself and 
 evidently feel so perfeetly at home, but Sir Owen should
 
 66 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 have danced with Miss Rolfe, certainly not with Violet 
 Haye. 
 
 Sir Owen, however, was grandly indifferent ; a man pos- 
 sessed of forty thousand per annum is master of almost 
 every situation, and he certainly was master of this. He 
 enjoyed the quadrille very much. 
 
 "I had no idea al fresco dancing was so pleasant," he 
 said, u but dancing anywhere with you, Miss Haye, would 
 be the same, I should imagine. Who was that gentleman 
 talking to you under the tree ?" 
 
 "That is Mr. Felix Lonsdale," she replied. And he fan- 
 cied the warm blush that came over her face was the result 
 of his compliment. 
 
 " Lonsdale ! Is not that the name of the lawyer who 
 forged a will, or something of that kind ?" asked Sir 
 Owen. 
 
 She looked up at him, horrified by the words. 
 
 "You are making a grave mistake, Sir Owen," she said. 
 " Mr. Lonsdale was falsely accused of having influenced one 
 of his clients to leave him money, but it was not true. " 
 
 " True or not, I wish that I were in his place, " said Sir 
 Owen. 
 
 " Why ?" she asked, in wonder. 
 
 " Because you defend him. I wonder if you heard evil 
 spoken of me whether you would defend me ?" 
 
 " Do people speak evil of you ?" she asked. 
 
 " I suppose so," was the careless relpy ; " not that I care. 
 Why should I care ? Nothing of that kind matters to me. 
 But I know they tell queer stories about me. They say I 
 drink and gamble they say that I But I forgot I must 
 not repeat scandal to you. Now if you heard these things 
 said of me, would you defend me ?" 
 
 " How can I answer you ? You forget that I have never 
 seen you before." 
 
 " Yet you defend this Lonsdale. Do you know him ?" 
 
 " The Mr. Lonsdale who has siiffered so unjustly is the 
 father of the gentleman to whom you saw me speaking," 
 she replied, u and he is one of the oldest friends I have in 
 Lilford." 
 
 "I suppose," said the baronet, "that Lonsdale's son 
 imagines himself a very handsome man. That kind of man 
 always thinks a great deal of himself." 
 
 "Do you think him handsome?" asked Violet, who knew 
 that her lover had the statuesque beauty of a Greek god. 
 
 "I never waste one thought on a man's face," he re- 
 plied.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 67 
 
 But Violet's quick instinct told her that the awkward 
 baronet was jealous of the young lawyer. 
 
 Then the quadrille was over, but he would not leave her. 
 She must go with him to have some refreshment he was 
 sure she felt tired. If he had only known, he would have 
 sent all kinds of choice fruits over for the fete, but how 
 could he foresee that the queen of society herself was to be 
 present ? 
 
 It was all flattery, but very pleasant flattery, when 
 ofl'ercd by a man worth forty thousand per annum. It was 
 pleasant, too, to know that every one was looking at her, 
 every one was thinking and talking about her. t>he could 
 not help contrasting her present position with that she had 
 occupied half an hour previously. 
 
 Felix Lonsdale had been but coldly received. No one 
 seemed to forget that he was the son of a man whose fair 
 fame was darkened by a dark cloud. The elite had not 
 rereived him very kindly. Lady Rolfe had passed him 
 with a bow; Mrs. Brownson had held out two fingers for 
 him to shake, and had drawn them back very quickly; 
 Mrs. Boulders had shaken hands with him and then 
 i round very quickly to see if any one had ob- 
 1 her. He had not been "cut;" no one had been 
 pointedly uncivil, but he had been coldly received, and 
 Violet had observed it even more keenly than he had him- 
 self, when she stood talking to him. She had a strange 
 I'eeling ;is though she were in some manner sharing his 
 disgrace as though she, too, were under a cloud. 
 
 Now it was so different. Sir Owen's glory seemed to be 
 reflected on her; people who had never troubled them- 
 selves to speak to her before now were fulsomely polite to 
 her. It was but reflected glory, she knew; still it was 
 very pleasant. 
 
 Sir <) wen insisted on her taking some refreshment ; he 
 waited upon her as though she bad been a princess ; she 
 could not tell how it was, but she seemed suddenly to have 
 left far behind her the world of sorrow, pain, and disgraee. 
 in which, through sympathy with Felix, she had been 
 living so long. 
 
 "Here is your friend," said Sir Owen ; and, looking up 
 suddenly, she saw Felix at the entrance of the tent looking 
 wistfully at her. 
 
 At first something like impatience vexed her. It was 
 such a magnificent, triumph for her, lie might let her en.joy 
 it he might have waited a few minutes. It was not every 
 day that she was waited ujion by a rich baronet and envied
 
 58 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 by other women ; she might never see Sir Owen again, 
 while ail her life was to be spent with Felix. Surely he 
 might have waited a tew minutes longer ; but no, he Wci8 
 coming to her, and her triumph was nded , she had ao 
 idea of resisting his will, and arose from her seat. Su* 
 Owen looked at her in amazement. 
 
 "Are you going?" he asked. "I was just about to ;~re 
 sume to ask if you would go with me to see the -lowers , 
 they have some very fine ones here, I am told. ' 
 
 ^be looked helplessly from one to the other. She lid not 
 kno\v how to refuse such a tempting offer from Sir Dwon^ 
 it would be an unequaled triumph for all the guests :o see 
 her to soe how proud and pleased he was to escort tier 
 through the grounds ; but it seemed equally impossible to 
 leave Felix, who bad looked forward with such delight to 
 this holiday with her. So the beautiful eyes glanced first 
 at one and then at the other, while the white fingers oyed 
 with the pretty flowers she held up until their scented 
 h'iivcs fell 011 the ground. Felix cut the Gordian .tnot for 
 her. 
 
 "Pardon me for the interruption," he said. "Miss Haye 
 kind enough to promise me that honor." 
 
 He took Violet's hand, placed it on his arm, ^,nd _sd her 
 from the tent. 
 
 The baronet stood looking after them with Jiore than 
 amazement in his fare. 
 
 " What unequaled impertinence !" he said. " Thy rather 
 of such a man as that would be capable of forging nail ii 
 dozen wills.'' 
 
 "Oh, Felix," said Violet, "I am afraid you have offended 
 him !" 
 
 "I do not care if I have. Violet. You are mine. "What 
 right has he to monopolize you? I know we are not mar- 
 ried ; but it is almost the same thing. You are my prom- 
 ised wife, and no one shall take you away from me ^ven. 
 for one hour. Come away from all these people I ,/ant 
 to talk to you. Come down this avenue of'chestnuts." 
 
 He mastered her by his stronger will ; she went without 
 one word. They walked slowly down the avenue ^i Chest- 
 nuts, the sunlight glancing on her golden hair and white 
 dress. 
 
 " Let me look at you, Violet," he cried, with tne passion- 
 ate impatience of a young lover. "" It seems to me that that 
 man's presence near you must have dimmed your beauty 
 as poisonous air kills a delicate flower. Let me look at 
 you, my darling."
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 69 
 
 He held her hand, and stood looking at her, watching the 
 r:i'li ;uit face with such love in his eyes that a woman must 
 have had a marble heart to resist hii: 1 .. 
 
 " No," he said ; "you are just the same. You must humor 
 my fancies, Violet. Does not some OIK; say that 'great 
 love is semi-madness ?' It is true. You must humor my 
 fancies, sweet. Stand here; let this cool breeze blow over 
 you it will purify you from even the very breath and 
 echo of his words/' 
 
 She laughed a low, tremulous laugh, but the words 
 touched her. She stood quite still, and the western wind 
 kissed her face, played with her golden hair, showered the 
 chestnut blossoms over her. 
 
 "You shall not even have the echo of another man's 
 words hanging over you, sweet," he said. "Now the breeze 
 has taken it all away/' 
 
 " ( >h. Felix, how much you love me ! It makes me trem- 
 ble to think of it." 
 
 "You do not understand it even yet/' he replied. 
 
 As she walKed by her lover's side she could not help 
 feeling the contrast. AVho would ever -who could 
 love her as this man did ? Who in the whole wide world, 
 She thought, had ever been so loved except herself '. The 
 memory of his words thrilled hey; they stirred the inmost 
 depths of her soul. How he loved her, this handsome, 
 noble-hearted man! His very heart, his soul and life, 
 seemed wrapped up in her. 
 
 F.ven as she felt these things she could not help noticing 
 the dilVerence. When she had crossed the lawn with Sir 
 Owen she had met nothing hut bows, smiles, glances of ad- 
 miration, ill-concealed envy and wonder. Now that si: 
 
 again with Felix no one noticed her, no one spoke to 
 her. It, was like being in a different world. 
 
 Sir Owen had been asked to play croquet, and had re- 
 fused. He had taken a, bird's ev view of the pariy four 
 old maids and a hopeless schoolgirl. It was not in his line, 
 -urcd Mrs. Hunter. I le would not engage himself in 
 any particular way; he would only linger and wait, watch- 
 ing for the next glimpse of the beautiful face that hud set 
 Ins heart and brain on fire. 
 
 Ilcsa- -her at last, standing with Felix watching the 
 pla.yers at lawn-tennis, and the next moment he was by her 
 side. I/i.dy Uolfe. eying him, whispered to M.-s. Hunter: 
 
 "Sir Owen sec ais 1o be infatuated with Violet I laye. 
 
 Some one should tell him she is engaged. Dear Mrs. Hun 
 ter. would you mind saying that I should liko to speak to
 
 60 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 him?" And she smiled a well-satisfied smile when she 
 saw the vicar's wife deliver her' message. 
 
 " You wished to speak to me f said Sir Owen, approach- 
 ing Lady Rolfe, with an air of ill-concealed impatience. 
 
 She saw that he looked annoyed, and had recourse to her 
 favorite weapon flattery. 
 
 " If it is permitted to an elderly lady like myself to feel 
 jealous I certainly am jealous. We are old" friends of 
 nearly two months' standing, yet you have not spent five 
 minutes with me. Sit down here, and give me your views 
 about the fete. " 
 
 Ungraciously enough he took a seat by her side. She saw 
 him look with angry eyes at Felix and Violet ; but Lady 
 Rolfe was a woman with a purpose. It took much to 
 daunt her. 
 
 "I lu.ve n3 views," he declared, angrily. "I am quitb 
 tired of people with views." 
 
 " Clever men are all alike," remarked her ladyship, and 
 his face softened a little at the words. " At least we have 
 had a beautiful day, " she said, " and beautiful music. " 
 
 He could not deny it, or he would have done so. She 
 continued : 
 
 "This is the first time that you have met your new 
 friends and neighbors together. Do you like them :" 
 
 "They are very much like other people," he sneered. 
 
 "You are sarcastic," cried her ladyship. "It is very 
 wrong, but I really adore sarcasm." 
 
 His face relaxed just a trifle more. She watched hir^ in- 
 tently. He Avas worth some trouble ; for as soon as he had 
 entered the neighborhood she had resolved upon marrying 
 her daughter to him. 
 
 "There are some nice girls here," said her ladyship 
 "some very pretty girls Violet Haye for one." 
 
 Then his face brightened. She had touched on a happy 
 theme at last. 
 
 "Violet Haye is quite the queen of the/efe," she con- 
 tinued. "There are few, if any, who can compare with 
 her.' 1 
 
 "There is not one," he said, and in her heart her lady- 
 ship disliked him for the words. 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," she allowed, calmly. "J do not 
 know who could really be said to be like her. She is a 
 fortunate girl, too. She has no great fortune, and no con- 
 nections, yet she is engaged to be married to that handsome 
 young Mr. Lonsdale." 
 
 " Engaged to marry him !" cried Sir Owen, with an angry
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 61 
 
 scowl. "A girl like that engaged to marry the son of a 
 man who has been tried for perjury, or forgery, or some- 
 thing of the kind !" 
 
 Lady Rolfe laughed lightly, and touched him on the arm 
 with her fan. 
 
 "Nay. nay; it was not so bad as that. Poor Mr. Lons- 
 dale was innocent enough ; but she is to marry his son the 
 wet M ing-day is fixed, and they will be a very handsome 
 she will marry him, I hear, in the spring." 
 
 "That accounts for it," 7 he said, and the heavy black 
 mustache drooped over as cruel lips as were ever seen on a 
 man's fact-. 
 
 "Accounts for what?" asked Lady Rolfe, with a great 
 aiption of innocence. 
 
 " Oh, nothing in particular ! But I thought he seemed to 
 'der that he had some kind of right to her." 
 
 And then, looking at him, Lady Rolfe saw a stern, cruel, 
 .set expression settle on his face. 
 
 "So they are to be married in the spring, are they?" he 
 asked, slowly. "I suppose this young Lonsdale is very 
 proud of her.'"' 
 
 "What a question to ask me, Sir Owen! He is a man, 
 and has eyes. I should not think it would be possible to 
 tell how much he loved her." 
 
 1 >oes she care for him?" he asked, quickly. 
 
 I >e.-ir me. yes. Care for him ! Why, it is a love-match. 
 She cares very much for him and for no one else besides." 
 
 He asked no more questions, but Lady Holfe, still watch- 
 
 iin intently, saw that the set, firm look deepened 
 
 every moment on his face. She could not tell whether she 
 
 had done right or wrong. She had told him that the xirl 
 
 "iiratred and that it was auite useless for him to think 
 
 of her : but what did that look mean? Like every one else 
 
 who had any part in nnniin^ Violet Have to Sir Owen that 
 
 she had an uneasy feeling about it. 
 
 Sir O\ven seemed to think that he had done nil that was 
 required of him. He rose from his seat, and left her lady- 
 ship with a l>o\v. 
 
 "lie will pi to Lnvinia now." thought Lady Rolfe. "He 
 will waste no more time over Violet !!. 
 
 Hut Lnviiiia l>e;mied upon him in her superb costume of 
 mauve silk all in vain he passed her with a careless bow. 
 The mon -ed to him hours before he should be near 
 
 Violet Have ;r_rain. 
 
 It was well for his popularity that no one saw the lower-
 
 62 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 ing, angry expression of his face as he crossed the croquet 
 lawn. 
 
 "I would have her if I wanted her," he said to himself, 
 " if every other man on earth laid claim to her, and if 1 
 had to fight them all." 
 
 Lady Rolfe had unconsciously done the very thing to 
 defeat her own purpose. The fact which would have made 
 Violet sacred to another man simply urged him on. It 
 would be a triumph to win her, because so many others 
 admired her ; but it would be a double triumph if she was 
 engaged to another man. Sir Owen often congratulated 
 himself on his perfect freedom from what he was pleased 
 to call " affected nonsense ;" and he was never more free 
 from it than in this case. If, besides winning Miss Haye 
 for himself, he could add to that the triumph of making 
 her break an engagement to another, it would be the 
 greatest success of his life. 
 
 li She is beautiful enough to be a queen, " he said, " and it 
 would take a hundred lawyers to frighten me. A man with 
 forty thousand a year ought to be able to do as he likes. 
 If he cannot what is the use of money ?" 
 
 He went at once to Violet, and Felix, standing by her 
 side, longed to lift him up in his strong arms and throw 
 him over the bridge. 
 
 " Miss Haye," he said, quite ignoring the presence of her 
 lover, " do you live here in Lilforcl ?" 
 
 She appeared half frightened as she answered him : 
 
 " Yes I live at the Limes. " 
 
 His face cleared. 
 
 " I know it," he went on. " It is a pretty little place just 
 outside Lilford. I have often admired it. Does your 
 father hunt ?" 
 
 " No he is quite an invalid," replied Violet, half longing 
 that Sir Owen would leave her, and half enjoying the dis- 
 tinction that his great notice of her brought. 
 
 " Ah, an invalid very unfortunate ! Not able to leave 
 the house often, I suppose?" 
 
 "No not often," replied the girl, looking at her lover's 
 averted face. 
 
 " I shall be glad to see him sometimes, " said Sir Owen ; 
 "he has no objection to visitors, I suppose?" 
 
 "No," replied Violet ; "he is pleased to receive any." 
 
 "Then, with your permission and his, I will ride over to- 
 morrow," said Sir Owen. 
 
 Ho \vaited for her reply. Violet made none. She was 
 frightened at the expression on her lover's face.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 63 
 
 "You do not say that I shall be welcome, Miss Haye," he 
 added, impatiently. 
 
 Sin- recovered herself. After all she was doing no wrong. 
 
 \Ve shall be pleased to see you, Sir Owen," she told him, 
 with quiet dignity ; and then the baronet, finding there was 
 ii" chance of further conversation with her, went away. 
 
 .My darling," cried Felix, "do not be at home to-morrow 
 when lie comes. I do not like him, Violet he has a cruel, 
 bad face, and there is an evil light in his eyes. I do not 
 like him, sweet." 
 
 " T wonder why he has paid me so much attention," she 
 , "and why he is coming to see us?" 
 
 But Felix was too wise to answer that question. He only 
 clasped the little hands in his- own. To him this girl, in 
 her lieauty and innocence, was little less than an angel. 
 
 kk My white dove, " he said " my pure, sweet love, never 
 mind him. Promise me that when he or any other man 
 comes to you with flattering words, you will say, 'I am 
 pledged to my lover I am pledged to Felix Lonsdale.' 
 Will you say that, Violet?" 
 
 "Yes, I will," she replied. 
 
 " Would that I could take you away from them all, and 
 keep you safely under the shelter of my own great love, 
 Violet! You will not be in to-morrow when he comes? 
 Promise me, my darling do you not see that I am half 
 mad with jealousy? promise me you will go out. If I 
 knew that to-morrow he would sit by your gride, touch your 
 hand, look into your beautiful face, I think that I should 
 shoot him to-night !" 
 
 "Oh, Felix, wha* a dreadful thing to say !" 
 
 "Jealousy is like fire it destroys all things," he said; 
 " but I am foolish to be jealous. I have all faith in you, 
 sweet all faith. Say once again, ' I belong to you, Felix.' " 
 
 The sun shone on her fair tare as lie raised it to his ; the 
 wind stirred the leaves as she said : 
 
 " I belong to you, Felix. " 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 "HAPPIEST MAN IN THE WORLD." 
 
 The fete was over, but people still talked of it of the 
 unexpected appearance of Sir <>\\-en CheTenix and his ad- 
 miration for bea.utit'ul Violet Have. Violet had said Imt 
 little at home ; she had told her father that the baronet in-
 
 64 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 tended to come to see him, and Francis Haye had looked 
 up in bewilderment. 
 
 "Coming to see me !" he cried. "What is that for?" 
 
 He did not see the hot flush on his daughter's face. She 
 knew well enough why he was coming. 
 
 "If it is about that right of road, "he continued, "he 
 may save himself the trouble, for I shall never give in 
 never. " 
 
 "You will see what he is coming for when he comes," 
 said Mrs. Haye ; " there is nothing so absurd as guessing. 
 I shall not believe it until I do see him. " 
 
 Then after talking eagerly of his boundless wealth, the 
 beauty of his estate, the number of his horses, Francis 
 Have exclaimed : 
 
 " And to think that he should come to see us !" 
 
 Violet remembered her promise ; she knew that Sir Owen 
 would probably call about one o'clock. Soon after noon she 
 put on her garden hat, and, without saying a word, went 
 out into the woods where no one could see her. and no 
 servant could be sent after her. She sat there thinking 
 thinking of how Felix loved her. and how sweet it was to 
 be loved telling herself that she would not exchange his 
 love for the world. 
 
 Why did he dislike Sir Owen so much? Whv was he so 
 anxious for her to be away during the baronet's visit ? She 
 had never loved Felix better than she did that morning, as 
 she sat thinking of him ; her heart warmed to him his 
 great love had touched her at last. She would not g< 
 home until after two ; the baronet could not prolong his 
 visit beyond an hour, she thought. 
 
 As she entered the house she saw her mother watching 
 eagerly for her at the dining-room window. She went to 
 her at once. The moment she opened the door she heard 
 the baronet's voice. 
 
 "Good-morning, Miss Haye. I was just saying that, 
 after my long ride over, I would not go away without 
 seeing you, if I had to stop here until midnight." 
 
 She looked up at him in simple surprise. 
 
 "I thought that it was my father you wanted to see. Sir 
 Owen." 
 
 He laughed ; he was somewhat disconcerted at her an- 
 swer. 
 
 "Did you not see that that was my excuse for coming to 
 see you?' 1 he said. 
 
 Violet turned away, while Francis Haye and his wife 
 looked at each other. The baronet sat down again ; nor
 
 WEAKEtt ThAX A WUMAX. 65 
 
 did he leave until long after three. He talked cf all kinds 
 of things which he thought would interest Francis Have. 
 His least word was listened to with intense admiration by 
 
 children of Mammon. Then, after promising to send 
 grapes and choice fruit, after offering all kinds of favors, 
 
 nt away. Violet was compelled to go to the garden 
 gate with him. He asked her, and Mrs. Haye answered for 
 
 " What a very good-natured, friendly neighbor ! M said 
 Francis Have, as he, with his wife, watched the baronet 
 mount h 
 
 His wife turned to him with a face that quivered with 
 
 ion. 
 
 II" is worth forty thousand a year forty thousand ! If 
 
 you.-: -man yu will not say one word. Francis 
 
 ii-it one word ; if you do, you will spoil it all." 
 
 In 11 \ i,.!et returned, half dreading the debate that 
 
 it sure must follow, there was no reference made to 
 
 the havonet or In's visit save that, in general terms, her 
 
 d himself much gratified. The only percepti- 
 
 tl'erence was that the girl's parents treated her with 
 
 ter deference and affection than before. 
 That niirht it was a lovely night in May Violet, sitting 
 with her parents, heard a signal that she knew well. 
 
 There was a quick beating of her heart, a thrill ran 
 through her veins Felix was outside. 
 
 How the leaves tap the window !" said Mrs. Haye. "It 
 
 \ving late ; we will have the shutters closed.' 1 
 Viol . ostensibly to see that her mother's 
 
 wishes were obeyed, but in reality to see if Felix were out- 
 How lovely the night was! The world lay calm and 
 smiling under the light of the moon; the soft bree/e 
 
 -lit the scent of the pink hawthorn in the hed'_ 
 the (lover in the meadows, of the violets in the woods. 
 Violet, went quietly out, and there, by the great lilac 
 bushes, stood Felix. She had no time to remonst rat 
 he had clasped her in his arms as though nothing but 
 death could part them. 
 
 "Did I frighten you, sweet? I hope not I have but live 
 minutes to spare." 
 
 "Will you not come into the house, Felix ?" she asked. 
 ''No. 1 have but five minutes, and I want to spend th >m 
 with you. I ought not to have run over, but I coul 
 help it I could not rest. I want to know if you 
 man to-day, and what he said to you. Yes, I know " he
 
 66 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 continued, u that I am jealous. Never mind that, sweet. 
 Jealousy is a consuming fire. I could not rest. I could not 
 sleep. I have tasted no food my very life has seemed to 
 be leaving me. I felt that I must run over, that I must 
 hold you in my arms, kiss your lips, hear you say that you 
 love me, or the fire would destroy me." 
 
 Once more his great love mastered her once more the 
 mighty passion in him seemed to make her strong and 
 noble by example. 
 
 "Tell me about it, sweet," he said. 
 
 Looking into his handsome face, his lovelit eyes, she 
 could not say many words which would hurt him. 
 
 "There is little to tell you, Felix." she replied. "I went 
 out soon after twelve ; I did not return until after two. 
 Then he was still here. He went away soon afterward." 
 
 "Did he talk much to you, Violet?" 
 
 "No ; he talked to my father," she answered. 
 
 He drew her nearer to him. 
 
 " He has not taken one thought, one word, one look, one 
 smile from me, has he, sweet? Oh, my darling, if I could 
 but take you where your beauty could gladden no eyes but 
 my own ! It seems to me, Violet, that this fever of long- 
 ing is burning my heart away. Will the longed-for time 
 never come?" 
 
 " "^ es, it will come," she replied ; and this time she did not 
 add her usual remark " I have not quite promised, you 
 know. " 
 
 She was sorry for him. She could not quite understand 
 his feelings, but she had some dim perception of what he 
 suffered, of the torture of his love and jealousy, of the 
 greatness of his love. She saw such pain in his face and in 
 the trembling of his lips that she did what she had never 
 voluntarily done before she caressed him of her own free 
 will ; she laid her hand on the clustering hair, and drew 
 his face down to hers. She turned her sweet lips to him. 
 
 " You need not fear, Felix," she whispered. "I love you 
 no one but you !" 
 
 "That was worth walking a hundred miles for.'* he said. 
 "If you are so kind to me, Violet, I am afraid that I shall 
 run over every night. I would work all day and walk all 
 night for the chance of hearing such words." 
 
 The dew was falling, and the fragrance of the lilac floated 
 round them. 
 
 "I must not stay, Felix," she murmured. 
 
 " No ; I will not ask you. My darling, say only once more
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 67 
 
 to me the words I love to hear say, ' Felix, I belong to 
 you.' Say it, Violet !" he added, with sudden passion. 
 
 "Felix, I belong to you," she whispered, and he was con- 
 tent. He touched the lilac flowers with his hand. 
 
 "Darling," he said, "I shall love every lilac that blooms 
 1 KM -a use it will remind me of this night and of you. 
 
 are dew-drops on your hair! You must not stay, 
 ; you must go in, Violet. You will repeat my name- 
 e you sleep to-night, and when you wake? You will 
 'Felix I love Felix, and will be true to him.' " 
 
 Yi-.V she answered. 
 
 He touched the little golden chain that she wore round 
 her neck. 
 
 " I wish I were that chain. I wish I were this golden 
 ring of hair that lies on your face. I wish oh, Violet, I 
 am mad with wishing mad with longing. But I love you 
 so 1 early." 
 
 In another minute he was gone. The moon was shining, 
 the dew lay upon the lilacs, and Violet stood alone, her 
 heart beating as it had never beaten before. 
 
 "After all, it is better to be loved than to be rich." she 
 thought " it is better to have love than riches. I I A\ ish 
 that I had always been kinder to Felix ; but I did not think 
 I did not understand." 
 
 She stood for some minutes while the western wind 
 cooled the hot flush on her face, and she became calmer as 
 she wutched the pale light of the moon. 
 
 " There is nothing like love," she repeated; "and there 
 never yet was any love like his for me. " 
 
 If the girl's father and mother suspected anything they 
 made no sign, they said no word, and Violet was grateful. 
 
 It happened three days later that Felix, finding lie had 
 a leisure hour in the afternoon, went over to the Limes. 
 He took with him a little bouquet of roses ; they were the 
 first choice ones that he had seen, and he knew that Violet 
 loved roses. He found her at home, and he was received 
 with civility, though not with warmth, by her pa.rents. 
 Violet was pleased with the roses. She praised them she- 
 buried her face in them, and Felix wished with all his h'-arl 
 that he were one of them. 
 
 While he sat there a box came from the Hall. Francis 
 Have was excited about it. It must be opened at one. 
 could not imagine what it contained. Felix offered to help, 
 and his offer was eagerly accepted. The first thing they 
 saw was a, magnificent bouquet such as had never nceu 
 seen in Lilford the conservatories must have been robbed
 
 68 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 to provide it. There were camellias, red and white, garde- 
 nias, stephanotis, white heath, heliotrope, lemon-scented 
 verbena the rarest and loveliest flowers that grew. A lit- 
 tle white card was at the side of it a card which bore the 
 hackneyed quotation, '"Sweets to the sweet.' For Miss 
 Haye, with Sir Owen Chevenix's compliments." 
 
 Violet gave a little cry of delight when .she saw it. Mrs. 
 Haye took it up in her hands, and, turning it round, said, 
 in a most impressive voice : 
 
 "This is worth five guineas, at least." 
 
 Then they uncovered several bunches of superb grapes, 
 gome fine peaches and apricots delicacies such as pre- 
 viously Violet had only heard mentioned also a dozen 
 bottles of choice Madeira for Mr. Haye. 
 
 "It is very kind of him," said Francis Haye "wonder- 
 fully kind. I have never met with any one so generous. " 
 
 And Felix, who was far above all ignoble jealousy, joined 
 in praise of the baronet. But when Violet stood at the 
 garden gate alone with him he said, half sadly : 
 
 " What does it all mean, Violet ? I cannot understand 
 it." For to his mind so brave, so noble, so incapable of 
 meanness or wrong it had not yet occurred that any man 
 could deliberately try to take his betrothed wife from him. 
 He would have scorned the notion he never even 
 suspected it, until it was too late. But, as he stood 
 there and it was only natural there came to him for a 
 moment a passionate longing for wealth. If he could only 
 make such presents as those he had just helped to unpack ! 
 
 "Violet," he said, half sadly, "I am afraid my roses 
 seem very poor and trifling by the side of all Sir Owen's 
 magnificence. My darling, if I could coin my heart's blood 
 into gold, and lavish it upon you, I would do so. My poor 
 roses !" 
 
 She laughed a low, rippling laugh, that sounded very 
 sweetly to him. 
 
 "Those beautiful flowers will stand in mamma's favorite 
 old china bowl," she said. "Look where one of your roses 
 is," pointing to the bodice of her dress ; "they shall change 
 places if you like. " 
 
 A passionate embrace was Felix Lonsdale's only re- 
 sponse, and as he walked home that night he felt that he 
 was the happiest man in the world.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 THE RIDE HOME. 
 
 There was no place in England prettier than the old par- 
 ish church at Lilford. It was an old Norman edifice, with 
 quaint square towers and a harmonious peal of bells. The 
 church stood on rising ground, and behind it was a grove 
 of oak trees fine old spreading oaks, that had seen many 
 generations of men and women come and go. Giv;;t 
 hills stretched out on either side hills with quiet little 
 hamlets nestling on their wooded slopes; little old-world 
 villages were dotted around, and the old church stood up 
 royally on the hill-side. The walls were 1 gray, and covered 
 with ivy; the old windows were of stained glass; ivy 
 covered the square towers ; the old porch with its stone 
 seat was a marvel of architecture ; the path that led to it 
 ' "ordered by lime trees ; look where one would one 
 nothing but ripples of foliage and a gold-green light. 
 
 Sunday in Lilford was a day that would have charmed a, 
 poet. The very spirit of peace and rest seemed to brood 
 over the earth, while the sweet chime of the Sabbath bells 
 sounded through the venerable oaks. 
 
 Ho long as he could remember Felix always walked home 
 with Violet from church; when they were children they 
 ran down the hills in very gladness of heart, but now they 
 walked sedately, Felix almost forfeiting the beauty of Hie 
 fail 1 world around him, as he looked into the beautiful face 
 of the young girl by his side Violet faintly conscious of 
 the admiring glances that came from all sides, 
 trying with all her heart to disregard them because ii 
 Sunday. 
 
 It would hardly have seemed like Sunday to Feliv if his 
 privilege had been withdrawn, lie wei n tho 
 
 first Sunday in June, when the old church was look!' 
 fairest and the sunlight on the oak trees was wonderful to 
 
 Them was Violet, her beautiful face sbinii 
 thought, like the face of an angel ; th-m was F.ve!\ n. 
 ing like a fair, meek saint. <;rea1 was his surpri 
 Sir Owen ('heveni.v also. It was the lirst time t'lat ! 
 made his appearance at church, and th' 
 just a little excited about it. Doctor Hunter, on seeing him
 
 70 WXAE3R THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 there, fondly fancied that it was due to the fame of his 
 effective preaching. Lady Rolfe suspected that the charm- 
 ing Lavinia had lured him there, but the vicar's wife, 
 shrewd Mrs. Hunter, sighed and smiled. " It is the old, 
 old story," she said to herself; and then she reproached 
 herself for the thought, and applied herself to the Psalms. 
 
 Felix did not think much about the matter. He was not 
 ashamed to bow his handsome head, and join with aii his 
 heart in the beautiful words of the service ; but when it 
 was all over he hastened to meet Violet. She was standing 
 with her mother, and, to his surprise, Sir Owen Cheveiiix 
 was talking to them. He gave a careless nod to Felix, but 
 continued talking. 
 
 "I beg that you will let me drive you home. Mrs. 
 Haye," he was saying. "To tell you the truth. I ordered 
 my carriage on purpose I did, indeed. It is a lovely 
 morning, and if you will permit it, we will drive around by 
 Queen's Ash." 
 
 He did not look at Violet as he spoke. He knew that 
 whatever her mother did she- must do. Felix had taken 
 her hand. He did not care if all the world heard what he 
 had to say. 
 
 " You will not break through the old custom of walking 
 home with me, Violet, or rather of allowing me to walk 
 home with you ?" 
 
 She looked from one to the other with real distress in her 
 face. Sir Owen did not even glance at her ; he knew that 
 his cause was safe in Mrs. Haye's hands. 
 
 "Violet," said Felix, "you cannot hesitate," and the girl 
 stood looking at him while her mother said : 
 
 " Really I do not know what answer to give you, Sir 
 Owen. I do not know what people will say. " 
 
 " Why, what does that matter, Mrs. Haye ?" 
 
 " Well, you see, Sir Owen, Lilford is a small place, and 
 'everybody' knows 'everything/ ' 
 
 " My dear lady, what can it matter if all the world knows 
 of 'this ? I shall be very proud of the honor, T assure you. 
 Xiady Rolfe would not requh'e so much pressing." 
 
 The last words, vulgar as was the spirit which dictated 
 Ihem, quite determined Mrs. Haye. Evidently, if she did 
 mot go with him, he would drive Lady Rolfe and her 
 daughter. She simpered a little. 
 
 "Since you are so kinji, we will accept your offer,"" she 
 aid. " It will certainly be very pleasant. I al ways tell 
 Haye that the one thing I want to make me perfectly happy 
 is a carriage. Now, Violet. '*
 
 WEAKER THAN A WO MAX. 71 
 
 "Violet will allow me to escort her, Mrs. Haye," sug- 
 gested Felix. 
 
 "Oh, no," replied Mrs. Have, "Violet must come with 
 me. I cannot go alone and leave Violet with you. Another 
 time, Felix, you shall be her escort. Sir Owen lias been 
 kind enough to order his carriage for us ; it would be really 
 impolite to refuse. We will 1 -morning to yon now." 
 
 And she watched him while he shook hands first with her 
 and then with Violet. 
 
 His handsome young face had grown white even to the 
 lips ; but what could he do ? He was a gentleman ; he 
 could not r*ake a "scene ;" he could not take the girl from 
 her mother's side against her will ; he had no carriage with 
 roan steeds, and coachman and footmen in livery. What 
 could he do '. Only one thing. If Violet was to gn in the 
 carriage he himself %vould put her into it. The baronet's 
 hand should not touch even his darling's di 
 
 So he walked by her side down the avenue of limes, and 
 reached the high road where the carriage stood. 
 There were many curious eyes watching them. Lady Rolfe 
 and the fair Lavinia looked on in angry indignation. 
 
 "What does that girl mean by encouraging Sir Owen?'* 
 said the mother. " Surely one lover ought to be enough for 
 her. Felix Lonsdale must be blind." 
 
 " IVrhaps he cannot help himself, mamma," returned the 
 philosophical daughter, and in that she was right. 
 
 When Felix had helped Violet into the carriage he bent 
 over her to arrange her dn- 
 
 "Darling, you would sooner have walked home with me, 
 would you not ?'' 
 
 "Yes, I would," she replied, and after that the di 
 pointinent was not quite so hard to bear. He had 
 faction ; he turned away without a word or a bow to Sir 
 Owen. 
 
 "This is pleasant,' 1 said Mrs. Have, as the carriage rolled 
 swiftly alon- the hi^h-mad. " Violet, of all the luxuries 
 of life jrivc n,,. a canifl 
 
 The luxury and grandeur were certainly very pleasant, 
 while the novelty delighted Violet. 
 
 Sir Owen did nothing to alarm her. He i.-.lkni to Airs. 
 
 Have, while he merely Linked at Violet. He was wonder- 
 
 fully solicitous that She Should be comfortable, and there 
 
 it one drawback to Violet's pleasure, the memory of 
 
 the paiu on her lover's f.v 
 
 "How 1 wish Felix bad a carriage 1" she said to herself. 
 "But that will never be."
 
 72 WEAKER THAN A WOJUAA. 
 
 She enjoyed her father's surprise when the horses stopped 
 at the Limes, and she wondered what her mother meant 
 when she said : 
 
 " If I had a chance of keeping such a carriage as that I 
 should not lightly throw it away." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE BALL-DRESS. 
 
 It was a bright day in June, the lilies and roses were all 
 in flower, the laburnums were in the full perfection of 
 their golden glory, and again the sun at noonday found 
 Sir Owen at the Limes. He had discovered Violet in the 
 garden dreaming idly among the roses. It was a pictur 
 esque, old-fashioned garden, with quaint-looking seats 
 under the trees and a pretty arbor of trellis- work in the 
 background. Sir Owen professed himself so charmed with 
 it that he would not go into the house, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Haye went out to meet him there. 
 
 After the first greetings were over he turned to Violet. 
 
 "Miss Haye," he said, "I have come on purpose to see 
 you. Do you remember our conversation about a fete in 
 the park ? You said that you thought it would be very 
 pleasant. " 
 
 Violet looked up with animation. 
 
 " Yes, I remember now, " she replied. " I had forgotten it. " 
 
 " I have come to say that if it pleases you I will give 
 orders for everything to be prepared for it. What do you 
 say?" 
 
 She looked at him with a curious expression on her face, 
 while her father and mother glanced at each other. 
 
 u What do I say ?" she echoed. " I have nothing to say, 
 Sir Owen, but that I have no doubt it will be very pleas- 
 ant." 
 
 Sir Owen looked disconcerted. After a pause he added : 
 
 " But you do not understand. If I give the fete at all it 
 will be in your honor and to please you. Everything in it 
 shall be as you wish you shall choose your own amuse- 
 ments indeed, you shall be the queen of it. Now what do 
 you say?" 
 
 Mrs. Haye frowned at her daughter. 
 
 "You must really show some little interest in it, Violet," 
 she said, " since Sir Owen is so good as to consult you. " 
 
 "'Consult' that is just the right word, Mrs. Hayo 
 thank you. That reminds me," he added, with a smile,
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 73 
 
 " Lady Rolfe told me to consult her when I found myself 
 in any difficulty. " 
 
 Violet looked up with an air of great relief. 
 
 "I wish you would," she said. "She knows far more 
 about such matters than I do. " 
 
 "But you see it is your opinion I want, not hers," said 
 Sir Owen. " I thought of this a fete in the park, and, to 
 wind up with, a grand ball in the house. We could have 
 Pearson's quadrille band from London ; and I thought of 
 sending to Gunter for the supper. What do you think 
 of it?" 
 
 Her beautiful face paled a little and then flushed. 
 
 "I think it would be most delightful," she replied. 
 
 " Though Mr. Haye is an invalid, still he would like to 
 see everything going on," continued Sir Owen. "Perhaps 
 he, Mrs. Haye, and yourself would come to the Hall on the 
 day before the fete, and stay until the day after." 
 
 " I should like it very much, " declared Mr. Haye. " I 
 have not had such a treat for years." 
 
 "Nor have I," said his wife. "I cannot imagine anything 
 that I should like better." 
 
 After that Violet could raise no objections. 
 
 "But you must grant me one favor," continued Sir Owetr- 
 "you must promise to open the ball with me." 
 
 Again the girl's beautiful face flushed and paled, but her 
 mother looked impatiently at her. 
 
 "Why do you hesitate, Violet?" she said. "It is an 
 honor of which any lady in the county might be proud." 
 
 "You consent, then I" pursued Sir < )\ven. 
 
 "Yes, I am willing," she, replied, inw.i.nlly dreadinc; all 
 that Felix would say about it, yet half delighted with the 
 idea. 
 
 "And I have your sanction -for all that I do. Is there 
 anything you wish to suggest in the way of improveiiH 
 
 "No, I think not," she replied, more than half fright- 
 ened. 
 
 "What do you say to Tuesday week ?" lie asked. "Then 
 I can drive over here, and lake you all to < i'ars\vond on the 
 Monday. Lady Rolfe will stay two days; \ve shall bo 
 quite a pleasant little party. 1 may rely upon \ 
 
 "Yes," agreed Violet, still somewhat n" 'lien. 
 
 looking up at him quite suddenly, " Why do you set. storo 
 by my opinion and sanction T she asked "1 do not know 
 anything of these matters ; I do not understand why you 
 consult me."
 
 74 WEAKER T11AX A WOMAN. 
 
 Sir Owen laughed a loud, hearty laugh that was music to 
 the ears of Francis Haye and his wife. 
 
 "I have a reason," he replied, "and a very serious one ; I 
 will speak to you about it later on." 
 
 She could not imagine to what he alluded, and Mrs. 
 Haye listened in silence. 
 
 Sir Owen showed her a list of names. 
 
 "I thought of sending invitations to these people," he 
 said. " If there are any among them you do not like, 
 strike them out ; if there are any you wish to ask, add 
 *hem." 
 
 She read the long list of names, and then produced her 
 "little pencil-case ; she added two more those of Evelyn 
 .Lester and Felix Lonsdale. 
 
 "That is her lover," thought Sir Owen, as he looked re- 
 flectively at them. "Well, he may come it will save 
 trouble. When he sees all that he will see, he will be 
 taught a lesson. " 
 
 Violet was more pleased and contented when he smiled. 
 She did not know why she felt so greatly relieved. 
 
 Then Sir Owen rose to take his leave ; he was going to 
 London that evening, he said, and it would be some days 
 before he would see them again. He asked Violet to go 
 with him to the garden gate ; and again, when Mrs. Haye 
 saw the peculiar expression on her husband's face,* she 
 whispered : 
 
 "Not one word, Francis Haye, not one word, or you will 
 spoil it all," and he obediently held his peace. 
 
 They saw a look of perplexity on Violet's beautiful face 
 all that day, and she had lost her animation. She fell into 
 long fits of musing; she was unlike herself ; but no word 
 from father or mother helped her in her difficulty, or 
 solved her doubts. 
 
 Felix had been quite pleased about his invitation ; he 
 smiled, and thought to himself how foolish he had been. 
 What could be more natural than that Sir Owen should 
 admire his beautiful Violet? He could not help it ; he told 
 tnmself that he had been unreasonably jealous, that here 
 was a proof of it. If Sir Owen had entertained any false, 
 dishonorable notion of supplanting him in Violet's affec- 
 tions, here was a proof that he had changed his mind. 
 Another and more generous id 0:1 stiil came to \\\m namely 
 that Sir Owen had not known at first that Violet, was -en< 
 gaged, and hence had admired her; but, that, now that he 
 did know it, he had changed his ideas.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 75 
 
 "Some one has told him," thought generous Felix, "and 
 
 that is why he invites me." 
 
 This noble-hearted man could not imagine a fellow-man 
 holding; out one hand with a smile, while he clutched a dag- 
 ger in the other. He was sorry for having misjudged him, 
 and thought to himself that on the day of the fete he 
 would seek out Sir Owen, and shake hands with him. So, 
 to Vi :t relief, there was no cloud on his face when 
 
 he told her that he would be pleased to attend the /</<-. 
 
 But he looked very thoughtful when Violet told him of 
 the invitation. 
 
 "I do not want to go," she said "I do not like Lady 
 j, 1 do not see the use of making friends 
 with all these great people it cannot 1 
 
 u really do not care to go there, Violet?" he asked. 
 
 ; he Hall. I shall enjoy the fete, but I shall 
 not enjoy the visit." 
 Felix drew near to her. 
 
 ' Violet," lie whispered, "you will not think me jealous 
 or d: 
 
 -he replied. 
 
 "I want you to do something for me. lam puzzled. 
 times 1 think Sir Owen must know that we are en 
 :aetimes I fancy he does not; yet he must know.' 1 
 " I should imagine that he. does know every one round 
 
 he would.be sure to hear it spoken of." 
 "Most probably. But, Violet, let us make sure of it 
 tell him yourself, sweet. He will be quite sure to talk to 
 you, and it will be so easy; just a few little word 
 
 ill my suspense will be ended indeed I have not felt 
 at all anxious about it. since this invitation. No 
 could - to invite another to his house if he in 
 
 1 doing him any harm. I am quite easy about it, 
 Violet." 
 
 And he meant what he said ; he judged others by him 
 self, and in his nobleness of heart had no notion what 
 nieaiiM'--:-; was. 
 
 The: irreat surprise in store for Violet. Sh' 
 
 ! to her mother about her dress, and Mrs. Have b.-vl 
 said that she must have something very niee ; bu; 
 tiling "very nice" would be costly, and Francis Hay. 
 hard _re on such points. 
 
 Mother and datiirhter were discussing what was to be 
 done under the ei]vuins!;ii:<vs. when a large box from 
 London was brought by the carrier's cart to their door; it
 
 76 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 was for Miss Haye there was no mistake as to the address 
 arid with some curiosity they hastened to open it. 
 
 "It is directed in a lady's hand," said Violet. "What 
 can it be, mamma ?" 
 
 "We shall see, my dear," replied Mrs. Haye. 
 When it was opened both ladies were speechless with 
 surprise. It contained three complete costumes one for a 
 garden party, a most charming combination of blue and 
 white, with a tasteful Parisian bonnet, gloves, shoes, and 
 everything to match a dress that Mrs. Haye declared 
 made her heart beat to think of the money it must have 
 cost ; then an evening dress of white silk, with a train of 
 blue velvet and blue velvet trimmings ; lastly, a full and 
 most exquisite costume for the ball, of white silk trimmed 
 with silver fringe and silver leaves. 
 
 Mrs. Haye was amazed when she saw it. With it were 
 white satin shoes, a fan, white feathers mounted in silver, 
 a silver bouquet-holder, gloves, and a marvelous handker- 
 chief of dainty lace. Violet looked at the treasures in won- 
 der. 
 
 " Who can have sent these, mamma ?" she asked. " ] 
 do not like to take them. Have you ever seen anything so 
 beautiful ?" 
 
 "If I believed in fairies," said Mrs. Haye, "I should 
 think that a fairy had sent them." 
 
 In her own mind she felt quite sure that the donor was 
 Sir Owen, but she would not say so. Violet had no suspic- 
 ion not even the faintest. She never thought of Sir Owen. 
 
 "It must be a lady who has sent them," said Violet. 
 "No man would have understood what was wanted. 
 Mamma, should you think that it was Lady Rolfe ?" 
 
 "I am really puzzled," replied Mrs. Haye. "We will call 
 your father." 
 
 Francis Haye came to the rescue. Violet wearied her- 
 self in trying to guess, but she could not divine who was 
 her benefactor. When she had carried the ball-dress 
 away, the husband and wife looked at each other. 
 
 " It is just as I said, Francis ; but, mind, .not one word. 
 One careless word may spoil it all. " 
 
 And neither of them breathed a sound to Violet of what 
 they suspected.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, 71 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 "LOVE WAS BEST.** 
 
 Mrs. Haye declared that it was fortunate rain fell two 
 davs before the fete] it cleared the air, it freshened the 
 gtass, it washed the dust from the trees and hedges, it 
 made the whole face of nature so sweet, so fresh and fair, 
 that it was a pleasure to breathe. The air was odorous 
 with the scent of flowers and of green leaves. 
 
 Sir Owen appeared to time ; his sumptuously appointed 
 carriage, with the magnificent roans, drove up to the Limes. 
 Not liing could have exceeded his kindness he was so at 
 tentive to Francis Haye, so kind to Mrs. Haye, so deferen- 
 tial to Violet. Again she felt how pleasant it was. She 
 saw deep satisfaction on her father's face, great pride on 
 her mother's. She was young and heedless, and on such 
 an exquisite June day how could she help feeling bright 
 and happy? Moreover, she held something in her ha.nd 
 which gladdened her heart. Just as she was starting, while 
 Sir Owen stood hat in hand waiting for her, a messenger 
 came with a note from Felix only a few short lines hur- 
 riedly written, but which went straight to her heart. 
 
 " A1 Y DARLING VIOLET : I send a few words to greet yon as yon nro 
 start ing, and to wish you a very pleasant, happy visit. Yon will not 
 forget mo, sweet? You will say to yourself over and over again that 
 you are pledged to ine? I trust yon' implicitly. You love me, and I 
 am content. I kiss your sweet bands, and leave my heart in thorn." 
 
 How he loved her! She repeated it again and again. 
 How he loved her ! The little note pleased her. Sho drove 
 away, with Sir Owen whispering all kinds of compliments 
 to her ; but her lover's face wns before her ryes, and his 
 words were in her heart. They drove through the magnifi 
 cent park with its herds of antlered deer, through the 
 superb grounds, to the grand entrance, and then Violet 
 looked up in wonder. 
 
 The afternoon sun fell upon the grand old building, show- 
 ing the towers and turrets, tie deep oriel windows, the 
 Venetian balconies, bringing out the picturesque oiitlines 
 of the noble edifice. There was a, flight of broad marble 
 steps, and then the great door opened into an entrance hall 
 the first glimpse of which bewildered Violet. She hardly
 
 78 WEARER THAN A WO MAS. 
 
 knew that such treasures existed that such splendor could 
 be ; unconsciously sir _ru he" 1 , her lover's little note in her 
 hand as she beheld the tiensu- js on the walls. 
 
 She passed through long, broad corridors, where white 
 marble statues gleamed from among pyramids of choice 
 flowers ; she gazed on glorious pictures and picture. ;que 
 fountains ; and all the time Sir Owen walked by her side 
 whispering gay, pretty compliments. They came to the 
 drawing-room at last a large, lofty room, with an exquis- 
 itely painted ceiling, and bright with flowers and statues. 
 In the midst of all the magnificence stood Lady Rolfe, with 
 a smile on her face, waiting to receive them. 
 
 That was remarkable in itself ; but that she should be so 
 gracious and so amiable was more remarkable still. She 
 welcomed them with courtly, kindly words, and in all she 
 said she was seconded by her daughter Lavinia. Sir Owen, 
 she said, had asked her to assist him, and she had for a 
 time undertaken the duties of hostess. 
 
 Then she sent them to their various rooms. Before Vio- 
 let had been many minutes in hers a pretty Parisian sou- 
 brette entered, who announced herself as Lady Rolfe's maid. 
 
 u Her ladyship, " she continued, " thought that as you had 
 not brought a maid, I might be of some service to you. " 
 
 For half a moment Violet felt a sensation of shame that 
 she had brought no maid, then of wonder as to what she 
 should do with one. She accepted the proffered help, and 
 the little Parisian, Aimee by name, soon had everything 
 ready for her. 
 
 Violet had never worn a fashionable evening dress be 
 fore, and she looked in real wonder at the marvelous white 
 ness of her fair neck and arms, and at her rounded shoul 
 ders, that were perfect as a masterpiece of sculptiire, while 
 the white silk showed off her graceful figure. The train of 
 blue velvet gave her the look of a princess. In her hair 
 Aimee placed a beautiful white camellia, and another lay, 
 like a white star, in the bodice of her dress. 
 
 To Aimee it was a labor of love to dress Miss Have. She 
 did wonders with the shining, golden hair ; and when Vio- 
 let was ready to go down-stairs she stood before the great 
 mirror in wonder. Was that exquisitely radiant girl her- 
 self? She longed for Feiix ^o see her. There was no pleas- 
 ure without him. How he would admire hoi* ! 
 
 What a never-to-be-forgotten evening it was ! Her greatest 
 difficulty was in keeping herself from expressing her won- 
 der. She went down to the drawing-room, and found two 
 or three other ladies with Lady Roli'e. She liad ay uneasy
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 79 
 
 consciousness that they were all talking about her as she 
 entered, for they stopped suddenly, and looked at her cu- 
 riously. But Lady Rolfe introduced her, and they were so 
 startled by her striking beauty that they were more than 
 civil to her. Sir Oven almost followed her into the room. 
 How his eyes brightened as he saw her ! 
 
 "For a girl like that to marry a country solicitor, to hide 
 such beauty as hers in a place like Li 1 ford, is simple mad- 
 he said to himself. "She will thank me in after 
 
 'ig her from such a faie." 
 
 Then he went up to her, and scarcely left her all the 
 
 evening. It was against the laws of etiquette for him to 
 
 take her down to dinner; but Lady Rolfe accepted his apol- 
 
 ith a smile. That astute lady had explained the mo- 
 
 of her policy to Lavmia. 
 
 " 1 understand Sir Owen," she said. "If any one opposes 
 him he will lose his reason over the girl. Place no obstacle 
 in the way of his admiration, and he will soon tire of her. 
 He cannot marry her, for she is engaged to Felix Lons- 
 
 with great amiability, Lady Rolfe had accepted Sir 
 Owen's invitation to act as hostess for three or four days. 
 She had determined that she would give him every oppor- 
 tunity of being with Violet, on the principle that the more 
 he saw of her the sooner he would tire of her. Sir Owen 
 took her down to dinwr, and sat by her side. Violet was 
 
 1 with wonder. She saw the superb gold and silver 
 the, magnificent epergnes. the rare flowers, the costly 
 wines, and richly cut, glass. She felt half afraid of the 
 well-trained butler and his noise-ess assistants it w. 
 
 -.plendor and magnificence, that dazed and be- 
 wildered her. 
 
 Sir Owen gave her little time to think, and every one 
 took their '-ne from him visitors and servants. Violet was 
 queen of the evening. She concealed hertrepidat.mil, and 
 carefully watching Lady Rolfe, she imitated her exactly. 
 Then, when the ladies-, withdrew, she was the center of oli- 
 
 ; ion her exquisite l.eanty, her dainty dress, the at- 
 tention paid to her by Sir Owen, made her the most impor- 
 tant person present. 
 
 n did not long delay entering the drawing -ronin ; 
 and then lie selected ;i luxurious chair, and enthroned her. 
 
 ind her.. uted upon her as though she 
 
 had been n princess and he never left her; and 
 
 she, looking at the splendor which surrounded her look 
 ing ar tlru wealth, the magnificence wondered that ehe
 
 80 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 should play a part in such a scene. It was a night of tri- 
 umph for her ; but she did not forget Felix ; all would 
 have been perfect had he been by her side. 
 
 The guests talked of the morrow's fete they had music 
 and cards. Sir Owen gave Violet a lesson in cards ; and 
 when the evening was over she went to her mother. 
 
 "Mamma," she said, "how delightful it has all been ! I 
 am so sorry that it :' over. I wish it would last forever." 
 
 Mrs. Haye smiled. 
 
 " It is more pleasant, Yiolet, than the struggle that falls 
 to the lot of people with limited means. " 
 
 It was pleasant. The dainty, luxury-loving nature found 
 it wonderfully pleasant. Violet smiled to herself as she 
 sat in her room that night. Aimee was brushing the long, 
 shining, golden hair. She was surrounded by every luxury 
 hangings of silk and lace, Dresden china, Bohemian 
 glass ; the room was a marvel in its way. She smiled as 
 she realized how dear luxury was to her already h. \v she 
 admired soft velvet chairs and thick carpets liked to eat 
 from silver plate and drink from richly cut glass liked to 
 be waited on by well-trained servants to live in this at- 
 mosphere of splendor to wear rich silks and costly lace, 
 precious stones and gold. It was an entrancing life, and 
 the other would never seem quite the same again. After 
 all, there was nothing like money. 
 
 She dismissed her maid, and would have slept, but that 
 a ray of moonlight shone in through the window. One 
 part of the rose silk hangings had been left undrawn. She 
 went to arrange it to shut out the moonlight, so that she 
 could sleep, and, when she stood near the window and saw 
 the silver light on the trees and flowers, her thoughts went 
 back to Felix went back to that lovely night whon she 
 food with him by the lilac bushes. How he loved her 1 
 His face appeared so plainly before her the love-lit, t Mr- 
 nest eyes and winning lips. 
 
 After all, love was best ; wealth was very pleasant, but 
 it was sweeter to be loved than to - be rich. And she feD 
 asleep with her lover's name on her lips. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A WORD IN PRIVATE. 
 
 The next morning was brieht and warm. There was 
 hurried breakfast every one seemed to havo so much to
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 8. 
 
 do ; from early dawn men had been at work in the park. 
 Sir Owen came down stairs radiant. 
 
 " Who will say one word against English weather after 
 ne cried ; then, when he saw Violet, he bowed low to 
 her. "The queen of the fete," he whispered, and Bhe 
 blushed as she heard him. 
 
 The post-bag came as they sat at breakfast, and there 
 a note for her; she saw that it was from Felix, and 
 put it aside until she should be alone. Looking up sud- 
 denly she saw Sir Owen watching her intently, and again a 
 hot flush burned her face. He did not leave her every- 
 thing was referred to her ; her wishes, her tastes were con- 
 tinually consulted. 
 
 "My dear Lavinia," said Lady Eolfe, with upraised 
 hands, "it is something incredible he treats her just as 
 though she were mistress of this house. It is quite enough 
 to turn any girl's brain." 
 
 Though he spent his whole time with her, Sir Owen did 
 not forget her parents. Francis Have declared that !, 
 "in clover;" his wife* had never been so happy; thev 
 
 I upon and attended to before every one else; they 
 had every luxury, every attention. 
 
 The guests arrived early. Everything was a success, but 
 the crowning satisfaction of all was that the weather was 
 so fine. Violet found time to read her lover's ?-<>te ; ' 
 how disappointed he was that he could not 
 wood, but to attend the /</ even for one hour was an iin- 
 lility for him. His father had had a very serious re- 
 lapse, and he could not leave the olliee. She was sorry; 
 yet she could not understand how it was she experiene. d a 
 certain feeling of relief her present triumph wa- 
 and she enjoyed it so thoroughly. It must all have ended 
 when Felix came. It was like a play now; she was play- 
 ing the part of mistress of a magnificent mansion of queen 
 of that brilliant fete. She must have given up this role if 
 Felix had come. She must have spent the time with him. 
 
 " I shall never in my life have such a triumph again," 
 she said to herself " never again. I may as well enjoy 
 this while it lasts." 
 
 She looked superbly beautiful in the dress that had been 
 sent to her for the fete and, as she walked through the 
 grounds with Sir Owen by her side, she was the pbs 
 of all observers. She felt her triumph keenly it was no 
 small one yet she had an uneasy sensation, too, that it 
 was, after aU, a false position. She was the promised wife
 
 82 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 of another man she had no right to be queen there, with 
 Sir Owen by her side. 
 
 It was a brilliant fete she had seen nothing like it in 
 her life. The fete at the vicarage, which had always 
 seemed to her the very acme of aristocratic gayety, 
 dwindled into insignificance. The sun had seldom shone on 
 a more brilliant scene ; flags and banners waved from the 
 tall trees ; there were numerous evergreen arches, mar- 
 quees, and an infinity of amusements. The music from the 
 bands echoed through the park. 
 
 " It is very beautiful, " said Violet, as she stood with Sir 
 Owen, watching the various groups. 
 
 "If you are pleased, I am well repaid," he said. "Do 
 you not know that I would give all I have to please you ? I 
 would do all this over and over again to win one smile 
 from you." 
 
 Suddenly, standing there, she remembered her promise 
 to Felix that she would tell Sir Owen she was to be his 
 wife. How was she to do it ? She could not turn round to 
 him abruptly and say, " I am going to marry Felix Lons- 
 dale." She was tempted to do so, but it would be too 
 brusque. " I shall find an opportunity during the evening," 
 she thought u I can easily make one, but not at present. I 
 will enjoy myself now. " 
 
 Then Sir Owen conducted her through the grounds. It 
 was a veritable triumph. Her exquisite beauty, her superb 
 dress, her radiant face, the evident admiration of this 
 wealthy baronet by her side, were the sole themes of con- 
 versation. People bowed to her who had never seemed to 
 be aware that she existed before ; ladies pleaded for an in- 
 troduction who had passed her with haughty insolence ; 
 men crowded round her, and none seemed content until he 
 had won one smile from the sweet lips, one glance from the 
 lovely eyes. 
 
 They passed on, Sir Owen talking eagerly to her ; but she 
 hardly heard what he was saying, she was so engrossed in 
 the brilliant scene. He led her past the front of the Hall, 
 and through the superb gardens. It seemed to her that 
 they passed acre after acre of glass-houses, then they came 
 to a little hill. At its foot was the river-bank, and its 
 summit was crowned with a group of silver larches. A 
 seat had been placed under them, for from the summit of 
 that hill there was to be seen one of the loveliest pictures 
 in England. 
 
 "Where are we going?" asked Violet, as they left the 
 Hall and the grounds.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 83 
 
 " I want to show you Larch Hill, " he replied. 
 
 She did not quite like being there alone with him. Felix 
 would not like it, yet how could she resist '. 
 
 cry one who comes to Garswood sees Larch Hill," he 
 i mied. "It is really the prettiest spot about here." 
 
 "But your quests will miss you." she said. 
 
 1 am with the queen of the fete," he returned, with a 
 }ow bow, and she saw that he did not care in the lea^t 
 whether he was missed or not. He led her to the summit of 
 the hill, to the rustic seat under the larch.es. 
 
 "I was thinking all last night," he said, " that I would 
 bring you here to-day. I want you to look well around 
 you. See how the sun shines on Garswood ! Look at the 
 Hall first," 
 
 It was a magnificent panorama that was spread out be- 
 fore her. Not the least important feature in it was the 
 grand old Hall, with its towers and turrets. He stood by 
 ide. 
 
 From here as far away as your eye can reach," he said, 
 ''is mine. North, south, east, and west it is all mine. You 
 see the river like a broad silver line in the distance the 
 and the barges 011 it are mine. You see the vil 
 
 iinong the trees, the rich, well-cared -for farms, 
 the quiet, pretty homesteads they are mine all mine." 
 
 "It is a. nohle property," she said. 
 
 here is not a larger or better estate in England, 
 and tin- brainy of it is that it lies all together. You see the 
 dark mass of woods over there to the. left ; the tree-; in 
 them a i: -nt fortune in themselves, and they arc 
 
 all mine. You see that broad stretch of meadou-land 
 where 1 1; _raze it is all mine!" 
 
 made no reply ; his words and his looks confused 
 her. 
 
 " 1 am lord of the soil," he said, "for many miles round. 
 I know no other place so line as Garswood. Violet Have 
 all this is mine: and, if you will speak only one word, it 
 shall all he yours." 
 
 She turned to him with a startled glance. 
 
 u I do not understand you," she declared. "How could 
 
 it be mi 
 
 "It can all be yours if you will marry me, Violet," he 
 
 whi 
 
 Her he;r,itiful face grew pale as death. 
 
 " I cannot marry \ replied, quickly. 
 
 "Why not. \ Tell me why." 
 
 "Because I am engaged to marry Felix Lonsdale."
 
 84 WEARER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "Is that all? What on earth does that matter? He 
 ought to be ashamed of himself to presume to ask such a 
 girl as you to marry him ; he must be mad to think you 
 would." 
 
 u He loves me !" she said, quietly. 
 
 " So do I so do many others. You must not marry him, 
 Violet ; he has no money, no influence, no position ; his 
 father is under a cloud which must darken the son's fu- 
 ture. You cannot marry him it would be madness !" 
 
 "I am engaged to him," she replied. 
 
 "As if that mattered. Engagements like yours are 
 broken every day ; it is the commonest thing in the world 
 no one thinks anything of it." 
 
 She seemed to see her lover's face as he had looked into 
 hers that night by the dew-laden lilac bushes she almost 
 heard his voice. She looked up at Sir Owen, her face 
 deathly pale. 
 
 "Do you know, Sir Owen," she said, "that if I were 
 false to Felix Lonsdale it would break his heart?" 
 
 Sir Owen laughed aloud. 
 
 " My dear Miss Haye, lawyers have no heart what could 
 they do with such a commodity ? He might lose his temper ; 
 but men never break their hearts a good cigar will cure 
 the most desperate love-affair. You amuse me. " 
 
 " I hope you are speaking falsely, " she said. " I hope 
 men are better than you paint them." 
 
 "They are all very much alike, my dear Violet," he re- 
 turned. " It is most refreshing to hear that you think any 
 man capable of breaking his heart." 
 
 " Ah, but you do not know Felix Lonsdale. You do not 
 know how he loves me. " 
 
 " I never wish to know Felix Lonsdale," he told her. "I 
 have no partiality for men under a cloud. I know how 
 much I love you, and that is more to the point. " 
 
 She shrank from him with a pale, scared face. She did 
 not like this discussion of her lover. 
 
 "Let me tell you," he continued, "how much I love you. 
 I think you the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in 
 my life. Your beauty gladdens my heart. To win it, and 
 keep it always near me, I would give all that I have in 
 this world. I love you well enough to lay all my wealth 
 at your feet, to worship you all my life. I love you so well 
 that neither your plighted word, the opinion of the world, 
 nor any human power, shall come between us. I would 
 break every tie, every bond, crush every love, to win you
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 85 
 
 and make you mine. I will throw everything to the winds 
 if you will only say the word." 
 
 The pale, beautiful girl shrank from him. 
 
 " I cannot, " she said " you know that I cannot I must 
 marry Felix Lonsdale." 
 
 "I could kill him !" muttered Sir Owen, under his breath, 
 with an oath. Aloud he said, "You shall never marry 
 him." 
 
 She shrank still farther from him, and cried aloud, and 
 then he was full of remorse he tried his best to comfort 
 her. 
 
 "Listen to me, Violet," he said, and once more she raised 
 her beautiful face to his. "Forgive me I am more ac- 
 customed to shouting at men than to pleading with ladies. 
 Do not tli ink I am so cruel why should I kill him > Do 
 not tremble so I shall never forgive myself." 
 
 She tried to conquer the fear that had mastered her; 
 she stilled the trembling of her hands, the wild beating of 
 her heart, lie spoke more gently to her. 
 
 " 1 am more than half a savage," ho said. "I am ashamed 
 of myself. How different I should be if I had a gentle, 
 beautiful girl like you near me ! I should grow civili/ed. 
 Violet, listen to me. You shall not give me your an- 
 swer no\v riot yet for many days ; but I do pray yon to 
 be my wife. Do not look at me and say you ca 
 can if you will. Such promises as yours are broken every 
 day. I will not let you give me an answer until you 
 thought the matter well over. Look round you 
 once more, Violet look at this stately home, tin's broad 
 domain think of yourself as its mistress- mi 
 
 u-swood Hall and forty thousand a year. As 
 Lady ( 'iievenix how well the name sounds !- as Lady 
 nix, I say, you would lie quern of the whole county, 
 you would be one of the most popular and wealth;,- women 
 in England. You will have the world at your feet. I will 
 she most magnificent diamonds indeed, every- 
 thing that women like best. You shall be surrounded by 
 luxury that the world can give, if you will oni 
 
 U I cannot," she murmured, but hor voice 
 
 Miller this time, and he noticed the change. 
 "I will not accept your answer yet," he returned. "But 
 
 now look at the other side of the picture. You marry ibis 
 man who is under a cloud, he takes you to some \vn ; 
 little home, he works day and night, yet can hard!;. 
 
 money enough for bis expenses ; you spend the prime of
 
 86 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 your life, and lose the glory of your beauty, in a helpless 
 struggle to make both ends meet ; and you die before your 
 time, your beauty faded and gone, worn out even in the 
 prime of life. I say that it is a crying shame for such a 
 marriage to take place. You see the difference, Violet?" 
 
 " Yes, I see it, Sir Owen : but " 
 
 "Then, "he interrupted, "we will not talk about it to- 
 
 you shall think it well over you will be of my opin- 
 
 >' in. NOAV we will go back again and you will not 
 
 forget the view from Larch Hill ? The first moment I saw 
 
 y<m, I meant to win you, Violet. I swore to myself thao 
 
 you should be mine. You have promised me the first dance 
 
 to-night, reifiember. " 
 
 He talked to her on indifferent matters as they descended 
 the hill ; then he said : 
 
 "Violet you see that I cannot call you 'Miss Have' try 
 to drive that scared look from your face ; my guests will 
 think I have been frightening you. " 
 
 She made a great effort to bring back the smiles and 
 brightness to her face, but she did not succeed very well ; 
 the world was all changed for her since she had gone up 
 Larch Hill, quite changed. There she had been calm, 
 content, with just a shadow of longing for the grandeur 
 around, "yet happy in her lover and her love. Now she had 
 been through a scathing temptation one that had left her 
 heart burning and her brain whirling ; there could never 
 be calm content for her again. As her eyes wandered 
 over the various beauties of nature and art surrounding 
 her, she thought to herself : 
 
 " All this might be mine I might be Lady Chavenix and 
 ^ive grand entertainments here I might be mistress of 
 all." 
 
 Sir Owen said no more to her, but he redoubled his at- 
 tentions, and people began to make pretty free comments 
 about the matter. 
 
 "Felix Lonsdale will lose his /ajjcee if he does not mind," 
 remarked Captain Hill, " and I shall be sorry for it. " 
 
 "I believe, Lavinia," said Lady Rolfe, with an air of dis- 
 may, " Sir Owen is so infatuated that he will marry the girl 
 after all he will, indeed. " 
 
 Francis Haye and his wife looked on in seemingly calm 
 unconcern. 
 
 Violet found herself the center of attraction to all the 
 men ; one wanted her as a partner at croquet, another 
 wanted her for lawn-tennis, a third craved permission to 
 row her across the lake.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 87 
 
 "I should like that best," she said, with a smile so sud- 
 den and so beautiful that the happy recipient of it lost his 
 nee of mind at once. 
 
 Violet wished to be .alone ; she wanted time to think, to 
 still the thrilling; of her nerves ; but she was mistaken in 
 imagining that she would find solitude in a boat with a 
 solitary companion. However, no man was ever more 
 completely deceived Violet sat listening to him with a 
 flush on her face and a smile on her lips. He thought that 
 he was making a great impression on her, whereas she 
 was congratulating herself that she was not compelled to 
 hear or to answer his compliments. 
 
 tried to think but she could not ; the only thing she 
 could remember was that she might be Lady Chevenix and 
 mistress of all she saw, if she liked. What would people 
 say? They had spoken of Sir Owen almost as though he 
 an inhabitant of a brighter sphere. She had heard 
 liis probable marriage discussed almost as an arrangement 
 of State ; no one under the rank ol Lady Rolfe's daughter 
 had ever been thought of for him and now he had asked 
 her. She had heard the future of his wife, when he should 
 one. discussed many times how she would ^,, to 
 court, and be one of the high ones of the earth, bee; use of 
 her husband's great wealth ; and no\v this honor had fallen 
 on her. How wonderful it seemed '. Of course she must 
 not talk about it; but before she iinally refused hi.ii she 
 would like certain people to know what a brilliant offer 
 
 bad 1 n made to hpr people who had n >t always treated 
 
 her as their eqtial. 
 
 The boat was touching the shore, ai,d a dozen hands 
 
 ied out to assisi her. It seemed to her only a few 
 moments since they had started, yet they ..id been all 
 around the lake. She looked up with a bewildered smile 
 at her companion as he spoke a few polite words; he 
 seeim-d to know by instinct then that this girl had chosen 
 the boat as a kind' of refuge. Then Sir Owen came 
 claimed her she must have some refreshment and 1 
 mained by her side until the round red sun set and the 
 ft'ft- was over. She watched it sink behind Laivn Hill, and 
 she felt that she would never see its crimson li.irht airain in 
 the sky without remembering what bad been said th 
 
 There was an hour for re>t before the dressing for the 
 ball bewail. 
 
 "If you are wise," said Lavinia Rolfe, "you will try tx> 
 sleep tor an hour, and then have some tea that will re- 
 store you after the fatigue of the day."
 
 88 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Violet followed her advice ; she lay down to rest ; but 
 how could she sleep ? Through her heart swept unceas- 
 ingly the same refrain " I could be Lady Chevenix, mis- 
 tress of all around, if I choose ; but I hold my lover's life 
 in my hands." 
 
 Would it be a great sin, a grievous wrong, to break such 
 a promise ? Then she reproached herself for even enter- 
 taining the thought. Of course, she would keep her prom- 
 ise to Felix ; but in the meantime there could be no harm 
 thinking of what had happened and how wonderful it all 
 was. 
 
 She looked exquisitely lovely when she was dressed for 
 the ball. Admiring eyes followed her every movement. 
 It was agreed that the beautiful girl in white and silver, 
 with a crown of silver leaves, was certainly the belle par 
 excellence. To Violet the ball always remained more of a 
 dream than a reality. She remembered her wonder at her 
 own loveliness, the homage paid to her, the half subdued 
 murmur of wonder when Sir Owen opened the ball with 
 her, and then the significant glances that said plainly, 
 "We can all see what this means." She longed to say, 
 "There is nothing in it I am going to marry Felix Lons- 
 dale. I am only queen of the fete, and my reign ends with 
 it. " But she could not, so she played her part gracefully ; it 
 was all to end so soon, and then it would speedily be for- 
 gotten. She might just as well enjoy herself while ?he was 
 there. 
 
 She was so brilliant, so gay, so enchanting, that Sir Owen 
 grew every moment more hopelessly in love with her. Peo- 
 ple could think what they liked about Violet, but thpire was 
 no mistake as to him not the least in the world ; he was 
 quite lost; he saw and thought of nothing but Violet. 
 Every one agreed that the ball was worthy of the frfe. To 
 Violet it was a long dream of homage the most eligible 
 men in the room surrounded her -she was besieged by 
 would-be partners. 
 
 Sir Owen took Violet down to supper the grand supper 
 served by Gunter, which was in itself a wonder : and then 
 they danced until the sun rose in the eastern sky. Sir 
 Owen 'went to Mr. Have. 
 
 " I will do myself the pleasure of driving you home this 
 afternoon," he said, "if you will not spend another night 
 here. I have something to say to you before you go."
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 89 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 STIU, TRUE. 
 
 "If I had been Mephistopheles himself I could not have 
 managed better," thought Sir Owen, as he watched the 
 three visitors who were -of such vital consequence to him. 
 "Seeing I have had just what I wanted all my life, it is not 
 likely I sball begin to go without it now. After all, what 
 is a promise of marriage? What does it mean? People 
 break them every day, and every day they are broken for 
 them loss of fortune, loss of health, a hundred common- 
 place reas<jns loss of fancy all make a promise of mar- 
 riage null and void. Such a man as this Lonsdale had no 
 right to ask a girl like Violet Haye to sacrifice herself to 
 him. It is the privilege of a rich man to win for himself 
 such beauty as hers. So far from doing a bad action, I am 
 a PHH! >ne in rescuing this beautiful girl from pov- 
 erty and obscurity, what is a broken promise f She has 
 -;he will marry him she finds that she has made a 
 : ;e, and alters her mind. If any one sees wrong in 
 that I do not know what wrong is." 
 These reflections were caused by a simple remark made 
 
 ptain Hill. He had said : 
 
 " Has any one told you, Sir Owen, that Violet Haye is 
 -'d to marry Felix Lonsdale?" And the baronet's an- 
 swer had been a muttered curse. 
 
 He had believed himself in such a lofty position that he 
 
 could do as he liked without comment, but he found it was 
 
 SO. The girl whom lie was so madly pursuing, whom 
 
 id sworn to win, come what might, was cn^ap-d to 
 
 another man, and people would make their own comments 
 
 about the matter. So he reasoned and argued with himself 
 
 and to himself his i aed excellent that honor 
 
 -imply a dead letter- it did not exist ; it was a virtue 
 
 to be subordinated to convenience a promise was mere 
 
 empty words, with no me.-ming, and lie consoled himself by 
 
 trying to believe that he was doing pod rather than harm. 
 
 That Violet would ultimately refuse 'him he did not for one 
 
 moment believe. No woman, he argued, could be proof 
 
 against such temptations as he offered. 
 
 This was the day on which he had promised to take Vio- 
 let and her parents back to the Limes. He was very un-
 
 90 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 willing to let them go. " They will have that handsome 
 young lawyer about ths place again, and all the good I 
 have done will be undone " he said. 
 
 But Mrs. Have was even more worldly-wise than himself 
 she declined to spend another evening there. He had 
 ordered a dainty luncheon to be prepared for them in a 
 chai ning little anteroom known as the Star Room it 
 bore tha* name because it was one blaze of light, through 
 the nuir ber of its mirrors, girandoles, and lusters. When 
 the sun came through the eastern window, and lighted it, 
 the effecu was something magnificent. If he had hoped to 
 dazzle them with a fresh exhibition of his wealth, he had 
 most certainly chosen the right way. 
 
 i^hen luncheon was laid on the table, elaborately spread 
 with handsome plate, rare wine, costly fruit every lux- 
 ury that could gladden the heart of man. When Sir Owen 
 sat down with them Mr. Haye expressed his regret at leav- 
 ing so magnificent and hospitable a house. His host looked 
 up with a slight laugh a keen observer would have seen 
 that he was agitated. 
 
 " I am glad you like the place, " he said. " I have been 
 asking your daughter to remain here. " 
 
 A warning touch from his wife told Francis Haye that 
 he was to remain silent. She looked at and addressed Sir 
 Owen. 
 
 " I do not understand you ; how could Violet remain 
 here Avithout us ?" 
 
 " As my wife, Mrs. Haye ; if she will only consent, Gars- 
 wood and its master, with all that it contains, shall be 
 hers." 
 
 Mrs. Haye rose slowly, and drew her shawl around her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " You are very kind, Sir Owen," she said, dryly, "and I 
 am sure that Violet must be quite flattered by your gener- 
 ous offer ; but she has promised, I believe, to marry Felix 
 Lonsdale. " 
 
 "That promise should not bind her," he cried, eagerly; 
 " it was won from her under false pretenses. It will be a 
 crying shame if you allow her to keep it." 
 
 "So I think," said Mrs. Haye, as she drew on her gloves ; 
 " but I am quite powerless in the matter. " Nor would she 
 hear another word. 
 
 She hastened their departure, and Sir Owen left his other 
 guests to drive them home. 
 
 In this case, as in others, Mrs. Haye showed herself to be 
 a woman of more than ordinary intelligence. An average
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 91 
 
 woman would instantly have taken Sir Owen's part 
 would have done her utmost to induce her daughter to 
 break her promise would have railed against Felix. Mrs. 
 Have was far too wise to take that course would be to 
 confirm Violet in keeping her word. She understood 
 women she knew that, if she opposed her, Violet would 
 take refuge in making herself an interesting martyr; 
 whereas, if she and her husband remained passive, and al- 
 lowed her to see just what she might have and what she 
 might lose, Mrs. Haye had no doubt of the result. 
 
 Sir Owen remained at the Limes with them for an hour 
 or two, and it was Mrs. Haye who reminded him that his 
 guests were waiting. 
 
 " I do not care for my guests," he said " I care only for 
 you. If you will not go back with me you must let me 
 stop here," and she had great difficulty in persuading him 
 to go. 
 
 Not one word about Sir Owen was said to Violet after his 
 departure. 
 
 "Leave it all to me, Francis," said Mrs. Haye to her hus- 
 band ; "if you interfere you will mar all. Leave it to me, 
 and do not utter a single word." 
 
 He obeyed, well pleased to have no responsibility in the 
 7n.it ter he did not like the idea of a broken promise. 
 
 Violet had expected expostulation, reproaches, persua- 
 sion. She could hardly rea.li/e the silence- then she CMIIIC 
 to the conclusion that her parents must have thought Sir 
 Owen was joking, and her dignity was somewhat wounded 
 at the notion. 
 
 Later on in the evening Felix came, and she saw that he 
 looked anxious, worn, and haggard. Mrs. Have had never 
 received him more kindly. Mr. Have was tired, and had 
 gone 1o his own room. Mrs. Have made Felix sit down 
 with them, and began to talk to him about his father, his 
 family, the business, and its prospects. 
 
 The Simple, noble-hearted young fellow opened his whole 
 heart 1o her ; he told her all his sorrow and distress about 
 his father how he had been out, and had met sonic one 
 wiio had spoken to him harshly in respect of the will case, 
 and the cnnseqiif nee had been a severe relapse. 
 
 "The fact is," sa.id Felix, "that my father is In-caking his 
 honest heart, Mrs. Have." 
 
 "It is very sad," she returned u very sad, and very hope- 
 less. " 
 
 " Yes it is almost hopeless," agreed Felix; "it seems 
 as though the very spring of bis life were gone. 1 know
 
 92 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 what would be the only thing to cure him. It would be if 
 all his fellow townsmen all his old friends met together 
 and did something to prove that they had confidence in 
 him ; something of that kind, proving to him that he was 
 respected and esteemed, would be the only thing to cure 
 him." 
 
 " And that will never happen, of course," said Mrs. Haye. 
 
 " I am afraid not, but it is the only thing to save him. 
 Dear Mrs. Haye, you are very good to listen to me I ought 
 not to bring my troubles here. " 
 
 Mrs. Haye looked kindly at him. 
 
 "Of course,'' she said, "if he gets no better, the mainte- 
 nance of the whole family will fall upon you, Felix." 
 
 " Yes, " he replied, " it will fall upon me ; I cannot desert 
 them I must work for my mother and the little ones. " 
 
 "In that case, my poor boy," she asked, "what will you 
 do with a wife ?" 
 
 He knelt down by Violet's side, and took her hand in 
 his ; he kissed it with j, passion that could not be told. 
 
 " What shall I do with a wife ?" he cried. " Ask me 
 rather what I shall do without one. My wife will be my 
 haven, my rest, my hope, my refuge will give me cour- 
 age, and hope, and fortitude ; she will give strength to my 
 mind, my heart, my brain ; my wife will be the whole 
 world to me." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Mrs. Haye, gently, "but, Felix, how are 
 you to keep her? How is she to live? You could not take 
 a wife home to A r ale House, to an invalid father, a step- 
 mother, and all those children." 
 
 ''No; I should make a home of my own, " he replied. 
 " Ah, you do not know how I love Violet how I should 
 work how I should toil day and night for her ! I would 
 keep both homes." Then he looked up into Violet's face. 
 " You would help me, my darling, would you not ? You 
 would dispense with luxuries for a time only for a time ? 
 You would be the nerve of my arm, the strength of my 
 soul. You love me enough to help me over a few trouble- 
 some years, and then fortune will smile on me. You love 
 me enough for that, sweetheart ?" 
 
 "Yes, I love you," she whispered. 
 
 Mrs. Haye rose from her seat and said she must go to 
 her husband. She left Felix kneeling at her daughter's 
 feet ; when she was gone he buried his face in the silken 
 folds of Violet's dress ; he kissed them, he kissed her hands, 
 he called her by every endearing name. 
 
 "It has seemed to me like an eternity," he said. "Oh,
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 93 % 
 
 Violet, sweet, you must never go away from me for three 
 days again. Every hour has seemed a year long. Let me 
 look into your eyes, and see if you love me as you did when 
 you went 1 " 
 
 "Yes, just as much," she said. 
 
 " And the luxury, the pleasure, the admiration, has not 
 robbed me of one beat of your heart ?" 
 
 "No, not one," she replied. 
 
 "Oh, true heart oh, dearest love, how Heaven has 
 blessed me in giving you to me. How selfish it seems of 
 me to have brought my troubles here to you, just as you 
 have come from such a bright world. " 
 
 " I have a right to bear your troubles, " she said ; but her 
 eyes dropped half sadly before his. She said to herself, 
 " Dear Heaven, how will it end ?" 
 
 "You are all the world to me !" he cried, passionately. 
 "I have but you, Violet. It seems to me all a blank where 
 you are not. I work for others, and I love them ; but you, 
 my wife that is to be, are my hope and my refuge ; you are 
 the sun of my life without you " 
 
 She laid her hand gently on his lips. 
 
 "We will not talk of that," she said; and once more, 
 with all the deep passion of his heart, he kissed the silken 
 folds of her dress the sweet hands the tresses of golden 
 hair. 
 
 "My love is a garment that infolds you, sweet," ho said. 
 "The ground on which you stand is sacred to me; 11m 
 bree/e that kisses your 1 face is sacred, too. I would mako 
 my love a shield and a, buckler for you. Oh, Violet, it is al- 
 most a terrible tiling for a man to love a woman as I love 
 you. Will yon tell mo now about the /V-fe ? Did not every- 
 one envy me? And tell me, my darling, did you keep me 
 in your memory?" 
 
 Then came to her the memory of Larch Hill and the 
 li'Ty temptation she had battled with there; but she an- 
 swered him : 
 
 . I remembered you the whole time," and he clasped 
 her in his arms. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ANOTHER TEMPTATION. 
 
 "A dreary future," said Mrs. Have, "a dreary future. I 
 cannot tell you how sorry I am for Felix, Violet." 
 
 For Mrs. II aye was true to her tactics. She never named
 
 94 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Sir Owen at all she left him quite out of the question ; 
 but she talked incessantly of Felix, and always in the most 
 kind and pitying manner. She deplored his fate ; she de- 
 clared it was the saddest she had ever known. To think 
 that a man so young and so gifted should be burdened with 
 the maintenance of so large a family. She feared he would 
 not have the strength to manage it. 
 
 They were arranging a wardrobe one day, and the beau- 
 tiful dresses so mysteriously sent for the fete lay within it. 
 
 u Violet," said Mrs. Haye, solemnly, "if I were you, I 
 would put those dresses away out of sight ; you will never 
 want them again ; you will never have an opportunity of 
 wearing them." 
 
 " Mamma, do you think I am going to live in a cloister ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 u No, my dear, certainly not ; but I know where and how 
 you are going to live. It will be in a small house on very 
 limited means." 
 
 u I shall go out at times," said Violet. 
 
 " Yes, but you will not be invited to such places as Gars- 
 wood it is out of the question ; poor Felix could neither 
 visit nor receive such people. And now that we are speak- 
 ing of it, Violet, I think it would be just as well if you 
 would try to learn a little of domestic work. You have 
 been foolishly brought up, I am afraid. " 
 
 "Why should I learn to work, mamma?" she asked, 
 looking at her hands, so white, so delicate. " I am sure 
 Felix will never like to see me working." 
 
 " He will not be able to help it, poor fellow !" Mrs. Haye 
 said, pityingly. " But you must look your future in the 
 face. Violet ; you cannot spend all your life in Avaiting for 
 him waiting until your hair grows gray, and your youth 
 only your dream ; and, if you mariy him, it must be to 
 help him." 
 
 " So I will help him, mamma, " she replied. 
 
 "That is quite right," said Mrs. Haye, serenely. "lam 
 glad to hear you say so. I should like you to understand 
 what helping in this case means. Felix will have to keep 
 up Vale House and maintain all his stepmother's family. 
 He will not, of course, have much to spare for himself : 
 hence he will want all the care and economy possible in 
 his household. You should learn to cook, to sew. to iron, 
 to manage a house, for you will not be able to keep more 
 than one servant, if you manage to do that." 
 
 " Mamma 1" cried Violet, in dismay, and she raised her
 
 WEAKER THAX A WOMAN. 95 
 
 pretty white hands with the pink tapering fingers depre- 
 cating ly. 
 
 "I am sure of it, Violet. I know what money is, and 
 how far it goes. With every man's hand against him 
 Felix will have a hard struggle, and the only way in which 
 you can help him will be by spending as little money as 
 you can." 
 
 Then wise Mrs. Have left the words to work their effect. 
 
 In the meantime Sir Owen devoted himself unceasingly 
 to Violet. Every day brought some lavish gift or otl> 
 the Limes great hampers of game and fruit, of rare for- 
 eign wines, of flowers- ;md Violet said nothing of them 
 'ix, because she saw he was hurt that he could 
 not do the same and during that period the girl's mind 
 iortured and harassed by doubts and f< 
 
 It was such a chance to miss. She mi^ht be Lady Cheve- 
 nix of (Jarswood ; she might be the wealthiest woman in 
 all the county; and yet she had elected to be nothii 
 her life but a mere dome-tie drudge. When Sir Owen 
 came over and insisted upon driving her out, she Mould 
 say to herself that luxury was a necessity for her, that she 
 could not live without it, that she must have it, Then Kve 
 r would spend a day with her, and would talk to her 
 with such noble simplicity, such simple grandeur, of the 
 life '>!!' .re her, that she fell she loved Felix more than 
 ever. At Vale House, however, the cloud deepened, and 
 honest Darcy Lonsdale wore his great heart away in sor- 
 rowful repining. 
 
 One evening how well Violet remembered it it was the 
 beginning of July, ami the western sky was crimson with 
 the setting of the sun, Sir Owen rode up to the door. He 
 came into the dinin- room, where the family had just liar- 
 taken of tea, and it struck all of them that lie was il! at ease. 
 He spoke chiefly to Mrs. Have, and looked but seldom at 
 
 Violet. 
 
 " I went to London yesterday," he said, "and something 
 tempted me into a jeweler's shop. 1 bought some very 
 line diamonds, a.nd I have brought them for you to 
 
 I ! look some heavy morocco cases from his pocket, and 
 Violet looked up with a new light in her eyes and a low 
 Mjjjht. "Few women," thought Su- Owen, "can 
 -ptation of diamonds." 
 
 He opened the cases, and laid them before her. There 
 were a beautiful diamond MVierb necklace,. brooclL, 
 
 ear-rums, hracolet, a,ud rin^s, all with stones of the first 
 water, full of fin;, clear, brilliant, and beautiful. Tho-criin-
 
 96 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 son light of the setting sun shone in them and made them 
 so dazzlingly bright that it was almost impossible to look 
 at them. 
 
 "What do you think of them?" he asked Violet. 
 
 " I cannot tell you. I did not know there was anything 
 in the world so beautiful," she 1 cried. 
 
 " How much are they worth ?" asked Mrs. Have. 
 
 " I have paid more thousands for them than I should like 
 to tell you," Sir Owen replied, laughing; "and I would 
 pay as many more to please the same person for whom 
 they are intended. Miss Haye, will you try them on ', I 
 should like to see the effect. " 
 
 But Violet's hands trembled as she tried to raise the 
 glittering gems from their velvet beds. 
 
 "Let me help you," he said, and she did not object. 
 
 The next moment he was standing by her side. He 
 placed the brilliant star in her golden hair, and she felt 
 that he lingered far longer than he need have done over it. 
 
 " What wonderful hair you have !" he said. " How beau- 
 tiful it is ! The diamonds are not good enough for it. " 
 
 Then he clasped the necklace around the white graceful 
 neck ; Violet fastened the brooch herself, and he clasped 
 the bracelet on her lovely arm. She would rather that he 
 had not done so Felix would not have liked it, she waa 
 sure ; but then the temptation to see herself so decked 
 just for once was irresistible. She had never worn a 
 diamond and these were so gorgeous. 
 
 Very soon he placed her before the great gilt mirror, and 
 the crimson sunlight fell upon her, on the sheen of her 
 golden hair, on the brilliant gems, on the face more beauti- 
 ful than any gem. Such a marvelous picture as she made 
 in those glittering diamonds Sir Owen told himself had 
 never been seen. Mr. Haye cried out in admiration. 
 
 " She is like the Queen of Sheba, " he said. 
 
 " She is fairer than any queen," laughed Sir Owen. " You 
 ought to wear diamonds. Miss Haye. You were born to 
 wear them. Knowing that, and feeling sure how well they 
 would become you, I have ventured to buy these for you ; 
 wiL you honor me by accepting them ?" 
 
 But Violet drew back from the mirror with a pale, scared 
 face, and a movement so sudden that the light in the dia- 
 monds was like gleams of fire scattered over her. 
 
 " You bought them for me ''." she said. 
 
 " Yes, and I hope you will honor me by accepting them," 
 ho replied, with a low bow.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 97 
 
 " I cannot," she said, quietly ; " they are too valuable. I 
 should never wear them. " 
 
 " You shall wear them at Court," he told her, "and no 
 royal duchess has finer." 
 
 " Felix Lonsdale would not be willing," she said, calmly ; 
 " I cannot take them. " 
 
 An angry flush burned his face, a lurid light leaped into 
 his eyes, but a sign from Mrs. Haye controlled him. 
 
 " My daughter is quite right, Sir Owen. She cannot take 
 these diamonds from you while she is the promised wife of 
 Felix Lonsdale. I will help you, Violet. " 
 
 The diamonds were taken off and restored to their cases. 
 Mrs. Haye had never acted more wisely. Violet would have 
 resented it had they been pressed upon her ; woman-like, 
 when they were so quietly taken back, she began to long 
 for them. There was no word spoken us Sir Owen replaced 
 the cases in his pocket and rose to take his leave. 
 
 '* I trust I have not offended you, Miss Haye," he said, 
 " by offering you the best tribute I could think of to prove 
 my admiration." 
 
 " Why should I be offended, Sir Owen? You were kind to 
 think of me, but I yon see, I cannot take them." 
 
 "I will not offend a.Lrain," he replied. 
 
 He shook hands with Francis Haye and his wife ; he 
 parted from Violet with a bow. 
 
 "When the door had closed behind him Francis Have 
 looked at his daughter. 
 
 " You have refused quite twenty thousand pounds," he 
 said. 
 
 Mrs. Haye held up her hand with a warning gesture. 
 
 ''She has done quite right, Francis. It would i 
 for the wife of a poor struggling lawyer to wear twenty 
 thousand pounds' worth of jewels more than absurd. Who 
 would make puddings and mend socks clad in such dia- 
 monds a< those? Let Violet be consistent. She prefers 
 linsey \\-oolsey to satin, poverty to riches. It is he; 
 choice we must not interfere." 
 
 Violet kissed hor mother, but Mrs. Haye felt with keen 
 deli-lit that there was little rapture in the kiss; and all 
 the rest of the evening the fair face was clouded. 
 
 Another thing happened which annoyed Violet. She 
 alking one day through Ordiield lane, when she met 
 Lady Eolfe and her daughter Lavinia. With great cor- 
 diality her ladyship stopped to talk to her. 
 
 " Will you mind walking on with me, Miss Haye ?" she
 
 98 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 said. " I have often thought that I should like to chat with 
 you. " 
 
 " I shall be very pleased, " answered Violet, little dream- 
 ing of the mortification in store for her. 
 
 "I wished to speak to you when we were at Garswood," 
 said Lady Rolfe, ; but I found no opportunity. I think it 
 only my duty, M, <ss Haye, to utter a few words of warning 
 to you about Sir Owen." 
 
 Violet looked up proudly. 
 
 " I do not think that there is the least need for such 
 words, Lady Eolfe, " she replied. 
 
 " I am truly glad to hear you say so. Sir Owen Chevenix 
 is a wealthy man. I do not wish to say one unjust word 
 against him, but I am quite correct in stating that he does 
 not bear one of the best of reputations ; he drinks, and 
 well, he has other faults which I must not name to you." 
 
 " I do not see how this concerns me," said Violet. 
 
 " But I do, Miss Haye. Pray listen to me. You have a 
 pretty face, and Sir Owen is always attracted by such. 
 Yours is not the first by any means that he has admired." 
 
 " I never supposed that it was, " said the girl, proudly. 
 
 " That is right. If you understand the character of the 
 man all is well, but, having a friendly interest in you, I 
 was afraid that his flattery might mislead you." 
 
 " If she only knew the truth !" thought Violet. " If she 
 could only guess that I have refused to be Lady Chevenix !" 
 
 " I am not alone in my ideas," continued Lady Rolfe. " I 
 heard many ladies at Garswood say what a pity it was that 
 no one warned you. This is what I want to say to you, Miss 
 Haye and, believe me, real kindness dictates the words. 
 You are engaged to marry a very honorable gentleman. 
 Even though he be unfortunate, do not lose the substance 
 for the shadow ; do not give him up under the mistaken 
 impression that Sir Owen will marry you. The difference 
 in your rank and position is too great. He is simply amus- 
 ing himself with the prettiest face near him. Be wamed 
 in time he will flirt with you, but he will never dream of 
 marrying you. " 
 
 "That is your ladyship's opinion," said Violet. 
 
 " And the opinion of every one else who knows Sir Owen 
 and who knows you," added Lady Rolfe. "I assure you 
 that many ladies have spoken to me about it, and have ex 
 pressed a great hope that you would not be misled by Sir 
 Owen's flattery and love of flirtation." 
 
 u lf she knew all," thought Violet "if she did hut. 
 know I" And her beautiful face wore such a witching snii'v
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 99 
 
 as she bade Lady Rolf e good-morning that the keen, worldly 
 woman felt alarmed. 
 
 'She. would m'ver look like that, Lavinia," she cried, 
 " unless in some way or other she had the best of the mat- 
 ter. Surely it can never be that he has asked her to marry 
 him." 
 
 My dear mother, Sir Owen may marry just whom he 
 The only fact which interests me is that he lias 
 not asked me to marry him. As for !\!iss Have, 1 am not 
 interested in her, and do not care to talk about her. 1 ' 
 
 Miss Rolt'e dismissed the matter very quickly from her 
 mind, but Lady Rolfe pondered it deeply. Surely she 
 must be mistaken the best match in the county, the most 
 eligible man for many miles around, could never be so ab 
 surd as to throw himself away on a mere nobody like Vio- 
 let Have, even though' she had the face of an angel and the 
 grace of a queen. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 VIOLET'S DECISION. 
 
 ^o the decision as to her own future was left entirely in 
 Violet's hands. Neither father nor mother spoke one \\ord 
 which could influence her, and Felix was so engrossed in 
 his business that he was but seldom able to see her. Sir 
 Owen, on the contrary, always kept himself present in her 
 mind. Every day brought hampers, parcels nf books, 
 everything that could be thought of, from the Hall. Every 
 day brought a little note begging that she would accept 
 
 Bowers, fruit, or whatever accompanied it. He rode over 
 very often himself; In- .seemed to bring an atmosphere of 
 the fashionable world with him; he was always lull <4 
 spirits, with wonderful news to tell. 
 
 Violet had been very much annoyed by Lady Rolfe's 
 warning it had turned the balance the wrong way. 
 
 " I understand," she said to herself 'they think I am s* 
 far beneath Sir Owen that he will never deign to marrr 
 me. How mistaken they are, and how little they know f 
 the real truth! How I could surprise them if I wished to 
 do so! What: a triumph and a victory 1 could win over 
 them all ! How they would wonder t<> see me l.ady ( 'heve 
 nix! If ever I do become Lady ( 'hevenix, that, woman, 
 Lady Rolfe, shall come no more to (iarswood." 
 
 That wasthelirst t ime she had ever admitted to herself 
 that there was an "if" in the matter the first time she had
 
 100 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 thought of the possibility that she might eventually be Lady 
 Chevenix. The temptation was great and subtle ; it was 
 some time in forcing an entrance into her heart but, once 
 admitted, it would not leave her. There were many ex- 
 cuses for her there was much that pleaded for her her 
 youth, her love of luxury, her dread of poverty, her long 
 ing for the bright side of life. The constant dropping of 
 water wears away a stone. Such was Violet's case. The 
 constant talk of poverty with which her mother plied her 
 morning, noon, and night the constant praise of Sir Owen, 
 the blank, cool toleration of Felix the wonder at the 
 riches of the one, the pity for the poverty of the other, all 
 influenced her, until at length a day came when her heart 
 opened to the worship of Mammon, when love dwindled 
 into insignificance by the side of wealth. The day came 
 when, wearied of everything, she went out into the cool 
 green depths of the summer woods and held her life, as it 
 were, in her hands. 
 
 She tried to think of her case as though it were that of a 
 stranger as though she herself had no vital concern in it. 
 On the one side she had to suppose that she would prove 
 true to her promise, true to her word that she would 
 marry the man whom she really loved Felix Lonsdale. 
 "Let me look at that picture quite calmly at first," she said 
 to herself. She would have to wait at least two or three 
 years longer, and by then the brightness of her beauty 
 would have waned the spring of her youth would have 
 left her. They would be years of sorry discomfort, too. 
 Her .mother and father would lose ail patience ; they 
 would be years of constant unpleasantness; Felix, too, 
 would doubtless be always in trouble and she, like most 
 of the young, gay, and beautiful, dreaded trouble. Taking 
 the marriage at its best, it was a poor one. When she was 
 first engaged to Felix Lonsdale, things were quite different. 
 No cloud of disgrace hung over his family ; he bade fair to 
 become a rich man ; he had every hope of making a beauti 
 ful home for her. Even then it was not such a marriage 
 as she with her queenly dower of beauty and grace had a 
 right to expect. Were she to marry him with his present 
 prospects, what a fate would lie before her ! Such limited 
 means such genteel poverty ! She shuddered as she saw 
 the years stretch themselves out before her. She foresaw 
 hard work the work she disliked most of all, domestic 
 drudgery ; hard fare ; no balls, no parties, but little dress, 
 nothing but the care of a house a bare plain existence 
 from which she shrunk no visiting. How people would
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 101 
 
 laugh at her. It would be like going out of the world at 
 once. But then and her heart grew warn, at the thought 
 she would have Felix Felix, who loved her so dearly 
 Felix to whom the ground she- trod on was sacred. She 
 would be with him, and she would have the happy con- 
 sciousness of having done what was right ; she would have 
 done her duty, and she might be happy after all. 
 
 Then came the other side of the picture and the girl's 
 brain whirled as she tried to understand it,*tried to reali/e 
 it. If she married Sir Owen, she would be mistress of 
 magnificent Garswood she would be mistress of all its 
 grandeur, of the superb grounds, the gorgeous pictures, the 
 wonders of silver and gold; they would be hers to use 
 when she liked and how she liked. She would he Lady 
 Chevenix, patroness of balls, queen of the county; she 
 would be able to patronize Lady Rolfe in her turn, to pun 
 ish those who had dared to think she required warning; 
 she could have dresses such as she had not dreamed of; 
 she would be great, wealthy, and powerful. But there 
 would be no Felix with all this ; she would have to give 
 him up, and she would live the remainder of her life with 
 e of having acted unfairly of having betrayed such 
 UK! faith as were given to few women. 
 
 Those were the two pa,ths that lay so clearly and so dis- 
 tinctly mapped out before her. In her heart she loved 
 Felix and she knew it ; but that same heart longed for 
 wealth and luxuries such as Felix could never give her 
 that, same heart recoiled from the p->verty, the struggles, 
 the hard work, the economy, the daily cares that must at- 
 tend her as the wife of Felix Lonsdale. "She disliked aM 
 such; she remembered how, even when thin;;-* looked 
 brightest, she had stood in the house that had belonged to 
 the Hendersons, wondering what her life would be like 
 there, and recalled the curious sensation that had come 
 over her of there not being enough there to fill her life. 
 Then she laughed a little bitter laugh as she flung away the 
 wild Mowers that she wa,s holding. 
 
 "I have a, desjre to he rich," she said, ' l but none i 
 noble. [ am not noble. 1 see the right and honorable path, 
 but I have not the strength to follow it. 1 hate m\selt for 
 bein.u; what 1 am, but I cannot' change/' 
 
 She made no false excuses to herself: she gave no hlgh- 
 fiWn name to the sin she was about to commit. Mammon 
 tempted her. and she fell; the spirit of the world, the 
 pride of life, the love of riches had all entered her soul, 
 and taken possession of it. She did not disguise from
 
 102 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 herself what she was doing when she deliberately resolved 
 to break her plighted word to give up her lover and 
 marry Sir Owen. 
 
 Her temptations had been many and great they had 
 been continual, they had been hard to resist ; but that was 
 no excuse. She knew that she was committing a double 
 sin ; she was proving false to the one man whom she really 
 loved to marry one whom she did not love at all. 
 
 "It is a double sin," she said to herself, " but I cannot 
 help it I could not go through a life of drudgery and 
 poverty. Felix will hate me, but in after years he will 
 know that my decision was wise." 
 
 So she thought and mused, dreaming in the sweet shade 
 of the summer woods of the gorgeous future that would be 
 hers if she married Sir Owen. Presently her mood changed 
 and her eyes filled with passionate tears as she thought of 
 Felix. 
 
 " I love Felix !" she cried. " Why can he not have Gars- 
 wood ? Why must he be poor and obscure while Owen 
 Chevenix revels in wealth ? It is not fair." 
 
 She had love and wealth both before her, yet she had de- 
 liberately given up love and had chosen wealth. She made 
 no effort to justify herself in her own eyes. 
 
 "Those diamonds were too much for me," she said. "I 
 cannot help it if I am not noble by nature. " 
 
 Yet, when she had left the woods, and walked home 
 through the meadows, something was gone from the sun- 
 light, something from the song of the birds, which was 
 never to be there again for her. She walked as one over 
 whom a shadow lies. She had joined hands with sin and 
 sin is never a cheerful companion. The flowers and the 
 trees, the color of the grass, had lost their charms for her 
 there was a dark shade over everything. 
 
 " Will it always be like this r she thought. " If it is, I 
 shall not find my future very_ bright. " 
 
 Then the girl's heart misgave her. As she looked around 
 everything reminded her of Felix. She had walked with 
 him down those groves, she had lingered with him by that 
 stile and under those trees : he had been so much part of 
 her life that she could not picture life without him. 
 
 " How shall I live without him ?" she said. u How shall I 
 spend the days, the years without him if' Then she tried 
 to harden her heart. " People cannot live on love and 
 poetry," she told herself ; " if they could all would be well." 
 
 That same evening she said to Mrs. Have : 
 
 " Mamma, I have been thinking it will oe better for F^iix
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 103 
 
 and myself to part. I am afraid he has enough on his 
 shoulders." 
 J have thought so for some time, my dear," was the 
 
 quiet reply. "Your engagement is fully, your mar 
 would be mad- 
 
 Then Violet went up to her mother, and put one arm 
 around her neek. 
 
 nma." she said, "you will save me all trouble :" 
 ?," replied Mrs. Have, "you may safely leave it all 
 to me." 
 
 And so wealth won a soul not noble enough to live for 
 love. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 A cruel day dawned for Felix Lonsdale a day when the 
 Kim shone so brightly and with such heat that grass, dow- 
 ers, and leaves withered beneath his fervent rays, when a 
 golden haze seemed to lie over the land, and the brooks 
 >\vly over the pebbles beneath them a day when the 
 wind was still, and not the faintest whisper of a bre.-/e 
 stirred the leaves or blossoms a cruel day. He remem- 
 it all through his lite, for the warm sunlight seemed 
 suddenly to change into a fire that burned him. every- 
 thing bright and fair appeared to wither before h 
 
 day which brought him a pain that never quite left 
 him while life lasted. 
 
 He was in his oHice in the High street the office that 
 
 nee borne such signs of prosperity where the -n-.-it. 
 
 iron safes had been tilled with deeds, and huge bill files 
 
 had 1 n loaded with documents where the tables had 
 
 been strewn with papers and letters -where bu-y clerks 
 had passed the day. all too short for the work they had t> 
 .hen- people were always going and coming with the 
 air of having important b; a hand. 
 
 It was all so different now. one by one the clerks had 
 re was nothing to do. one by one the neighbor- 
 mires and farmers had withdrawn their business from 
 the old ollice. There was so little to transact now that 
 Felix could manage with one clerk. Still he had hope. He 
 felt sure that in time this state of things must im: 
 When people be -an to think calmly they would know that 
 his father was innocent of that which had been imputed to 
 him.
 
 104 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Felix was seated in his office. It was too warm for busi- 
 ness no one came in. There were no messages, no inter- 
 views he had nothing professional to do. The clerk was 
 busy copying a deed, and Felix was making the most of 
 his time by writing an essay upon the "Inequalities of 
 British Law. " 
 
 Suddenly the postman's knock was heard in the quiet 
 street, where on that scorching day even the very houses 
 seemed to sleep. The sound did not interest Felix ; he ex- 
 pected no letter. Violet seldom sent him a little note ; 
 when she did so it was like the finest cordial to him he 
 worked the better for it he was happier an } brighter. 
 Perhaps, if she had known how happy those letters made 
 him, she would have written oftener. 
 
 Presently, to his surprise, came the sharp sudden knock 
 of the postman at his own door. The clerk quickly dis- 
 appeared, and then returned and placed a letter in his 
 hands a lady's letter, with a faint odor of violets. He 
 opened it and looked at the signature u Martha Haye. " 
 
 It was from Violet's mother. What could she have to 
 say to him ? It was an invitation probably. He put aside 
 his essay, and began to read the note. 
 
 "My DEAR FELIX : That which I have to say will pain you, I know; 
 "but I connot help it it must be said. The engagement between you 
 and my daughter must come to an end. r lhe circumstances under 
 which I gave my consent were quite different from those existing at 
 present. Your prospects have quite altered. It' you marry my daughter 
 now, yon cannot keep her in anything like the position in which she 
 lives even at present: and I am not willing to see her become a mere 
 domestic drudge. Mr Haye and myself wish the engagement to end at 
 once, as under 110 circumstances could we consent to the marriage. 
 "Violet sends her love, and deshvs me to say that all this is writt < n by 
 her wish, and that she hopes always to be your friend. She is going 
 away <>n a long visit to one of her relatives. Hoping you will see the 
 necessity lor this step, i am yours very sincerely, 
 
 "MARTHA HAYE." 
 
 He read it through, at first with the feeling and convic- 
 tion that it nmst be a practical joke, then with a deadly as- 
 surance that they were going to take Violet from him. The 
 handsome, worn face grew deadly pale ; a dazed, dim look 
 came into his eyes; a great, tearless, voiceless sob rose to 
 his lips ; the sunlight seemed to change to a blood-red mist, 
 and a sound 'like the roar of distant waters filled his ears. 
 He sat with the letter open in his hand, dazed as a man 
 who had received a terrible blow. 
 
 How long he sat he never knew ; it seemed to him that 
 years of agony, years of torture, rolled over his head. He
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 105 
 
 was literally stunned. He had borne all his sorrows with 
 a brave, strong heart because he had a true hope, a beau- 
 tiful, warm love. To take that from him was to leave him 
 with no ground to stand on. 
 
 Slowly thought and reason came back to him. He rose, 
 still with the open, letter in his hands, with a white, set look 
 on his handsome, haggard young face which might have 
 touched a heart of stone. He took his hat from the stand, 
 and the dork looked after him with <i terrified gaze, won- 
 dering what could have happened to him. 
 
 "There was bad news in the letter," he said, "but where 
 has he gone with it open in his hand like that ;'' 
 
 More than one person whom Felix Lonsdale met asked 
 themselves the same thing, more than one spoke to him ; 
 but he did not hear he walked on, looking straight before 
 him, his eyes fixed on vacancy, his white, set lace without 
 change or expression, until lie reached the Limes. What 
 he suffered as lie pai-d the old land-marks, the trees, the 
 stiles, the lilac bushes at the gate, was known only to 
 Heaven. 
 
 Hejtvent straight into the house, and Mrs. Haye herself 
 Was the hV't person that he met. 
 
 half frightened when her eyes fell upon his 
 face; x unlike was it to any face she had ever so 
 changec by his great woe. she could hardly recognize it 
 lell out her hand to him with some commonplace words 
 
 ie. 1 \<- did not hear them. 
 
 me in here,' 1 he said, and, taking her arm, he led her 
 into the nearest room. "Tell rne," he asked, "did yon write 
 this " 
 
 re was nothing to he said but the truth, yet in all her 
 .if Mrs. Haye had never been more frightened, she had 
 Ic deal with a desperate man. 
 
 3, 1 wrote it, Felix; it was wisest, kindest, best." 
 
 "And you say that Violet is willing that Violet knows 
 ),bout it ;"" 
 
 "I wrote it with her express sanction," she replied. 
 
 "It is false ! 1 would not believe you if you swore it! I 
 not believe it '. Heaven is not so crud." 
 
 "There is no cruelty in it, "said Mrs. Haye; "it is what 
 
 must be done." 
 
 ".Must be done ! Do you know that she is mv liT- itself, 
 that 1 have no life apart from her, no hope that <\- 
 begin and end with her 1 If you take her from me, 
 a, dead body slie is my soul itsrlf :" 
 
 He paused, for the passion of his words overcame him
 
 106 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 How was he to tell this woman what Violet, his beautiful 
 love, was to him ? How weak and impotent words were ! 
 
 "I know that you are very fond of her," Mrs. Haye 
 said, gently ; "still it cannot be it cannot, indeed." 
 
 "Will you tell me why you have done this cruel deed? 
 What is your motive ?'' 
 
 "Because you cannot afford to marry; yon must not 
 burden yourself with a wife." 
 
 " Surely I know best. I can work I do work. I would 
 work night and day, with one hope before me of making 
 my darling my wife. She loves me, she knows what 
 trouble has come to us, she is willing to wait a few months 
 longer, and then share my lot. It will be brighter in time 
 everything will come right for us yet. I have no fear." 
 
 "lam not willing, her father i net willing we see no 
 use, no sense in the best and brightest years of her life 
 being wasted in waiting for a r> Carriage that, when it comes, 
 wil be the worst thing that could happen to her. We are 
 not willing ; and I tell you frankly that Violet sees mat- 
 ters as we do. She wished me to say all this." 
 
 " Do you know what you are doing to me what you 
 are taking from me? Do you understand," he cried 
 hoarsely, " that you are killing me ?" 
 
 " I am sorry, of course it is very hard, I know but such 
 a life as you oiler Violet would kill her." 
 
 " I do not believe it !" he cried. " You changed to me when 
 my fortune changed. You were willing enough to give me 
 my darling when you thought that I was the son of a rich 
 man. I shall be rich again in time. I have seen the change 
 in you ; you have given me cold looks for kind ones you 
 have been barely civil where you had been warmly cordial. 
 I understand it you love Mammon. Wealth, rank, luxury, 
 are more to you than the heart of an honest man. But my 
 darling is not like you, and I will' receive the statement 
 you have made from no lips but hers." 
 
 " My daughter is not at home, and you will gain nothing 
 from seeing her." 
 
 " But you cannot do as you please ; she is engaged to me 
 she is my promised wife no man or woman living has 
 the power to break such a bond. She could not break it 
 herself." 
 
 "You will find you are mistaken there," said Mrs. Haye. 
 And then Felix saw plainly that it was useless to say more 
 to her there was something of animosity in her tone. He 
 left her, still holding the open letter in his hand. 
 
 "I am sorry for him, " said Mrs. Haye. when describing
 
 WEAKER THAN A WO.UAN. 107 
 
 the scene to her husband ; " but what can be done ? There 
 
 is one thing that I am really thankful for he has not the 
 least idea about Sir Owen. I am not nervous, but I do he 
 that if he suspected what has happened he would kill 
 him." 
 
 As Felix left the house to return home, Jennie, a smart 
 housemaid, who had often opened the door for him, and 
 who thought him a noble-looking gentleman, ran after him. 
 
 "Do forgive me, sir," she said ; "but you have always 
 been so good to me, and I know all about it. I am so sorry 
 for you, sir, that I cannot sleep for thinking of it." 
 
 He tried to look indifferent, to smile, but he could not: 
 Ins pride and self-control broke down at these pitying 
 words. 
 
 " Tell me what you know, Jennie," he said. 
 
 " They have sent her away, sir, so that you should not 
 see her and persuade her. They have kept it quite a secret 
 where she is gone no one knows but I stole into her room 
 and saw her trunk addressed to North Alton, and 1 know 
 that Mrs. Have has a cousin living at North Alton. IShe is 
 gone there, sir, and nowhere else.' 1 
 
 "Thank you, Jennie," he said "you have proved your- 
 self a friend." 
 
 Jennie w^ould not take the sovereign he offered her, and 
 the sympathy he read in her face cheered him. 
 
 "It will be all right when I see Miss Haye," he said 
 " They have over-persuaded her. She loves me and I trust 
 her." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 TEMPORIZING. 
 
 Felix sent his clerk to Vale House with a note saying that 
 .lie family were not to be alarmed if he did not return that 
 evening, as he had some important business ).. transact in a 
 town some miles distant ; and harry Lonsdale, who was (,> 
 ill then to feel an interest in anything professional, feel.ly 
 blessed him as he listened. 
 
 -He works hard." said Kate, as she read the note; then 
 she sighed, thinking how different matters would have 
 been had Felix loved F.velyn instead of Violet. The Hayes 
 had stood aloof from them in their troubles; they had ex- 
 pressed, but little sympathy, and Mrs. Lonsdale felt it 
 keenly. Violet had not beeii to see them as Eve Lester had
 
 108 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. ' 
 
 been ; and Kate sighed again as she thought of tn<5 
 ence between the two girls. 
 
 North Alton was quite forty miles from Lilford. 
 knew that the name of Mrs. Haye's cousin was Miss W3S1>- 
 ern. He had often heard Violet laugh about her mothei-g 
 cousin, who was an old maid. He said to himself that no 
 would gc to North Alton by the night train ; then ho 
 could see Violet in the morning, and be at home again | 
 in the evening. He little dreamed that people looked' 
 at him earnestly as he went to the station. His hand."! 
 some young face bore the impress of unutterable 
 row ; his eyes were dim and shadowed, with great 
 dark circles round them; his lips were pale an.; 
 trembling. He had never thought of taking food he had 
 not even drank a glass of water to cool his parched lips. 
 So ill, so sorrow-stricken, so unlike the handsome, gallant, 
 noble Felix of the day before was he that Mrs. Lonsdale 
 would hardly have known him had she seen him he looked 
 like the ghost of himself. 
 
 When he stood before Violet she uttered a cry of sorrow 
 and dismay. He had left the hotel to go to her aunt's 
 house, and met her just as, dressed for a walk, she was 
 leaving the little front garden. One of Miss Western's 
 manias was early walking. He waited until Violet had 
 gone some little distance down the road, and then he fol- 
 lowed her. She gave a little cry, and stood silent and shame- 
 stricken before him. He saw the sorrow, but not the shame, 
 and the sorrow misled him. The dreadful livid pallor, the 
 stony mask, fell from his face as a snow-wreath melts in 
 the warm light of the sun. 
 
 "My darling," he cried, "I knew it was false I knew 
 that you had not said it ! Oh, thank Heaven, thank 
 Heaven !" He leaned, pale and breathless, against the 
 trunk of an elm tree. "I believed in you, my darling," he 
 said. " I knew that you had not sanctioned it ; you could 
 not you hold my life in your hands. And yet why did 
 you come here? Why did you not write to me? Speak to 
 me, Violet, for by the heaven above me, I swsar that I am 
 going mad !" 
 
 She was frightened, scared, at the wild eyes, tl 13 hoarse 
 voice, the face so full of pain. She dared not have said to 
 him " I have made my choice, Felix, between love and 
 gold. I have chosen gold. ' And, wretched as she was, 
 though she had given him up, and never meant to mar.-y 
 him, her whole heart went out to him with greater warmti? 
 and greater love than it hf*d ever felt before Slit aic out
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAX. 109 
 
 her hands to him, but started at the touch of his ; they 
 burned her like fire. 
 
 " You are making yourself ill, Felix," she said. 
 
 "Ill !" he repeated and his laugh was more terrible to 
 her than any words. " How would you feel, Violet, had any 
 one tried to tear the living, beating heart from your body ? 
 Oh, my darling, tell me it is not true tell me so, for 
 ll-.-avcii's sake! Say that it is false that they persuaded 
 you, urged you, wrote without your knowledge! Speak to 
 me <|uickly. for I am going mad !" 
 
 She was only a woman at the very best a weak one 
 and she loved even after the weak fashion in which some 
 women love. She could not endure the sight of his pain. 
 She dared not tell him the truth; she did what weak 
 won leu so often do she temporized. 
 
 " I thought it best, Felix, to give you some years free 
 that you might work the better. I should not like to be 
 a. 1> irden to you." 
 
 I Ic dre\\- a deep breath, like one relieved from an intoler- 
 able load, from an unbearable pain. 
 
 Is that all? Oh, my darling, my generous, noble Violet, 
 
 is that all? I will not reproach you. But why have you 
 
 given me this terrible fright? I have been almost dead. I 
 
 am fifty years older with these hours of terrible pain. Why 
 
 did you not tell me, sweet, what you dreaded? There is 
 
 nothing to tear, Violet. I am so strong when I think of you 
 
 tl.it 1 eoiild work by night and by day yet never feel 
 
 i"d. Such love as mine puts nerve into a. man's ri.^ht 
 
 arm. oh, Violet sweet, you need not fear! You shall 
 
 i home as beautiful as love can make it. You shall 
 
 a life so easy and so free from care that when it ends 
 
 you will look back in wonder to see how it has j. 
 
 You shall never know pain or fatigue, that I can save you 
 
 from. You shall be served and waited upon and attended 
 
 to unceasingly. 1 ' 
 
 She made him no answer, but her hands touched his 
 gently. 
 
 "A burden !" he repeated. "You' were afraid of being a 
 burden to me! Oh, Viol.-t, life of my life. 1 ought to 
 laii-h at you ! Sweet burden that I would fain carry until 
 i chums me! Would to Heaven that the time were 
 near wnen I could make the dear burden all mine :' 
 had not the courage to l".>k at him and s;; 
 
 i iove riches netter 1 have chosen tln-m in- 
 .011." She had not, the courage t" say it in that 
 ightened ev tit - to remember it...
 
 110 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " You will never feel this fear again, Violet, will you ?" 
 he said, speaking more like himself than he had yet. " It 
 is so absurd yet perhaps it is natural to a sensitive mind 
 like yours. I am sane now, but I have been mad. Does 
 my face alarm you ? You need only.laugh at it, sweet. I 
 have forgotten to eat and to drink since your mother's let- 
 ter came. The sun was shining brightly and warmly, but 
 it seemed to change all at once into a scorching fire-ball, 
 and I went mad. Yet I did not lose my faith in you, Vio- 
 let. I knew that you would never have spoken as your 
 mother did, never have written as she did. I can forgive 
 her ; it is only natural that she should think so much of 
 you. No man could seem good enough for you. I am 
 not good enough, but I love you so dearly that my great 
 love stands in the place of great riches or great rank." 
 
 Still she uttered no word she dared not tell him the 
 truth. 
 
 "You are strangely silent, Violet," he said. "Have I 
 frightened you ?" 
 
 " No, " she replied ; " but you have startled me you look 
 so ill, Felix, and so unlike your own self." 
 
 "No wonder, my darling," he returned. "But I will not 
 startle you again I will remember how sensitive you are." 
 
 She looked up at him with a smile so sirens smile at the 
 men they lure to destruction. 
 
 "Felix," she said, "you should not love me so much, 
 dear you know what I have always told you about idols 
 of clay." 
 
 " I cannot help it ; my mission in life is to love you." 
 
 "I cannot ask you to come in and see me," she said. 
 " Miss Western does not like gentlemen ; she never receives 
 visitors." 
 
 "My darling, I must hasten home," he told her. "But 
 you have not informed me why you came here, Violet." 
 
 " Mamma wished me to come. I was not quite strong I 
 wanted a change." 
 
 kk And why did you not write to me, sweet ?'' he continued. 
 
 She paused one moment. Should she tell him or not? 
 No she could not ; she loved him too much, and she was 
 somewhat ashamed. She found an excuse ; there was no 
 need for it to be a very good one to satisfy him. 
 
 " I knew you were true to me, Violet, " he said. " I knew 
 that it was your mother who had persuaded you who had 
 written that cruel letter without your sanction, perhaps 
 your knowledge." 
 
 "I knew that she was going to write it," Violet told him
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. Ill 
 
 but he was not afraid even then. No man is so completely 
 
 blind as a man in love. 
 
 " Then you sanctioned it to try me you sanctioned it to 
 
 Bee how much I loved you ? Listen, Violet sweet I shall 
 
 go home and I shall work as no man ever did. I shall begin 
 
 at once to get your house ready for you I shall wait no 
 
 : and when it is ready, if your mother does not give 
 
 >nsent, I shall run away with you. Do you hear, my 
 
 darling; I shall do as Jock o' Ha/Iedean did." 
 
 laughed faintly. Even then she had not the courage 
 v, "The letter was all true, and I have given you up of 
 my own accord." Even then she deceived him. by her look 
 and smile, if not by her words. 
 
 " 1 must not stay longer," he said. " I shall go back home 
 a different man. It is a terrible thing to know that one's 
 fate lies altogether in the hands of a single creature; but, 
 when they are such true, sweet hands as yours. Violet, 
 there is nothing to fear. I will go back now to rny work, 
 which is sweetened by my love. Darling, say once more 
 for me the words I love so dearly 'I belong to you, 
 
 Felix.' " 
 
 She had always said them before while looking up at him 
 
 with an arch, sweet smile, her beautiful eyes seeking his; 
 
 now the fair face drooped with a burning flush. She was 
 
 nervous, weak, and guilty, but not guilty enough to repeat 
 
 false words. 
 
 " I am afraid Miss Western will find you here, Felix," she 
 said; "if she does, she will send for mamma." 
 
 "Are you so closely guarded, my darling?" he laughed. 
 "Ah. well, never mind. It will not be for long. I shall 
 hasten home ; I shall prepare your house, and when it is 
 ready I will take you if all the world should try to prevent 
 me. for y. ni are my own. I shall go home happy because I 
 trust in you, and believe in you. 1 shall never believe that 
 you have changed tome until you tell me so yourself. 
 by, my darling, love of my heart good -by I" 
 
 She watcln-d him as he went down the high-road, and the 
 impulse was strong upon her to call him back and say to 
 him that she had given him up ; that the life of love and 
 stru^-le that he offered her h;id no charm for her ; that she 
 
 had weighed both, ami had deliberately given the prefer- 
 ence to wealth; that he must go home and learn to forget 
 her. 
 
 She knew that sh6 was in honor and in conscience bound 
 to tell him this, but she did not. She watched him as ho 
 walked down the high-road, knowing that he went away
 
 112 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 with F a sense of hope in his heart that was hereafter to 
 cause him only more deadly pain. The wrong that she did 
 him in letting him leave her with the truth untold was as 
 great as the wrong she had done him in breaking her 
 plighted troth. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 "AM i Nor KIND?" 
 
 Felix was at rest for a short time. When he grew 
 calmer and thought more carefully about Mrs. Have's 
 letter, he ceased to feel any great surprise. Mrs. Have was, 
 he knew, a worldly woman, and nothing was more natural 
 under the circumstances than that she should cease to care 
 for her daughter's marriage with him. But, with the hope 
 that had sprung up afresh in his heart, it seemed to him 
 that his strength and his energy had no bounds, that he 
 could work as no one had ever worked. Violet was the 
 mainspring of it all. If he lost her, he knew that he should 
 never care to do another hour's labor. He began afresh 
 with such zeal, such energy, such industry and perse- 
 verance, that every one wondered at him. He let them 
 wonder, he knew why he was working. 
 
 And, while he was counting the hours, trying to turn 
 each one into gold, Sir Owen was busy, too. He had come 
 to a perfect understanding with Mr. and Mrs. Have. He 
 told them that he would cheerfully give half his fortune to 
 make Violet his wife. He ^ad asked them to help him, 
 and had promised them their reward. Mrs. Haye went on 
 a short visit to her cousin, and was dismayed to hear from 
 Violet that Felix had been to see her, that he had gone 
 back home with the hope that all was rig-lit. 
 
 "Why did you ( not tell him the truth, Violet?" asked 
 Mrs. Haye, sternly. " It was cruel to deceive him further. " 
 
 " I could not, mamma, " she replied, her eyes filling with 
 tears ; "he looked so ill and unhappy, I could not." 
 
 "It was cruel kindness, Violet," declared Mrs. Haye, but 
 she said no more, knowing that in her daughter's place, 
 she should have done the same thing. 
 
 It was arranged that Sir Owen should go down to North 
 Alton and renew his offer of marriage. If Violet consented, 
 the marriage must take place, Mrs. Haye said, in London. 
 
 If they were married at Lilford, Felix Lonsdale was quite 
 capable of going into the church, and taking the bride 
 from the altar. She was sorry for him, and she felt that
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 113 
 
 it would be needless cruelty for the marriage to be cele- 
 brated just before his eyes. " It will be hard enough," she 
 said to herself, "without that." 
 
 11 was arranged as she desired. Sir Owen went to 
 North Alton, and the beautiful, fickle girl who had loved 
 Felix Lonsdale and given him up, plighted her tr< >th t< a 
 man she did not love, plighted it because he was rich. He 
 had taken with him a magnificent diamond ring, which 
 to be the pledge of their engagement: and. as he 
 placed it on her finger, he looked wistfully into her 1 
 
 " You care for me a little, Violet, do you not ? You are a 
 cold bride, after all, for a man to win. If I though' 
 really liked that lawyer better than me, I would not ask 
 you to marry me, upon my soul I would not. I giv. 
 all I have my love and my fortune. Surely you h 
 smile and a kind word to ^ive me in return !" 
 
 N.. wonder that he spoke in that strain to her. Sh> 
 
 ak ever to be a great sinner, too weak to sin and for- 
 get her sin. It looked her in the face now as she 
 with the light of the baronet's eyes upon her, tin- 
 mond ring on her finger, contrasting the wooing of her 
 
 nd knowing full well which was b. 
 "Am I not kind '." she aske-1. with an exquisite sn, 
 smile that pleased him so that he clasped her in his arms 
 and -er. 
 
 When he did so she wished herself dead lidto 
 
 'f that she could not go through with this new ei 
 ment : that she must let the v..-,:Hh, the i title 
 
 must give all up and x<> back to 1-Vlix. She 
 loved Felix, and she did not, nor would 
 
 11. 
 
 She had a few minute--; fur tli.'-- reflection^, and then he 
 
 r of the future, of all she would enjoy, ho\v 
 
 ' \vould envy her, and what a pi .sit!, in >he \v..al-.l take 
 
 in the <rreat. bright world. She listened, for the words 
 
 pleasant, and forgot her pain. 
 
 To Felix Lousdale then- came strange rumors, hut he 
 ! not believe ;uiy of them. He had implicit faith in 
 Violet, implicit trust. Until she told him thai 
 
 n. he should not believe one word to that ; 
 
 7iiorning he received two letters. One was from Vio- 
 :id said : 
 
 " Try to forgot me, Felix. I have nevor Wen worthy of the great 
 
 I am not worthy of it now. Try t< 
 me; for I have been thinking it all over, and I can see that our en-
 
 114 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 gagement must be broken. You said you would believe it when I 
 wrote it. Believe it now, for I say that it must end. In the years to 
 cornewe may be friends never anything more. VIOLET." 
 
 He read it with unbelief. Some one had compelled her 
 to write it ; it had not been done of her own free will ; of 
 that he was sure. 
 
 The second note was from his humble, faithful friend, 
 Jennie, the pretty housemaid, written with many apologies 
 for the liberty she had taken ; but she wanted him to 
 know that her young lady would be at home at the Limes 
 that night, on her road from North Alton to London. Her 
 master and mistress were going to London with Miss Vio- 
 let, she added, and she was afraid there was mischief on 
 foot It was her own private opinion that they had per- 
 suaded Miss Violet to marry some one else. If he went to 
 the Limes late that evening, she would keep the entrance 
 gate and the garden gate open, and she would manage 
 that he should see Miss Have. 
 
 He read both letters through, but he did not lose his 
 reason this time. A calm, settled despair came to him, 
 against which he struggled Jblindly ; he would not believe 
 that his love was false even though he read it in her own 
 handwriting. He would not believe it unless she told him 
 so herself; anything was more credible than that she 
 should have deceived him and broken her word. When he 
 believed that, he said to himself, the heavens would fall. 
 Whom could she be going to marry ? How absurd ! How 
 ridiculous ! He had never heard her name mentioned ex- 
 cept with his own. He knew that she had many admirers, 
 but who would dare to speak of marriage to her when it 
 was well known that she was engaged to him? He could 
 well understand that it was Jennie's own sensitive care and 
 anxiety for him that had led her to make the mistake. 
 
 He would go, however, and see Violet, and hear from 
 her what it all meant ; but not at night ; certainly not when 
 it was late, as though he were afraid of being seen. He 
 was her betrothed lover, she was his promised wife. He 
 would go up to the front door in the broad daylight, and 
 ask to see the girl who had promised to marry him. Sud- 
 denly he remembered that, if he did so, he must betiay 
 Jennie. Violet's return had been kept a secret, and the 
 family would at once suspect her of having betrayed it. 
 Another thing had occurred to him ; if they did not wish 
 him to see Violet, and he went in a straightforward, honest 
 way to ask for her, they might, and most probably would.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 115 
 
 refuse to let him see her ; they would invent some untruth 
 or other, and, if she were really going to London, he should 
 miss the only chance he had of seeing her. It was humili- 
 ating and mortifying, but he must act as Jennie pn,i> 
 he had no other resource. He would go that night an 
 Violet. 
 
 .in he wrote home to say that he should not return 
 until late; and Kate's kind eyes filled with tears as she 
 read, thinking how hard he was working, and her 
 .ve her that it was all for nothing; that the pi 
 was laboring and waiting and hoping for would never be 
 his. She had heard of Violet's absence from home, and 
 her quick mother-wit had soon told her that of that al 
 Felix knew little or nothing. She drew a bad augury from 
 that. It boded mischief to him, she felt sure. She was 
 compelled to content herself with the thought that she 
 would sit up for him and attend to his comfort when he did 
 return. 
 
 Felix went. He -hated himself for going at night, when 
 no one could see him ; for seeking a clandestine interview 
 with his promised wife. The night was dark, and the wind 
 blew cold, it was after nine when he readied the en1rane< 
 gate, lie found it open, and Jennie waiting for him inside. 
 
 You will not be angry with me, sir, will you '." she said. 
 "But it seemed to be almost as though some one were 
 being killed. I am quite sure they have persuaded my 
 young lady to marry some one else. I heard her crying 
 'bitterly tin's evening." 
 
 But Felix could not discuss the stibjeet nearest to his 
 heart even with this faithful, humble friend. 
 
 u Do you think I shall be able to see Miss Have, Jennie .'" 
 
 ked. 
 
 Yes, sir. I will give her a message that in a few min- 
 utes will bring her down here to you. She will not In- 
 angry with me." And in a few minutes she had kept he- 
 word. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "TIES SUBSTANCK FOR THE SHADOW." 
 
 Jennie delivered her message, and Violet quickly ap- 
 peared at the gate of the Limes. 
 
 Before Felix had spoken to her. before be had touched 
 
 her hand, the moment he had looked into hep f.-tir, droop 
 ing face he knew that she was guilty. Something had g< -u-
 
 116 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 from it that he was never to see again ; something was 
 there which was never more to leave it. She gazed at 
 him, and gave a little low cry, then standing before him 
 she buried her face in her hands. He went up to her 
 slowly ; he took her hands from her face and raised it to 
 his own. Then the lovely eyes closed ; they could not meet 
 his. He dropped her hands. 
 
 "You are guilty, Violet. Great Heaven, you have be- 
 trayed me. You meant what you wrote to-day." 
 
 There was something so quiet in his despair that Violet 
 imagined his tone to be one almost of indifference, and the 
 thought gave her corn-age ; if he had shown any 'sign of 
 great pain she would have been frightened. 
 
 " I could not help it, " she replied. " Do not be angry with 
 me, Felix. I know it is the poorest of excuses, but it is 
 true ; I cannot help it. It was of no use going on in the 
 same dreary way. It must have come to an end sometime. " 
 
 "Let me quite understand," he said; "let me make no 
 mistake this time. What have you done, Violet ?" 
 
 " I have not done anything ; but it seems better that we 
 should part. No good can come of our engagement ; it was 
 a mistake." 
 
 He looked sadly at her. 
 
 " You say so, my darling, to whom I have given the best 
 love of my heart ;* my life itself ; you say that '?" 
 
 "It is true, Felix," she replied; "and I am very sorry. 
 I shall never like any one as I have liked you, and you will 
 never really care about any other woman as you have 
 cared for me ; I know it, but it cannot be helped." 
 
 He held up his head with such dignity, such passion of 
 despair, that she was silenced. The false, light words, the 
 false, light excuses, all withered into nothing, and she 
 knew that she stood in the presence of a mighty sorrow, a 
 mighty passion. All her little affectations, her miserable 
 apologies, became as nothing before Felix's heart-rending 
 distress and hopelessness. 
 
 " Hush !" he said. " Do not add to your sin by another 
 false word ; do not mock me by excuses which you would 
 be ash^Hned to make to a servant whom you were dismissing 
 unjustly. Tell me, is it true ?" 
 
 " Is what true, Felix ? Do not look so angrily at me 
 you frighten me. Is what h -ie?" 
 
 As she spoke she shrank back from him until she stood 
 near the lilac bushes, the branches of which were bare now 
 of flowers. 
 
 "Not t.horri." ho cried, "for Heaven's sake, not thnro.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 117 
 
 /'ou stood there, a few short weeks since, with your arm 
 around my neck, with your hand in mine, swearing to be 
 true to me, saying that you belonged to me ; that you 
 loved me. Come away from there if you would not drive 
 me mad." 
 
 She returned to him, and they walked some little distance 
 from the lilac bushes. 
 
 "Violet," he said, "I can hardly believe that our meeting 
 thus is real. I must be in a dream, from which I shall 
 soon awake, 'and laugh to think that I believed in what 
 was happening. It cannot be that I, Felix Lonsdale, havo 
 had to steal under the cover of darkness to meet you, my 
 promised wife, and that you who have loved me, who have 
 kissed me, who have looked on me as your future hus- 
 band, are here to tell me that you are false to me. Stand 
 still, so, and let me look into the face wherein I thought 
 all happiness lay. Now tell me, is it true?" 
 
 He held her before him ; she felt that his eyes were fixed 
 on her; they seemed to burn to her very heart. 
 
 "You put things so strangely," she said. "I hardly 
 knovv what answer to make to you. You are nut fair to 
 me. I have found that my engagement to marry you is 
 not wise for either of us, and I tell you so. I see no hein- 
 ous crime in that." 
 
 "You promised to love me, and me alone, until death; 
 do you mean to keep that promise? No prevarication; 
 speak truthfully, 'Yes 1 or 'No;' do you mean to keep that. 
 promise? Speak, Violet." 
 
 But he had to bend low to hear her answer ; it was whis- 
 pered "No.'' 
 
 "You promised to marry me, to be my wife, to spend 
 your life with me and brighten mine ; do you mean t 
 .that promise? Speak 'Yes 1 or 'No.' ' 
 
 "No." she whispered again. 
 
 "Will you tell me why you refuse. Violet?" 1 
 
 Again she took courage'at the seeming indifference of hi? 
 tone. 
 
 "I cannot, Felix," she said; "you will find many an 
 Other more suited to be your wife than I am." 
 
 "I do not want any one but you who have promised. 
 What, is there in the life I offer you that you disi 
 
 " All of it, except that I should like lo he uith you. 
 dislike the poverty, th-' obscurity- the lack of rank and 
 position. I ajn not SO noble as you have always thought 
 me, Felix. I love wealth and luxury, 1 love magnificence. 
 I should never be, content in the little home that, you would
 
 118 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 give me ; there would not be enough to fill my life. I felt 
 that when I stood in it. I asked myself how I should live 
 through the long years there. I should be miserable, and 
 you would be miserable, too." 
 
 He looked at her in amazement. 
 
 " Would not love content you ?" he asked. 
 
 The golden head drooped before him. She was ashamed 
 of the words she had to speak. 
 
 No, it would not content me," she replied. "You deem 
 me better, wiser, and nobler than I am. There are hun- 
 dreds of good and noble women in the world who ask only 
 for love and are content with it. Seek one of those, Felix 
 they are worthier than I." 
 
 " Hush ! v he cried again. "Do not say such words ; many 
 a man has taken the life of the woman he loved for less 
 than that." 
 
 She shrank back from him with a pale, scared face ; he 
 smiled one of the saddest and bitterest smiles she had ever 
 seen on a human face. 
 
 u Have no fear, Violet ; I spoke without reflection. You 
 cannot think I meant to threaten you ; you, every hair of 
 whose head is dearer to me than my own life. Love would 
 not content you, Violet ?" 
 
 " Xo. I may as well tell you the truth. I was ignorant 
 of many things when I promised to marry you. I did not 
 know what riches meant, what luxury or magnificence 
 was. what luxury or pleasure comprised." 
 
 " And you know now?" he said when she paused. 
 
 "Yes, I know now, and I cannot do without them. I 
 would rather have had love with them ; as I cannot have 
 both, I choose them. You cannot call it a great sin, Felix, 
 to change my mind when I did not know what my mind 
 was." 
 
 "Violet," he said, gravely, "do you know what even the 
 world says of a woman who deliberately jilts her lover?" 
 
 "No," she replied. 
 
 " It says some hard things. It says that the woman who 
 could be false to her plighted lover, would be false to her 
 husband and to Heaven ; it says that such a woman bi'ands 
 herself '.liar' before the whole world, that she loses the 
 claim to ro^k with women of honor. That is what the world 
 says. Do you know what a higher Dower than the world 
 says ?" 
 
 "No," she answered him again. 
 
 "That lying lips are an abomination. Whose lips lie so 
 cruelly, so falsely, as the lips of the woman who break*
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 119 
 
 her plighted word and oath of fidelity, who lures a man on 
 to love her with sweet words and sweet smiles, who prom- 
 ises to love him forever, and then turns round and says she 
 wealth better? Where will you get this coveted 
 wealth, Violet, even if you persist in refusing to keep your 
 word to me?'' 
 
 But she did not Answer him ; there were limits to what 
 she dare do, and she dared not tell him that she was going 
 to marry Sir Owen. 
 
 "You are very hard on me, Felix," she said. 
 
 " Nay, I am but telling you the truth, the solemn, unvar- 
 nished truth. If you do give me up and marry even a title, 
 never dream that you will have the respect or the esteem 
 of your fellow-creatures ; you would always be spoken of 
 as the woman who jilted her true lover to marry a 
 wealthier man." 
 
 But, in the pride of her youth and her beauty, in the pride 
 of the future that seemed so brilliant to her, she Avould not 
 believe that ; she did not believe it, although she did not 
 say so to him. 
 
 "Listen again, Violet," he continued, in the same grave, 
 >sionate voice. " You seem to think it a mere matter 
 of changing your mind. Look- at it now from my point of 
 vif\v; forget yourself for one minute and think of me. I 
 have loved you all my life ; ah, my darling, you will never 
 know how dearly or how well! You are my life itself ; 
 my heart and love and soul are centered in you, my hopes 
 ,-rown round you. I have always thought of yon as 
 my wife; as the chosen companion of my life. Ah, my 
 darling, if I stood here until the sun shone again I could 
 not tt-ll you how I love you. I have never thought of life 
 without you, never. I could as soon live without air, with- 
 out food, as without my hope of you, my love of you ; my 
 life will end when you leave me. Think of my claim, Vio- 
 let. You promised me, and I have lived on yonr promise; 
 what is to become of me if you change your mind ?" 
 
 "You will forget me soon, Felix," she said, gently. 
 
 "Yes, dear, when the sun ceases to shine, when the tido 
 neither ebbs nor flows, when flowers cease to bloom and 
 birds to sing; but not until then, Violet, not until then, 
 my sweet." His voice took all its old sweetness, h is f'a<-e 
 its old light, as he drew nearer to her. M My darling." he 
 said, "it was not your real self that was speaking. Your 
 parents have persuaded you. They have told you that I 
 <;annot give you a home suited for you ; but I can, my darl- 
 ing, lean. Only trust me. It is a strange dream this; a 

 
 120 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 dream that will soon pass. They have persuaded you to 
 say ivhat you did. It was not my Violet who spoke, from 
 whose heart those worldly thoughts and -worldly sayings 
 came. They have persuaded you, and talked to you, until 
 your thoughts and ideas are all confused. Violet, sweet, 
 forget all they have advised, forget this wretched inter- 
 view. You cannot mean what you have said. Nothing so 
 beautiful could be so false ; nothing so fair could be so 
 cruel. Let us forget it, my darling. I forgive it all, for I 
 know it has been taught to you. Violet, let us bury the 
 past wretched weeks. Let uc begin again ; you with re- 
 newed faith in me, I with my old love and old faith in you 
 faith and love which have never varied, and never will. 
 Will you listen to me, Violet ?" 
 
 "I cannot," she cried, and he felt the shudder that passed 
 over her frame. "I cannot, Felix." 
 
 " Have you ceased to love me, Violet ?" he asked, quietly. 
 
 " No !" she cried. " Oh, do forgive me, Felix ! I wish I 
 had !" 
 
 " You still care for me ?" he asked. 
 
 It seemed some relief to her to cry out ,that she did care 
 for him ; to lay her golden head on his breast, and moan 
 out that she wished she were dead. His whole face bright- 
 ened and changed as he heard the words. 
 
 "You still care for me, my darling," he said, gently; 
 " why, then, Violet, matters must come right in the end. 
 This dark hour will pass, and happiness will dawn upon 
 us." 
 
 So she lay sobbing near the noble heart she was break- 
 ing, while the wind wailed round them with a strange, 
 mournful sound. 
 
 Violet was the first to speak. She raised her lovely face 
 all wet with tears. 
 
 "You do not understand, Felix," she said, quietly. "I do 
 love you ; that makes my cowardice all the greater. I love 
 you, but I can never marry you, because you cannot give 
 me that which my soul loves best. " 
 
 " But what if I do give it to you, Violet ; what then?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " You cannot ; you must work all your life even for the 
 moderate means that you will have. Do not talk any 
 more about it. Felix, my resolution is fixed as are th~ 
 stars in heaven ; nothing can alter it, nothing can change 
 it. We have made a mistake." 
 
 And for the first time during that interview it dawned 
 across him that it was no girlish caprice he had to contend
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 121 
 
 with, no idle whim, but the settled resolve of a woman in 
 whose heart love took a secondary place. 
 
 Looking at her exquisite face he asked himself what if 
 all this time he had been mistaken, if he had given this 
 beautiful woman credit for a noble soul and a tender heart, 
 while she had neither? Such things had been; men h;ui 
 made even greater mistakes than that. What if she were 
 worldly and selfish, false and pleasure-loving, even to the 
 core of her heart? Could any one so fair be so false '. Could 
 an ignoble soul live in a beautiful body? He looked at 
 her; her most fair and lovely face was all stained with 
 tears. Was such a contradiction possible as that she should 
 willfully give him up, yet weep because she had lost him, 
 that she should separate herself from him, refuse t< 
 marry him, yet weep because he was lost to her? He did 
 not turn, as some men would have done, and ask himself, 
 u Who shall understand a woman?" He tried patiently to 
 understand her. 
 
 " Violet, you puzzle me," he said. "Let me understand ; 
 you love me, you say?" 
 
 She sobbed out that she could not help it. 
 
 "You love me. yet you willfully break your promise to 
 marry me. You send me away of your own free will, not 
 because you do not love me, but because I have not money 
 enouirh. Is that it, Violet?" 
 
 She did not deny it; it was the exact truth. He con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "You love me, and I am what you call poor. You send 
 me Qway, and a richer man comes. You will marry him 
 bec.-msc he is rich; you will marry him for his money 
 while you love me. Violet Haye, do you know what the 
 law of' Cod calls such a sin? Do you think your weak 
 subterfuge of calling this crime of yours 'changing your 
 mind' will hold good when you are judged for your ac- 
 tions, and the just award is iven to you? What is murder, 
 Violet Have? If that white hand of yours had thrust a 
 sword into my heart, you would have slain me no less 
 cruelly than ^ on have killed me now.'' 
 
 He 'pot her from him with a bitter cry a cry that 
 haunted her for long years. 
 
 u You lia.ve slain the best p.art of me; you have slain my 
 love, my hope; and before the great .Jud-el shall aeeiise 
 you of 'my murder, Violet Have. I shall ask for the hope, 
 the love, the life you have taken. 1 shall point to von. and 
 I shall cry out that you slew me because you loved the
 
 122 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 gold I could not give you. Before Heaven, you have slain 
 me!" 
 
 His despair frightened her ; she drew nearer to him, and 
 tried to soothe him, but he would not let her hands touch 
 him. 
 
 "You are not worth a man's thought, you are not worth 
 a man's love," he cried, "you who have slain the truest of 
 love. Do not touch me. It is such women r.s you who 
 lure men on to death, who take a man's heart and crush it 
 like a rose-leaf. No, do not touch me, Violet ;" for she 
 clung to him, weeping and crying out that he was too hard 
 upon her, too hard. 
 
 " No, I am not hard," he said. "To my mind there is but 
 one kind of love, and the soul of it is truth. I do not under- 
 stand such love as yours. Oh, Violet, once more let me 
 appeal to you and warn you. Dear, you are all wrong, all 
 wrong, and you will find it out too late. Believe me, 
 Heaven has so made woman that to her the chief good is 
 love ; to her love is religion and life. Are you of a differ- 
 ent nature that you can dispense with love ?" 
 
 u It would not make me happy," she answered, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 So you think, dear, in the pride of youth and beauty ; 
 but, believe me, though you may win the wealth you 
 prize so highly, the time will come when you will be ready 
 to surrender it all for love, and you shall not find it. Re- 
 member my words ; you will long for the love you now 
 throw away ; you will live to curse your own folly in giving 
 up the substance for the shadow." 
 
 Her tears fell while she listened silently to words that 
 haunted her forever. His voice softened as he went on. 
 
 "You will no: be young and beautiful always, Violet. 
 The time must come when your hair will have lost its 
 golden sheen and your eyes their light. What will wealth 
 do for you then? 12 sickness comes to you, will all the 
 wealth of the whole world purchase for you the tender 
 touch of a loving hand or the tender words of a loving 
 voice? You will live, my darling, through long hours of 
 pain thinking of me, longing for me, wondering how you 
 could have been so mad as to send me from you, crying 
 out my name, until you remember that to love me is a 
 crime, and that in my place you have the wealth you have 
 chosen. Think of the long days when you will miss me. 
 Ah, Violet, mind, lest in breaking my heart you break your 
 own. I warn you that you cannot live without love ; hsed 
 my warning before it is too late."
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 123 
 
 She made him no answer. 1 fc continued : 
 
 "I can sec farther into the future than you, Violet, and 
 with clearer eyes. I prophesy to you that the time will 
 come when yon will repent of what you are doing no\v, and 
 be willing to give your whole soul to undo it. Will you 
 heed my warning '" 
 
 Her heart went out to him in love and pity ; hut there 
 AVJIS the picture before her of (;-irswood the thought of 
 the diamonds of herself as Lady Chevenix. 
 " I cannot," she said. 
 
 Ife stood quite still for a few moments. 
 u Yon forsake me, then, for a richer lover you give up 
 my love for gold '. Say, in plain words, that you do so : do 
 not let there be a chance of mistake. Violet do not let any 
 false halo linger round your memory in the years to come. 
 You give me up because 1 have not money enough '." 
 
 " Yes," she replied, but the word came slowly and with 
 great reluctance. 
 
 " I shall not regret you, Violet you are not worth re- 
 gret," he said, but she cried out: 
 
 "Do not be so hard, Felix; I I am weaker than a 
 won;. 
 
 -You are, indeed," he said, gravely. "Some women's 
 weakness is half divine ; yours is well, I will give it no 
 name; I know none that describes anything one half so 
 false." 
 
 "You are very hard, Felix." 
 
 He laughed 'aloud, and pleasure-loving Violet Have 
 wished never to hear such another laugh. 
 
 "I have no place here now, Violet. 1 will say farewell. 
 My dear love, my lost love, farewell. Lay your sweet, 
 cruel hands in mine onrc again let me look into your 
 sweet, false face once more. Farewell, little white hands 
 you v. ill caress me and stab me no more. Farewell, sweet 
 -you will .look no more into mine. Farewell, golden 
 head -you will never lie on my breast again never again. 
 Farewell: 'Beauty such as woman never wore,' heart 
 most false, love most cruel farewell!" 
 
 His voice died away in a low wail and the next moment 
 he was gone, and she stood there, weeping for that which 
 she could never recall. 
 
 "How cruel fate is!" she said. "Hove Felix. Why 
 could Felix not have Sir Owen's fortune? 1 almost wish 
 that I had never seen Sir Owen. 1 did not think that I 
 should care about Felix so much." 
 
 It was something new to the spoiled, petted beauty to
 
 124 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, 
 
 feel pain to weep without being comforted. She was un- 
 just enough to think that Felix should have staid to com- 
 fort her should not have left her so wretched. 
 
 Then she realized that her faithful lover, so tender, so 
 true, and so brave, had passed out of her life, and would 
 be nothing to her for all time. She was impatient with her 
 own misery her own sorrow. 
 
 "If the time could come over again," she said, "I would 
 not do it ; I would marry Felix, let him be poor as he 
 might. " 
 
 But it was done ; it was all over. She thought to herself 
 that with such a lover she had managed well, for what he 
 had said was true many a man had taken a woman's life 
 for less provocation. Now she was free from all ties free 
 to marry Sir Owen to enjoy wealth, rank, fashion, dia- 
 monds, and everything else free to become what Sir Owen 
 promised her the queen of the county, the queen of fash- 
 ion free to trample on Lady Eolfe and those who had 
 sneered at her free to go her own way. As for what Felix 
 had said about her being branded, what nonsense it was ! 
 Girls did the same thing every day, and were thought none 
 the worse for so doing. True, she remembered Mrs.* Bar- 
 don, who had been engaged for three or four years to a 
 young officer in the army, and who had jilted him (it was 
 such an ugly word that) jilted him to marry a wealthy 
 landowner. Her husband afterward turned out to be one 
 of the most miserly and disagreeable men living. Then, 
 when she complained, people said it served her right ; she 
 should not have broken a good man's heart. 
 
 "But my story," thought Violet Haye, "is quite different 
 from that. I look more like one born to be Lady Chevenix 
 than born to be the wife of a poor, struggling lawyer. " 
 
 She was not very angry with pretty Jennie, but she 
 warned her that her interview with Mr. Lonsdale must be 
 kept a secret. She believed that Felix had bribed the girl 
 not that the girl had told Felix. 
 
 It was just as well, she thought, that the interview had 
 taken place ; there must have been a scene some time or 
 other. Now the matter was all settled, and she could go to 
 London with a mind free from all anxiety. The grandeur 
 awaiting her there must surely comfort her, for her heart 
 ached* for Felix his burning, stinging words haunted her. 
 
 Who should dare say that on that white brow of hers was 
 branded " liar ?" Felix would be dreadfully distressed when 
 he heard of her marria,ge. She knew that he would feel it 
 most keenly ; but then after a time he would forget it no
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAX. 125 
 
 one would bear animosity against the young and charming 
 Lady Chevenix. When she came back again she and Felix 
 would be friends. She would make overtures of friendship 
 to him, and he would not decline them ; he had always 
 been so fond of her poor Felix ! 
 
 So she went away the next day to London, trying to 
 forgot the, past and to think of the future. She did not 
 care to remember that morning found her pillow wet 
 ivith tears, for she had been dreaming of Felix. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE WORLD A BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 Felix Lonsdale had tried his best ; he had done hard bat- 
 tle with his sorrow the sorrow that had come to him 
 while the summer moon was shining and the corn 
 ripe in the fields. He had done hard, fierce, terrible battle 
 with it. It stood there ever by his side ; no one had de- 
 I it yet its presence was a secret from every one ex- 
 cept himself. It stood by the table, and made the sight of 
 all food loathsome to him; it stood by his books and 
 papers, and its dark shadows made them all illegible to 
 liiin he read no words save these that Violet was i'alse to 
 him: it stood by his pillow and would not let him sleep ; 
 it came between him and the brightness of earth bet 
 him and the mercy of Heaven. He was stunned, da/ed, 
 and bewildered by it; still he did brave battle with it, He 
 looked at the invalid father, at the kindly mother, at the 
 "army" of little ones; there was work to do, and he must 
 do it. The home must be kept up, business attended to ; 
 money must be made, the home mu,st not be neglected. 
 Indulgence in sorrow was not a luxury for him. 
 
 Hi- hardened his heart; he said that there was neither 
 
 mercy nor kindness nor love in the world. He could not 
 
 ie kindly look in Katie's tender eyes; lie would not 
 
 the children's laces; when the Sabbath bells chimed 
 
 lie we.;t miles away. Fate had been cruel to him, ho 
 
 would harden himself; he would be proud and stern, cold 
 
 and unbending he would give back what he had received. 
 
 So hour by hour and day by day he hardened his heart, 
 
 hardened his nature, and only Heaven knew what he 
 
 suffered. 
 
 Within a week after his farewell to Violet the handsome 
 face had grown so h-i^-anl that it wras hardly reco^ni/able ; 
 the kindly eyes had a w,:d, weird e .hough he
 
 126 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 were always suffering mortal pain the ring had gone 
 from his voice, from his laugh ; he was an altered man. 
 How he worked ! He said to himself that work was the 
 only thing which could keep him from going mad. 
 
 But it told upon him no food, no sleep, no rest would 
 he take this constant warfare that kept every nerve 
 strained. It seemed to him that if he once gave way, even 
 if only for, a moment if he opened his heart to the dread- 
 ful sorrow waiting to be admitted if he closed his eyes in 
 rest he must die. Colder and harder and prouder he 
 grew, shutting himself and his sorrow in icy reserve ; and 
 at last Kate grew so miserable about him that she sent for 
 Evelyn. 
 
 "I must talk to you, Eve," she said, "or my heart will 
 break. I do not like to distress my husband he is ill 
 enough ; and, if Felix goes on like this much longer, he will 
 have a terrible illness, or he will die. What is the matter 
 with him, Eve ? He does not eat or sleep ; he looks like a 
 man who has been stunned ; he grows so hard and cold that 
 I am almost afraid of him. He does not open his heart to 
 me, he avoids me, he does not even look at me he who 
 used to love me so, well. What is the matter with him, 
 Eve?" 
 
 Eve looked very pale and sad, her sweet face was 
 clouded ; but Kate, in her distress, did not notice it. 
 
 "I can tell you what is the matter," she replied. "I 
 heard it this afternoon. Violet Haye has gone to London 
 ^to be married." 
 
 Kate cried out that it was impossible that it could not 
 be Violet Haye was betrothed to Felix. 
 
 "It is so," said Eve "Aunt Jane told me about it this 
 afternoon ; and, fearing you would be in great trouble, I 
 came to you at once. Violet broke off her engagement with 
 Felix some short time since, and she is gone to London to 
 be married." 
 
 "Married to whom?" cried Kate, in hot anger for her 
 boy's sake. 
 
 " I do not know she has so many admirers, but I believe 
 it is some very rich man. Mrs. Haye is almost wild with 
 excitement about it. She told my aunt the day before they 
 started. " And then, remembering how Felix loved Violet, 
 they both wept together. 
 
 " I understand it all now," said Kate. " My poor boy has 
 hidden it from us lest we should know what he suffered. 
 Evelyn, does Heaven punish treachery '." 
 
 "I am afraid so." she replied, gently. "You say that
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 127 
 
 Felix has grown hard and cold. Tell me where he is, that 
 I may go and see him." 
 
 "He is at the office," replied Mrs. Lonsdale. "Do go to 
 him, Eve. He was always fond of you he always trusted 
 y<>u. Go and try if you can comfort him." 
 
 A slight shadow of pain came over the sweet face it 
 -.'d in a minute. 
 
 Yes," she said, thoughtfully, "he always trusted me. I 
 Avill p> an<l see what I can do for him." 
 
 Fve walked gently through the warm, sunlit streets. 
 Many looked after her as she went on her mission of mercy 
 after the tall, graceful figure in the simple muslin d 
 the plain, pretty hat with the broad brim. On her fair, 
 sweet face, as she walked along, thinking what she should 
 > him, a beautiful light shone. 
 
 She went into the office without any announcement she 
 had done so since she was a child. Only Felix sat 
 there, his pale, haggard face bent over his papers, a shadow 
 like death in his eyes. He looked up in wonder at his 
 visitor. Eve. with her sweet face, and the strange light 
 upon it, looked like an angel come to minister to him. 
 
 " Kvelyn," he said, "you are an unexpected visitor." 
 
 She went round to him, and stood by the side of his 
 chair. 
 
 Fdix," she said, "I know what has happened, and I 
 am eome to comfort you." 
 
 " ( 'oinfort ! 'Comfort scorned of devils,' the poet sings. 
 Fve." he laughed, "what comfort can you give me?" 
 
 She took the papers from his hands, and was startled on 
 that warm day to find his tinkers as cold as death. She 
 held them in her own her sweet eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Kelix, you must not harden your heart against me, 
 dear. You must not keep me outside it. We have h. -en 
 such true friends such dear friends always. Do not be 
 hard and cold and proud with me, dear friend." 
 
 "I will not, Eve," he returned, gently. "Heaven bless 
 you, I 
 
 "Listen to me a little while, Felix," she said, and her 
 
 voin- stole like a strain of sweetest music over his tired 
 
 8. "No man ean know a greater sorrow than this 
 
 sorrow of yours. The one yon loved and trusted has de- 
 
 ceiv-d yon. Violet has been false to you." 
 
 He shrank back with a cry at the sound of the words. 
 She (inly elasped his hands the ni"re tightly. 
 
 "Never mind the pain, v elix." she said. "It is right 
 that you should accustom yourself to hear the words, and
 
 128 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 not shrink from them. Violet has proved false to you. I 
 know how you love her, and I know that the words cut 
 like a sharp knife. " 
 
 "It is true, Eve, 1 ' he told her, in a low voice "it is quite 
 true. She has forsaken me. " 
 
 ''It is a terrible sorrow, 11 she said "no greater sorrow 
 could have befallen you ; but, Felix, do not let it harden 
 you. People treat the visitation of sorrow so unwisely. 
 Some, when SOITOAV falls to their lot, harden their hearts, 
 shut all tenderness, all love, all affection away from them. 
 They change their whole natures. To such persons God's 
 dealing comes as a curse, not a blessing." 
 
 "Such sorrow as mine must be a curse, "he returned, 
 sadly. 
 
 u By no means. You know the old saying, ' Sorrows are 
 but blessings in disguise. ' Who can say in after years 
 what guise their sorrow may wear ?" 
 
 " But I loved her so dearly, Eve ; and I have lost her, " she 
 said. 
 
 u I know that you loved her ; but, Felix, has there never 
 been a mistaken love ? Have you never heard of a man 
 idealizing a woman, and worshiping in her virtues that 
 she never possessed? The very fact that Violet could prove 
 false to you proves also that she w r as unworthy of your 
 love, that you thought her possessed of qualities quite 
 foreign to her, and that she is not worth all this passion of 
 regret. " 
 
 " I loved her." was all he answered. 
 
 " I know, dear friend I know" and Evelyn's voice was 
 sweet as the cooing of a dove "and it is a terrible grief to 
 you. Felix, because we are such dear and true friends, I 
 am come to talk to you about this sorrow. There are 
 three ways in which men must sorrow. The weaker part 
 of them fly at once to drink, to dissipation, to a reckless 
 kind of despair; they have no nobility. You are,ai>r>ve 
 that. Others harden themselves; they shut out all love 
 and sympathy from their hearts ; they grow cold and 
 proud, so that no kindly influence reaches them. Others 
 and, dea,r friend, believe me, these are the noble ones 
 accept sorrow as a part of the discipline of life, as a gift 
 sent from Heaven ; and, while they accept it with hu- 
 mility, they bear it with dignity. It makes them nobler, 
 grander, and better. It is an education that prepares them 
 for heaven. Which of the three classes will you join, 
 Felix ?"
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 129 
 
 "The last, if I can, Eve," he said, slowly. He looked 
 at th<> light on her fair face. 
 
 "Believe me," she went on, earnestly, "we shall not 
 know, until we come to die, what great sorrows do for 
 us, .-Hid then we shall thank Heaven for them. There is 
 something weak and cowardly in the idea of being 1> 
 by any trouble. This world is a battle-field, and we must 
 fight nobly; the temptation to yield weakly to a great 
 grief is one of the hardest that comes to us. It would be 
 so much easier for you, Felix, to lie down and die than to 
 do battle day by day, and so have to live your sorrow 
 down/ 1 
 
 "Yes, it would, Eve," he replied. 
 
 u A soul that has never suffered is but a puny soul," she 
 said; "the strong and noble soul is the one that passes 
 through the furnace of fire and comes out pure gold not 
 metal or gold with an alloy but pure, refined, true 
 gold. The mystery is why men and women must all suM'er ; 
 but that we shall never fathom; we only know that 'God 
 sends pain -ven to his best beloved He sends pain.' ' 
 
 Something in the brave face and the brave, patient voice 
 touched him. He looked up at her suddenly, 
 
 "Surely. Eve," he said, "you have had 110 sorrow that 
 you should speak in such a fashion?" 
 
 She smiled, and he thought how like her face was to that 
 of pictured angels. 
 
 " 5T.es," sLie said, "I have a great sorrow ; but it is dumb 
 it will never find a voice it will die with me, and be 
 buried in my grave." 
 
 "What has your sorrow done for you, Eve ?" he asked, 
 after a time. 
 
 Again came the beautiful light on the sweet face. 
 
 " It has opened my heart," she replied, "it has killed ah 
 self love, it has made me love and pity every one who has 
 suffered, it lias taught me that life is but short, and that 
 heaven is my true home." 
 
 "It shall teach me the same," he said, "if you will help 
 me, Eve. I loved her so dearly that my loss has almost 
 killed me." 
 
 His pride and self-control gave way he sobbed like a 
 child. 
 
 "My dear old friend !" said Eve, and, as simply as a child 
 might have done it, she drew his head upon her arm, and 
 the first tears he shed over the great sorrow of his life fell 
 on her kindly ministering hands.
 
 18 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 "WHY THIS MERRY CHIME TO-DAY?" 
 
 From that day a change came over Felix Lonsdale ; he 
 went home even that same evening an altered man ; he 
 opened his heart to the love and sympathy that Katie 
 showed him. The proud, stern coldness fell from him 
 he took the children in his arms and kissed the little faces. 
 He said to himself that children of his own would never 
 climb his knees children of his own would never gladden 
 his heart. 
 
 He did not suffer less, but it was ia another fashion now. 
 He w r orked harder than ever ; he said to himself that if it 
 were possible he would drown his sorrow in the hardest 
 work he could find. And yet he did not know the worst ; 
 he only knew that Violet had broken her promise, and de- 
 clared it impossible to marry him ; he had- not the faintest 
 notion that there was really any wealthy lover at hand. He 
 believed firmly that her parents had talked to her and 
 argued with her until she had been overruled by them. 
 Still at Lilford all but himself knew that Violet was 
 going to marry Sir Owen ; it had been kept quite secret for 
 some time, but now the day was fixed the fourteenth of 
 September and there could no longer be any secrecy. 
 
 The whole place was in a ferment over it. There wac 
 to be a grand dinner given to all the tenants, to all the 
 servants and dependents ; and the bell-ringers had been told 
 how many times a merry peal was to be rung on the old 
 church bells, in honor of the bride and bridegroom. The 
 only persons who knew nothing of all this were the inhabit- 
 ants of Vale House the invalid father who saw no one 
 but the doctor and Eve Lester, the kindly , industrious 
 young step-mother, and the young lover himself. No one 
 cared to speak to them on such a subject, and they were 
 the last to hear it. Even Evelyn, who never shrank from 
 trouble, shrank from speaking to them about it. 
 
 Felix wondered one night, when she came to Vale House, 
 why she was so kind, so tender and compassionate to him, 
 why she hovered round him like a mother over a sick child. 
 why she spoke such low, earnest words to him so noble, 
 HO beautiful, that his whole soul was stirred by them.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 13* 
 
 "Felix," she said, "listen to this. It is a verse I read 
 last night in a poem by Adelaide Anne Procter. I copied 
 it to read to you because I thought it so beautiful." She 
 was sitting by his side in the attitude that painters of old 
 gave to guardian angels, so full of love and protection. In 
 her sweet, clear voice she read to him : 
 
 " Who is the angel that coineth ? 
 
 Pain ! 
 Let us arise and go forth to greet him ; 
 
 Not in vain 
 Is the summons come for us to meet him. 
 
 He will stay 
 And darken our nun ; 
 
 He will stay 
 
 A desolate night, a weary day, 
 Since in that shadow our work is done, 
 And in that shadow our crowns are won. 
 Let us say still while his bitter chalice 
 Slowly into our hearts is poured 
 Blessed is he that cometh 
 In the name of the Lord ! 
 
 "It is very beautiful," he said, when the sweet voice 
 ceased it was as though a strain of solemn music liad 
 died away Tt very beautiful. I shall remember the angel 
 of pain, and show him a brave face, I hope, when he comes. 
 But tell me why you speak to me in this strain to-night? 
 It may be only my fancy, but it has seemed to me that on 
 the face of every man and woman I have met to-day 1 have 
 read pity ; it must be fancy, but it seems to me so strange.'' 
 
 She could have told him that every man, woman, and 
 child in Lilford knew that on the morrow Violet JIaye 
 was to marry Sir Owen. She could have told him also that 
 there was none among them who did not feel sorry for him 
 and indignant with her. 
 
 "I had almost begun to fear that there was something 
 fresh concerning that unfortunate will," he said, "people 
 have been so strange with me. It cannot be my love 
 no one knows that. People all know, of course, that. Violet 
 has gone away to London ; but I do not think any one out 
 of our own household knows that she has broken with me." 
 
 Eve could not tell him; she could help him. she eould 
 strengthen his heart and his mind, but she could not look 
 at him and say, "To-morrow will be Violet's wedding- 
 day." She turned away sick at heart when she remem- 
 bered the treachery, the cruelty, and the deceit- sick at 
 heart that she could not take the whole burden upon her- 
 self, and suffer for him. She was brave enough, but she
 
 132 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 could not say to him, "The girl for love of whom you are 
 leaking yoJr heart thinks so little of you-so little of your 
 pain-that she is going to marry to-morrow the man 
 above all others whom you dislike. 
 
 She talked to him again in the same strain-of the gran- 
 deur and nobility of sorrow, the bravery of bearing pain 
 the cowardice of falling under - burden ; and then, v, hen 
 she left him, she whispered to Katie : 
 
 "Be very kind to him to-morrow, madre. He will stand 
 
 S But eveTKate did not dream what the words meant. 
 
 The harvest moon that night shone down upon many 
 different scenes. It crept into a superb room ^ London 
 where Sir Owen, flushed with love and wine, told with 
 many an oath to a choice circle of friends how he had out- 
 witted the lawyer and carried off his bride. 
 
 "I shall have some fine amusement with him when I re- 
 turn to Garswood," he said. " He must have been as vain 
 a Narcissus himself to think that any girl would prefer 
 
 hi Sisfrie e nds drank his costly wines and applauded him- 
 each ignoble sentiment, each mean idea-until they could 
 do so no longer. . 
 
 The moon looked in at another window the window o 
 ma^ent chamber, wherein lay all the details of a superb 
 bridal costume a lace vail of priceless value, a wreath of 
 SSSe5fflSTwhite satin shoes, and white gloves, with 
 a drSs that was a triumph of art. It shone on a pretty 
 white bed whereon a young girl lay-on golden hair that 
 
 rni all disheveled and lying in silken profusion over the 
 Sow-on a far and beautiful face all stained with tears ; 
 for on tiSs evening something like rerno^e had come to 
 Violet Have, and she had wept with a wild cry for ti 
 whom she had bartered for gold. Even the diamonds the 
 Ss2? gems, the rich dresses, the wealth and grandeur for 
 which Ihe had sold herself, had not P<^ ^ eooftehg. 
 ThP same moon shone into the room where Eve l^estei 
 Selt he? to face raised to the evening skies praying 
 Heaven to help the man she loved through the bitter hour 
 of his pain and desolation. It shone into the room where 
 Felix sat writing because he could not sleep and L un 
 able to find rest in anything except work, 
 
 u eyes cou.d see no longe, 
 
 and then he put away his papers. He had business for the
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 13 
 
 morrow, and, if he could not sleep, he said to himself that 
 he might close his eyes and think of that. 
 
 He went to the office early the next morning, and it 
 struck him that there was an unusual stir in tin' streets. A 
 band of music passed him. He saw tin 1 people, 
 dressed, all going in the same direction. He wondei 
 there was n ffti> anywhere, or any fair that he h 
 ten. It was the fourteenth of September no, he could not 
 remember that it differed from any other day. II 
 that it was a very lovely morning-; there was bright sun- 
 shine, a sweet western wind, while all nature looked blithe 
 and gay; still he could not understand the commotion in 
 the to\v:i. 
 
 He went into his office even the clerk was nor there. 
 Without loss of time he went to work busily at hi 
 Ha! Surely he was not mistaken as to the chime of the 
 old church bells surely they were chiming not an < 
 
 hime surely he heard* a burst of jubilant melody, a 
 clang of joyful sound: He opened the window, and the 
 rich waves of sound came in upon the sunlit air. 
 
 "It is like the sound of wedding-bells," he thought to 
 If, "but no one has been married from ! 
 
 There was something pathetic in the handsonn 
 ing face leaning from the window, listenii 
 were ringing his death-knell. 
 
 He said to himself thai it was no business of h; 
 must go on with his work ; he should know durii: 
 why the bells were rung. He went to his {.aj 
 but it was impossible to write ; the air was full 
 the gay, sweet chime rang out everymoment 
 
 - though a thousand 
 re flitting around him. Thei 
 the bell-ringing could n 
 uld not work with that mad. men 
 air ; but lie could go ;:id ask what i< all meant. 
 
 It 1 
 
 vicar'a wife, Mrs. Hunter. 11 !ier wh> 
 
 were ringing; and, as she looked at him, 1. 
 
 With te; 
 
 "Thev ring for so many things," sh 
 tell which it i 
 
 d on, nut. i '* at 
 
 him closely, while -.mething like p '" 1 "' 1 ' ! 
 
 autiful worn. 
 
 . h, i>eit. "1 would not h. 
 a thing."
 
 134 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Felix thought her strange but he had almost ceased to 
 wonder at anything. Then he met his old friend, Doctor 
 Ludlow. He stopped and spoke to him. 
 
 "I ought to be very busy with my work," he said, "but 
 those bells distract me. I have had to put away my writ- 
 ing. What are they ringing for, doctor ?" 
 
 And the kind-hearted doctor looked sadly at him. 
 
 " Have you not heard ?" he asked. 
 
 " No I hear so little I am so busy always. What is 
 it for?" 
 
 Put the doctor could not tell him. 
 
 " Go as far as the church, " he said, " the walk will do 
 you good this beautiful morning. Ask the ringers they 
 are sure to know." 
 
 He had not the time to spare, but the morning was fine, 
 and some strange instinct that he could not account for 
 hurried him on. 
 
 u Why are you ringing this merry chime to-day ?" he 
 asked of one of the ringers, a white-headed old man, whose 
 arms were wearied, and who sat resting on one of the green 
 graves. 
 
 " Why ? Because the great Sir Owen is married to-day, 
 Master Lonsdale." 
 
 " Married !" cried Felix. " Married to whom ?" 
 
 The chiming ceased, and the wind fell as the old man 
 answered : 
 
 "Married to Violet Haye." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE EARL'S PROMISE. 
 
 There are no finer woods in England than the woods that 
 surround Bramber Towers. Bramber is a glorious estate, 
 and the woods extend to Lilford. They form the massive 
 background of trees which helps to render the old church 
 so picturesque and artistic. 
 
 The Earl of Arlington, master of the Towers, had but one 
 fault in the eyes of the county he was too fond of travel- 
 ing. It was no unusual thing for the Towers to be closed 
 for two or three years, while the earl, with his wife and 
 daughter, delighted in fair Continental cities. It was the 
 one drawback to a noble character, for Lord Arlington 
 was one of those fortunate men who are born with a keen 
 sense of duty. He was a node! landowner, a model land- 
 lord, a model country gentleman. When he was at the
 
 WEAKER Til AX A WOMAX. 135 
 
 Towers everything was sure to go well ; he had a keen 
 sense of justice he gave himself the trouble to examine 
 thoroughly into everything. He was never hasty, impa- 
 tient, or unjust. He was almost idolized in the county. 
 Most of the town of Lilford belonged to him, and he took the 
 greatest possible interest in the place. He made a point of 
 attending the public meetings; he would have justice 
 "Justice" was his motto. "Let justice he done, though 
 the heavens fall'' was a favorite quotation of his. Woe to 
 any man who tried to belie another, and then fell into his 
 hands. Woe to any voter who trifled with 1 
 
 Lord Arlington was a straightforward, honest, honorable 
 Englishman all devious ways and tortuous paths were un- 
 known to him. It was always observed that if he we: 
 sent for any length of time things went wrong. His iirst 
 concern on his return was to endeavor to set them right. He 
 had been nearly three years tin's time, lingering with his 
 beautiful wife and daughter in the quaint cities of old Spain. 
 He reached home on the eleventh of September, and he 
 feared that, as usual, during his absence much had gone 
 wrong. His return was hardly known in the neighborhood, 
 for one of the things that Lord Arlington disliked was 
 why should there be a scene every time he returned? 
 So he generally kept his intention secret. 
 
 The countess was a beautiful, quiet, refined woman. One 
 of her great characteristics was lid- sympathetic manner 
 She].. that keen insight into the hearts and teel- 
 
 if others which creates sympathy. It was natural to 
 her to feel intensely the sorrows and joys of others. Then- 
 were two children the young heir. Lord In-amber, who 
 was still at Oxford, and' Lady Maude Uramber, a i 
 girl about two ye;irs older than her brother. 
 
 Lady Maude inherited her mother's peculiarly sympa- 
 thetic nature. She was as pitted as she was beautiful, and 
 the one thing in which she excelled was art. She would 
 have made one of the finest painters of the day had she 
 not been an earl's daughter ; as it vras, her picti 
 
 iperior to those ,,f many well-known art !>ls. It was 
 at her solicitation that Lord Arlington returned home that 
 autumn. She bad seen the finest parts of Kurop, 
 most picturesque the most beautiful; but there \\as noth- 
 ing she liked better than the line old woods round I'.ra 
 and she loved them best in autumn, when the leaves were 
 falling and the glorious tints of the foliage made a picture 
 the tints of which could not be transferred to ca: 
 
 She had l.eg-ed that they might spend the autumn at
 
 136 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 home, for the 'beauty of an English autumn surpassed any- 
 thing which they could see abroad. Her wish was complied 
 with, as is the wish of a spoiled child often, and she prom- 
 ised herself a few pleasant months. 
 
 She set out one morning with her sketch-book and pen- 
 cils. The countess suggested that she should take a maid 
 or a footman with her Lady Maude laughed. 
 
 " No danger lurks in our English woods, mamma, she 
 said " If I were in Italy or Greece I might meet a few 
 brigands ; here at Bramber there will be nothing worse 
 than the pretty brown hares and the little squirrels, 
 could not sketch at my ease with a great idle man waiting 
 for me." 
 
 So she went alone into the Bramber Woods. She wanted 
 a few sketches of English trees in their ruby-tinted autumn 
 dress, and some of the finest in England grew amid the 
 fern and bracken in the Bramber Woods. She had no fear 
 why should she have any ? The sky was blue, the sun 
 bright and warm, the air full of music and song. As she 
 entered the woods she fancied that she heard a faint chim- 
 ing of distant bells. 
 
 "They are the bells of Lilford's old church," she said to 
 herself ; " what a mellow, rich sound. I shall not hear it 
 presently." 
 
 It died away as she entered the beautiful green glades ; 
 the sound could not penetrate the thick masses of foliage. 
 
 "I want oak, ash, and elm," she thought; u and here I 
 shall find all three." 
 
 There was a broad, open space, and a majestic oak spread 
 out its great branches there. It was like a little kingdom 
 in itself, this wonderful oak a great green kingdom with 
 a life all its own. Near it stood a very fine elm, and in the 
 distance She saw the branches of a fine ash tree. Not far 
 from here was a pretty little brook, so clear that one could 
 see the pebbles at the bottom of it ; it ran with a sweet, 
 musical ripple that was a song in itself. The birds were 
 having an entertainment, of some kind in the green king- 
 dom of leaves, and the noise they made over it was con- 
 tinuous. 
 
 As she became absorbed in the keen delight ot her 
 sketching, she forgot her feathered neighbors. They no 
 longer disturbed her. The wind sounded like an vEohan 
 harp among the trees, but that was music she liked ; the 
 merry rabbits hopped among the bracken and fern, the 
 squirrels played among the spreading boughs. It was all 
 so still, so peaceful, so beautiful that she thought she could
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 137 
 
 sit there sketching forever. Once she was disturbed ; she 
 fancied that from the long western glade on the other side 
 of her there came the sound of reckless running footsteps, 
 and then of a heavy fall, but after a moment or two she 
 concluded that it was only the rabbits. 
 
 "They are having a steeplechase," she said, and laughed 
 at the idea; then the pencil trembled in her finger 
 surely she heard the sound of terrible sobbing, great pas- 
 sionate, bitter sobs. She could not be mistaken they 
 more bitter and deep, and then all was till. She tried to 
 go on with her drawing, but her hand trembled she could 
 not persuade herself that what she had heard was fancy. 
 Something must have made the noise she would go and 
 
 She was one of the most fearless of maidens ; all the high 
 courage and undaunted bravery of her rare lived in her. 
 She put her drawing materials aside, and went toward 
 the place whence the sound had proceeded. Her heart beat 
 fast when she saw before her the prostrate figure of a 
 man. There was no sobbing now, only a death-like si! 
 and the man lay with his face downward. She did not 
 faint, or scream, or run away, but she listened for his 
 breathing, this dainty daughter of a noble race. Was ho 
 dead? Had he swooned ? Was he hurt '. She gr-w pale, 
 and trembled when, on the cool green grass, sin- de! 
 stains of blood. Once, twin- she spoke to him. and then 
 she raised his head, and looked into his face, llow : 
 Bome it was just such a face as she had seen given to a 
 Greek god such a i'a<-e as she had seen in marble in tho 
 dim light of old Roman galleriea Then she saw th. 
 the temple, so while, so rounded, so full of ideality, there 
 was a terrible wound. A moment's reflection showed her 
 what the wound was. .Ju.-t above him was the branch ol 
 a tree. He must have been running in hot ha-te, ;m<l, not 
 seeing the branch with its sharp, jagged ed-v. hail rua 
 against it. He had fallen there, and had swooned, proba- 
 bly because the blow had stunned him. 
 
 What a handsome face it was, but how terribly marked 
 with pain ! What did all those irrcat lines mean on t!. 
 brow and round, beautiful mouth .' Warm pity ami 1 
 compassion rose in her heart for him. She laid the 
 
 'lead on the grass again, and went and dipped her 
 handkerchief in the brook. She laid it on his ln.\\ 
 bound up the cruel, gaping wound, and she looked li' 
 
 Of compassion bending over him. Sudden!., 
 great relief, lie opened his eyes and gazed at her.
 
 138 WEAKER THAX A WOMAN. 
 
 "Violet!" he said. 
 
 "I am not Violet," she replied. 
 
 She saw his whole face change. 
 
 " Oh, Eve, Eve, " he said, u you told me of the angel of 
 pain, but the trial was more than I could bear. " 
 
 "I am not Eve, 1 ' she told him, gently, but from the dim, 
 shadowed look in his eyes she knew that he did not hear 
 her. 
 
 Gently and quietly, with softest touch, she bathed his 
 hot brow with the cool water of the brook until she saw 
 that his senses had returned to him. 
 
 "I found you here, badly hurt," she said. 
 
 He tried to rise, but he was quite unable to stir. She laid 
 Tier hand upon his arm. 
 
 "No, "she said, "you must not try to stand you will 
 feel better soon. You are dazed and giddy you must have 
 struck your head against this branch. Where were you 
 running so quickly ?" 
 
 " Away from the sound of the bells," he answered. "I 
 tnew that I should not hear them in the depths of the 
 Bramber Woods." 
 
 " Did they distress you ?" she asked. " I thought them so 
 beautiful." 
 
 "They drove me mad they were killing me," he re- 
 plied. Then, with a low cry, he bent his face toward the 
 long grass. 
 
 " I feel sure that I have seen you before," she said. " Do 
 you know me ? I am Lady Bramber ; and you I have 
 seen you at the Towers. Surely you are Mr. Felix Lons- 
 dale, the dear old lawyer's son?" 
 
 He looked\at her. 
 
 "Yes, I am Felix Lonsdale," he replied ; "and I begin to 
 think that Heaven has placed a black cross against my 
 name. I ought to have known you, Lady Maude. I re- 
 member you now, but my head was all confused." 
 
 "Your face is quite familiar to me, " said Lady Maude. 
 " You came to the Towers with your father it is four 
 years since and you took luncheon with us. I showed you 
 some of my drawings, and you were very shy. It comes 
 back to me so vividly. But, Mr. Lonsdale, why were you 
 running from the sound of those bells ?" 
 
 She saw a spasm of pain pass over his handsome face ; 
 his lips trembled. 
 
 "Do not agitate yourself," she said, kindly. "Do not 
 tell me if it pains you." 
 
 "All the world all my world knows it," he replied. "I
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 139 
 
 will tell you, Lady Maude. I ran, mad, blind, reckless, 
 from those bells because they are chiming in honor of the 
 marriage of the girl I loved the girl who had promised to 
 marry me." 
 
 Surely," said Lady Maude, with a light breaking over 
 her face, "you do not mean your pretty, golden-haired 
 sweetheart, Violet Haye ? Your father told us about her 
 t.iat day at the Towers." 
 
 " Yes ; she has married Sir Owen Chevenix to-day, and 
 the wedding-bells were driving me mad." 
 
 "Poor boy," said Lady Maude, rather to herself than to 
 him, "I am not surprised at it. You shall not tell me 
 about it now," added Lady Maude, after a silence of some 
 f-w seconds. " It is the old story, I suppose, of trust and 
 love, folly and treachery. Tell me of your home, your 
 r I was always very fond of your father. How is 
 
 Sympathy was so sweet. They were sitting under the 
 great boughs of the spreading elm. Lady Maude's just and 
 gentle heart ached with pity for him. It seemed to him 
 such relief to talk to her. He felt weak and languid 
 woman's sweet, soft words, woman's pity and sympathy, 
 wen- very aeeeptahle to him just then. 
 
 He did not, speak of Violet, but he told her the storv of 
 his father's bitter trials how Mrs. Hardman's money was 
 li'ft to them, how happy it had made them, what plans 
 and hopes they bad built on it; then of the disputed will, 
 the trial, the verdict; how his father's business had fallen 
 away from him, and his old friends had one by one de- 
 l him, all but Eve Lester: and he told her how K\ e 
 had come to oiler her fortune to them. 
 
 Lady Maude's eyes filled with tears as she listened. 
 
 "That is a girl after my own heart.' 1 she said. "That is 
 just one of the things 1 should have done myself. l!ut do 
 you mean to tell me. Mr. L-msdale, that this is the outeome 
 of Ktrj-ijsli law.' 1 have never heard of so cm. 
 All who know your father know that he is as incapable of 
 doi n^ wrong as any man in Kngland-in fact, he would 
 not do wrong he is one of the honestest and nobl- 
 men. I have always hea.nl him so highly spoken of. You 
 do not mean t<> say that his fellow townsmen and the old 
 friends who have known him foe years stand aloof fn>m 
 him for thisT 
 
 She spoke with angry indignation that did his heart 
 good to hear. 
 
 "It is true," he replied; "and, what is more, they have
 
 140 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 withdrawn their business from him some under one pre- 
 text, some under another. We have had a struggle such 
 as few could understand, and my great fear is that my 
 father will never be a strong man again." 
 
 " He wants reaction, " she said "something that would 
 put him back into his place that would reinstate him in 
 public opinion ; and he shall have it. I will tell this story, 
 just as you have told it to me, to the earl, my father, and I 
 am sure this is one of the wrongs he will hasten to redress. 
 I am glad that I have seen you, glad that you have trusted 
 me. There has been a gross miscarriage of justice." 
 
 " Human laws must always be more or less imperfect," 
 returned Felix. " It is only the Divine laws that have no 
 flaw." 
 
 "Tell me more of Eve Lester," said Lady Maude. "Your 
 fair, false Violet does not interest me, but Eve Lester 
 does. I love noble women tell me more of her." 
 
 He told of her patience, her heroism, her noble, gentle, 
 generous life ; and Lady Maude, looking at him, wondered 
 why, when he understood the beauty of her fair soul so- 
 well, he had not loved her in preference to Violet. 
 
 "Men are all the same," she thought ; "a fair face will 
 lead them in any direction. They lose their heads when 
 beauty comes upon the scene ; they are not strong-minded 
 as a i-ule." Then with a smile she looked up at Felix. 
 
 " The little mouse in the fable freed the lion. I will be 
 the mouse in this instance, and I promise you such help for 
 your father as shall make his trouble really a blessing in 
 disguise." 
 
 He thought of Eve's words and repeated them to her. 
 She smiled. 
 
 "Your friend Eve is right," she said. "Sorrow is often 
 a blessing in disguise. I am glad that I have met you ; 
 you will go home all the happier for knowing that the hour 
 of your father's triumph is at hand. You will have some- 
 thing to distract your thoughts from fair, false Violet; 
 and, remembering my promise, the fourteenth of Septem- 
 ber, her wedding-day, will not be the most unhappy day 
 of your life after all." 
 
 He thanked her until the tears came into her eyes again, 
 and then he told her that he was better, and asked her to 
 let him walk with her to the end of the wood. When he 
 tried to stand up, he looked very white and ill she almost 
 feared for him ; but the giddiness soon passed, and they 
 walked together to where she had left her drawing mate- 
 rials. He thanked her again and again so simply and ear-
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 141 
 
 nestly that she was charmed. Then she left him, and went 
 away home. 
 
 Felix had intended to take up his burden bravely and 
 carry it nobly, but human love and human passion were 
 too strong for him he could not face the world just yet. 
 ]Ii- staid all night in the shelter of the Bramber Woods, 
 doing hard battle with his despair ; he watched the sun 
 set, and the moon rise ; he watched the golden stars come 
 out one by one; he watched the checkered shadows that 
 the moon threw upon the grass ; he listened to the wind as 
 it sang its sweet song ; he thought of all the moonlit nights 
 on which he had met Violet. He fell asleep for a few short 
 moments, and dreamed that he stood under the wet lilac 
 bushes with her; her arms were clasped around his neck, 
 her beautiful face was raised to his, and she was scolding 
 him that even in a dream he could believe her false. 
 He woke with a cry of rapture. There lay the cold moon- 
 light, there stood the giant trees, and Violet had married 
 Sir < >\ven. 
 
 All night he staid there. It was the one terrible battle 
 of his life. He was not ashamed to impart all his sorrow to 
 the listening stars. They had listened to CEnone's wailing 
 when beautiful Paris left his love. This story of man's 
 love and woman's folly, of man's trust and woman's 
 treachery, of love forsaken and forsworn, was nothing 
 new to them. There were times that night when he almost 
 went mad. when he cried aloud for death. But Heaven 
 merciful, and death came not. The morning light 
 found him pale, weak, and exhausted, hut that one fierce 
 paroxysm had taken the sting of his sorrow away. It was 
 better than if he had gone home and been ill for long flays 
 anl weeks. That me fierce night of pain exhausted him; 
 when it had passed he was too weak and too tired to suffer 
 more. 
 
 He went home in the full light of morning, and found 
 Katie waiting for him. She had guessed what had hap- 
 
 1. She hftd not spoken of his absence, hut she ! 
 anxiously at his face when he came in. lie bent down and 
 kissed her. 
 
 "It is all over, madrc" he said. "Now I shall live down 
 my pain." 
 
 Katie looked sadly at the wound on his broad, white 
 brow. 
 
 "How did you cut yourself so terribly, Felix?" she
 
 H2 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 asked ; and he told her. It was one of his great merits that 
 he never spoke a false or evasive word. 
 
 On that same night Lady Chevenix sat with her husband 
 in a first-class railway carriage on the road to Paris. They 
 were to spend their honey-moon there, and they had left 
 Dover by that night's steamer. As the night grew darker 
 and the red lights of the signals passed more quickly, she 
 fell into a deep, troubled slumber. Her husband looked 
 with exulting pride at the marvelous face with its exquis, 
 ite beauty ; he was glad that she slept it would rest her-- 
 and would help to while the hours away. He tried to 
 sleep, but it was impossible. He was exultant, triumphant ; 
 he had won the only thing wanting to complete the happi- 
 ness of his life. His heart hungered as he looked at the 
 graceful figure of his wife. He noted with pride and pleas- 
 ure how the handsome traveling-dress became her sweet 
 loveliness. 
 
 The folly of that lawyer to imagine that such a woman 
 as this was born to live in a place like Lilford. His year's 
 income would not find her a decent dress. He will recog- 
 nize his mistake when he sees Lady Chevenix. 
 
 It was strange that no feeling of pity for his rival or 
 remorse for his own behavior crossed his mind He did 
 not seem even to understand that he had done a dishonor- 
 able thing. He had outwitted another man, and he was 
 delighted. Then 'he saw the face that he was watching 
 grow paler in sleep. Suddenly his young wife awoke with 
 a loud cry. He saw her look at both her hands, while her 
 white lips trembled. 
 
 "What is it, Violet? he asked. 
 
 "A dream," she replied, shuddering, "only a dream." 
 
 "Very horrid things they are, too, sometimes," he said. 
 "What did you dream" ? 
 
 She was still looking at her hands, rubbing the softly- 
 tinted gloves as though she would fain rub something from 
 them. She was too confused to be quick at invention. 
 
 "What did you dream?" he repeated, and there was a 
 certain sharpness in his voice. 
 
 "I thought that I held a human heart in my hand, and 
 that it was bleeding," she replied. 
 
 "That would do for a sensation novel, Violet," he said, 
 laughing. "You have something better than a heart if 
 your hand you have a diamond ring on your finger worth 
 two hundred pounds, and you have a wedding-ring that 
 makes you Lady Chevenix. Go to sleep again, but dream
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 143 
 
 of diamonds, rrf dear, not hearts as whist players say, 
 diamonds are tramps." 
 
 But sleep had gone from Violet ; she watched the 
 until morning dawned, and more than once, although she 
 Lady Chevenix of Garswood, one of the wealthiest 
 en in England, she wished that it were all undone, and 
 that she was Violet Have again. 
 
 On that same night Lady ^Jmide and Lord Aril- 
 1 long and earnestly. She told him the stor; 
 she had heard, aiid asked him for help. He thought long 
 
 r it. 
 
 "I know of one way in which I can help him, Maude," 
 id, "hut that will require consideration." Then he 
 said a few words in a low voice. 
 Shi' clasped her hands. 
 
 "Will you do that, papa?" she interrog "That 
 
 would he one of the grandest things in the world. 1 shall 
 -far more pleased than at any good fortune 
 which could happen ro myself." 
 
 "I will think ot it," replied Lord Arlington, and when he 
 spoke in the tone that he did then his daughter knew that 
 he was determined to accomplish what he had in view. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A TRUE NOBLEMAN. 
 
 There was great excitement in the town of Lilford. As 
 
 ::m said to another, they might alway expect E 
 thing wht.i the earl came home; hut this 
 
 stranger than all. The earl's tenants, and every man in 
 Lilford with whom he did hnsiness of any kind, received 
 an invitation to dine with the earl at the r>ramler Arms." 
 
 The "Bramber. Arms" was the chief hotel in Lilford. It 
 -mhly room, where the county halls 
 
 and the hunt balls were all given. It was the very strong- 
 hold and fortress of the aristocracy of the neighborh 1, 
 
 and its resour vonderful. The dinner to the ten- 
 
 ants was to !-e served in the assemhly room. People called 
 it a rent dinner, such a< the earl generally gave to his ten- 
 ants . :r; but they agreed that there was something 
 more in it than that, or why were so many hidden who 
 were not tenants.' Why were the doctors the vicar, and 
 every other person with whom the earl had any business 
 relations asked, and ma iy more besides? The earl, it 
 remarked, rode or drove through Lilford almost every day.
 
 144 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 and he was sure each day to give three or four invitations. 
 Public expectation and excitement increased. What could 
 the earl mean by such unlimited hospitality ? 
 
 The proprietor of the "Bramber Arms" gave glowing ac- 
 counts of the dinner that was to be prepared. No expense 
 was to be spared. He was to provide the most costly wines, 
 the choicest dishes. He declared that during his business 
 career he had known nothing like it. 
 
 Felix heard of the grand banquet, the rent dinner, as it 
 was called, and went home one evening pleased to have 
 some news that would interest his father. When he 
 reached Vale House he was astonished to find that two 
 letters of invitation were there before him, one for his 
 father and one for himself. 
 
 "That is wonderful," he said. "Why has the earl invited 
 us?" 
 
 Nor was his wonder much decreased when in his 
 father's letter he read a few words written in the earl's 
 own handwriting, and signed "Arlington" a few kindly 
 words, begging Mr. Lonsdale, if possible, to be present, as 
 he very much wished to see him. 
 
 "That means good news for you, father, " he said. He 
 had never mentioned his interview with Lady Maude, 
 neither had he forgotten it. 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale shook his head gravely. 
 
 "There will be no more good news for me in this world, 
 my dear boy no second Will-o'-the-wisp will ever lead me 
 astray. For the future I shall believe in nothing but what 
 I see." 
 
 "You will find I am right," said Felix. "You will go, 
 father, will you not ?" 
 
 "Yes, I will go, just to show my fellow-townsmen that, 
 while they treat me as a thief or a swindler, the Earl of 
 Arlington treats me as a gentleman. I will go, if only to 
 show them that. Yet I have some misgivings, Felix. If 
 they avoid me as they have done it will kill me. Felix, 
 what if his lordship has heard nothing of this story, and 
 has invited me in ignorance ? W T hat if, when he finds it 
 out, he avoids me, too ?" 
 
 "My dear father, why dwell on ti'ifles? Lord Arlington 
 says expressly that he wishes to see you. Surely you do 
 not doubt his word ? He has been so much in Lilford lately 
 that you may be quite sure he has heard the whole history." 
 
 In his heart Felix felt certain that Lady Maude had told 
 her father all about it, and that this invitation of the earl's
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 145 
 
 had something to do with her communication. He placed 
 his arm caressingly around his father's neck. 
 
 "You must get better, father," he said, "and come with 
 me." 
 
 "I will, Felix ; I will do my best," he replied. 
 
 Eve Lester came and talked to him ; Kate cheered him, 
 and between them the sorrow-stricken man took courage, 
 and resolved to go among his friends again. Friends or 
 no matter which, he would go among them. 
 
 Kate will never forget how she helped him to dress, how 
 she quieted the trembling nerves, while Eve cheered him 
 witli brave words. 
 
 "I shall remain here until you return," she said, "for I 
 am quite certain you will bring good news with you, though 
 I cannot think what the good news will be." 
 
 "I am quite at a loss to imagine why both Eve and you, 
 Felix, should think good fortune lies in store for me," 
 observed Darcy Lonsdale. "I have been under a shadow 
 too long." 
 
 But Felix would not listen to one desponding word. 
 
 They had engaged a fly to carry them to the "Bramber 
 Anns," and both father and son were surprised at the deco- 
 rations, the ila.^s. the evergreens, the arches of welcome. 
 
 "People show great respect to Lord Arlington," 1 said 
 Darcy Lonsdale, "and well they may, for he is a just man." 
 
 Then together father and son entered the assembly 
 room, where the grand banquet was laid. They saw tho 
 earl at the top of the room, surrounded by a group of gen- 
 tlemen. 
 
 "I shall go straight to him, Felix," said the lawyer; 
 ''there sliall be no mistake about it. I w?ll not sit at his 
 table under false pretenses." 
 
 "You shall do as you will, father; where you lead I will 
 follo\v," was Felix's reply. 
 
 Darcy Lonsdal" walked up to the earl, but, before he had 
 time to speak to him, Lord Arlington held out his hand 
 and shook his with a hearty grasp. 
 
 "I am delighted to see you, Mr. Lonsdale," he said, 
 warmly. 
 
 But Darcy Lonsdale, looking into the earl's face, said : 
 
 "My lord, before I take advantage of your kindness. I<-t 
 HIP ask you if you have heard my story if you have heard 
 that I have 1 n charged with influencing one of my cli- 
 ents to leave me mone 
 
 Y.-s, I have heard it," replied the earl. 
 
 "Have you heard that a jury of my own countrymen
 
 146 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 found me guilty, and that my fellow-townsmen the old 
 friends whom I have spent all my life among in their 
 own minds found me guilty, too, and have shown their 
 opinion, most of them, by withdrawing their business from 
 me the old friends I loved and served, my lord ?" 
 
 The earl took his hand again. 
 
 " I have heard it, Mr. Lonsdale, and regret it. I am glad 
 to have this chance of saying publicly that I disbelieve all 
 that has been said about your guilt, and am proud to take 
 the hand of an honest, injured man." 
 
 " I thank you, my lord," returned Darcy Lonsdale. 
 
 His wonder increased when the earl, turning to him, 
 said : 
 
 " Your place, Mr. Lonsdale, is at my right hand. " 
 
 The lawyer looked at him in amazement. Lord Arling- 
 ton smiled. 
 
 "Yes, at my right hand," he said, "and after dinner you 
 will know the reason why." 
 
 Wondering at this, Darcy Lonsdale took his seat. 
 
 "Your .son will sit next to you," said Lord Arlington. "I 
 shall want him as well." 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale saw the looks of wonder from all the gen- 
 tlemen assembled. 
 
 "They are not accustomed to see me so honored," he 
 said to himself, bitterly. 
 
 Then the grand banquet began, and it was one long re- 
 membered in Lilford, because of its grandeur and costli- 
 ness ; those who partook of it described it in few words it 
 was worthy of the earl who gave it. It came to a close at 
 last, and the earl ordered some more wine. 
 
 "I shall have a toast to propose presently, gentlemen," 
 he said, " for which I shall want brimming glasses. Before 
 giving it, however, I have a few words to say to you." 
 
 Silence, deep and impressive, fell over them ; .when the 
 earl spoke in the tone that he did he meant something. 
 There was not the faintest sound when he began. 
 
 " Gentlemen, old friends, and neighbors I may say, there 
 has been an injustice done among you which I have asked 
 you here to-day to set straight. Understand me plainly, as 
 an Englishman I uphold the legal institutions of my coun- 
 try. I bow my head to the decision of a judge ; I listen 
 with respect to the verdict of a jury. But, gentlemen, 
 human laws, just because they are human and not divine, 
 must at times err ; and I say they erred when they pro- 
 nounced a man, as honest, industrious, and honorable as 
 my friend Darcy Lonsdale capable of influencing a woman
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 147 
 
 to leave him her money. Gentlemen, the judge who gave 
 sentence against him was a stranger to him, and the jury 
 who decided in favor of the heir-at-law did not know him. 
 But you know him ; he has lived among you all his 1; 
 
 -Tved you to the best of his kno\\ ledge, and not one 
 among you, man, woman, or child, can say that h' 
 ever spoken a false word or done a mean or underhand 
 
 He has always been industrious, honest, and L 
 ous one of those men who make the very backbone of Old 
 England a loyal subject, a spirited townsman, a true 
 friend, a devoted husband, a kind father. He has spent his 
 life among you, and not one of you ran say that you have 
 ever known him to do wroi.. -n can, speak." 
 
 There was a dead silence which lasted for some mon 
 and then a voice said : 
 
 " You are right, my lord. Not one among us lias 
 known him to do wrong." 
 
 " 1 am sure not," declared the earl. " Now mind what I 
 
 With the jury and the judge who thought J 
 Hardman entitled to Elizabeth Hardman'8 money, and who 
 really believed that Darcy Lonsdale had wrongfully used 
 r', at influence with her, I have nothing to d". They 
 did their duty honestly, even if mistakenly. To you who 
 constituted yourselves judge and jury to you who. know- 
 ing the man and his character, judged him yourseh 
 guilty to you I wish to speak. I believe him to be inno- 
 cent. I have read carefully since my return every \v 
 the; trial, and I say before you all, in the most emphatic 
 words that 1 can use, that I believe him to be innocent, 
 and, what is more, to be a deeply injured man." 
 
 He was obliged to stop, for there rose from the 1: 
 the men who had misjudged Darcy Lonsdale, wh 
 shunned him, who had withdrawn their business from him, 
 who had half broken his honest heart by their conduct, a 
 cheer such as had never been heard in Lilford. Perhaps 
 in their hearts they had never (|tiite believed him guilty. 
 Perhaps the earl's noble words touched them with 
 punction and r^u'ret. Something appealed to them, and 
 they cheered until the walls of the "Bramber An. 
 ;ii. 
 
 -We. -n ntlernen," said the earl. "Our 
 
 old friend and fellow townsman is an honest, honorablo 
 gentleman." 
 
 They <!; in and again. It was with some diffi- 
 
 culty that tb" earl could make himself heard. At L 
 leiie> iored, and then he continued :
 
 148 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "We can never make up to him for all that he has 
 suffered ; we cannot give him back the strength, the hope, 
 the happiness he has lost ; we cannot atone for the 
 wretched, hours, the sleepless nights, and the weary days 
 all that is beyond us. But I have thought of a plan by 
 which we may aid him, and I want the close attention of 
 every gentleman present while I propose it." 
 
 The earl paused for one moment, and those seated at his 
 hospitable table looked earnestly at him ; there was still 
 deeper silence when he began to speak again. 
 
 " There is no secrecy in England. Everything done in 
 the country is as open as the sea that surrounds it. Our 
 newspapers ventilate everything, and in one sense that is 
 quite right ; but in a case like this it is hard. Throughout 
 the length and breadth of England men have read how 
 Darcy Lonsdale's case went against him, and how he lost 
 the money left to him. I want something else to go through 
 the length and breadth of the land ; I want people to read 
 how Darcy Lonsdale's friends and townsmen myself at 
 their head met and expressed their sympathy with him, 
 and that they presented him with a handsome testimonial 
 to show their full confidence in him and to make up for his 
 loss. That testimonial I propose to head myself with five 
 hundred pounds, and I venture to say there will not be a 
 nobleman or a gentleman in the county who will not add 
 his name to the list." 
 
 Cheers again arose never had the "Bramber Arms 1 ' 
 heard such cheers. Darcy Lonsdale's face had grown 
 deathly pale, but for the strong arm of his son thrown 
 around him, he would have fallen. 
 
 "I have one word more to say, gentlemen," continued the 
 earl, " and it is this. My agent, Mr. John Sleaman, a gen- 
 tleman whom you all know and respect, is leaving me. I 
 am glad to say that a fortune has fallen to him, and that 
 he is going to enjoy it. I propose now to ask Mr. Darcy 
 Lonsdale to take his post. The emoluments are good one 
 thousand per annum and a house to live in. If he will ac- 
 cept the office I shall be proud to place my interests, my 
 welfare, my property, in the hands of a worthy, honest, 
 and honorable gentleman. Yet one word more. Mr. Lons- 
 dale is no longer young, but he has a son I wish we all 
 had such a son and I propose that he acts, if necessary, in 
 his father's place, always, of course, with his authority ; if 
 he does, I shall secure two. good agents instead of one. 
 Gentlemen, join me in drinking the health of a valued,
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. H9 
 
 trusted townsman, of an honest, honorable man, my agent, 
 Darcy Lonsdale. " 
 
 It was drank with such honors as a man's name seldom 
 receives. Then Darcy Lonsdale rose and turned his white 
 face to them, but he could make no speech the only words 
 his trembling lips could utter were : 
 
 "Heaven bless you, my lord. I cannot thank you, 
 though you have made a man of me again. My dear old 
 friends and neighbors, how could you have misjudged me { 
 But you see now that it was all a mistake. I am glad of it. 
 In future we will deal gently with each other, we will 
 judge each other mercifully. Lord Arlington, you have 
 saved my honor ; henceforward command me as you will." 
 Then, unable to say any more, he sat down. 
 
 Doctor Hunter was the first to leave his place and shake 
 hands with him. 
 
 " I never believed one word of the story, Mr. Lon< 1 
 
 1, "although I confess that I have avoided you. V.'ill 
 y< >u shake hands and let the past be past ?" 
 
 After that the guests went up to the lawyer one by one 
 and shook his hand. Some frankly avowed that, tiny had 
 misjudged him, some begged his pardon, some 
 they had gone with the many, but every man ] 
 wished him well and Godspeed in his new life. 
 
 The speech worth hearing when that 
 when justice had been done to an injured man, when ; 
 ha 1 been made, was when Doctor Hunter stood np t<> 
 : 1,'ii-d Arlington's health. Never was a t<> 
 
 reived, i'or there is nothing after all which touch 
 lishman's heart sooner than defense of the weak, lo 
 , and generosity. 
 
 It was the most successful evening ever known, and it 
 did an in d ; there was not a man ] 
 
 who did not learn , from the carl, wh 
 
 solve in his heart to be more merciful, more pitiful, 
 charitable, Avho did not say to himself that he \v. 
 
 ful in judging another time. Andu 
 tiling that, when they-ame to comparer 
 not a iiK.n among them who had really believed ; 
 guilty; they had gone only with what th t was 
 
 i one had removed his ' ' the 
 
 another had. one I 
 
 :iotherhad. But the earl had taught them 
 son which went home t" each heart. 
 
 It was such a pleasast evening. ::nd Lord AH.' 
 so contrived matters that Darcy Lonsdale was the real
 
 150 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 and not himself. He was all that was most kind and con- 
 siderate ; he talked to him, and won his son's heart forever. 
 But in everything he put Darcy first, so that people might 
 understand all this had been done for him. Was it any 
 wonder that when he was gone the men stood in little 
 groups, each one praising him ? 
 
 Felix followed him to the door of his carriage, and said : 
 
 " My lord, your life is filled, so people say, with great 
 and generous actions, but none could be so great, so gener- 
 ous, so noble, as that which you have done to-day." 
 
 "I have only done justice, my dear boy," said the earl, 
 kindly. "Your father was an injured man; I have tried 
 to set him straight. Au reste, I wanted a good agent, and I 
 have found one." 
 
 "You cannot make light of the deed," returned Felix; 
 " it is a good one. My father appears to be a new man to- 
 night ; there is a light on his face and fire in his eyes that 
 I hare not seen for long months. The miracle has been 
 worked by you you have removed the false reproach at- 
 taching to his name ; I can fancy, but I cannot tell you, 
 what our home will be like to-night. My heart beats fast 
 when I think of the mother and the children there, my lord. 
 I am not very eloquent, and I am moved too much for 
 words I can only echo my father's request, command me 
 as you will." 
 
 The earl was more touched than he liked to show, by the 
 emotion on the handsome young face. 
 
 U I will make you this one promise, Mr. Felix Lonsdale," 
 he said, " if ever I want a service done, or want a friend, I 
 will come to you." 
 
 "Thank you, my lord," responded Felix, and when the 
 earl drove off home he knew that he had left some of the 
 happiest hearts in England behind him. 
 
 No wonder that they praised and blessed him; he was 
 a kind-hearted man, who knew how to use his influence in 
 a noble manner one of those men who, to keep alive in the 
 hearts of the people a love for their rulers, do more than 
 many orators and statesmen put together. 
 
 What a night it was ! The vicar drove away soon after 
 the earl had left, and then one by one the company dwin- 
 dled down to about twenty. These would not let Darcy 
 Lonsdale leave them they had so much to say to him, and 
 were so anxious to make up to him for their coldness, and 
 when the host grew anxious they would not separate until 
 they had sung "Auld Lang Syne" in chorus. Then they
 
 WEAKER THAN A TF0JMY. 151 
 
 escorted father and son to Vale House, where Eve and 
 Katie anxiously awaited them. 
 
 "I am quite sure," said Eve, springing from her seat, 
 "that I hear them, and that is Mr. Lonsdale laughing do 
 you hear, Katie? laughing and he has never laughed 
 since the trial : Now I know there is good ne\\ 
 
 There was good news in very truth, and the pity was that 
 Lord Arlington was not there to see Kate clasp her arms 
 around her husband's neck and sob out that she always 
 knew matters would come right that he was so 
 Heaven was sure to make his innocence clear. Presently 
 she looked at him with tremulous lips. 
 
 "Is it really true, Darcy, that you are to be the earl's 
 agent, and have a thousand a year? I can hardly believe 
 that it is all true." 
 
 " It is true, Kate, " he replied. " Eve, my dear, what have 
 you to say to me, my true friend the one true friend who 
 loved me well enough to offer me her fortune if I would 
 take it? Eve, I shall never forget that." 
 
 It had been arranged that Eve should spend the night at 
 Vale House, so they sat around the fire until they were 
 quite ashamed of the hour, and Felix repeated every one of 
 the earl's noble words, while the two ladies listened in rap- 
 tures; every time he paused they said, "Go on, Felix," 
 until he assured them that he had repeated every word. 
 
 "So it will be printed in every paper in Finland '." 
 Kate. "Well, i\\\ only puzzle is. what could have inspired 
 Lord Arlington to do such a kind and generous action .'" 
 
 Felix knew that Lady Maude had been the chief in- 
 tor of it, bat that was a secret lie never told he kept it all 
 his life. It was Darcy Lonsdale who answered his wife's 
 question. 
 
 "My dear Kate," he said, "Lord Arlington has a lo\ 
 seeing justice done. I remember when he raised half the 
 county because some wrong had been done to a to!; 
 keeper. It was such men as he who made old Kngland 
 what she is, and who made the word 'England' a synonym 
 for honor." 
 
 And then these simple people, win* had been through the 
 fiery furnace of suffering, who had borne sorrow, sh 
 and disgrace, who had never ventured to hope for justice in 
 this world, knelt and thanked Heaven for their rescue ; and 
 Darcy Londsale's eyes grew dim with irrateful tears 
 opened his Dih'e aiid read how the just ami merciful < 
 tor saves those who put their trust in Him. 
 
 Gradually they awoke to the full reality of the good for
 
 152 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 tune that had befallen them. The strength of his youth 
 seemed to have returned to Darcy Lonsdale ; he took his 
 place once more among his townsmen, he went briskly to 
 and from his office, he worked hard at his business, the 
 clerks came back one by one to the office, and far more 
 than its ancient glory returned to the house of Lonsdale & 
 Son. 
 
 Katie could not rest until she had seen the earl, in order 
 to thank him, and the little lady went over to Bramber 
 Towers and asked for an interview. She tried to thank 
 .him in a dignified, matronly fashion, and ended by falling 
 upon her knees and kissing his hand, very much to the 
 earl's confusion and delight. It was a new life for them 
 all, and the warmth of it cheered and brightened them 
 more than anything had ever done before. 
 
 The day came when Darcy Lonsdale put his arm lov- 
 ingly on his son's shoulder, and said : 
 
 " Do not think, Felix, that in the midst of my troubles 
 and of my prosperity I have given no thought to you. I 
 am doing the best I can for you by giving you so much 
 work that you will have no time to regret your lost love." 
 
 "My dear father, I shall regret her until I die," re- 
 turned Felix. 
 
 " The young always think both their love and their sor- 
 row immortal. I will say now what I have never said be- 
 fore, because I thought it would pain you I thought she 
 was not worthy of such love as yours. She had nothing 
 but a beautiful face to recommend her her soul was not 
 beautiful, her heart was not true. The time will come 
 when you will say that you had a fortunate escape. I pray 
 Heaven that it may be so. " 
 
 But Felix looked grave ; the world must come to an end 
 before he could see a silver lining to that cloud the cloud 
 of his misplaced, unhappy love. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 "I HEAR NOTHING BUT THE LONSDALES." 
 
 Lady Chevenix wrote a long letter home, telling hr 
 mother how greatly she was enjoying Paris how she had 
 been to one of the State balls at the Tuileries, and how the 
 emperor had danced with her and Mrs. Have, on her side, 
 made all the ladies round Lilford envious by telling them 
 how her " dear child, Lady Chevenix," was enjoying herself
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 153 
 
 in Paris, and what a favorite she was at the Imperial 
 Court. 
 
 Sir Owen was very kind to Violet in those days, and she 
 was so completely dazzled by the novelty of all she saw 
 that she never remembered Felix, except to congratulate 
 herself on her own good sense in having given him his 
 confif. Some slight indications of impatience made her 
 think that Sir Owen had a certain amount of bad temper, 
 but at present he had shown none to her indeed, she 
 thought him far better than he had represented himself. 
 He had told her that he gambled and drank. She hud 
 nothing of these bad habits; she was too inexperienced to 
 detect that he had placed a restraint on himself which 
 might break down any day. 
 
 She did not like him very much. Although he v. 
 baronet and a man of wealth, he was not a thorough gen- 
 tleman. That she must have known. Thorough gentle- 
 men are men of honor and the man who steals the prom- 
 ised wife of another man can hardly be placed under that 
 category. She found that Sir < >\\en was coarse in his man- 
 ners, coarse in his speech. She often, even in those early 
 days, .shrank from him, saying : 
 
 "You talk so strangely, Owen I do not understand j 
 
 "Then you must have some lessons, my charming wife.'' 
 he would answer, laughingly, following up the remark by 
 speech that was anything hut reiined. 
 
 That was done in good-humor; what he could he when 
 that humor changed she had yet to find out. She did not 
 love him she never made the least pretense of loving him. 
 She was kind to him; she tried to talk to him, to amuse 
 him, she obeyed his wishes, and made herself very amiable 
 and charming not because she loved him, but bccair 
 was the means of procuring her all the luxury, the m, 
 cence, the pleasure that she now enjoyed. In his. 
 
 way lie felt that. 
 
 He brought her home one day a set of sapphires so hnl 
 liant and rare that she cried out with rapture when sho 
 saw them. 
 
 "There are no sapphires finer than these, 11 he ' 
 "What do you say for them, Yioi< 
 
 "I say 'Thank you' with all my heart," si, 
 
 "Is that all. Violet?" 
 
 "What more can 1 say, except that you are good, kind, 
 and generou 
 
 "Can you think of nothing else, Violet?" he asked, bn 
 looked puzzled.
 
 154 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " I cannot, indeed, Owen ; but I will say anything you 
 wish me to say." 
 
 He turned away impatiently. 
 
 " If you thought any set form of words, any pretty phrase 
 would please me, you would use it I am quite sure of 
 that. 1 ' 
 
 AVith the brilliant sapphires in one of her hands, she 
 looked half wistfully at him ; the man who had it in his 
 power to make such presents as this was worth any 
 amount of patience. 
 
 " I would say anything to please you, Owen," she said. 
 
 He looked into her fair face. 
 
 " I knew you would," he returned, "but it has never oc- 
 curred to you to throw your arms around my neck and 
 kiss me, and and say, ' Thank you, my darling. ' ' 
 
 She shrank from him with a little shudder, his dark face 
 was so close to hers. 
 
 U I have noticed," he said, "that you are always ready to 
 thank me when I bring you any of the silly trifles women 
 like so much you are then most amiable, but never once, 
 by Heaven, since \ve have been married have you come to 
 me and kissed me of your own free will. " 
 
 " I will do so now," she said, and she placed the sapphires 
 in their casos. 
 
 " No, thank you," he returned. " It would not be sponta- 
 neous. You would do it because I asked you. " 
 
 She was startled at the expression of his face, at the 
 tone of his voice startled, and just a little afraid. 
 
 "You do love me, Violet, do you not? 1 ' he asked. 
 
 She had never thought about loving him ; he was to her 
 a rich man who had wanted her to marry him, who had 
 bribed her by his nVlios and his title, and for whom she 
 had given up the man she really loved ; but to love him 
 she had never thought of it ; it had never entered into her 
 calculations. He was to have her beauty, she was to have 
 his money and his title. 
 
 "Do you love me. Violet?" he demanded, angrily, and 
 before she had time to speak a sudden conviction darted 
 through her mind that she did not love him, and never 
 should a certain terrible conviction that, although she 
 was married to this man, she loved Felix Lonsdale still. 
 
 She trembled as she answered : 
 
 "Yes, you know I love you. Owen." 
 
 She knew the words were false, but she was too fright- 
 ened to say anything else. 
 
 "I know you ought to love me." he said, savagely, "but
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 155 
 
 there is no understanding a woman fair dealing is not 
 characteristic of the sex. Still I should not like to think 
 that you married me for my money, and for nothing else. 
 Did you, Violet I" 
 
 She was not clever at lying, although she had broken a 
 noble heart by her weakness. She had not the quick, ready 
 fashion of speaking falsely which she acquired afterward. 
 She buried her face in her hands; it was easier to weep, 
 after the weak fashion of women, than to speak. 
 
 " Nay, I did not mean to pain you, Violet," he said. "Do 
 not cry. Still I should like to know that you love me. No 
 man would like to think that his wife had married him for 
 his money." 
 
 After that little scene Lady Chevenix did not feel quite 
 s< i sure of her husband, and began to stand a little in awe 
 of him. 
 
 The gay French capital might be as gay as it would be, 
 Sir Owen would not remain. Invitations poured in upon 
 him and his beautiful young wife he would not accept 
 them. One of his fixed resolves was to be in England at 
 Christmas, and to England he was determined to go. In 
 vain Violet pleaded that Garswood at Christinas would In- 
 dull. He laughed at the notion. 
 
 "No place is ever dull where I am, Violet," he cried 
 'That shows how little you know me. I shall Jill the place 
 with visitors of my own choosing and I promise you that 
 we shall not spend our time in sinking psalms/' 
 
 That was the first dissension between Violet and her hus- 
 band. She would fain have remained IOU-.T. but Sir < >wen 
 was tired of Paris. He liked English sports. English 
 habits, and English cheer. He was aiiirry that V inlet 
 should for one moment presume to like Paris. It was un- 
 heard of, he said, that any Englishwoman should tind 
 Christmas at home dull. And that w;is the first time that 
 Vi..let saw him in a rage. He swore loudly n.-t at 
 that was to come later on. He 'declared the whole race of 
 women toolish and idiotic. H<- frightened her so tli.v 
 was Kind to escape from his presence, and give orders for 
 the packing up. 
 
 "I am not my own mistress, after all," she said, with 
 discontented 1,,'ok on her fair face. " I cannot do as I like. 
 1 never dreamed that I should have a in: 
 
 She did not like the id. -a. She had b.-en BO free and 
 fettered all her life that it was new to her to be undei
 
 156 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 trol. She had yet to learn that Sir Owen had the obstinacy 
 of twenty men, and that when he had once set his mind 
 upon anything he- would carry it through. Her wishes, 
 caprices, fancies, and desires would have about as much 
 effect upon him as summer waves have upon a weather- 
 beaten rock. 
 
 She had a sample of this when they reached Calais on 
 their return to England. It was not wet weather, but there 
 had been a terrible gale, and the sea was rough. Violet 
 was a bad sailor, and when she heard the surf beating 
 on the shore she begged of her husband to delay their pas- 
 sage at least twenty-four hours. She was so afraid, she 
 said, of a rough sea. 
 
 He laughed. It was all nonsense the sea would not 
 hurt her. No one ever heard of an accident to the Dover 
 and Calais boats. 
 
 She allowed that, but the passage made her very ill. 
 Would he not wait ? 
 
 " If you are ill, you will soon be well again ; the whole 
 passage does not occupy two hours. You must bear it as 
 other people do. " 
 
 "I did not think you could be so unkind to me, Owen," 
 she said, piteously. 
 
 " I am not unkind ; but I warn you fairly that I have 
 very little patience with the caprices of women. As for 
 their other nonsense, I should never bear it. A man can- 
 not be expected to go on honey-mooning forever. That kind 
 of thing is all over now, and we may as well take our 
 proper places. Mine is to be master and I tell you quite 
 frankly that I intend to be obeyed. Make up your mind to 
 that, and we shall get along all right. Thwart me, and we 
 shall not agree." 
 
 They were not very pleasant words for a bride of only a 
 few weeks to hear. She thought over them for some time. 
 
 "Felix would never have spoken to me in that fashion," 
 she said to herself. " But I must obey. There is no help 
 for it he is supreme master. " 
 
 She was very ill crossing the Channel, but Sir Owen only 
 laughed. Sea-sickness was a sort of jest to him. He never 
 dreamed that his young wife would resent the laughter, 
 but she did. When they landed at Dover she would not 
 speak to him. He might be master, she said to herself, a 
 hundred times over, but no man should laugh at her. 
 
 "You are sulking with rne," he said, laughingly. "Ah, 
 my Lady Chevenix, you will find that a losing game ! I do 
 not think there is a person in all England man or woman
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 157 
 
 who can sulk so long or so thoroughly as I can myself, 11 
 and that she found to be perfectly true. 
 
 Neither of them had the faintest idea of self-control it 
 was a thing unknown to either of them so they reached 
 Garswood without exchanging a word on the journey. 
 Their coming home was quite unexpected, consequently 
 there was no rejoicing. It was night, too, and cold. Sir 
 Owen was not well pleased at their reception, although he 
 had expressly forbidden any one to write. 
 
 But Violet's spirits rose again when she found herself in 
 the magnificent mansion. After all, her husband might be 
 coarse and bad-tempered, but she was mistress of those 
 superb rooms. This was her house. She was to live in the 
 midst of all this luxury, with troops of liveried servants at 
 her call. Still she did not say to herself now that it was all 
 hers. She was beginning to understand that for her every- 
 thing depended on the humor of her husband. It was not 
 all hers, but she was at liberty to enjoy it. She w 
 pleased that Sir Owen recovered his good-humor, and the 
 first evening they spent together at Garswood was perhaps 
 the happiest they ever had there. 
 
 On the morrow Sir Owen found a hundred things that 
 required his attention.; nevertheless, he was thoughtful 
 about his young wife. 
 
 "You will like to see your mother and father, Violet." he 
 said. "Order the earn a. -re when you like. I cannot go 
 with you, but I will come for you. You bought some pres- 
 ents for them, did you not '."' 
 'ie answered. 
 
 She looked wistfully at him. It was her first visit sineo 
 her marriage, and she would have liked him to be with 
 her, but she was beginning to understand that she must 
 not interfere with his arrangements. She could not resist 
 saying : 
 
 14 I should enjoy it so much more if you were with me, 
 Owen." 
 
 >h, no, you would not !" he laughed, carelessly. " ^ "'i 
 only fancy so. Y<>u and your mother will have so much to 
 talk about that 1 really could not stand it, you k- 
 couid not. indeed. I will be there in the cveiun. 
 will drive you hack home." 
 
 She knew that to say more would be quite usel< 
 made the he<t ,,r the arrangement. After all. t! 
 many delights before her. She had a superb costume, 
 trimmed \vitl-= one of the g 
 
 terpieces and she was t-> wear that tor the hrst time. Her
 
 158 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 heart beat as she thought of the pleasure of driving in her 
 magnificent carriage through the streets of Lilford, dressed 
 in her Parisian costume. 
 
 "I hope that I shall meet Lady Rolf e," she said, "just 
 for the pleasure of cutting her." 
 
 She drove at once to the Limes, and was met with the 
 kindest of welcomes. 
 
 " I should have gone to meet you, Violet, had I known 
 that you were coming," said Mrs. Haye. 
 
 But Lady Chevenix thought that under the circumstances 
 it was just as well she had not come. 
 
 They went to the drawing-room together. Francis Haye 
 was more of an invalid than usual that day, and his daugh- 
 ter, on hearing that he was asleep, would not have him dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 "Let us have a long talk, mamma, 1 ' she said. "I have 
 so much to tell you." 
 
 They sat down to exchange confidences, and Mrs. Haye 
 almost trembled with delight as she looked at her daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " How well you look, Violet !" she said. " What a superb 
 dress, and how it becomes you ! Are you very happy, my 
 dear?" 
 
 " As happy as other people, I suppose, mamma. I am 
 very rich, and that must mean that I am very happy. It 
 will take me a whole day to show you my dresses and jew- 
 els." 
 
 " Will you stand up, Violet t I feel quite sure that you 
 have grown, or is it the new style of dress that suits you ?" 
 
 Violet stood up. 
 
 "I have grown, mamma," she answered. "You know I 
 am only just twenty ; I may grow taller still. " 
 
 "You are quite tall enough to be graceful, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Haye, and her eyes lingered proudly on the lovely 
 face with its dainty bloom, so young, so fresh and fair, and 
 on the graceful figure that was shown to such advantage 
 by the costly dress that swept the ground. *" You have im- 
 proved very much, Violet," she added. 
 
 In that she was right ; Violet had a grace and refinement 
 that gave her an additional charm. 
 
 They talked long and not unhappily. Presently Violet 
 produced her presents. Mrs. Haye went into a rapture 
 about a dress of Genoa velvet and some superb Mechlin 
 lace. After that Violet began to inquire about her old 
 friends.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 159 
 
 Mrs. Haye had many little facts to relate about all of 
 
 them. 
 
 " Mamma, " said Lady Chevenix, with a slight flush on 
 her face, " what do they say in Lilford about my marriage 
 and me :" 
 
 " What can they say, my dear? Every one envies you, 
 every one talks about your wonderful niarri. 
 
 Violet took up the rich tassels of her dress and pi 
 with them. She never raised her eyes to her mother's faee. 
 
 "But do they I mean, have they said that I did wn 
 
 "Wrong!" cried Mrs. Have. "Why should they? Which 
 <jf them would not have done the same thing! Which of 
 them would not be pleased to do the same wrong?" 
 
 Lady Chevenix looked relieved. 
 
 "I was afraid they would say 1 had acted unfairly," she 
 said, slowly. "Mamma, how are the Lonsdales '. I low is 
 Felix ?" 
 
 There was a brief silence before the question "was an- 
 swered, and then Mrs. Haye told her wonderful story. 
 
 "You have never heard of such a change of fortune. Vio- 
 let," she said ; "it is almost as wonderful as your own ; I 
 can hardly understand it. The Lonsdales seem to have all 
 the business of the town now, and of the county, too. They 
 1 cannot tell how many clerks ; they give jrraud din- 
 ner-parties ; and, what seems to me stranger still, tin. 
 frequently invited to Bramber Towers." 
 
 "We shall visit there, 1 suppose," remarked Lady (': 
 nix. "I am very pleased, indeed, to hear all this, mamma; 
 if any family ever did deserve good fortune they did. /hey 
 are reco^ni/.ed by the county now, I sup; 
 
 "Yes, quite. Lady Bolfe has taken them up. I hear 
 nothing but the Lonsdales." 
 
 There was silence again for some minutes, and then Vio- 
 let said, slowly : 
 
 " And Felix, mamma have you seen him since my mar- 
 
 "No, not once, my dear." was Mrs. 1 [aye's reply. "I 
 need hardly say that be has never lieen ' 
 
 " Do they s. : iv -do you know, if lie thought much of it? 
 Did he make a irn -it trouble of it, mamma .'" she asked. 
 
 "1 cannot say," replied the cautious mother-, "I have 
 never heard the subject mentioned." 
 
 Lady Chevenix was silent again. After a while she said, 
 quickly : 
 
 "I should like to ask you one quest ion moj-e.^ Does Felix 
 has he found any one else to care about \
 
 160 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " I have not heard so. Violet, my dear, you have every 
 blessing the world can give ; do not think about him. And, 
 if you will take my advice, you will not talk about him- 
 Sir Owen might not like it. " 
 
 " I shall be careful, mamma I shall not speak of him ; 
 but I wanted to hear about him just once." 
 
 She said no more then, but as she sat in the familiar room 
 she thought a great deal of him it was impossible to help 
 it. .The quick eyes noted how completely every trace of 
 him had been removed ; the books that he had given her, 
 the pictures, were all gone. 
 
 u They need not have banished everything," she said to 
 herself. 
 
 Presently her father awoke ; he was delighted beyond 
 measure to see her looking so well and so beautiful. 
 
 Later on Sir Owen came, and they spent a pleasant hour 
 \Jt<$gVfcher. But there was a dreamy look on the lovely face, 
 a sowjned Jlght in the clear eyes ; she could not help think- 
 ing orrBir V^W>riljBrt girlish life that had been so simply 
 happy. Felix u part of that life, and she could 
 
 not help remembering Htm when she thought of it. 
 
 She enjoyed herself, she laughed and talked, she told gay 
 anecdotes of her triumphs in Paris, but, as she quitted the 
 house, she carefully avoided going near the bare lilac 
 bushes, or lingering for a moment at the garden gate. As 
 she drove home she said to herself : 
 
 "I do not think I shall go to the Limes very often. After 
 all, the pain is as great as the pleasure." 
 
 But she did not own what the pain was. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 SIR OWEN'S MOODS. 
 
 During the next few days Lady Chevenix was occupied 
 in arranging all the beautiful ornaments, pictures, and 
 etatues she had brought with her from abroad Si^ had 
 her own apartments to arrange ; she had to superintend 
 the putting away of the superb garments that she had pur- 
 chased in Paris, of all the things she had brought with her 
 from her home. Among the treasures of her girlhood \\ as 
 ood writing-desk. On it she had written all 
 her lovo-letters ; in it she kept every love-letter she had re- 
 ceived, and she rememebred now that she had not de- 
 stroyed them before her marriage, and that she ought to 
 have done so. She was alone in the sumptuous room "<hat
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 161 
 
 was her boudoir a room hung with blue silk and lace, 
 which had a rich carpet and magnificent furniture of ebony 
 and blue satin ; costly pictures lined the walls, rare flowers 
 stood in beautiful jardinieres. The apartment was perfect 
 in its way, and the golden-haired girl who stood in it looked 
 like a fitting occupant. 
 
 She took out a little key and opened the desk. How well 
 she remembered the perfume of violets the faint, sweet 
 perfume that she had always liked so much. There lay the 
 great bundle of letters tied with blue ribbon letters on 
 which a life of love and passion had been wa.sted ; there, 
 too, lay the portrait that Felix had given her when lie came 
 home from college a portrait that had seemed to her one 
 of the finest works of art. She would not open the letters ; 
 it would be folly to irritate old wounds. She would burn 
 them ; she ought to have burned them before her marriage, 
 but her mind had been in such a whirl then she had not 
 thought of it. 
 
 She went to the fire-place and stirred the fire into a 
 bright flame. She had not thought what she was about to 
 do would pain her it had seemed an easy thing to burn 
 old letters, but when she placed the first bundle in the 
 midst of the flames, it seemed to her that she was burning 
 a living thing. Alas for the love wasted in them, the pas- 
 sion, the pathos ! It seemed to her that she was torturing 
 Felix again ; the hiss of the flames was like a reproachful 
 voice. Still it must be done. One after another she threw 
 them all in, until the last was destroyed. By that time 
 the color had died from her face, and her hands trembled. 
 
 Then she came to the portrait; of course she must de- 
 stroy it. And what was that folded so carefully in the 
 tissue-paper near it? A spray of lilac, withered and dead. 
 She remembered the day and the hour when it had l><en 
 gathered. She took the portrait in her hands : there could 
 be no harm in looking at it for the last time. The noble, 
 handsome, frank young face-ho\v she had loved it once. 
 How those eyes had watched h r how those lips had 
 kissed and worshiped her ! It must go. She looked at it 
 intently for a few minutes, and then she held it over the 
 flames, but she could not destroy it she could n< 
 the flames leaping round that face. It was impossible. 
 She wrapped up the portrait quickly, and locked it out of 
 sight. 
 
 White and breathless with emotion, her hands trembling, 
 her heart beating, she looked up suddenly as her husband 
 entered the room.
 
 162 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "What are you doing, Violet?" he cried. "Are you ill? 
 You look as if you had seen a ghost. " 
 
 " I have seen one," she replied, slowly. 
 
 " What have you been burning ? The grate is full of 
 burned paper." 
 
 She looked at him with wistful eyes. Their expression 
 did not please him. 
 
 u I have been burning all the old letters I found in my 
 writing-desk," she replied. 
 
 Perhaps she had an idea that he would say something 
 kind to her, but he laughed contemptuously. 
 
 " What sentimental simpletons women are ! Are you 
 going to keep that shabby little desk here ? It spoils the 
 room," he said. 
 
 " I thought it quite a grand piece of furniture once," she 
 replied. 
 
 "Did you! Your ideas have altered on many subjects, 
 no doubt. I came to ask you to ride out with me. " 
 
 Her head ached with repressed emotion, but she dared 
 not refuse. She had learned one lesson already, and that 
 was that she must keep her husband in a good humor if 
 possible. Now that the novelty and restraint of her pres- 
 ence were wearing off a little, he was beginning to indulge 
 in fits of temper that startled her. She dressed and went 
 out with him. 
 
 "Why do you always select the Oldstone Road?" she 
 asked him. 
 
 "Because I like Oldstone far better than Lilford. Most 
 of my property lies in Oldstone. I intend to go to Oldstone 
 Church when I go to church at all, and I shall patronize 
 Oldstone generally." 
 
 A painful sense of disappointment stole over her, but she 
 dared not express her feelings. She had pictured herself, 
 in all the pride of her new state, rustling in her costly silk 
 up the old-fashioned aisle of the dear old church at Lilford, 
 to which all her old friends went. She would have liked 
 to see Felix again, to see how he looked and whether he 
 had altered. She wondered what he would think of her 
 in her new grandeur, and felt curious as to where and how 
 they would meet. Then she remembered their terrible part- 
 ing, and said to herself that she must not think of him. 
 
 She never saw him. She went several times to Lilford 
 more than once she drove past Vale House, but she never 
 saw him. Then Garswood filled with guests, and her time 
 was no longer her own. She ought to have been perfectly 
 happy. She was mistress of the most magnificent home in
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 163 
 
 the county; she had every luxury that, money could pur- 
 chase; she was feted, admired, flattered; she received un- 
 wonted homage. The local papers wen- full of descriptions 
 of the gayeties and amusements going on at Garswood, 
 and gave a list of the fashionable visitors gathered there, 
 and every now and then came some reference to 11 it- 
 beauty of Lady Chevenix. The ladies of the neighborhood, 
 reading this, looked at each other in wonder, as though 
 they would have said, "Can this be the girl we knew as 
 Violet Haye ?" 
 
 For Lady Chevenix held up her head with the highest 
 among them. She never ignored the past she s< 
 with' >ut hesitation; she talked of her home, the Lira 
 her parents, of all her old Lilford friends, with the exec]) 
 tion of the Lonsdales, whom she appeared to have quite 
 forgotten. But though she never named them she thought 
 of them, and when she read the brilliant account of all the 
 festivities, she knew that Felix would read the same, that 
 he would hear them talked about. One thing she did won- 
 der at, and that was why he had never contrived to sec her. 
 She had imagined that he would make some effort, but ho 
 had made none. Christmas came and went; the snow- 
 drops and the crocuses came, the blue violets peeped out, 
 and the desire of her heart was given to Lady Chevenix. 
 She went to London and made her debut at court. 
 
 Then it seemed to her that she had readied the climax of 
 all happiness and grandeur. Sir Owen possessed a hand- 
 some mansion in Belgra via, and the season they spent in 
 town was one long scene of uninterrupted gayety and ex- 
 citement. Young, surpassingly beautiful, graceful, Lady 
 Chevenix soon won a place for herself in the highest and 
 most exclusive circle. She was idolized ; her wealth, her 
 diamonds, her superb mansion, her grand parties, were 
 subjects of public comment. But after a time she found 
 that, although she was liked and flattered, her husband was 
 simply detested. No one seemed to care for him ; his man- 
 ners were so coarse that when she contrasted him with 
 other men of his own rank and position she was ashamed 
 of him; she read intense dislike and aversion to him in the 
 fa<-cs of the people whom she liked best and of whom she 
 most approved. Thoughtless, laughing young men said to 
 her: 
 
 "Come without your husband, or we shall not enjoy our- 
 selves." 
 
 When she particularly pressed any lady to come to see 
 her for some special purpose the answer always was :
 
 164 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " Well, tell me when you will be quite alone, and I will 
 come." 
 
 She found that Sir Owen and herself were seldom invited 
 twice to the same place, and it dawned upon her very 
 slowly that she should never be what she aspired to be, a 
 queen of society, because she had a drawback in the shape 
 of her own husband. She was slow in reaching that con- 
 clusion, but it was a correct one, and she studied him, to 
 find out, if she could, how it was that he made himself so 
 odious, so disliked. 
 
 She could not deny that his face was dark and almost 
 sinister-looking, that his manner and carriage were awk- 
 ward, that he had an unpleasant voice ; the outward ap- 
 pearance of the man was, however, the best part of him. 
 No one could have called him a gentleman ; he was selfish 
 and brutal, and so egotistical that in company no person 
 ever had a chance of speaking but himself. He had two 
 moods he was either familiar and boasted until every 
 man present felt a great desire to put him out of the room, 
 or he was so sullen that to look at him was like looking at 
 a great black cloud. That was Sir Owen in his sober mo- 
 ments, but, as the novel restraint of his young wife's pres- 
 ence wore off, he fell more frequently into his old fatal 
 habit of drinking. 
 
 At first he carefully concealed it from her, for in his 
 coarse fashion he loved her. A woman of more noble soul 
 perhaps would have made a better man of him Avotild have 
 helped him to overcome his bad habits and acquire good 
 ones. The woman who had married him, not for love, but 
 simply for his money, had but one thought it was to keep 
 him in a good temper while it was feasible, and when it 
 was not to kee" out of his way. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 FACE TO FACE. 
 
 The season was over, and Sir Owen and Lady Chevenix 
 were expected at Garswood. By that time Sir Owen, to 
 use his own expression, was himself again ; the novelty 
 and restraint of his new life had worn off, all his natural 
 characteristics were in full play, and there were times 
 when his young wife wished herself dead. She was not 
 often driven to such despair, but occasionally he was 
 terrible. As a whole she enjoyed her life. She had money 
 and everything that she wished for ; she enjoyed her mag
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 16& 
 
 nificent home, with all its attendant luxuries ; she was by 
 universal consent queen of the county. 
 
 For some time there was ill- will between herself and 
 Lady Rolfe. She did not wish to ask either that lady or 
 her daughter Lavinia to Garswood, but after a few words 
 from her husband she was compelled to give way. She had 
 the good sense to make the best of it, and Lady Rulfe 
 became a frequent visitor at Garswood. 
 
 During all this time Violet had never once seen Felix. 
 She had heard of him continually he was rising rapidly in 
 the world. She heard old Colonel Riddell speak of him 
 one evening when she, with Sir Owen, went over to a for- 
 mal and stately dinner-party at Lady Rolfe's. 
 
 "Mark my words," said the colonel, "the leading man in 
 this part of the world is, or very soon will be, young Felix 
 Lonsdale, the lawyer's son. I have watched him with in- 
 terest. He will be a leader yet. He acts as the earl's a-vnt 
 now, and Lord Arlington has implicit confidence in him. [ 
 prophesy that with the earl's interest he will he returned 
 as member for the borough, and that once in Parliament 
 we shall hear of him." 
 
 One or two others agreed with the colonel. The face of 
 Lady Chevenix grew crimson when she heard her husband 
 give a little insulting, sneering laugh. She saw with dread 
 that he had drank too much wine. 
 
 "I have beaten him once," said Sir Owen, "and I will 
 beat him again ; if he goes in for one interest I will go in 
 for the other.'' 
 
 For his wife's sake no one answered him, and Lady Rolfe 
 gave the signal for the ladies to withdraw. 
 
 " I shall never go out to dine again if I have to meet 
 man," said the old colonel, who was an aristocrat 
 sang. " Such men ought all to be shot. What could 
 lovely woman have been thinking of to marry him .'"for 
 the colonel was far above the scandal and gossip of the 
 
 neighborhood, none of it was ever brought to him. 
 
 here, were times in her brilliant, luxurious life when 
 La.dy Chevenix was weary of it all, and longed 1 
 face of a true friend. She had called mi Kve Lester, but 
 Eve had declined to see her, and "Aunt Jane" had 
 rampant on the occasion. 
 
 Lady Chevenix sat in the best parlor at the Ontlands, 
 looking very lovely, dressed in sheeny silk and mar - 
 lace, when 'tl.e elder lady came in to her, more- erect aud 
 uncompromising than ever. 
 
 "My niece declines t<> see you, Lady Chevenix,' she said,
 
 166 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " and I think she is quite right. You jilted our best friend, 
 and, naturally enough, we take his side. Do not call again 
 Eve does not care to know you. " 
 
 Perhaps in all her life Lady Chevenix had never felt so 
 humiliated. There was no polite disguise about the re- 
 mark, no conventional vail. "She had jilted their best 
 friend, and they did not care to know her." Even Evelyn 
 cried out in wonder when she heard what her aunt had 
 said. 
 
 " Xo half truths for me," said that uncompromising lady. 
 "If every one told the truth this would be a different 
 world." 
 
 Never had Lady Chevenix felt so humbled : even her 
 magnificent carriage seemed to have grown small and in- 
 significant when she returned to it : while the very ser- 
 vants seemed to know that she had been treated with scorn 
 and contumely. She had hoped to have heard something 
 of Felix from Evelyn, but, if Eve would not see her, why, 
 there was an end of it. 
 
 She had not encountered her old lover once. She wished 
 very much to see him. Why should they not be friends? 
 She had no desire for anything more than the most com- 
 mon form of friendship. She remembered his bright, sunny 
 temper, his sweet smile, his wonderful good humor, his 
 cheerful presence. She felt that it would be a comfort and 
 a pleasure to see him at times after the sullen silence that 
 often lasted for days to hear a few bright words. She 
 found herself often wondering when and where she should 
 meet him again. At last the time came. 
 
 Lady Maude Bramber had been absent from home for 
 some few days, and during that time the earl had sent out 
 invitations for a dinner-party. If he and his countess had 
 heard anything of the )ve story of Felix and Violet, they 
 had completely forgotten it. The earl sent out the invita- 
 tions, and one went to (inrswood for Sir Owen and Lady 
 Chevenix, and one to Felix Lonsdale. Lord Arlington very 
 seldom had a large dinner-party now without inviting 
 Felix ; his brilliant conversational powers made him a 
 most welcome guest. 
 
 "Felix is a host in himself," the earl would say, laugh- 
 ingly. 
 
 He had not the faintest idea, when he sent out his invita- 
 tions, of having done wrong. Lady Maude, to whom Felix 
 had revealed his love-story, did not return until the day of 
 the dinner-party, and then it was too late to send a note or 
 message anywhere.
 
 WEAKER Til AS A U'OMAX 167 
 
 "They must meet some time." she said to herself, in dis- 
 may ; "perhaps it will be better here than elsewhere. I 
 shall be at hand to help him if he requires help." 
 
 Si 10 said nothing to any one, but awaited the course of 
 events. 
 
 The dinner was given in honor of Lord Ray den, a great 
 statesman, who was visiting the earl, and Lord Arlington 
 was both pleased and proud to introduce his young and 
 gifted proteyc to his friend. Colonel Riddell was invited 
 he would not have gone had he known that lie was to meet 
 Sir Owen, whom he detested also Lady Roll'e, her daugh- 
 ter Lavinia, and several other friends. 
 
 It was a warm day, and the green shade of the foliage all 
 about Bramber Towers was cool and inviting. The dinner 
 hour was fixed for seven. 
 
 " There is no keeping people indoors on these fine sum- 
 mer nights," said the earl, "so we may as well be pre- 
 pared to spend the evening out-of-doors." 
 
 La*ly Maude only hoped the evening would pass as pleas- 
 antly as her father seemed to anticipate. She alone knew 
 what rival interests would be at play. She would have 
 been better pleased had there been time to send a nit 
 ger to Felix to tell him who were to be present, but there 
 was not time. She resolved to dress early and wait for 
 him. He should not be seen to disadvanta^". She knew 
 that he was coining early : he had some papers that her 
 father wished to see, and they had arranged 
 
 Lady Maude was the first in the drawing room, and, to 
 her great delight, Felix came in soon afterward. She was 
 wonderfully prou.l of him. As Lady Maude looked at him 
 she thought to herself that there could not be a liner, hand- 
 somer, or nobler-looking man in England than he \\ . 
 
 There was a warm friendship between the two. Felix 
 would have done anything in the world for the noble, beau- 
 tiful woman who had seemed to him like an angel oi 
 fort in the darkest hour of his life ; he had the greatest 
 reverence, the greatest esteem f.>r her; he knew that he 
 owed all his piod fortune to her kindly influence with the 
 earl. And Lady Maude was very fond of him. She 
 watched his career with pride and hope; she had a feeling 
 almost of proprietorship in him. but for her lie might have 
 ^uiie to the bad. S< now she waited for him, ami, when he 
 had spoken a K w words of .^reetin^ \ her, she said : 
 
 "I was waiting for you. Mr. Lonsdale ; I have something 
 to tell you. I know you are a brave man ; this evening I 
 shall see your bravery put to a s. \ , i . ;
 
 168 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 He could not imagine what she meant, but he said that 
 he hoped whatever might be the test she would not find 
 him wanting. 
 
 "1 have no fear as to that," she said, earnestly. "Mr. 
 Lonsdale, I want to tell you that Lady Chevenix will be 
 here this evening. Papa made up his list of invitations 
 during my absence, and I could do nothing." 
 
 She was glad that they were alone. His face grew white 
 as death so white that she was alarmed ; he stood quite 
 still, and she saw his hands tremble. She talked on that 
 he might have time to recover himself. 
 
 " I would have prevented it had it been possible, but it 
 was not. You have never seen her since her marriage, 
 and I am told that she has grown doubly beautiful. Still, 
 if you do not feel equal to meeting her, you shall not. " 
 
 She saw the great effort that he made to recover himself. 
 He succeeded ; the color returned to his face ; he stilled 
 the trembling of his hands ; he smiled as he answered her : 
 
 " You are so good to me, Lady Maude, that I am at a 
 loss how to thank you for giving me this warning. I 
 needed it. If I had met Lady Chevenix suddenly I should 
 liave been terribly embarrassed ; now I am master of my- 
 self." 
 
 " And will keep so ?" said Lady Maude, earnestly. 
 
 "And will keep so," he repeated. 
 
 Then the countess joined them, and presently one or two 
 more entered the room. 
 
 "Look, "said Lady Maude, as she touched Felix's arm 
 gently. 
 
 He looked in the direction indicated and beheld Violet, 
 so changed from the lovely laughing girl who had kissed 
 him and quarreled with him twenty times in an hour that 
 he hardly recognized her. This was an imperially beauti- 
 ful woman, on whose white breast and white arms shone 
 jewels worth a king's ransom a woman whose face was so 
 peerlessly lovely that it dazzled one as did the light of the 
 sun. 
 
 Violet wore one of the triumphs of "art that she had 
 brought with her from Paris ; and nothing could have been 
 devised to enhance her loveliness more. Her dress was 
 composed of some pale green fabric, soft and shining, cov- 
 ered with clouds of white lace looped up with water-lilies, 
 and in her golden hair nestled a delicate, wax-like camellia. 
 She wore a parure of diamonds and emeralds. Her white 
 shoulders and well-molded arms helped to compose a pic-
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 169" 
 
 ture that no man could have seen without feeling his heart 
 beat the quicker for it. 
 
 Lord Arlington went forward to meet her. Like a foil 
 to her bright and radiant loveliness, her dark-browed hus- 
 band stood by her side. 
 
 " You are right, " said Felix to Lady Maude ; " she is a 
 thousand times more beautiful." 
 
 Lady Chevenix did not notice Lady Maude Brambor 
 leave his side and go up to her. When she had exchanged 
 a few words with her, she said : 
 
 "An old friend of yours, Lady Chevenix, is here this 
 evening." And once more the two who had parted so 
 tragically stood face to face. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE MEETING IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 Once more Violet and Felix Lonsdale stood face to faro. 
 They looked at each other for a moment in silence-. To 
 Felix there came back with a keen, bitter pain the memory 
 of his passionate farewell ; to Violet there came the sud- 
 den, keen conviction that she was looking at the fa 
 the only man she had ever cared for. Lady .Maude Arling- 
 ton, much as she disliked the brilliant young beauty, felt 
 pleased, after bringing the two together, that she had 
 screened Lady Chevenix from observation, for she trembled 
 her face Hushed crimson, and then gre\v white. 
 
 Felix was the first to speak. He did not bold out his 
 hands in greeting; he simply bowed and murmured some 
 few commonplace words. 
 
 "I am very pleased to see you," said Lady Chevenix, 
 and the words had a ring of truth that touched both listen- 
 ers. 
 
 With her usual smiling grace Lady Maude said : 
 
 u We have a little time to spare would you like to look 
 at these photographs? They are quite new, and finer than 
 anything [ have yet seen. 11 
 
 They sat all three round one of the pretty little t 
 that were covered with pictures and books. Lad.v * 
 nix turned to Felix again. 
 
 " I should like to see your father and Mrs. Lonsdale, she 
 said. "Are they well '." 
 
 "They are f,uite well," be told her, but he made no re- 
 sponse to her desire of seeing them. 
 
 "lie does not care at all about seeing me," she thought;
 
 170 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " he does not seem in the least degree agitated or embar- 
 rassed he has forgotten me, " and, as the thought came to 
 her, her eyes filled with tears. "He never could have 
 cared so very much for me," she said to herself ; u he could 
 not really have grieved about losing me. " 
 
 She looked at him he was talking in a lively and ani- 
 mated strain to Lady Maude. She wondered to herself if 
 this calm, proud, handsome man, so perfectly well-bred, 
 so self-possessed, talking so brilliantly to the earl's daugh- 
 ter if this could really be the same ardent, despairing 
 young lover who had bidden her a passionate farewell. He 
 was in no hurry to talk to her. She had rather pictured 
 herself as having to hint something like prudence to him ; 
 she could have laughed at herself for the notion. 
 
 He did not look at her ; she doubted even whether he had 
 noted her rich dress, her shining jewels. When she spoke 
 he replied with polite indifference, with well-bred calm- 
 ness, but he never once voluntarily addressed her. It was 
 all so different from what she had pictured that she ex- 
 perienced a strange sense of depression. 
 
 Lady Maude was compelled to leave them for a few min- 
 utes, and then Lady (Jhevenix turned to Felix. 
 
 " How strange it seems that we should meet here," she 
 said. 
 
 "Yes, it is strange." he replied. "I am very often here 
 on business you, I presume, come equally often on pleas- 
 ure ?" 
 
 "It is my first visit," she said, but he did not ask the 
 reason of that. 
 
 " How cold, how indifferent, he is to me 1" she remarked 
 to herself. " No one would ever think even that we had 
 been friends. If he would say something reproachful it 
 would be better than this." 
 
 But there was no thought of reproach in him. He spoke 
 to her with a smile. He neither sought her nor avoided 
 her. His conduct was such that she might have been a 
 stranger whom he had met for the first time. Then came 
 the signal for dinner, and Lady Chevenix was a little sur- 
 prised to find that Felix took down Lady Maude. She went 
 down with the earl, and Sir Owen escorted Lavinia Rolfe. 
 Violet was so placed at the table that she could see and hear 
 all that passed. 
 
 Never in her life had the beautiful Lady (Shevenix felt 
 so surprised. She had always heard Felix spoken of as 
 being clever and gifted, but she had never dreamed that he 
 was really the genius he was. When \rith her he had sel-
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, 171 
 
 dora spoken of anything but herself and his great love for 
 her. Now, for the first time, she heard him converse with 
 intellectual men, who all seemed to look up to him as 
 their superior. She was astounded. The great statesman, 
 Lord Rayden, talked much to him, and the earl asked his 
 opinion. 
 
 "It does me good," said Lord Rayden, "to hear such 
 as yours, they are so thoroughly fresh, clover, and 
 original. We must have you on our side. You must not 
 go over to the enemy.' 1 
 
 Felix had a natural wit that made his conversation 
 piquant and amusing. Lord Arlington delighted in it. 
 When any playful attack was made on himself he would 
 look at him and say : 
 
 " I shall leave you to answer that, Mr. Lonsdale. " 
 
 The dinner was a complete success. It was a new thing 
 to Lady Chevenix, intellectual conversation such as she 
 was listening to. She looked once at her husband, and 
 she saw him gazing with undisguised admiration at Felix. 
 
 Sir Owen said little. He had ideas of his own ; on. 
 that talking at dinner-time was a bore rather than not ; 
 people sat down to eat, not to talk. He certainly did not 
 contribute much to the general entertainment. Ho dined 
 well, and more than once Violet felt something like dismay, 
 as she saw how the wineglasses before him were replen- 
 ished. She could not help contrasting the two men, nor 
 was she the only one present who did so. Fc]i\ was so 
 bright, so handsome, so animated, so gifted and intellec- 
 tual ; he was a leader of conversation even among older 
 and wiser men than himself, for he had the ^ilt <>f pictur- 
 esque language. Sir Owen, coarse and heavy, his brain 
 dulled with constant drinking, speaking little, but, when 
 lie did speak, saying something almost disagreeable, was 
 doltish and inert, except when he was offensive. Tin-re, 
 could have been no greater contrast and Lady Chevenix 
 saw it. To herself she thought how Felix would be appre- 
 ciated and understood in London, how eagerly lie would bo 
 sought who would care to remember that he was th> 
 of a country lawyer ? Such men make their own mark. 
 Where her husband would not be tolerated, Felix would 
 ived with open arms. 
 
 All these observations she made to herself, as she e 
 Lord Arlington, her beautiful face wreathed with smiles. 
 The last words she heard, as the ladies quitted the dining- 
 room, were from Lord Kavden. 
 
 "Tho next time you run" up to London, Mr. Lonsdale," he
 
 172 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 was saying, " pray come and see me ; I shall be delighted 
 if you do, and I will show you the very article in the news- 
 paper of which we are speaking." 
 
 And in her own mind Lady Chevenix thought that such 
 a thing as an invitation from the eminent statesman would 
 be an honor Sir Owen would never attain. 
 
 The gentlemen did not linger long over their wine. Lord 
 Arlington saw that Sir Owen was inclined to drink freely ; 
 he made a note in his own mind that it should be some 
 time at leau before that gentleman dined with him again. 
 
 As his lordship had foreseen, the outdoor attractions 
 proved too much for the younger guests. The earl himself 
 and Lord Eayden sat down to chess ; Lady Arlington, Lady 
 Kolfe, Colonel Riddell, and Sir Owen made up a whist- 
 table ; Lavinia went to the piano ; Lady Maude distributed 
 her attentions equally, and most of the younger people 
 went out through the long open windows on to the wide 
 terrace. 
 
 The evening was fragrant, calm, and sweet; far away 
 under the trees the glow-worms were beginning to shine, a 
 nightingale was singing in the gardens, the faint ripple of 
 fountains filled the air, the rich odor of roses and lilies 
 ascended like a cloud of perfume. 
 
 One by one the guests went out. Some descended the 
 terrace-steps into the rose gardens below ; some admired 
 the tints in the west left by the sunset, leaning over the 
 stone balustrades ; others wandered into the beautiful 
 grounds. Lady Maude walked for a short time with Felix, 
 and then she looked up at him with a smile. 
 
 "You can amuse yourself," she said ; "you are a man of 
 resource. I must go to that unhappy young lordling who 
 is feebly trying to talk to Miss Lloyd. " 
 
 She left him, and Felix turned down a broad path w r here 
 the acacia trees were in full bloom. Lady Chevenix saw 
 him, and followed him. She had been longing for the 
 chance of speaking a few words to him, and it had come at 
 last. He was startled when a shadow fell over his path 
 and a sweet voice said : 
 
 " Felix Mr. Lon sdale will you be friends with me ?" 
 
 He turned round in amazement. Violet stood before 
 him, looking as lovely as a vision, her silk dress and rich 
 lace trailing around her, her beauty deepened because over 
 her white neck and shoulders she had thrown a silvery 
 vail ; it fell from her golden head, shadowing the fair face. 
 
 " I have alarmed you," she said; "you were not think- 
 ing of me."
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 173 
 
 X 
 
 "I am afraid, to use a lawyer's phrase, that is a true in- 
 dictment," he replied. " Lady Chevenix, I must plead guilty. 
 I was thinking of Lord Rayden." 
 
 " And I was thinking of you," she said, gently. 
 
 " You are very kind," he returned, indifferently. "Lord 
 Rayden is quite a new type of man to me ; I have seen no 
 one like him." 
 
 They were walking down the path together now he had 
 been compelled to follow, as she led. The white B 
 blossoms fell on them; the evening bree/e was full of 
 sweetness. Lady Chevenix turned to him with her old 
 graceful impetuosity. 
 
 "1 do not waul; to talk about Lord Rayden. I do not care 
 to hear about him ; I want to hear of yon." 
 
 "You are very kind," he said again, with a polite bow. 
 
 She stamped her little foot on the ground impatiently. 
 
 "Do not be so polite to me," she cried, and then she 
 seemed suddenly to remember herself. "I beg your pardon, 
 Felix," she said, "but I want to know if you will be 
 friends with me?" 
 
 "1 do not understand you, Lady Chevenix," he replied, 
 and she knew there was nothing but indifferent wonder in 
 ln's voice. 
 
 "You .do not understand? You must understand. A 
 child would know what I meant. Will you be friends with 
 
 me .'" 
 
 She stood still as she asked him the question, and looked 
 ii]> at him with wistful eyes. In the half-golden light IHT 
 face shone out clear and pure as a star. She held out her 
 hand to him. 
 
 "Will you be friends?" she repeated, and this time her 
 lip quivered. 
 
 Me did not touch the hand she held out to him. lie had 
 bidden farewell to those hands their least touch was no 
 longer for him. 
 
 - Do you mean, Lady Chevenix, to ask me if I will be 
 your friend i I do not' sec Hint that is possible you I 
 the dill'erence in our positions." 
 
 "You are Lady Maude's friend," she interrupted. 
 
 "Yes, thai is ,iatural. I have business relations with 
 Maude's father. It is quite a different matter. There 
 never can be much friendship, I think, between people of 
 different positions." 
 
 The tears stood in h> 
 
 " I did not think you could have spoken so to me, she 
 said.
 
 174 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " I am unfortunate if I have spoken impolitely or ab- 
 ruptly," he returned. "Friendship is to me a very sacred 
 thing I never lightly use the word and I cannot tout say 
 that for Lady Chevenix of Garswood and a very hard- 
 working lawyer there can be no common ground." 
 
 " I have known you all my life," she said. 
 
 He looked at her. He did not speak. It seemed to him 
 that further speech would be imprudent. Her eyes fell be- 
 fore the clear, honest gaze ; there was no reproach in it, 
 no upbraiding, but it reached the depths of her soul. 
 
 They came to the end of the path ; he did not turn back. 
 There was a garden-chair ; she sat down upon it, and he 
 passed on with a low bow. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE LONSDALES' DECISION. 
 
 Lady Chevenix and Felix Lonsdale did not meet again 
 for some time. Sir Owen had not made a very favorable 
 impression at Bramber Towers. The earl had invited him, 
 with his beautiful young wife, to a grand ball, but Felix 
 was not present, and Sir Owen forgot himself so far as to 
 drink too much, and then, when intoxicated, to use coarse 
 language. 
 
 In September Sir Owen was invited to be present at a 
 grand political banquet given at Oldstone, and Felix made 
 one of the most telling speeches of the night. It was so 
 eloquent, so magnificent in its true, noble ideas, its pictur- 
 esque language, that he became popular ; a man who could 
 speak so well ought to be in Parliament, the leaders said, 
 and it seemed very probable that at the next election Felix 
 would stand an excellent chance. 
 
 Sir Owen was startled ; he thought a great deal about 
 " young Lonsdale. " With all his own dense stupidity, he 
 was capable of admiring great talent in others. Another 
 thing struck him. During the banquet he sat next to Cap- 
 tain Hill, who told him that he had heard Lord Arlington 
 say that the wisest action of his life was the placing of his 
 affairs in the hands of Darcy and Felix Lonsdale. Sir Owen 
 thought a great deal of that ; a good, clever, trustworthy 
 land agent was a person he had long desired above all 
 others, and, if the Lonsdales served Lord Arlington so 
 faithfully they would perhaps serve him in a like manner. 
 He thought over it some days before he mentioned the sub- 
 ject to his wife.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 175 
 
 He knew that he was deficient in business capacity. In 
 his sober and most sensible moments he owned that. 
 Study learning of any kind had always been irksome to 
 him. He never had read anything but the daily news- 
 papers, and some of the sporting prints ; he could not write 
 a letter properly, and he had just sense sufficient to know 
 his own shortcomings. 
 
 One morning he received a number of letters that puz- 
 zled him some documents that he could not understand 
 were sent for him to sign. 
 
 "A man may sign his whole 1 fortune away without know- 
 ing it," he said. "I wish I had some clever man to sec io 
 it all for me. Arlington has none of this trouble, I know." 
 
 Lady Chevenix, in her graceful morning costume, sat 
 opposite to him. They had just finished breakfast, and 
 that was, as a rule, his most amiable hour. He looked up 
 at his wife suddenly; he had never consulted her on any 
 business before, and would not have done so now but that 
 she knew the Lonsdales. 
 
 "Violet," he said, u what a clever man that young Lous- 
 dale is I He is making quite a good position for himself. I 
 should not be surprised to hear of his getting into Parlia- 
 ment." 
 
 He did not notice the flush on her face or her agitation. 
 She did not know what answer to make she dared not say 
 she was glad. Sir Owen did not want an answer. Ho 
 went on : 
 
 "I have been thinking of asking him to be my land- 
 agent ; they say lie does so well for Arlington. I really 
 cannot grapple with all these matters myself; and lie seems 
 to be the only man about here who has a head worth 
 carrying on his shoulders. 1 wonder if he \\ould undertake 
 it if I asked him, Violet }" 
 
 M 1 cannot tell I do not know," she replied. 
 
 "But you must; surely you have some idea you have 
 Known tiiein a long time. What d you think?'' 
 
 " I should sav the Lonsdales would l>e very pleased ; they 
 ought to bo. You would pay them well, of coin 
 
 "I should be quite willing to give five hundred a year, 
 but then I should expect all my work done for that. I pay 
 almost .as much as that now in or." way or another. 1 
 think I shall go and see them about it, Violet." 
 
 " It would be the wisest plan." she said. 
 
 "Young LoiLsdale has not shown anv groat anxiety to 
 visit us " he continued, with a sneering laugh. "Perhaps
 
 176 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 he has not quite forgiven me about you eh, Violet? 
 though he did not seem to care about it." 
 
 " He has forgotten all that nonsense," said Violet. " I do 
 not believe he remembers even that we were friends." 
 
 " So much the better. I shall call to-day and see them. 
 If young Lonsdale consents, I will make him come and 
 dine with us. He dines often enough at Bramber Towers. 
 I hope he will consent. I thought of traveling next year, 
 and I should enjoy my tour much better if I left him in 
 command. " 
 
 "I hope you will succeed," she replied, and she did hope 
 so ; she would have been glad of anything that would have 
 forced Felix into her society. She was lonely in spite of 
 all her grandeur, and there were times when she was dread- 
 fully tired. 
 
 It was hard work to live with Sir Owen ; she had to 
 watch him incessantly to study his humors, to obey him 
 readily ; she had less real liberty than the wife of many 
 a poor peasant. She would be so pleased and so content if 
 she could see Felix sometimes not that she wanted any 
 allusion even to their former acquaintance, but she never 
 knew what that sweet sunny presence of his had been to 
 her life until it had passed out of it. 
 
 If they could meet sometimes, and laugh as they used to 
 laugh over all the little comic scenes and sensations Lilford 
 afforded, if she could talk to him of some of the thoughts 
 and ideas that began to crowd upon her mind and brain, 
 she would be well pleased ; there was always a sense of 
 something wanting, something missing, in her life. So she 
 hoped that he would consent to act as Sir Owen's agent. 
 Surely she should see him occasionally. 
 
 Her husband was not a pleasant companion, and at times, 
 when her nerves and patience were overtaxed, she would 
 go to her mother with a long list of complaints. But Mrs. 
 Haye was always diplomatic. She would listen with every 
 appearance of sympathy; she would condole with her 
 daughter, and then she would say, " Every wife, my dear, 
 has a great deal to undergo ; the foolish ones talk about 
 their trouble, the wise ones keep it to themselves. After 
 all, you must expect some little drawbacks. You have 
 wealth, title, grandeur, diamonds, carriages, servants ; the 
 only drawback is your husband, and you must study to 
 bear with him as well as you can." 
 
 That was all the comfort that I^ady Chevenix ever hnd 
 from hor mother. 
 
 Francis Haye would say to her at times :
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 177 
 
 "I do not like to interfere, Violet ; but rs all this that I 
 hear about your husband's intemperate habits true?" 
 
 "I am afraid so, father," she would reply, and then he 
 would add : 
 
 " Can you do nothing to check him ? A wife should have 
 some influence over her husband. " 
 
 "I can do nothing," she would answer, and then her 
 father would doubt whether, after all, things had happened 
 
 for the best. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Sir Owen rode over to Lilford and called at the office in 
 Castle street. If he had found Felix there, his request 
 would have been refused, but Darcy Lonsdale was in tho 
 office, and listened calmly to what the baronet had to 
 say. 
 
 "I cannot give you an immediate answer," he replied, 
 "but I will think over your proposition and let you know 
 our decision." 
 
 Sir Owen stopped while he said something about his 
 earnest desires, and he made some impression on Darcy 
 Lonsdale by his evident trust in him. Once the elder man 
 was inclined to turn around and say, "You robbed my son 
 of the greatest joy of his life his love and I will have 
 nothing to do with you or anything belonging to you." P.ut 
 that would have been undignified, and he had learned his 
 lesson of mercy. To him there was something almost piti- 
 ful in the fact 'of this strong, coarse, rich man, un;,' 
 take care of his own, unable to hold his position with dig- 
 nity, appealing to him for the sensible management that 
 he could not give himself. 
 
 He would not decide hastily; he did not think hi 
 would like the business. P.ut five hundred ]>er annum was 
 a consideration, besides which Darcy Lonsdale shrank 
 from the remarks that people would make if he refused 
 such an ofl'er. He said nothing about it until he returned 
 home at night, and then he found Eve Lester there, and 
 the matter was reviewed in solemn council. 
 
 "I say lake it," urged Kate. "It seems to me really, 
 Darcy. that there is an especial Providence for 
 it, by all means. It is a sin to throw five hundred B 
 away." 
 
 " My dear Kate, this is more a matter of sentiment than 
 of money," said Mr. Lonsdale. 
 
 " I am of Kate's opinion," put in Evelyn. u I quite think 
 you should accept it. If you do not, people will .say dis- 
 agreeable things. "
 
 178 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I have thought of that, too. The general impression 
 would be that Felix held some kind of resentment against 
 Lady Chevenix, or that he had still some lingering liking 
 left for her. What do you say yourself, Felix ?" 
 
 "My dear father, I will say nothing," he smiled. "It is 
 a matter of utter indifference to me. I do not see that 
 there is the least connection between Lady Chevenix and 
 her husband's agency. AccepH*>r decline it, just as you 
 will." 
 
 " If I accept it, I will undertake to do all the work, v said 
 Darcy Lonsdale. 
 
 " Then I will do more for you, so that you may not feel 
 it," said Felix. 
 
 "There would be one thing," remarked Mr. Lonsdale. 
 " If we take the agency we shall be compelled to visit C4ars- 
 wood at times, and I do not know whether you would like 
 that, Felix." 
 
 " I shall neither like nor dislike it," he replied. " It is a 
 matter of utter indifference to me. I do not like Sir 
 Owen, I confess ; as to Lady Chevenix I say nothing. If 
 we are compelled to visit them, we must suffer the penalty 
 of mixing in society. " 
 
 He spoke in a tone of such perfect freedom and indiffer- 
 ence that Darcy Lonsdale said to himself, "He has forgot- 
 ten her," but Kate and Eve both looked anxiously at him. 
 He looked indifferent, and Kate thought he had achieved 
 the victory, but Eve knew him better, and understood that 
 he would fight to death, but would never yield. So, after 
 a long and animated discussion, it was decided that Darcy 
 Lonsdale should write to Sir Owen and tell him that his 
 offer was accepted. 
 
 " I am glad," said Eve, " for I hear many people say that 
 unless matters improve the time will come when Lady 
 Chevenix will badly want some one to look after her inter- 
 ests. Sir Owen drinks dreadfully, and has no thought of 
 the hundreds he lavishes when he is not sober. Poor Lady 
 Chevenix, with all her beauty, may yet want a friend." 
 
 "I hope not," said Darcy Lonsdale, kindly. "If I have 
 anything to do with Sir Owen's affairs I shall do my best 
 always for her." 
 
 So the matter was settled, and Sir Owen, when he read 
 the note in which Mr. Lonsdale gave his consent, was 
 grateful. He took it at once to his wife. 
 
 "They have consented, Violet," he said. "Now from this 
 day henceforth I shall lead a happy life ; all that reading
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 179 
 
 and writing and worry was too much for me. I was tired 
 of it." 
 
 She read the note, and laid it down without comment. 
 
 " Are you pleased. Violet T he asked. 
 
 "I am pleased it' you are." she replied. 
 
 She was thinking whether this would bring her and 
 Felix more together. 
 
 "I tell you what sve'llUb, Violet. We will gi%. 
 dinner-party, and you must ask all the people t'n.m I 
 ber Towers, with Mr. and Mrs. Lonsdale and Felix. 
 about it at once ; send the notes out to-day." 
 
 She obeyed him without a word. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 "l WISH I WERE DEAD !" 
 
 "We cannot refuse," said Darcy Lonsdale, as he h< '' 
 Owen's invitation open in his hand. "We must go this 
 once, and then we can please ourselves afterward. What 
 do you say, Felix f 
 
 Felix thought for a few minutes, and then he 
 frankly : 
 
 "To tell you the truth, father, I think I would rather not 
 go I do not like the idea. To transact Sir o\. 
 
 is all very well, but to dine with him is quite an 
 thing." 
 
 >u shall please yourself," returned Mr. Lonsdale. 
 
 In his heart, although he had felt great compassion and 
 indignation concerning his son, he was pleased that he 
 had not married Violet. lie had seen no eliance oi hap- 
 piness for him he had resented her conduct to him. 
 
 Darey Loiisdale knew that his son was bitterly WX>U1 
 but he said to himself, "Pain is discipline." and every > one 
 had some kind of trouble to undergo. So. when he decline. 
 to go to Garswr >d, Darcy sighed to himself, and was 
 >,hat his son still felt the rankling of an old wound. 
 
 But Kate would not have it SO; f-r the Hrst tune alinos 
 in her life she difl'en-<i from her step-son. 
 
 "You must go, Felix," she said. "Only think what ] 
 ,>le will say if you stay away. Even Lady Chevem* I 
 self will be flattered and think you dan- not meet her. GO, 
 Felix; 1 should not like to -ive her that triumph. XO1 
 will have to meet her some time or other do it now 
 
 He was not quite willing at first, but after a tune Jvat 
 persuaded him, and it was arranged they should go.
 
 180 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Yet Felix hardly liked it. To have refused Sir Owen's 
 agency would have been to stand in his father's light, to 
 prevent the children from receiving the benefits of an 
 ample income. He would not do that, but when he was in 
 sight of Garswood he hated himself for having come near 
 the place. He could not help wondering how Lady Cheve- 
 nix would receive him, what she would say to him, 
 whether she would be pleased, or the reverse. 
 
 "It can never be pleasant for her to meet me," he 
 thought. " The sight of me must remind her of her un- 
 faithfulness." 
 
 As they came in view of the towers and turrets of Gars- 
 wood he expressed this idea to his father. He wished even 
 then that he could return. He looked anxiously into his 
 father's face. 
 
 "It seems to me," he said, "that we have compromised 
 our independence by accepting the agency. " 
 
 " My dear Felix," Darcy Lonsdale laughed, " if every man 
 were to carry his private feelings into business, business 
 would soon stop. Men come to niy office who have slan- 
 dered me, who helped to raise the cry that I had robbed 
 James Hardman of his rights. I have to forgive them. I 
 do not make friends with them, but I freely forgive them 
 and do business for them ; you must do the same. Bear 
 one thing in mind, and you will never be vexed about com- 
 ing here. You are invited here, not as the lover whom Miss 
 Violet Haye in her innocent pride forsook, but as the agent 
 without whose services and restraining hand Sir Owen, 
 rich as he is, will soon be ruined. " 
 
 "There is common sense in that view," said Felix. 
 
 " Then again for your own sake, Felix, forget the past. 
 The world is very unjust. A woman forsaken is always 
 pitied ; a man forsaken is often laughed at. Let people say 
 how little it must have affected you since you can visit her 
 husband not how bitterly you must grieve after her since 
 you are compelled to decline all invitations. " 
 
 And with those words the carriage stopped before the 
 great entrance. Father and son entered the superb hall 
 with its ancient oak and armor, its stained glass windows, 
 and an ancient crest emblazond everywhere. 
 
 They passed through a broad beautiful corridor where 
 statuary copies of the great masterpieces of the world 
 stood, where blooming flowers gave color and fragrance 
 through magnificent rooms, until they reached the great 
 drawing room where Sir Owen and Lady Chevenix re-
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 181 
 
 ceived their guests. Several were already assembled, but 
 standing apart from all others Felix saw Lady C'hevenix. 
 
 It was the first time he had met her in her own home, 
 in the midst of the splendor that was now hers, and hi- 
 were dazzled hy her wondrous beauty. Her dress of white 
 silk with trailing rses was richly trimmed with fringes of 
 gold. She wore a tiara of diamonds set in pld. Her ex- 
 quisite beauty and her exquisite dress da/ed him for a feu- 
 moments, but he made no sign; and Dairy Lonsdale was 
 proud of his son, as he advanced with princely ;rrace and 
 carriage into the room and bowed to the lovely woman who, 
 be all her efforts, grew deathly pale as she saw him. 
 
 Lord Arlington, who never neglected any opportunity of 
 publicly showing his great affection and regard for Dan-y 
 Lonsdale, went up to him and be^an a Ion;; and interesting 
 conversation with him. Lady .Maude called Felix to her 
 side. And so the Lonsdales' arrival -[I as the arri- 
 
 val of any other guests would have done. 
 
 "I am glad you came," said Lady Maude to Felix 
 Mas afraid you would refuse, and I should have i 
 for that/' 
 
 Then dinner was announced, and the long and s; 
 
 -sion moved forward to the dining-room. Felix. tn>m 
 where he sat. could not only see Lady C'hevenix. but be 
 could hear all that was passing. He wonder r per- 
 
 fect grace and elegince. She took her place at ti; 
 perbly appointed table a- ^liou-h she liad been accustomed 
 to it all her life. There wa., no shyness, no mauv 
 no <-i<tt-I<i'ri<- of manner. If she had been the da;i 
 duchess she could not have been m<>re well bred, 
 fined and graceful. He watched her keenly, and wit!; 
 
 had she acquired her p 
 of man: 
 
 Sir Owen, awed by the of his di'v 
 
 guests, behaved with ;;T'-at propriety, and er the 
 
 dinner was a. urea; Lady ('heveiiix >_'avc the 
 
 to the Countess "f Arlington, and the 1 
 sprang up to open th-- door for them. His 
 
 i\v a red Hush cover her face, and r 
 the roots of her hair. 
 
 Wa- imed to parade before him her w, 
 
 grandeur, her jewels: 1 The more shame she felt the 
 for her it \s; sign. The gentlemen had 
 
 half hour, and then they rejoined the ladies. 
 
 "Surely," thought Lady Uhevenix, "I shall be; 
 him. to say a few words to him. I must know it' b
 
 182 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 ways intends to be as he is, new, sc cold, sc proud, so un- 
 forgiving." 
 
 But it was a far more difficult matter than she had 
 thought. She could not speak to him without attracting 
 observation, unless he either purposely or accidentally 
 found himself near her. Perhaps he would make the op- 
 portunity, she thought but he did not. He talked a great 
 deal to Lord and Lady Arlington, and at times to Lady 
 Maude, but at last came an opportunity. Some one asked 
 for the old-fashioned glee, "When shall we three meet 
 again?" and Lady Che venix remembered that she had the 
 music. Felix was to take the tenor part he had a glorious 
 tenor voice, rich, clear, and ringing. She turned to him 
 with a charming smile 
 
 " The music is with some old books of mine in the can- 
 terbury will you help me to find it ?" So, while the room 
 was filled with laughter and song, Lady Chevenix and 
 Felix bent over the old music-books to look for the glee. 
 She turned her head, and said, in a low voice : 
 
 " I want to speak to you, Felix ; Avill you listen to me for 
 a few minutes ?" 
 
 "If you wish it," he replied, coldly. 
 
 " I do wish it. I want to know if all our lives we are to 
 belike this." 
 
 " Like what, Lady Chevenix ?" he asked. 
 
 " You know what I mean if our lives are to be so en- 
 tirely apart, if you will alwavs be cold and distant and 
 proud to me if you will always avoid me and ignore my 
 presence.' 7 
 
 He looked at her in mute wonder. 
 
 " Must I remind you of one thing, Lady Chevenix ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " What is that?" she said. 
 
 " That it was your hand that separated us that broke all 
 ties." 
 
 " Yes, I know that ; but could we not be friends? Could 
 you not come to see us sometimes talk to me, share our 
 amusements, and be really a friend could you not do this, 
 Felix ?" 
 
 "No," he said, "I could not." 
 
 '' Why ?" asked the sweet, soft voice. 
 
 " Because I happen to be a man, and not a statue be- 
 cause I have a human heart, and am not made of marble. 
 Our lives lie apart, Lady Chevenix," 
 
 "You might be kinder," she said, and the beautiful
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 183 
 
 woman shrank from him as though he had struck her a 
 blow. 
 
 No," he rejoined, "it would not be possible. As the wife. 
 of another man, you are nothing to me ; to enter into a 
 compact of friendship with you would be t<> end 
 what I hope to keep stainless until I die my honor I -\\>r< - 
 men and Heaven. Our lives lie quite apart, and nothing 
 can bring them into contact. " 
 
 "(Am I help you, Violet?" said a voice near them, and, 
 looking up, Lady Chevenix saw the anxious face of her 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. Haye bent over the music-books. 
 
 "I will assist my daughter, Mr. Lonsdale," she said, 
 coldly. 
 
 Feiix bowed and left them. 
 
 "My dear Violet," said Mrs. Haye, "how can you be so 
 imprudent ? Why do you talk to him ? You will cause re- 
 marks that will not please you. " 
 
 " Mamma," replied Violet, raising her white face, "he 
 says that he will not even be friends with me." 
 
 "So much the better, my dear. Lady Chevenix, of ( - 
 wood, will choose her friends from among the highest in 
 the land, not from her old playfellows. Try to look like 
 yourself, Violet." 
 
 "I will, but I wish I were dead, mamma !" 
 
 "Nonsense, child. See, Lady Maude is waiting for you. 
 Come now, my darling Violet courage ; this is but child- 
 ish nonsense." 
 
 So with inspiring words she brought the smiles hack to 
 the sweet face, but in her heart she resol veil that Lady 
 Chevenix should see but little of Felix Lonsdale while she 
 was there, and she kept her resolve. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 MANY CHANGES. 
 
 Five years had passed since the peal of Violet II 
 wedding-bells had driven her lover Felix almost mad, 
 since the wonderful turn of good fortune had com.- to the 
 
 Lonsdales and made them famous live years, and they 
 had brought with them many changes. The husine 
 the fair fame of Lonsdale & Son had wonderfully incr 
 they were compelled to engage more clerks, to enlarge their 
 
 offices. Times had marvel, ,usly changed. . Mrs. Lonsdale 
 had a pretty carriage now and uo stint of silk dresses ; the
 
 184 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 children had most of them gone to college and school. The 
 house had been beautifully furnished ; there was a general 
 &ir of prosperity about it that was pleasant. 
 
 Darcy Lonsdale seemed to have recovered more than his 
 usual health and strength ; he had never been so happy, so 
 prosperous, and contented. Over and over again he said to 
 limself that his misfortune had been a blessing. 
 
 He attended almost entirely to Sir Owen's business 
 TTelix very seldom interfered with it, but he in his turn at- 
 tended entirely to Lord Arlington's. The firm was emi- 
 nently prosperous, and it was fast taking the place of one 
 of the most eminent in the county. 
 
 A great change had come to Felix. These five years had 
 wonderfully improved him. He was looked upon as the 
 rising man of the day ; his society was courted ; his opin- 
 ion was sought upon every leading question. He had not 
 arisen, however, without effort on his own part. No one 
 but himself knew how he had worked, how he had studied 
 far into the silent hours of the night, how he had spent in 
 reading the hours that other men give to amusement and 
 recreation. He was like a king among his fellow-towns- 
 men ; he had made for himself a reputation far beyond 
 Lilford ; he was known as a clever writer, as the author of 
 some of the most brilliant essays and articles published. 
 He retained all the simple habits of his boyhood ; he rever- 
 enced and loved his father, he loved Kate and the little 
 ones. He might have set up a separate establishment for 
 himself, but he was quite content with the old home at 
 Vale House. The only luxury in which he had indulged 
 was the purchase of a spirited thoroughbred. When he 
 had worked until eye and brain and nerve were exhausted, 
 he would ride through the green lanes, gallop over the 
 breezy commons, and return with renewed vigor. 
 
 They asked themselves, those who loved him best, if he 
 had forgotten his unhappy love-affair. It was impossible 
 to say ; tkose who watched him most keenly and most 
 kindly Eve and Katie could not tell. They could see 
 that he devoted himself to business and to study, to kindly 
 interest in his home ; he seeined to care for nothing else. 
 Had he forgotten the past ? 
 
 He never mentioned Lady Chevenix ; he never made any 
 of those half -bitter, half-cynical remarks in which disap- 
 pointed men so often indulge. If any one spoke of her in 
 his presence, he listened, and replied if necessary . but 
 there was nothing revealed in his manner. Kate said to 
 'herself proudly that he had forgotten her, that his heart
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 185 
 
 was too noble to keep alive the memory of a woman so 
 false. Eve knew him better. There were times when 
 even a gallop over the breezy uplands did not set him 
 straight, and then he would go over to the Outlands. 
 
 "I have come to chat with you, Eve," he would say. 
 " Have you an hour to spare ?" 
 
 Then one look at his face, at the shadowed eyes, would 
 tell her that he was doing fierce battle with his foe. Sin- 
 would go into the pretty old-fashioned sitting-room, ami, 
 making him sit in a comfortable arm-chair, would talk to 
 him. To herself she said often that it was like the laying 
 of an evil spirit. She would read to him, converse with 
 him, give him all the news she could. She knew, and he 
 knew, why he was there, what ailed him, what old sorrow 
 was crying aloud, what vain wild passion, what vain deep 
 regret, was in his heart, but it was not discussed. 
 
 She knew when her wise, sweet, tender words took 
 effect; the shadow would fall from his face, and he would 
 listen in silence. At times he would sit for an hour listen- 
 ing, never speaking, and then rising with a brightened 
 look that did her heart good, he would clasp her hand 
 warmly in his own. 
 
 u Thank you, Eve," he would say to her; "I know best 
 what you have done for me." 
 
 Miss Lester was not very well pleased just then with her 
 niece. Eve had received two good offers of marriage, and 
 had refused them both ; and, though Miss Lester disliked 
 men, she had always a keen eye to the main chance, and 
 said that if Eve refused one she ought to have taken th,> 
 other. 
 
 She confided her grievance to Felix. 
 
 u I wish," she said, "that you would talk to her ; you havo 
 known her so long you 'are an old friend. Talk to her. 
 Felix ; tell her how foolish it is to refuse every good offer." 
 
 " But I thought you disapproved of marriage, Mis 
 ter, and disliked men ?" 
 
 "So I do so I do, but I shall not live forever, and 
 must have some one to take care of her. Squire llethway 
 would have made her a good husband. Talk t< her. Fell 
 
 "I really do not like to speak to Kve on such a matter, 
 said Felix ; " she might not like it. She must have had her 
 own reasons for saying 'No.' 
 
 "Beasonsl" quoth Miss I.estcr. "She hasn't any. 
 is waitingunt.il the man in the moon proposes to marry 
 her, and I hope it will he soon." 
 
 Felix went away laughing, but he thought of Evelyn
 
 186 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 that evening more than he had, ever before. He wondered 
 why she would not marry, and then he said to himself 
 that after all he was not sorry. His friendship for her was 
 the most pleasant part of his life, arid he could hardly 
 imagine her devoted entirely to another. She was not beau- 
 tiful, but there were times when he saw on her fair face 
 loveliness brighter than any physical beauty ; she was so 
 tender, so earnest, so pure, so noble and high-minded. 
 
 u Whoever marries her," he thought, "will certainly have 
 a treasure of a wife. Eve deserves the truest love that a 
 man can give her." 
 
 Yet it never once occurred to him to love her himself. In 
 his honest heart he believed that love was all ended for 
 him ; he could not realize that a man could love twice in a 
 life-time. His love, he told himself, had been slain. He 
 never thought now of any future for himself : he never 
 pictured himself with fair wife or loving children; he 
 never dreamed again of a home. He filled his mind with 
 work and study love had ceased to be for him. 
 
 While he steadily rose in the world Sir Owen just as 
 steadily went down. Five years had served to injure both 
 the baronet's character and estate ; but for the restraining 
 hand of Darcy Lonsdale he would have been ruined. The 
 clever, honest lawyer had acquired a kind of influence 
 over him ; he would not allow him to live above his in- 
 come ; when Sir Owen made most extraordinary demands 
 for money, his answer was always, "If you persist in 
 spending more than your income, Sir Owen, I must resign 
 my office," and that threat invariably brought the baronet 
 to reason. He knew that he was about as capable of manag- 
 ing his estate as of translating Greek. 
 
 Sir Owen had had one great disappointment Heaven had 
 not blessed him with a son and heir. One good quality 
 among a host of bad ones was his love of children. While 
 he was cruel to animals, almost furious at times with his 
 wife and servants, he loved little children ; and the chances 
 were that if he had had children around him he would have 
 been a better man. As it was, the disappointment made 
 him sour and morose ; he could not bear it ; he was sullen 
 and fierce by turns. 
 
 "No son to succeed me !" he would say. "Why should I 
 care about my fame or my name ? I want a son. I should 
 have something to live for if I had a son. Why, some of the 
 laborers on my estate have half a dozen strong, sturdy 
 sons ; why should not one at least have been given to me ?" 
 
 " You may depend upon it, Sir Owen, Heaven knows best
 
 WEAKER THAN A TP'.lf.LV. 187 
 
 where to place the little ones," Darcy Lonsdale would say, 
 and then j?ir Owen, knowing how far he was from being 
 able to train a child, would say no n 
 
 He would have loved his wiie better if little children had 
 been there to s< >i i-n him ; as it was. lie nov. if his 
 
 time in quarreling with her and in tyrannizing over her, 
 and the other half in fierce lo\ e making. That ; 
 the worst nio<xl of the two. 
 
 He was not loved, the rich baronet : the simple towns- 
 people told strange tales of him wh : d aroumi 
 tires at night stran.m- evil stories that lies* to his 
 '8 ears, or she would have left him. 
 
 "I would not have let him marry my daughter," the 
 women would QO, not if he 1 ,eh." 
 
 There was no mistake about the fact that his nam- 
 in very evil odor a mom:- l.f.th rich and p 
 
 Francis Have talked over the matter with his wife some- 
 3. Mrs. Have looked at it quite philosophically. 
 
 "I am told." she said, "that he drinks over a botl 
 brandy each day; if that is really tl. unot live 
 
 I do not see bow that improves matters," rejoined her 
 husband. 
 
 I do; ire to have all his money, and then in a 
 
 can mar: 
 
 Francis Ha; not particularly sagacious, but this 
 
 view of the matter struck him at 01 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 SIR OWEN'S JNSfLTS. 
 
 Lady Ohevenix was standing in her superb drawing-room 
 
 alone- she held a folded paper in her hand win. 
 
 tentivelv; then she m.-dit;:t' d for a tew min 
 ag the bell. To the servant who an- 
 swen-d it she said : 
 
 -Will you ask Mrs. Have if she can come to me? 
 wish particularly to speak to her." 
 
 Mrs. Have was spending a few d OOO J 
 
 what the world was told: in reality then 
 
 \m Lady Chevenix feared for her life. Sir Owen had 
 drinking heavily, and he had grown dar. 
 she believed. She had lost all control ovr him. and the 
 terrified servants told each other of sobs and cries that
 
 188 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 sounded at night when all the house was still. She grew 
 alarmed at last, and sent for Mrs. Haye. 
 
 That philosophical lady said nothing to the fierce, angry 
 man who was beyond reasoning with, but she sent for a 
 physician, and the appearance of a doctor frightened him. 
 into better behavior. Lady Chevenix would not part with 
 her mother. 
 
 "You must stay with me, mamma," she said. "I have 
 been through scenes that would make you shudder, and I 
 have lost all heart quite lost all heart. You mut stay 
 with me." 
 
 Mrs. Haye was one of those women who, even when 
 alone, never undervalue appearances, and she always moved 
 and spoke as though people were looking at her. She 
 merely answered 
 
 " I shall be very pleased, indeed, to stay with you until 
 your husband is stronger and better, my dear. " 
 
 And it was arranged that she should do so. 
 
 Lady Chevenix stood waiting for her now. As she stood 
 there, -so tall and stately, with such ineffable beauty and 
 grace in face and figure, she did not look like one who had 
 lost her heart. Her girlish loveliness had developed into 
 womanly magnificence, but there was little trace in her of 
 'Violet Haye, the sweet girl coquette little trace of the 
 girl who had loved Felix Lonsdale, or even of the woman 
 who had asked him so piteously to be " friends" with her. 
 A darker sheen lay on the golden hair, a deeper light lay 
 in the lovely eyes, the red mouth had not its wonted smile. 
 One could see at a glance that the years had embittered 
 her. She had not grown soft and tender, but stern, proud, 
 and cold. She had hardened her heart, and tried to care 
 for nothing but the wealth and luxury she now possessed. 
 
 She looked exquisitely beautiful ; her morning-dress fell 
 in artistic folds, a tiny cap of white lace and blue ribbon 
 lay lightly on her golden head. Yet, though she was so 
 wonderfully lovely, and was surrounded by all that was 
 most desirable, she did not look like a happy woman. 
 
 She raised her eyes as her mother came into the room. 
 
 "Mamma," she said, holding out the paper, "I wish you 
 would read this and tell me what to do." 
 
 Mrs. Haye took the paper from her daughter's hand and 
 read it. 
 
 "The Loomshire Hunt Ball," she said. "Of course you 
 are going ?" 
 
 " That is what I want to know, mamma. You see, Sir 
 Owen is one of the stewards. If I show it to him, and he
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 189 
 
 goes, you can guess what is almost sure to happen he will 
 not keep sober. If I do not show it, and he finds out that I 
 have received it A shrug of the beautiful shoulder con- 
 veyed the rest. u What do you advise me t<> do .'"' 
 
 " You must show it to him, my dear ; there is no alterna- 
 tive. As steward, and patron he must attend that is, if he 
 is well." 
 
 u He ought not to go, mamma. You know what will hap- 
 pen. Doctor Bell advised me to keep him at home and 
 quite quiet, but if he finds out that this has been withheld 
 from him, I can imagine what will follow 1 ' 
 
 There was no sorrow, no despair in her voice. She merely 
 hard, cold utterance to what she knew to be certain. 
 She looked musingly at her mother. Mrs. Have gazed at 
 her. 
 
 " You cannot shut yourself away from all society, Violet, 
 because you are afraid that your husband will not behave 
 himself. You might as well be out of the world." 
 
 "Well, as matters stand, that is quite true," she replied. 
 
 "You do not know, mother, what I suffer when he behaves 
 
 in that way. I think sometimes that if I had been born an 
 
 aristocrat I should not feel it so much. Then I could have 
 
 1 aloof from the dis.trj-a.ee ; now it falls upon me." 
 
 "Nay, that it does not, Violet," said Mrs. Have, warmly. 
 " You cannot force Sir Owen to keep sober. He drank be- 
 foi-- he knew you." 
 
 "Yes, that he did. I cannot expect anyone to under- 
 stand me, but that is really my feeling, that 1 share in the 
 ice. Still that is not the point in question. 1'oyou 
 advise me to show him this or not '."" 
 
 "I think you must show it to him," said Mrs. Ha\ 
 would not be safe to keep him in ignorance, 1 am sui-e. and 
 we must do our best afterward with him. You need not 
 remain very long at the ball, you know. 1 ' 
 
 "I will do as you say, mamma," she replied; and Mrs. 
 onld read neither pleasure nor pain in her face. 
 
 Left alone again, Violet walked to the window, and 
 looking out on the brilliant {lowers and the stately ti 
 
 "Of all strange turns," she said to herself, "to think that 
 my life should have taken this that the bright 
 it is to be spent in keeping a fierce, c 
 sober 
 
 She was always just. She bad sought her own destiny; 
 
 n her. She had that which she 
 had and she mu-t take Ihe drawbacks with it. 
 
 found that she bad acted wisely in taking her
 
 190 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 mother's advice. One of the first things Sir Owen asked 
 about was the ball. 
 
 " Shall you go ?" she asked her husband. 
 
 " That I shall, " he replied, " and you, too. Lady Maude 
 Arlington is going; every one who is any one will be 
 there." 
 
 It was a favorite festival of his ; he enjoyed making him- 
 self popular. He never missed the Hunt Ball. 
 
 " Violet, mind you have a dress worth looking at. Lady 
 Chevenix of Garswood must be second to none on this occa- 
 sion. If there is anything you want, no matter what it 
 costs, you must have it. " 
 
 She thanked him, but there was neither gratitude nor 
 pleasure in her voice. Bitterly enough she said to herself, 
 " What will it matter if I am covered with diamonds ? I 
 shall have a weight of care on my mind which all the dia- 
 monds on earth could not balance the ever-present fear 
 that my husband will disgrace himself." 
 
 But during the next few days Sir Owen improved. The 
 doctor had given him a serious fright ; he had assured him 
 that unless he led a more abstemious life he must soon die. 
 He bore the warning in mind, and drank less. 
 
 He began to interest himself in the ball. Lady Chevenix 
 looked forward to it with pleasure ; Lady Maude would be 
 there, and she liked Lady Maude. Felix would be there, 
 too she had heard Sir Owen say so. She longed to see him 
 again ; she felt that there would be a sense of rest and pro- 
 tection in his presence that never came to her with any 
 other. She wondered to herself if he would ask her to 
 dance. 
 
 . " I should like to dance with him," she thought to herself, 
 with a smile that was almost pitiful. 
 
 She took great interest in her dress and her jewels, 
 hoping that he would notice her presence more than he 
 generally did. Very beautiful she looked in her favorite 
 colors, white and blue white satin and blue velvet. With 
 her exquisitely molded arms and neck fair as a sculptor's 
 dream a diamond necklace clasped around her throat, a 
 diamond cross gleaming on her white breast, she looked 
 like one who could sway men's hearts. Sir Owen was 
 proud of her, and said so in his blunt fashion. 
 
 " There will not be a woman in the room like you, 
 Violet," he said; and she wondered whether there would 
 be one with such a load of anxiety on her mind. 
 
 The ball was always held at the Assembly Rooms in 
 Lilford. It was very exclusive, very select, and at times
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 191 
 
 very dull. But this year the party from Bramber Towers 
 was a large one ; several officers were visiting there. They 
 at first voted the Hunt Ball a decided u bore," but when 
 they saw Lady Chevenix they thought differently. She was 
 worth coining many miles to see, they declared, and she 
 was soon surrounded by a crowd of admirers. 
 
 The rooms were beautifully decorated and filled with a 
 brilliant crowd. Lady Chevenix looked for Felix, first : she 
 saw him, but he did not approach her. She observed that 
 he chatted with the Countess of Arlington, and then with 
 Lady Maude; she wondered if he would seek her. She 
 kept her would-be partner in suspense. But Felix did not 
 come ; he danced with Lady Maude. Violet could not help 
 hearing what people said u How well they look together ! 
 Can it be possible that there is anything in it T She could 
 not help hearing it, and a pang of jealous pain seemed to 
 rive in her heart. Surely that could never he '. Felix marry 
 Lady Maude! It was all nonsense the gossip of foolish 
 people who did not know Avhat they were saying. 
 
 She checked herself abruptly. \Yhat if it wer. 
 What did it matter to her? Felix and herself were more 
 than strangers. The greatest stranger in that room thought 
 more of her and said more to her than Felix did. Sli< 
 the queen of the night. Her wonderful beauty, her p.r- 
 geous dress, her costly jewels, made her the very ceii' 
 observation. She had her triumph. The lover she had 
 forsaken treated her with coldness, her husband kept her 
 in a state of terrible suspense, but the crowd admired her. 
 No one present would have believed that, the beautiful, 
 radiant woman had a weight, as of lead, at her heart. 
 
 Her spirits rose as the night wore on. It was something 
 to see all the men admiring her ; to see them strive f.n- mm 
 smile from her; to see how they surrounded her, how they 
 struggled to be of service to her; how her smile 
 bright words Swayed them as the sweet western wind sways 
 the leaves. That was her triumph, and. to one so vain, it 
 was no small one. She saw that Lady Maude, with all her 
 aristocratic influence, was not sought after and admired as 
 she was. 
 
 "Beauty rules the world," she thought, and then added, 
 with a smile and a sigh, "Beauty and money combined, I 
 mean. " 
 
 Half the evening had passed, and she had exchanj 
 word with Felix. Presently chance brought them almost 
 side by side in a quadrille. He bowed and spoke to her. 
 She could not help the feeling of relief that came over her
 
 192 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Would he ask her to dance ? She gave him the opportuni /y, 
 but he did not take it. He never even thought of it. He 
 had taken his farewell of those false hands ; he would touch 
 them no more. 
 
 When she went to partake of an ice with Major Moi-rison 
 she saw her husband standing by the buffet. He was hold- 
 ing a tumbler in his hand, and she could tell bv his face 
 that he had. drank to much. Her heart almost stopped 
 beating. What should she do if there was a scene here ? 
 
 " Pray excuse me," she said to Major Morrison. 
 
 She went up to Sir Owen, and laid her hand upon his 
 arm. 
 
 'We have had a very pleasant evening," she said, and 
 her poor lips were white with fear. 
 
 "Very," he replied, and in the effort to look dignified he 
 spilled some of the brandy on her dress. 
 
 "I am tired," she said, trembling in every nerve ; "and, 
 if you will, Sir Owen, I should like to go home." 
 
 Her one wish was to get him away before any one noticed 
 his condition. 
 
 "I shall not go home yet," he said. " Go back to your 
 dancing. When I am ready I will send for you. " 
 
 She dared not disobey him. She went back to the ball- 
 room, a deadly fear nestling in her heart. 
 
 Whether he ever did send for her, or whether it was but 
 the fancy of an excited brain. Violet never knew. She had 
 not ventured to disobey him when he said, " Go back to 
 your dancing ;" she did as he had directed. She had not 
 dared to disobey or to plead with him, or to urge one en- 
 treaty on him. She read contempt for her husband and 
 pity for herself in the eyes of Major Morrison. He made 
 no allusion to the scene, nor did she, but when the dance 
 was ended she asked him to take her back to the same 
 spot. When she reached it Sir Owen was gone. 
 
 Felix had been to escort Lady Maude to her carriage the 
 party from Bramber retired early and as he was returning 
 he saw Sir Owen assisted into his carriage. Sir Owen 
 called to him. 
 
 "Mr. Lonsdale," he said, in a thick voice, "will you take 
 a message to Lady Chevenix from me ? Tell her that she 
 did not choose to come when I sent for her, and that now 
 she may get home as she can ; she may walk through the 
 mud if she likes." 
 
 ' Stop, Sir Owen !" cried Felix. 
 
 But, with great dignity and ferocity mingled, Sir Owen
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 193 
 
 shouted, " Home !" and the horses started off rapidly, leav- 
 ing Felix angry and full of wonder. 
 
 At first he thought it must be a jest no one could treat 
 a young wife so barbarously, so cruelly, and he half ex- 
 pected the carriage to return, but it did not, and there was 
 nothing left for him but to make the best of his message. 
 He went back to the ball-room; it was difficult to believe 
 that the beautiful, brilliant young queen around whom the 
 best men in the room had assembled was. the wife of the 
 stupid, fierce, drunken baronet. He made his way to her, 
 and waited until he could find an opportunity of speaking 
 to her. 
 
 "Lady Chevenix," he said, "I have something I wish to 
 say to ion." 
 
 jShe tuj'ned eagerly to him, and the light that came over 
 
 T yCp^ au ^pd him keen pain. Hie. arose from her seat, 
 
 ra%n/ss4d [S^r\ train of admirers with a queenly smile and 
 
 bmy, and laid her hand upon his arm. If the touch of tho 
 
 "little hand made him tremble she was not aware of it. 
 
 They walked through the crowded ball-room until 11 ey 
 
 to a, small recess at the end of it; then she raised 
 
 her face to his. 
 
 u wanted to speak to me," she said. "I shall be very 
 happy to listen. 1 ' 
 
 She decided that he had come to tell her that he would 
 i be better friends with her ; no other thought entered 
 her mind. Her limpid eyes were filled with light as she 
 waited eagerly. 
 
 "I am afraid it is not a very agreeable subject." ho 
 
 in. "May I ask if you have seen Sir Owen lately '." 
 lie saw- the light and the color fade, the cold, hard look 
 come back again ; UK; very tone of her voice cli.-i: 
 
 "I saw him half an hour since, and wanted him to go 
 home with me," she replied. 
 
 "Then there has been some mistake just as I imagined. 
 The truth is, Lady Chevenix, Sir Owen has gene home, 
 after intrusting to me a message so brusque and abrupt that 
 I do not like to deliver it." 
 
 Prouder and colder grew the fair face, yet into it there 
 came, he saw, a shadow of fear. 
 
 "Gone home," she, repeated, "and left me In 
 "lam sure there has been a mistake," h- said. 
 Owen wished me to say that he had sent for you, and 
 that as you did not come he had gone home without 
 
 " But he will send the carriage back for me C she ii.ter 
 rupted.
 
 194 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I am afraid not," he replied. "But I would rather not 
 repeat his words. I am sure the carriage will not return. " 
 
 " And he sent me this message by you, " she cried " by 
 you of all men .'" 
 
 " I am sorry to have had to deliver it, but I had no alter- 
 native," he replied. May I advise you, Lady Chevenix i?" 
 
 "If you please," she replied. 
 
 " Then I should counsel you to return home at once, before 
 any one has time to notice Sir Owen's absence it will save 
 so many unpleasant remarks. I will order a carriage, and 
 no one need know for whom it is intended. " 
 
 "Thank you," she said, gently, "that will be best. I will 
 go to the cloak-room at once." 
 
 She did so, and a few minutes afterward she stood, with 
 her opera-cloak round her, waiting for him. 
 
 "The carriage is ready, Lady Chevenix," he said ; "allow 
 me. " He opened the door for her, and stood waiting until 
 she had taken her seat. " It will not be long before you are 
 home you have a capital horse and a good driver. " 
 
 She looked at him, and her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Felix," she said, "will you accompany me home? I 
 would not ask you but that I arn frightened. I am, indeed. 
 I dare not go alone. " 
 
 He hesitated for half a minute, and then he said to him- 
 self that he must not think that she was Violet Haye or 
 Lady Chevenix ; she was simply a woman in distress, and 
 it was his duty to help her. 
 
 "I am afraid," she continued, and he saw that her face 
 was quite white and that her hands trembled. What a 
 mockery her diamonds and her superb dress appeared 
 now ! " Sir Owen is very violent when he is not quite him- 
 self, " she continued. " If he is at home alone, I dare not 
 go." 
 
 "I will accompany you, Lady Chevenix," he said ; "have 
 no fear you may rely upon me. " 
 
 They said but little during the journey, and Felix was 
 glad when the carriage reached Garswood. 
 
 " You will come in with me ?" said Lady Chevenix ; and, 
 seeing the white, frightened face, he would have done any- 
 thing to help her. 
 
 Ha was thankful that he had consented, for Sir Owen 
 had worked himself into a state of uncontrollable anger. 
 He was in the drawing-room, with a decanter half full of 
 brandy on the table by his side, and when the pale woman 
 entered he launched a volley of furious oaths at her. She 
 made no reply, but, turning to Felix, said, quietly :
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 195 
 
 "Will you take any refreshment, Mr. Lonsdale? You 
 have had a long drive. " 
 
 Another volley of oaths followed. Pale, scared, and 
 trembling, she fled from the room and took refuge in her 
 own. If she had been alone he would have followed her, 
 and then she would have had to save herself as she best 
 could, but Felix was there, and the very thought of his 
 presence comforted her. He staid with the furious mar,, 
 whose violence soon changed into the extreme of friendli- 
 ness, until he had stupefied himself with drink and w 
 ried off helpless to bed, and then Felix started for Li: 
 
 As he left Garswood, Felix raised his face to the culm 
 evening skies. 
 
 " Heaven help her," he said. " Poor Violet !" 
 
 No reference to this little scene passed his lips, but in his 
 mind he felt infinite pity for her. 
 
 A few days later Sir Owen, feeling ashamed of his recent 
 escapade, insisted upon having a dinner-party. Lady 
 Koli'e, that veteran diner-out, with her daughter Lavinia, 
 who had married a curate and subsided into "parish work," 
 the curate himself, a mild, inoffensive gentleman, who had 
 perhaps deserved a better fate, the Reverend Mr. C'layburn, 
 Darcy and Felix Lonsdale, Captain Hill, with one or two 
 more, were to be present. The baronet wished to give this 
 little party to remove any bad impression there might be 
 in the minds of people since the ball. He had resolved 
 upon being most amiable, polite, and attentive, to his wife 
 eeially. 
 
 But circumstances were against him. His favorite horse 
 that very morning had been found lame, and the groom had 
 the insolence or the courage to tell him that he had caused 
 it himself by his reckless riding. He turned to dismiss the 
 man on the spot, and then suddenly remembered that ho 
 could not replace him, for he was one of the most valuable 
 servants that he had. He was obliged to rein in his temper, 
 which in itself was enough to drive him almost mad, so 
 little was he accustomed to self-control. His fuvorit' 
 tiff, too, was ill, and he was annoyed about that. The 
 veterinary suregon said that the dog had better be shot, 
 and Sir Owen swore roundly at him, to which tl>- 
 answered by saying that he could please himself, and that 
 for the future he should not attend at Garswood if he were 
 sent for. Sir Owen was very angry. It was incredible that 
 a baronet worth forty thousand a year could not swear as 
 he liked ; such a thing was not to be borne. 
 
 So, when the guests sat down to dinner, Sir Owen was
 
 196 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 not in the "best of humors. He was a discontented man by 
 nature. The first thing that always occurred to him was to 
 complain, to find fault never to praise. If he saw clear 
 soup he was cross because it was not thick ; if it were thick 
 Jhe wanted thin. If one dish were placed before him he was 
 quite sure to complain because it was not another. 
 
 On this particular day he was very much annoyed be- 
 cause some of his favorite fish was not cooked as he liked 
 it. In vain Lady Chevenix, seeing a storm brewing, tried 
 to avert it ; the more amiable and complacent she looked 
 the blacker and angrier he grew. An uncomfortable 
 silence fell over the guests. Felix did his best ; he tried to 
 make conversation, but it was difficult with those muttered 
 growls running on like an under-current. At last some 
 other dish raised Sir Owen's ire, and he exclaimed : 
 
 " If I had married some one who understood these things 
 I should have been better off." 
 
 The guests saw Lady Chevenix's face grow as pale as the 
 pearls she wore. Her silence irritated her husband, for he 
 cried out angrily against her, with a word so coarse and 
 insulting that there was not a man present who did not 
 long to horsewhip him. She rose with quiet grace and 
 dignity to quit the room ; she felt that she owed it to her 
 own self-respect not to remain. No sooner did he see her 
 do so than he sprang from his seat and cried : 
 
 "Go back to your seat, my lady do not show any of 
 your airs here. " 
 
 The gentlemen arose quickly, but she mastered herself" 
 with an effort, for which they commended her. She re- 
 pressed the hysterical cry that arose to her lips, smiled, and 
 went back to her chair. 
 
 " Sir Owen does not always choose his jests wisely, " she 
 said, and order was at once restored. 
 
 They admired her more than they could say it was im- 
 possible to help it. Her grace, her beauty, her self- 
 possession, her self-contol, her tact, all struck them. There 
 was no one present who did not think highly of her for her 
 behavior through so trying a scene. Sir Owen tried to 
 laugh it off. He made some awkward apologies about 
 having been annoyed by horses, dogs, and servants ; never- 
 theless the incident left two disagreeable reminders for 
 him. Darcy Lonsdale told him that same evening that the 
 next time he insulted Lady Chevenix in his presence he 
 must seek another adviser. Captain Hill did better. 
 
 " I want to say a few words to you, Sir Owen, " he began. 
 "When on the point of departure. " You invite gentlemen tr
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 197 
 
 your house," he told him, " and then presume to insult them 
 by behaving in the most brutal fashion to your wife. Do not 
 repeat the experiment, Sir Owen. I have broken bread with 
 you for the last time." 
 
 And no further word would the sturdy old sportsman ex- 
 change with him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 "l DESERVE IT ALL." 
 
 Sir Owen was alarmed he found that, although he waa 
 a baronet, he could not do as he liked with impunity. 
 Society had certain laws that must be kept and on 
 that a man must, if he wished to be considered a gentle- 
 man, treat his wife with respect. Sir Owen found that ho 
 must after, for people \\ r ere beginning to give up h . 
 quaintance ; some of the best families in the county, who 
 had formerly welcomed him with open arms, now did not 
 even invite him to their formal parties. He was ! 
 caste as fast as he could lose it. and he said to himself that 
 something must be done ; he must alter, qr every ho; 
 the county would be closed against him. 
 
 Withal there was something good in him ho was not 
 without some redeeming qualities. On the day alter the 
 discreditable scene in his own house he rode over to ( Viptain 
 Hill's, and asked to see that gentleman. The captain 1. 
 very black when he saw who his visitor was, but Sir ' 
 held out his hand. 
 
 " I disgraced myself yesterday, captain," he said. " 
 am come to beg your p;trdon-- -to sa,y how sorry I am. I 
 deserved every word that you said tome, and now I makfc 
 you the most ample apology. Will you shake hands i" 1 
 
 It was impossible to refuse, but Captain Hill 
 with an ill gr 
 
 " Have y. m apologized to your wife ?" he asked. " That is 
 the chief thing. " 
 
 "Yes ; 1 have made it all right with her. Upon my 
 I am quite ashamed of myself. It shall not lmp|- 
 
 For some days he did not give way to any . id in 
 
 ? shamefaced kind of way he tried to make up to his wifti 
 for his rece.lit outburst of violence -h< always did wli'-n he 
 
 Tended her almost beyond f,,; 
 
 new d "f all kinds upon 
 
 her, for in his heart lie loved he/ better than anythiir- 
 on earth, though he insulted and ill trv;U<.'d h< r.
 
 198 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Mrs. Haye had gone home, pleased at leaving matters a 
 little better than she had found them, but Lady Chevenix 
 had vowed to herself that she would not, if possible, be le^t 
 alone with her husband again. She found that the presence 
 of a third party made some difference, was some restraint, 
 some check upon him. She invited Miss Hethcote to ~pend 
 a few weeks with her, and that young lady, who had a 
 girl's adoration for the beautiful, graceful Lady Chevenix, 
 gladly consented. Marian Hethcote was a bright, pretty, 
 clever girl, and her companionship was very pleasant to 
 the Lady of Garswood. 
 
 They spent the greater part of the time together during 
 the first few days of her stay. Sir Owen was most gracious 
 to her. Then, as was usual with him, familiarity bred 
 contempt. Miss Hethcote herself could not endure him. 
 When her father remonstrated with her one day about her 
 openly expressed dislike of the baronet, she said : 
 
 " I could never like a man who swears at his wife, papa, 
 and Sir Owen very seldom speaks to Lady Chevenix with- 
 out doing so. A man who swears at his wife will do any- 
 thing." 
 
 Her dislike to him was not unjustified. She was sitting 
 one morning with Lady Chevenix in her boudoir, the room 
 that was like a shrine for the woman who used it. They 
 were talking gayly and happily enough, when in the dis- 
 tance they heard the voice of Sir Owen speaking in most 
 angry tones. The sound drew nearer and nearer. 
 
 "He is coming here," said Marian Hethcote, and the two 
 ladies looked at each other in distress. 
 
 The door was opened with violence, and Sir Owen strode 
 into the room, his face purple with rage. He did not speak 
 to Miss Hethcote, but looked at his Avife. 
 
 " Where is my silver-minted riding- whip ?" he asked. 
 
 "I do not know, Owen," she replied. 
 
 " You do know. You had it last, and now it is gone ; no 
 one can find it. The grooms say you had it last week." 
 
 " I do not remember having had it," she replied, gently. 
 
 But the gentle words did not touch him. His temper was, 
 as he expressed it, "all in a blaze," and when that was the 
 case he spared neither man, woman, nor child. Miss 
 Hethcote shrank back, startled and scared at the insults 
 and abuse he lavished upon his wife. Lady Chevenix stood 
 quite calm and still. When the angry oaths had ceased, 
 she looked up at him. 
 
 "I will go and try to find it, Owen," she said. "lam 
 sorry if I have annoyed you by misplacing it. "
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 199 
 
 She left the room, and the baronet went to the window. 
 He felt rather ashamed of himself, for in his anger lie hud 
 quite forgotten Miss Hethcote' s presence. He stood there 
 looking out for some minutes in silence. Then he turned to 
 her. 
 
 "Women are so stupid," he said. 
 
 She was young, and loved Lady Chevenix very dearly, so 
 she was not unwilling to take part in the fray. Sin- had 
 not yet learned that all-important lesson, that it is never 
 safe to interfere between a man and his wife. 
 
 " They are remarkably stupid, " she replied, " to tolerate 
 such words as you have just used to Lady Chevenix. If I 
 were in her place I know what I should do." 
 
 "What would you do?" he asked, sneeringly. 
 
 "When I did find the silver-mounted riding-whip, I know 
 what use I should make of it." 
 
 He laughed. The/ idea of a riding-whip in those delicate 
 little hands for the purpose hinted at amused him. 
 
 "If you were in Lady Chevenix's place," he said, "you 
 would do just as she does submit ; it is a woman's lot." 
 
 "I should not mind submission, but my submission would 
 be to a gentleman, not to a swearing, loud-voiced tyrant." 
 
 "You speak pretty freely," he said. "Do not vex me, 
 though. " 
 
 "I would rather vex than please you." 
 
 She was interrupted by the opening of the door. Lady 
 Chevenix entered with the riding whip in her hand. 
 
 "I have found it, Owen," she said, qui"tly, as though no 
 unkind word had passed his lips. " J ;>m sorry to 
 did mislay it. It was put away bv mistake with mi: 
 
 "I must request you, for the future." lie returned, "not 
 to touch anything belonging t> me. What is HIM 
 and not yoiirs. Do not l.-t m- be v.-xed in this \\ 
 
 He left, the room with a quick, angry bang at tin- 
 
 Lady Chevenix quietly took up her point lae.- a: 
 
 the conversation, .Manan Hethcote looked at her, w: 
 
 ing tears in her eyes. She went over to her, and el 
 her arms around her neck. 
 
 "Dear Lady Chevenix, 'V she said, "is it possible th.. 1 
 do not really care ? 1 thought you would come back broken- 
 hearted." on 
 
 "Care, my dear, for trifle- blyuse 
 
 questioned Sir Owen's wife. " < 'ertainly not" 
 
 "I do not understand how you can bear it. 
 ful to me. 1 should run away. 1 could not live under it.
 
 200 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "My dear child, we learn patience as we grow older," said 
 Lady Chevenix, gravely. 
 
 But sweet, impulsive Marian would not be satisfied. 
 
 " I think it is dreadful. Do not be angry with me, Lady 
 Chevenix, please. I have never heard such words before. 
 They have filled me with horror. I cannot bear to thii ik 
 that you listen to them daily, you who ought to hear only 
 sweet, kind, tender words. " 
 
 "We will forget all about it, Marian," said Lady 
 Chevenix. " It does not matter ; everything comes to .an 
 end at last." 
 
 But Marian's heart had been stirred. 
 
 "Dear Lady Chevenix," she went on, "do not think me 
 rude that which would be rudeness in another is only love 
 in me. I do love you so dearly, and I cannot bear to hear 
 you spoken to in that fashion. If I were in your place I 
 should run away." 
 
 Lady Chevenix smiled. 
 
 "That would not be of much use," she said. "I find as 
 the days pass that I cannot run away from my trouble." 
 
 Marian stood watching her, with a sad look on her fair 
 young face. 
 
 "I often .think about you, Lady Chevenix," she said, 
 " and I wonder why pray do not be angry with me you 
 married Sir Owen ; you are so gentle, and he is so mu^h the 
 reverse. " 
 
 " My dear Marian, marriages are made in heaven, " she re- 
 turned, with a slow, sad smile. 
 
 " Are they ? Well, dear Lady Chevenix do not think me 
 irreverent if your marriage was made in heaven mine 
 shall be made on earth. I often wonder if I ever shall 
 marry. Do you know that in my short career I have not 
 seen very much happiness in married life ? I am not greatly 
 in love with it, therefore. " 
 
 " It is like everything else a lottery and a chance," said 
 Lady Chevenix. 
 
 " I have quite made up my mind what kind of man I 
 should like to marry," went on Marian. "He must be 
 good, to begin with clever, distinguished, and handsome, 
 gentle, and yet brave something like do not laugh at me, 
 Lady hevenix something like Mr. Felix Lonsdale ; he is 
 my beau-ideal of a man. " 
 
 _ She wondered why Lady Chevenix turned away with a 
 little low cry on her pale Ipis. 
 
 " You like Mr. Felix Lonsdale, then, Marian ?" she said, 
 after a time. It was a pleasure to talk of him, to utter his
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 201 
 
 name and to hear it a pleasure that she had long been de- 
 prived of. 
 
 " Yes, I like him better than any gentleman I have met 
 much better. He seems to me a gentleman in every 
 of the word. I like him very much," she continued, 
 warmly, quite unconscious of the pain she was inflicting 
 on Lady Chevenix. 
 
 "He would be nattered if he knew how highly you 
 thought of him, Marian." 
 
 The sweet, girlish laugh rang out gayly 
 " Would he ? I do not think so. He does not seem to 
 care very much for the society of ladies ; lie tall. 
 Lady Maude Arlington than to any one else. He is not 
 what most people call a lady's man." 
 
 "He has other things to think of," said Lady Chevenix:. 
 "Perhaps so. Mrs. Clayburn told me ho had a 
 trouble, a great sorrow, in his early life." 
 
 "Did she tell you what it was.'' 1 asked Lady C 
 and Marian Hethcote did not see the trembling of the white 
 hands. 
 
 "Yes ; he loved some one who forsook him ; she mar 
 some one else. Mrs. Clayhurn did not tell me much 
 it, but she said that that accounted for his p much 
 
 for the society of ladies ; he had loved this lady so long si 
 so truly that he had taken it deeply to heart, and 1 
 never recovered from the sorrow." 
 
 "I do not believe it," said Lady Chevenix, slowly. 
 "Indeed it is true. I watched him .-i.ft.-r she had t 
 and I saw that whenever his face was in rep 
 
 Lady Chevenix was quite silent for a few minutes, a 
 then she said : 
 
 "Did Mrs. Clayburn tell you who fco lady wa> 
 "No, it is no one near here, I think," 
 Hethcote. "She did not say very much, but it 
 what I had thought myself. I said to myseli the ^ 
 night that I saw him, 'That man has had some*:" 
 in his life.' " ,, ,_ t ., 
 
 " I have noticed nothing in him to make me thin 
 said Ladv Chevenix. T 
 
 "You see so many people that it h 
 quite sure that he has wasted all tin- l-.v, -t 
 on some one quite undeserving of it. 
 that tells me so." .. , -, ftv , m _ 
 
 Lady Chevenix stood up before her, all pale 
 
 dear Marian." ene said, "never speak to me of this
 
 202 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 again. Some one else will tell you if I do not. It was I 
 whom Felix Lonsdale loved ; it was I who gave him up to 
 marry Sir Owen. Hush ! Do not cry for me. I deserve it 
 all, and much more ; but, Marian, never talk to me of Felix 
 Lonsdale again. We will go now, dear. The bell nas rung 
 for luncheon." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 MAJOR RAWSON. 
 
 "Violet," said Sir Owen to his wife, "I want you to give 
 a garden-party ; they are much in vogue. There could be 
 no more beautiful time for one than during this lovely 
 weather. The grounds look superb ; we have not a tree 
 that is not in full leaf. Send out your invitations to-day." 
 
 " I will do so with pleasure," replied Lady Chevenix, and 
 Marian Hethcote, who was present, appeared delighted. 
 
 " You are growing quite amiable, Sir Owen, " she said. 
 
 " If one garden-party makes me amiable, two ought to 
 make me charming. " 
 
 "Perhaps they will do so," said Miss Hethcote. 
 
 " We will give one now worth remembering. I think I 
 can get the military band from Oldstone I shall try to do 
 so and we will send to London for a chef de cuisine. We 
 will h.ave everything of the' very best." 
 
 The invitations were numerous. Lord Arlington decided 
 to accept his. 
 
 "I do not like the baronet," he said, "and I am grieved 
 for his young wife ; still we cannot send him to Coventry. 
 We must visit him sometimes and a garden-party is better 
 than a dinner-party. We need not stay so long, and we 
 need not see very much of our host. " 
 
 So Sir Owen was made happy by a polite note from 
 Bramber, saying that the earl and his wife and daughter 
 would be present at the gathering. 
 
 The Lonsdales also promised to be present, and it seemed 
 as though the garden-party was to be a success. 
 
 One day Sir Owen sat with Lady Chevenix and Miss 
 Hethcote after dinner discussing the coming event. He 
 turned to his wife. 
 
 " Violet," he said, " I saw a very pretty girl the other day 
 a girl that quite took my fancy. I met her at Darcy 
 Lonsdale's office." 
 
 " Indeed !" returned Violet. " Who was it, Owen ?" 
 
 " Let me see now what did they call her ? Evelyn Eve
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 203 
 
 Lester the niece of a certain strong-mijided Miss Lester 
 who lives at the Outlands. You must know her of course 
 you know her !" 
 
 "Yes," was the quiet reply, "I know Eve Lester." 
 
 "You ought to like her, too. I quite admire her. I have 
 not scon such a pretty face for some time yours, of ct> 
 exeepted, Miss Hethcote," he added, laughingly. 
 
 "Lady Chevenix's face excepted, you mean," said 
 Hethcote; "hers, indeed, is a most beautiful face, Sir 
 Owen." 
 
 "There is too much of pride and defiance, or rather 
 pride and indifference," ho laughed, "in my lady's 
 Now this girl Eve Lester is as fair and s\veet as a : 
 she reminded me of a dove, so fair and gentle is she." 
 
 "Very sweet people are apt to be very inane," said Miss 
 Hethcote. 
 
 " Inane or not, I wish you would invite her to the party, 
 Viol 
 
 " I will do so with pleasure, but I do not think she will 
 come." 
 
 "Why not?" he asked, impatiently. 
 
 "Because, though we were friends once, we are not 
 friends now," said Lady Chevenix. 
 
 "Then you must he friends. Violet. I am determined to 
 have her at the gathering. I liked her sweet, fair 
 
 "My deal- Owen. I would do anything to oblig^yOU or 
 e you, but I cannot make any overtures of friendship 
 to Eve Lester." 
 
 "But I say you must, Violet." 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot. If you are determined 
 Miss Lester shall come, you must go yourself and mvito 
 her/' 
 
 "It is the usual way if I want anything/' he said 
 ;i I can have everything except the one thing nv 
 I only wish thai f had had the sense to make s.i 
 that Lady Chevenix ; there would have heen no opposition 
 
 to my wishes then/' 
 "I am quite sure that I wish the same thing, 
 
 Violet, quietly. 
 
 " Do you ? I might have expected such a confession fi 
 you," lie exclaimed. 
 Allth.-t was disagreeable seemed K> he forgotten wju 
 
 the dav of the fete arrived. The party was likely t, 
 
 wonderful success All theeKfcof the neighborhood 
 
 ossemhled. The sun was bright, the trees were in luxunant
 
 2(H WEAKER THAN A WOMAN'. 
 
 leaf. Had there been no other attraction the beauty of the 
 grounds alone would have been one. 
 
 Sir Owen looked proudly around ; it pleased him to see- 
 such great and noble persons his guests. The one whom he 
 cared most to honor was Major Rawson, the great Victoria 
 Cross hero of whom all England and even all France had 
 been talking Major Rawson, who was heir to a baronetcy, 
 and one of the most popular men in England. Sir Owen 
 was very anxious to impress him in every possible way. 
 He was visiting at one of the houses in the neighborhood, 
 and was received by Sir Owen with great empressement. 
 
 "I do not see Lady Chevenix," said the major; "lam 
 unfortunate in arriving so late. " 
 
 "We shall find Lady Chevenix somewhere in the. 
 grounds, " said Sir Owen, and he proudly introduced him, 
 to the county magnates. 
 
 Suddenly the major touched his arm. 
 
 "Who is that beautiful woman yonder?" he asked, in 
 wonder. 
 
 "Which?" said Sir Owen. 
 
 " The one in blue and white there, talking to that dark, 
 handsome man. " 
 
 Sir Owen's face brightened with pleasure. 
 
 " That is my wife, Lady Chevenix," he said. " Come, and 
 I will introduce you. " 
 
 "I had heard that Lady Chevenix was beautiful," he re- 
 plied, " but I had not expected to see such perfection. And 
 the gentleman who is he ? His face is a striking one. " 
 
 He is my lawyer and agent ; his name is Felix Lonsdale. 
 It is strange that on the first occasion of meeting them you 
 should see them together. He was a great admirer of my 
 wife years ago." 
 
 Major Rawson was not surprised to hear it; such a 
 woman as that might have any number of admirers. 
 
 He looked from the handsome face of the young lawyer 
 to the dark, evil, dissipated countenance of the baronet by 
 his side, and wondered in silence how any woman could 
 have chosen between the two men, and have chosen so 
 badly. 
 
 Later on in the afternoon he stood by Lady Maude, and 
 they were both watching Lady Chevenix. The brave soldier 
 who had won his cross by acts of valor worthy of a hero- 
 was wonderfully impressed by Lady Chevenix. 
 
 " I shall never forget that face, " he paid, u although I may 
 never see it again. How beautiful it is. And yet there is
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 205 
 
 a shadow over it. It is not the face of a happy woman, is 
 it, Lady Maude ?" 
 
 "No, not quite," she replied, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Is Lady Chevenix happy ?" he asked. 
 
 She looked up at him. 
 
 " My dear major, what a question to ask me !" she re- 
 plied. "Who shall say which of us is happy? I think 
 Lady Chevenix loves wealth and position better than any- 
 thing in the world and she has both. " 
 
 " Is it well for us to have our heart's desires?" he asked, 
 gravely. " I have often wondered about that. " 
 
 "I cannot tell," replied Lady Maude u I have not mine." 
 
 "Nor I," said the major, "but this beautiful lady, you 
 say, has hers ?" 
 
 He thought Lady Maude singularly reticent on the sub- 
 ject, the fact being that she never liked to hear I.ady 
 Chevenix mentioned. She could not forgive her f :>r all she 
 had made Felix suffer ; she could not bear to think of so 
 worthy a young fellow having been made wretched tin 
 the caprice of a woman. She never liked to remember the 
 day and the hour in which she had found him stricken like 
 one dead by the treachery of a false woman. 
 
 She said as little as possible about Lady Chevenix at all 
 times. She was half vexed that Major Rawson should ad- 
 mire her, for, if Lady Maude had in her noble hea 
 weakness, it was a great admiration for the hero of 
 Victoria Cross. She would have liked to think 1 
 above the weakness of admiring a fare merelj 
 was beautiful ; she would have felt better pleased it he bad 
 praised it for being noble. Lady Maude admired nobi 
 more than beauty, and could not understand any man b 
 a slave to beauty. 
 
 She liked Major Rawson, and she said to herself n< 
 her exalted fashion, that he was the kmd of hero she ap- 
 proved of. Her noble fare brightened with hap,, 
 he was by her side; she liked to hear him speak ; h 
 ence was a source of unwonted pleasure to 
 
 too proud and stately to say to herself that ah 
 
 him in any way, though she had * l^eat adm 

 
 206 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Sir Owen. Some one gave him an explanation of it, and he 
 came back to ask Lady Maude if it were correct. 
 
 "I wish you would not ask me," she said, "for it is a 
 story I do not like to hear or to speak of. " 
 
 " Your wishes are my law on every subject," replied the 
 major. " If you tell me that I must not ask you I will not, 
 but I am deeply interested, and I do not often interest 
 myself in other persons' affairs." 
 
 " I can only tell you what happened," she replied, for to no 
 creature living had Lady Maude ever betrayed one word of 
 the confidence Felix had reposed in her. " The occurrence," 
 she continued, "is unfortunately very common. Lady 
 Chevenix, then Miss Violet Haye ' beautiful Violet Haye, ' 
 she was called was engaged to marry Felix Lonsdale. I 
 believe that if Sir Owen had delayed his coming for three 
 months longer they would have been married. He came, 
 and with his vast wealth and title soon became the lion of 
 this part of the county. How she broke her troth-plight, 
 and why she broke it, what excuses she made to herself or 
 others made for her, I cannot tell you ; but it is quite cer- 
 tain that she went to London, and that Sir Owen followed 
 and married her there." 
 
 " There can be but one explanation she must have given 
 up her lover for the baronet," said the major, "but I cannot 
 imagine any woman preferring Sir Owen Chevenix to Felix 
 Lonsdale." 
 
 u You forget that Sir Owen had, as the old song says, 
 houses and lands, while Mr. Felix Lonsdale had nothing 
 but his brains." 
 
 The major was silent for some minutes, and then he 
 asked : 
 
 " Is the world very hard on these sins, Lady Maude ?" 
 
 " I do not know. I know that society receives Lady 
 Chevenix with open arm.,." 
 
 " And what do women call such sins ?" he asked again. 
 " What is the name they go by in this curious world called 
 society ?" 
 
 " People give them different names some call them pru- 
 dence, some faithlessness." 
 
 " What do you call such behavior ?" he asked. 
 
 "Mine is a plain, unfashionable term," said Lady Maude. 
 " I call the woman who breaks her word to her lover a jilt, 
 and I call the wrong she does by its right name of perfidy." 
 
 Major Rawson admired the speaker all the more for her 
 frankness. 
 
 And so Sir Owen's garden-party passed off well, every
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 207 
 
 one praising the graceful, beautiful hostess, but no one saw 
 her standing later on in the evening with tears in her 
 watching the sunset. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 RECITING POETRY. 
 
 Sir Owen had a novel idea it was, when the .Time 
 quarter-day came around, to invite the principal tenants to 
 due at Garswood. Such things were done by the 
 landed proprietors of the county, and he was desirous of 
 imitating them. This reminded him that there wei 
 oral other matters that required attention -some <: 
 tenants' leases had fallen in, and to renew them would re- 
 quire a long and patient search in the iron room. wh. 
 deeds and documents of value were preserved. Tliei 
 another important piece of business on hand. One of the 
 farmers in the neighborhood had sold some land \ Sir 
 Owen Chevenix, but soon after the sale lie died, and his 
 successors disputed his right to sell. Most of the old title- 
 deeds of the Garswood estate required careful peru.-i! 
 Sir Owen invited haivy Lousdale to stay for a tew d 
 Garswood. It would be much easier, he thought, for him 
 to read all the various papers there than to 1 
 taken to his office. 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale thought so, too, and promised to 
 to the Hall, but shortly before the appointed time 
 important law business called for his presence m 
 
 "I must go," he said to Felix, u and you will have t 
 my place at Garswood no one else .-an do it. Wfc 
 you say, Felix ? If you dislike it, I will give up my 
 engagement, but I do not think it can make any diffe 
 to you. What do you And the elder man 1 
 
 anxiously into the face of his son. 
 
 Felix was silent for a few minutes, and then fa 
 with a frank rmile : , . t 
 
 "It can't m-tter, father; I go as a man of busn 
 as a friend. I will do it with pleasure. It would be i 
 for you just to write and hint to Sir Owen that he 
 
 Pr "i er donot. think he would," returned Darcy Lon 
 "you are decidedly his tavorite Felix." 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale was right. Sir >wen was ni1K jh 
 the change. He passed the lawyer's letter to his 
 ehe read it.
 
 208 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I am very t)J eased," he said. "Felix is cleverer than 
 his father, and I like him. See that he has a nice room, 
 and that his comforts are well attended to." 
 
 She made some vague reply it seemed to her that 
 heaven and earth were about to meet. That Felix should 
 ever be under her roof as her guest seemed to her a most 
 wonderful thing. How should she receive him? "Would 
 he soften a little in his manner to her ? How fervently she 
 hoped that Sir Owen would treat her, if not kindly, at least 
 with some outward semblance of respect before her old 
 lover. She was glad that Marian Hethcote was still with 
 her it would have been awkward to have met him alone. 
 
 When Sir Owen had quitted the room Marian placed her 
 hands upon Lady Chevenix's shoulders and looked into 
 her face. 
 
 "Tell me," she said, "do you like this arrangement? 
 Does it please or vex you ?" 
 
 Lady Chevenix met her gaze with a calm smile. 
 
 "It does neither," she replied, and then Miss Hethcote 
 understood that the subject of Felix Lonsdale was not to be 
 reopened between them. 
 
 Lady Chevenix never forgot the evening when Felix 
 came. It seemed to her that everything looked the brighter 
 and the better for his coming. Sir Owen had given orders 
 that the dinner should be delayed until he arrived. 
 
 Felix Lonsdale and Lady Chevenix met with seeming in- 
 difference. She looked very beautiful ; she wore a dinner- 
 dress of white lace, with lilies of the valley in her hair. 
 She held out her hand in greeting to him. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Lonsdale," she said. "I 
 hope you will have a few pleasant days with us." 
 
 Miss Hethcote next had something to say to him, and 
 then Sir Owen entered the room. He was most effusive in 
 his greeting. He was delighted to see his guest ; he hoped 
 he would make himself quite at home, and enjoy himself 
 as much as possible. 
 
 Violet could not help contrasting the two men as they 
 stood for that one moment side by side Sir Owen's awk- 
 ward figure and coarse face with the grand beauty of Felix 
 Lonsdale, the nobility of the untitled man with the com- 
 monplaceness of the titled one. The contrast was both 
 sharp and strong ; she felt it keenly. 
 
 Then they went in to dinner. Sir Owen was in one of hjs 
 best humors, and everything went off well. For so much 
 Lady Cheveuix was thaixkJUl ; every hour spent without 
 an outbreak was a gain to her.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 209 
 
 "You will give us this one evening, Mr. Lonsdale," said 
 Sir Owen. u Enjoy yourself a little before you begin to 
 work. " 
 
 It was a matter of perfect indifference to him. If ho had 
 consulted his own inclination he would have preferred to 
 begin work at once, but he could hardly be impolite enough 
 to say so. 
 
 Sir Owen liked to sleep after he had dined. Felix de- 
 clined to take wine, and the baronet, thinking in his heart 
 that the young lawyer was a simpleton for it, went into 
 the drawing-room with him, and then fell asleep. Before, 
 he closed h is eyes he said : 
 
 "Lady Chevenix, Mr. Lonsdale will like to see the 
 grounds, I am sure. You and Miss Hethcote will both 
 enjoy a stroll." 
 
 He never once thought that he was submitting his young 
 wife to a most deadly peril the peril of a gn-at tempta- 
 tion. He never thoxight of Felix Lonsdale as of .ne who 
 had been his wife's lover. He had heen engaged to : 
 that was a well-known, fact; but, so soon as he, il;> 
 torious knight, had appeared, lie had retired from the eon- 
 test defeated, and there was an end of it all. He eon 
 sidered that he had raised his Avife so completely above all 
 her past life, that he had taken her so completely out of 
 her old sphere, that nothing which had interested her then 
 could interest her now he, never pondered the fact that 
 Felix Lonsdale, the rising lawyer, the man of promise, the 
 most clever and skillful practitioner in the county, 
 his wife's old lover. So he lay down in p. itent 
 
 while he sent his young wife out into the lovely summer 
 gloaming with her old lover. 
 
 They walked on, all three together, Baying little, hut 
 thinking perhaps all the more. They passed through the 
 pleasure grounds ; they lingered amon.^ the roses and the 
 lily blooms; they watched the gold fish in the foui 
 The air was balmy, sweet, and fragrant with the odor f 
 flowers. 
 
 "Let us go on to the park," said Marian Hethcote; it 
 will be very pleasant there." 
 
 They passed through the shrubbery and rut 
 park. The beautiful fragrant gloaming had set in; 
 water of the lake was tinged mth crimson and gol 
 lovely light lay over the trees ; there was a faint mm 
 as the wind swayed the branches ..f the trees and 
 the leaves. The peace and beauty, the loveliness and : 
 pose, touched them.
 
 210 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " Shall we sit down here, " said Lady Chevenix, " by the 
 lake side, and watch the light die out over the water ?" 
 
 They sat down, the two ladies side by side, Felix, near- 
 est to Miss Hethcote, at their feet. Marian was talking 
 ga-yly to him ; Lady Chevenix said but little. He who once 
 loved her with such a passionate love looked at her. No 
 dream of poet or painter could ever have been more fair. 
 The evening light fell upon her face, which was raised to 
 the sky as she watched the crimson clouds ; it touched her 
 golden hair and was reflected by the rich jewels that she 
 wore. She had thrown a white lace shawl over her white 
 neck and bare arms ; a corner of it was over her head, and 
 the shadow of it softened her features. She listened to the 
 lively sallies of her girl-friend, wondering if she should 
 ever again be so happy, so light of heart. 
 
 Then Marian sang a quaint little song a ballad telling 
 the story of a knight who had ridden away to the Holy 
 Land, leaving a girl-bride who died while he was away a 
 sweet, sad song, just suited to the hour and the gloaming. 
 
 "Now, Lady Chevenix," she said, "you must sing for us, 
 too ; sing that beautiful song you were practicing this 
 morning. " 
 
 "I was not practicing," returned Lady Chevenix. "I 
 was trying to put some words to an air I think very sad 
 and sweet. If you would like to hear it, I will sing it. 
 Would you care to hear it, Mr. Lonsdale ?" 
 
 He murmured some commonplace words about his hav- 
 ing always liked good music. She smiled bitterly to her- 
 self, and then, in a low, sad, sweet voice, she sang these 
 words : 
 
 " ' Yes, dear, our love is slain- 
 In the cold grave for evermore it lies, 
 
 Never to wake again 
 Or light our sorrow with its starry eyes; 
 
 And so regret is vain. 
 
 " ' We should have seen it shine 
 Long years beside us. Time and Death might fay 
 
 To touch that love divine, 
 Whose strength could ev'ry other stroke defy 
 
 Save only mine ! 
 
 " ' No longing can restore 
 Our dead again. Vain are the tears we weep ; 
 
 And vainly we deplore 
 
 Our buried love. Its grave lies dark and deep 
 Between us evermore.' "
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 211 
 
 Her voice died away in a low, sweet murmur that 
 like the love-plaint of a bird, and they were silent for 
 minutes, none caring to break the spell. Then Felix looked 
 at her. 
 
 "I remember those words," he said; "they are 1 
 from a poem called 'Lost Alice,' by Adelaide Anne Troc- 
 ter. I gave you the book, I think, Lady Chevenix." 
 
 That was the first time he had ever alluded to the : 
 he had until now always treated her as a str;r 
 lady to whom he had been introduced for the first time by 
 Sir Owen Chevem'x. 
 
 Her face brightened when she heard it; it seemed to her 
 that the broken chain had been taken up in those simple 
 words. 
 
 "Yes, you gave it to me," she acknowledged; "ami I 
 know every word of the poem by heart I have read it so 
 often." 
 
 He looked up in surprise. 
 
 " Indeed !" he said. " I thought that you did not care for 
 poetry at all, Lady Chevenix." 
 
 " I fancied that I did not, but I was mistaken. During 
 these later years I have learned to value and und'T 
 many things that were once like so many dead lett< 
 me." 
 
 "I wish," said Marian Hethcote, "that we could under- 
 stand everything at once. As it is, we learn little quickly ; 
 it takes long years to teach us the simplest lessons, and by 
 the time they are learned we must die. As my favorite 
 poet says : 
 
 44 'We live we love; and then 
 
 St. in.' <l.-:id \ve lie. 
 O Life, is all thy song 
 Endure and die ?' 
 
 How much more pleasant it would be if we could n 
 everything at once. What mistakes and bin 
 make! I read the other day of a givat and wisi- man who, 
 when he came to die, said, 'My life has hem all a misl 
 Mr. Lonsdale, I am growing quite sad ; it is your turn t 
 sing for us. " _ . . , 
 
 " I cannot sing, but I will repeat some verses that 1 
 very beautiful, if you would like to hear them. 
 
 "Whose are they?" asked Lady Chevenix. 
 
 "They are Miss Procter's," he replied, and no turn 
 face away from her while he recited them. 
 
 It seemed to Lady Chevenix as though the wind fell
 
 212 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 all nature were hushed to listen. There was no passion, 
 no regret, in the low, rich tones they were clear and sweet 
 and eloquent but each word as it fell in the fragrant 
 gloaming seemed to burn itself on her heart and brain. 
 
 " The poem is called ' Parting, ' " said Felix, " and is so 
 beautiful in itself that it cannot fail to please. 
 
 " ' Without one bitter feeling let us part ; 
 
 And for the years in which your love has shed 
 A radiance like a glory round my head 
 I thank you yes, I thank you from my heart. 
 
 " ' I thank you and no grief is in these tears ; 
 I thank you, not in bitterness, but truth, 
 For the fair vision that adorned my youth 
 And glorified so many happy years. 
 
 " ' Yt how much more I thank you that you tore 
 At length the vail your hand had woven away, 
 Which told my idol was a thing of clay, 
 And false the altar I had knelt before ! 
 
 '* ' I thank you that yon taught me the stern truth 
 None other could have told and I believed 
 That vain had been my love and I deceived, 
 And wasted all the purpose of my youth. 
 
 *' ' I thank you that your hand dashed down the shrine 
 Wherein my idol worship I had paid ; 
 Else had I never known a soul was made 
 To serve and worship only the Divine. 
 
 41 ' I thank you for a terrible awaking 
 
 And, if reproach seemed hidden in my pain, 
 And sorrow seemed to cry on your disdain, 
 Know that my blessing lay in your forsaking. 
 
 " ' Farewell forever now in peace we part ; 
 And should an idle vision of my tears 
 Arise before your soul in after years, 
 Remember that I thank you from my heart.' " 
 
 So clearly, one by one, with cruel distinctness, the words 
 sounded in Violet's ears. She knew, she understood that 
 that was what he would say to her ; in his mind there could 
 never be even the faintest renewal of their past friendship, 
 in his heart he thanked her that his unhappy love, his 
 great abiding sorrow, had taught him many noble lessons. 
 She understood he had said it delicately and kindly, but 
 he had meant it that the whole past was buried for him ; 
 he thanked her that she had taught him to suffer, and 
 suffer in silent strength.
 
 WEAKER THAS A WOMAN. 91* 
 
 was quite silent for many minutes after he had 
 it was Marian who talked to him and made him 
 recite lor them again and again. 
 
 The sun had set, the crimson and gold had faded from 
 jhe water, a gray shade had fallen over it all was quiet, 
 calm, peaceful. Lady Chevenix rested her head against the 
 gnarled trunk of an old tree ; the peace and repose were 
 novel to her. Presently a slight sound in the distance 
 startled her. 
 
 "What is that?" she said. 
 
 " ' It was only the deer that were feeding 
 In a herd on the clover grass:'" 
 
 sang Marian, and Felix looked up with a smile. 
 
 "I know that," he said. "You are quoting from a ballad 
 called 'Hush.' Strange to say, I was thinking of it a short 
 time since. The words were running through my brain." 
 
 " They have run through my heart," remarked Marian, 
 "often and often. I am matter -.! tart myself, hut that 
 song always brings tears to my eyes. Repeat it for OB, -Mr. 
 Lonsdale." 
 
 "I will. There is something in the time thai 
 words. The light is dying in the sky, the sun has .set, the 
 flowers are sleeping, the wood-pigeons are silent, the air is 
 full of dreams. 
 
 "I can scarcely hear," she murmured, 
 
 r my heart beats loud and : 
 But surely, in the far, far distance, 
 I can hear a sound at last? 
 
 " It is only the reapers sinking 
 
 hey carry home their sheaves, 
 And the evening bree/e has risen, 
 Ami rustles ;he dying leaves." 
 
 " ' " Listen ! There arc voices talking !" 
 
 iy ..till she str-% 
 
 Yet her voice grew faint and trembling, 
 And the red Hushed in h 
 
 "It is only the children playing, 
 
 , n,,w their w..rk is done. 
 And they lauyh that th-ir .izzlod 
 
 Uy the ra. 
 
 ** 'Fainter <jrc' w her voice, ar; 
 
 .vith nnxi" 
 
 "Down the avenue of cli--stnuts 
 I can hear a horseman ride !" 
 
 "It was only the deer that were feeding 
 In a herd on the clover grass ;
 
 fll WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 They were startled and fled to the thicket 
 As they saw the reapers pass.' J 
 
 41 ' Now the night arose in silence, 
 Birds lay in their leafy nest, 
 And the deer couched in the forest, 
 And the children were at rest. 
 
 There was only a sound of weeping 
 
 From watchers around a bed 
 But rest to the weary spirit. 
 Peace to the quiet dead. ' :; 
 
 There was silence as the last words fell, and Lady Cheve- 
 nix bowed her head, so as to hide her tears. The gray 
 shadows fell darker. 
 
 A loud voice roused them. 
 
 " Where are you ? Where have you hidden yourselves ? 
 Surely a ramble among the flowers does not mean an en- 
 carnpment by the lake." 
 
 Through the clear fragrant air came the odor of a cigar, 
 and Sir Owen, looking very cross, suddenly appeared be- 
 fore them. 
 
 "I could not find you anywhere," he said, in a sullen 
 tone. " You must have hidden yourselves on purpose. " 
 
 Lady Chevenix did not answer him, because she knew 
 that it was needless to do so. Miss Hethcote was equal to 
 the occasion. 
 
 "If we had wanted to hide," she said, "we should have 
 hidden. As we did not, we remained here. If you are 
 going to be cross, Sir Owen, do not spoil an agreeable 
 party by joining it." 
 
 He laughed then, and sat down with them, but the 
 beauty, the poetry and peace, were all gone. He began to 
 teL of a fight he had seen between a King Charles' spaniel 
 a IK a toy terrier ; laughing heartily at it, and wondering 
 they did not laugh also. It was an exquisite joke to him to 
 tell how the little King Charles lay dying and even in 
 dying tried to lick his hand. 
 
 " Do you enjoy seeing anything suffer, Sir Owen, " asked 
 Miss Hethcote. 
 
 " I think a dog-fight, or anything cf that kind, capital 
 eport," he answered. 
 
 "But the unfortunate creatures must feel." 
 
 " Feel !" sneered Sir Owen. " What nonsense ! Foxes 
 were made to be hunted, rats to be worried, dogs to fight. 
 Why should they feel?" 
 
 With a shrug of her shoulders she turned away from
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 215 
 
 Kim. Sir Owen laughed again ; he rather enjoyed a dispute 
 with a pretty girl. 
 
 " I am not one of your sentimentalists," he said. " Now, 
 Mr Lonsdale could give you poems by the yard, I am SUIT." 
 
 " I should be very sorry to do so," remarked Felix; "at 
 the same time I give the preference to poetry rathei than 
 to dog-fights." 
 
 Sir Owen laughed again ; in his own opinion he -\\ 
 most manly man, and Felix most insignificant. Felix an.se 
 from his seat and strolled away; he felt disgust almost 
 amounting to hatred for this coarse, vulgar, re| u'sive man. 
 
 u Do not leave us, Mr. Lonsdale," said Sir (hven. "I 
 will take Miss Hethcote indoors, and you can escort her 
 ladyship though she looks decidedly sullen." 
 
 It was useless for Lady Chevenix to say that she had no 
 thought of being sullen ; when Sir Owen had once asserted 
 a thing he maintained it. She looked up into tl: 
 Felix Lonsdale with a smile that made his heart beat ; 
 than usual. 
 
 "That is not one of my faults," she said. "I do n. 
 member having ever been sullen in my life ; I have seldom 
 been out of temper." 
 
 He remembered the sweet sunny temper that had i 
 known cloud or variableness, but offered no remar 1 ,. 
 had resolved to himself so often that nothing should induce 
 him to talk to her about the past. They walked toward the 
 house through the deepening shadows, and said but little t> 
 each other. 
 
 When they reached the Hall Lady Chevenix was gr- 
 to find a telegram from Mrs. Hethcote. Some fi , 
 
 arrived quite unexpectedly, and she wished Marian 
 turn at once. Felix wondered why the mistress of 
 wood should turn so white when she had read the t.-L 
 why she should place her hands upon the girl's shoulder 
 and say to her so sadly : 
 
 "What shall 1 do without you, Mar 
 
 "I will come back to you as soon as I can, dear Lady 
 Chevenix," replied the girl, "and in the meantime Mr. 
 Lonsdale will be here." 
 
 Afterward, when Lady Chevenix bad gon. 
 about her journey. Miss Hethcote said, suddenly, i 
 
 "I shall go away much happier for leaving you ' 
 
 "I shall be here for a few days only," returned 
 "Why should you be happy about my being here I 
 understand." 
 
 "I may speak freely to you," said Miss Hethcote; yoi
 
 216 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 know them, and you belong in some measure to them. I 
 may tell you that Lady Cnevenix lives in mortal fear of 
 her husband." 
 
 "Why?" asked Felix. 
 
 " He has been very violent to her many times. It is not 
 long since she had to send for Mrs. Haye, being afraid of 
 losing her life. She has refused to be left alone since then. 
 That is why I have been with her so long, and why I am 
 .glad you are here. " 
 
 "But," said Felix, "he loves her he must love her." 
 
 " I say nothing about that. He may love her, or he may 
 not, but, when he is half mad with drink, she has reason to 
 be alarmed." 
 
 "I cannot think that even then he would hurt her," said 
 Felix. 
 
 " Well, it is very pleasant to have such cheerful views of 
 things. I should be glad if I could share your faith, but 
 unfortunately I have seen bruises on her arms and marks 
 on her face, such as, if I had been a man, would have made 
 me feel inclined to call Sir Owen out. " 
 
 She saw the handsome face of the man before her grow 
 pale with emotion. She saw his strong hands tremble and 
 his fingers clench tightly. She talked until the storm of 
 passion had passed over him. 
 
 "I cannot bear to think of any woman being ill-used," he 
 said ; " it is one of the things that irritates me and makes 
 me angry with an anger that frightens me. But Lady 
 Chevenix is so gentle, so amiable, I cannot understand any 
 man being unkind to her. " 
 
 "I can understand anything Sir Owen does," rejoined 
 Miss Hethcote. "Mr. Lonsdale, you will be kind to her?" 
 she pleaded. " Believe me that a peasant- woman working 
 in the fields, or a factory girl in a mill, is happier than 
 Lady Chevenix of Garswood." 
 
 " I am grieved to hear it'" he said, and then Miss Heth- 
 cote left him. 
 
 She went away early the next morning, never dreaming 
 of what would happen before she saw Garswood and its 
 mistress again. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 * 
 
 THE BLOW IN THE FACE. 
 
 On the morning after Miss Heth cote's departure Sir Owen 
 did not come down to breakfast, but Felix met his valet
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 217 
 
 with some soda water and brandy. The young lawyer de- 
 scended to the breakfast-room, where Lady Chevenix 
 awaited him. She looked very fair and young in her pretty 
 morning-dress. She was so pleased to see him ; her face 
 brightened, her eyes met his with such a glad light ; she 
 could not be cold and formal to him. 
 
 " How true you are to your colors, Lady Chevenix !" he 
 said " Blue and white I hardly remember to have seen 
 you wear anything else." 
 
 "You will own that they are pretty colors, will you not?" 
 she asked, with a smile one of those charming smiles 
 that stir a man's heart and pulse. 
 
 He sat down at the breakfast-table with her, and he 
 asked himself had fate ever placed another man in such a 
 predicament before. 
 
 "See," she said, "I remember your tastes. You like tea 
 better than coffee, and you like fruit. Tlu-M- strawberries 
 have just been gathered ; they liave the dew on them. 
 
 She talked to him during breakfast, so gayly, so kindly, 
 but, when he looked at her, there was something almost 
 pathetic in her eyes something that in spite <>t her I 
 liant beauty, was half sad. Then, when they had finished 
 breakfast, a servant came in to say thai Sir Owen woul< 
 join them in a few minutes, and would take Mr. Lon 
 to the strong-room. 
 
 The long French windows were open, and -n-at heavy 
 red roses came peeping in. L-'idy ( 'hevenix went f. them ; 
 Felix followed her, and they si ..... 1 talking to* 
 Borne vague way the years seemed to have fallen from 1 
 the terrible past for a few moments ^asforgoton. He wa 
 like the Felix of old, she like beautiful \ m et Haye. 
 had just a few happv minutes, during which they 
 only of the roses before then, and the pleasant pr 
 Then Sir Owen came in. and it was as though the u h< 
 face of the heavens had changed, 
 
 The baronet and his 1,-al adviser went away **&* 
 and Felix spent the whole of the Jay* the strong 
 reading documents and papers of aU kinds 
 Sir Owen and his wife again until dinner, and t 
 first day of his visit passed quietly enough. 
 
 the second the tenanl ^ 
 
 -
 
 218 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 After a pleasant day they left Garswood early in the even 
 ing. 
 
 Lady Chevenix had been alone all day; the servants 
 were in attendance on the numerous guests, and in the 
 evening she asked for tea, thinking that Sir Owen and Felix 
 would like to join her. Sir Owen, who had drank more 
 brandy in a few hours than another man would have drank 
 in a week, made some observation about her ladyship's tea, 
 which, when repeated by the footman in the servants' hall, 
 caused great amusement. Felix was sorry to decline, but 
 he had some hours of hard work yet in the strong-room ; 
 the leases were all to be signed on the morrow. 
 
 When the visitors were all gone he returned to the 
 strong-room and resumed his work. Lady Chevenix wont 
 to him to persuade him to let her send some tea there, and 
 he consented. He looked at her, as she stood in that 
 darkened room, in her evening dress of white silk and trail- 
 ing lace. She wore a superb suite of opals, which shone 
 with the " fire that lives in gems. " She looked like a dream 
 of beauty in that dull, gloomy room. 
 
 She sent him sonrfe tea, and asked him to come to the 
 drawing-room when he had finished, and he promised to 
 do so. When she returned Sir Owen lay on one of the 
 couches, fast asleep. 
 
 She was thankful to see him asleep, and hoped that he 
 might wake up quite himself. She drew down the blinds 
 and darkened the room. Who could tell what she suffered 
 in her heart, this fair, stately woman, who shrank so 
 keenly from all stigma of disgrace, her daily, hourly dread 
 lest her husband should do something that would entail 
 everlasting shame upon them, lest any one should see him 
 in those moments when he was quite unfit to be seen? 
 What a ^double life she led, this brilliant and beautiful 
 woman before the world all gayety, smiles, and anima- 
 tion, in her own heart always a terrible weight of anxiety. 
 
 For this evening at least she was safe. She thought he 
 would wake up himself, and then they would spend a 
 happy hour with Felix, so she watched lest sound or light 
 should disturb him until Mr. Lonsdale joined them. 
 
 He awoke at last, but the sun had long set, and the fra- 
 grant silence of night lay over the earth. She had cooling 
 fruit that was pleasant to eye and taste ready for him, 
 she had everything that was refreshing, but no stimulant, 
 fie pasned aside the purple grapes and the crimson straw- 
 berries. 
 
 "Where is the brandy?" he asked her. "The idea of
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 219 
 
 offering a man such things as those," he exclaimed. "Ring 
 for. the brandy :" 
 
 She dared not refuse moreover, refusal would have 
 been of no use. She rang the bell and gave the message, 
 but, before the brandy came, with 
 
 she had lured him from the room, hoping that he would 
 forget it. She walked through the i dors for 
 
 minutes, talking to him, then he suddenly remem 
 Felix, and said nothing would satisfy him unless he left his 
 work and joined them. lie went to persuade him, while 
 Lady Chevenix ordered the lamps in the drawing-room to 
 be lighted. 
 
 The two gentlemen returned together, and they ]>] 
 for some time at cribbage, a game for which 
 a great liking. Suddenly he remembered the brandy, and 
 
 1 for it. Lady Chevenix dreaded its coming 
 the evening was warm, and begged of him to take some 
 iced tea instead. He laughed at her. 
 
 "Listen to her ladyship!'' he cried. "T< 
 very name of it makes* me shudder. I want brandy noth- 
 ing el 
 
 She remonstrated again, but very mildly. She felt that 
 uld bear anything better than this, that the man she 
 had forsaken should see in his true colors the man she had 
 married. 
 
 Those last words proved too much for SirO 
 swore roundly at her. "What business of 1 
 asked, if he wanted a sea of brandy. Let 
 herself remember from what position he hud taken 
 and not attempt to dictate to him ; he would not endure it. 
 She tried to soothe and conriliate him ; she D 
 have tried to - panther. 
 
 The brandy was brought, but even then he did T. 
 
 1 humor. Felix was miserable, 
 put down his cards and 1 -night, but h 
 
 of Lady Chevenix growing white, and lie 
 
 hl-r. Miss Hethcote bad told him of SirO 
 lence. He would not leave her to the meivy 
 man, yet every moment he n-mained with them \\ 
 ture t<) him. Sir Owen had n< moderation. In 
 wife and Felix engaged him with cards and in 
 tion. Despi: 'liing he tilled and replenished bis 
 
 tumbler. At length the alcohol began to take such an 
 upon him that Lady Chevenix ' prudent t.. n 
 
 - It is growing k.'i -aid ; " wu had better put O6K 
 
 the cards."
 
 220 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "Yes," agreed Felix ; "I am tired." 
 
 He had no time to finish his speech. Sir Owen did not 
 seem to hear it. He merely turned with a scowl to his 
 wife, and cried, in a voice of thunder : 
 
 " Sit down, and go on with the game. " 
 
 Felix saw that she trembled in every limb, yet she kept 
 all sign of emotion from her face ; nothing but its pallor 
 betrayed her fear. She sat down, but the young lawyer's 
 spirit was roused. He threw the cards upon the table. 
 
 "Lady Chevenix is very amiable to go on playing, " he 
 said ; "I shall not. It is late, and quite time to leave off." 
 
 Without a word, and so suddenly that there was no time 
 to prevent it, Sir Owen turned and struck his wife in the 
 face. 
 
 "Take that," he said, "and mind you do not interfere 
 with me again !" 
 
 The next moment a pair of strong arms had seized him 
 and had literally thrown him across the room. His face 
 white, his whole body trembling with passion, Felix stood 
 over him. 
 
 " If you touch her ladyship again, if you lay your cow- 
 ardly hands upon her," he cried, "I will kill you !" 
 
 Then he turned to Violet. She stood trembling, with a 
 great red mark across her lovely pale face a mark that 
 burned like a hot iron. 
 
 "Oh, Lady Chevenix," he said, "I am so sorry ! I ought 
 to have been quicker, more on my guard. Are you much 
 hurt?'' 
 
 She raised her face with that terrible bruise on it to his, 
 and he saw great tears in her eyes. For a moment the old 
 impulse of love was strong upon him, and he longed to 
 shelter the golden head, every hair of which was dear to 
 him, on his breast ; then he recollected himself, and said, 
 gently : 
 
 " I shall never forgive myself that this has happened. If 
 1 had been quicker " He broke off abruptly, for his wrath 
 was rising again. "I shall kill him," he cried, "if he 
 touches you !" 
 
 She looked up at him ; the bruised face touched his 
 heart, and he turned away. Sir Owen was lying just where 
 he had thrown him. He went over to him ; the baronet had 
 most composedly fallen asleep. 
 
 "Thank Heaven," he said, "that I did not kill him that 
 I did not do him some deadly harm. Shall I ring for the 
 servants ?" he asked Lady Chevenix, and he never forgot 
 her answer.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. '221 
 
 "If you would not mind it," she said, "I should be so 
 thankful if you would place him in a chair; I do not like 
 the servants to see all that happens. " 
 
 He raised Sir Owen, who made some violent plunges tlio 
 while, and placed him in a chair. The baronet fell placidly 
 asleep again, and Felix went back t<> Lady Chevenix. 
 
 " You must apply something to your face," he said, "or it 
 will be black to-morrow." 
 
 She smiled and raised the white lace that fell over her 
 ai-rn. He saw a long dark bruise, the mark of a. cruel . 
 that had held the delicate arm in an iron vise. 
 
 "I am seldom without a mark," she told him, "hut I do 
 not often find them on my lac, 
 
 He looked sorrowfully at the graceful woman who li.nl 
 preferred money to love, and had sufl'ered so t'-rrilily for 
 her choice ; he longed to say something kind toher. but 
 prudence forbade Mm. She held out her hand to him, 
 and he saw how it trembled. She smiled, and he 
 forgot the smile. 
 
 "Some day," she said, "he will most probably kill me. If 
 he does you will always remember that 1 I v 
 had grieved you, Felix." 
 
 "I will remember," he returned, gravely, lie held her 
 hand for one moment while he bade her good nigh: 
 then she went away. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 FEAR AND ANXIETY. 
 
 .Felix thought long and anxiously about his r.-tuni from 
 wood. He was glad that he had treated SirOw* 
 
 lie did; he said to himself that he should 1 
 
 than a. 'man had he not acted as he did. ^ * not 
 
 likely that after what had passed In- could remain under 
 
 SirOwen's roof; neither did he desire tod,, a 
 torture to him !< see Violet ill-treated ; he could 
 it nor could he interfere to prevent it. 
 
 Moreover, he believed it to be quite impossible t 
 the frocoa Sir Owen could continue his bus; ii"ns 
 
 with' himself and his father ; a man might I luch, 
 
 but knocking a person down was a serioi 
 when the sunshine came peeping into hi 
 quite made up his mind that that would be h 
 
 at the Hall. 
 
 His ideas were confirmed when a servant, I
 
 222 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 door, said that Sir Owen would be glad to see Mr. Lonsdale 
 in his own room. That, he believed, was the prelude to his 
 dismissal. 
 
 "Never mind," said Felix to himself ; "if I were placed 
 in such circumstances again I should do just the same, and 
 perhaps more. " 
 
 He went immediately to the baronet's room. As he 
 passed from one room to another he could not help admir- 
 ing the magnificence and luxury of the house ; it was 
 simply superb, and the morning sun shining through the 
 windows, made it more beautiful still. He little guessed 
 what that same sun would see before it set. 
 
 He entered Sir Owen's room quite anticipating, and in- 
 deed half hoping for his dismissal, but his heart was 
 touched when he saw the trembling figure before him. Sir 
 Owen, flushed and excited with drink, was bad enough ; Sir 
 Owen, in the morning light, trembling, weak, and haggard, 
 was worse. Felix quietly awaited the beginning of the 
 storm, but, to his surprise, Sir Owen held out his hand. 
 The young lawyer would not see it ; he felt that he could 
 never touch a hand that had been raised against a woman. 
 
 " I am really very sorry, Lonsdale," Sir Owen began. " I 
 am afraid I was too much excited over the tenants' dinner, 
 and forgot myself. I am very sorry. I hope that I was not 
 offensive to you ?" 
 
 " He has forgotten what happened," thought Felix to him- 
 self. " I must tell him." 
 
 "You were not offensive to me, Sir Owen," he said, "but 
 you behaved with the greatest brutality to Lady Chevenix. 
 You struck her with such violence that I was compelled to 
 interfere. " 
 
 There was something ruefully comic about the baronet's 
 face. 
 
 "I ought to be much obliged to you, I am sure," he said. 
 " I love my wife very much, and cannot understand how 
 I could have so forgotten myself. But I am very unfortu- 
 nate when I exceed my usual allowance of wine, Lonsdale. 
 You will shake hands and be friends ?" 
 
 " I am willing to forget my share in the business, Sir 
 Owen. But excuse my shaking hands with you." 
 
 The baronet laughed uneasily. 
 
 " You are very particular, " he said, and then turned the 
 conversation. 
 
 Felix, despite his disgust, felt a great pity for him ; it 
 was not lessened when he saw his valet come to him with a 
 bottle and a glass.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 223 
 
 "Take less of that, Sir Owen," he said, "or you will kill 
 yourself." 
 
 "Well, I have to die, and I may just as well die taking 
 what I like as taking medicine. Some men have m 
 
 live for than I have. lam very fond of my wit'.-, hut she 
 does not care much about me, and I have no child. I really 
 believe, Lonsdale, that I should be quite a different man if 1 
 had a child/' 
 
 " You have plenty to live for, Sir Owen. You have your 
 duty to do on earth, yet more, you must think of a future 
 life," sa.id Felix. 
 
 " I can pay other men to do my duty, and, as to a future 
 life well, I have not been able to decide about that \ 
 
 "It is high time you did so," said Felix, gravely, and Sir 
 Owen laughed. 
 
 "I have no thought of dying yet, Lonsdale; indeed. I 
 dare not die if all that the parsons say is true. I.- I us talk 
 about something more sensible. Are you going to work 
 again to-day .'" 
 
 "The work has to be done, and I suppose I must do it. 
 The leases have to be signed this morning/' 
 
 "I will sign them before I go," said Sir O\ven. "Tain 
 going out this morning, because I do not feel like myself. 
 I am out of spirits; a cloud is hanging over me. I shall 
 have a good gallop, and see if I cannot el tho 
 
 heavi' 
 
 Felix went to his work, which on this morning was in 
 the library, and before he had been there v L . r y lung I^idy 
 Chevenix entered. 
 
 "I did not know that you were be: ud. "Slmll I 
 
 be in the way '. I have some letters to write." 
 
 Ee placed a chair for her, and then looked at her 
 Across the soft cheek was the mark of a violent hlo\v. 
 
 "It is not very painful/' she said. 
 
 Presently Sir Owen came in to si.ni 
 seemed verv much ashamed of himself when lie 
 bruise on his wife's face. II" l"<>k her to the - 
 window, and they stood there for some time talk 
 Laxly Chevenix came back t> her place, and Sir Owen 
 out of the room. 
 
 Violet and Felix went on writing in silen< tbCTt 
 
 came a tap at the door. Sir Owen's groom wanted to know 
 if he mi /hi speak to her ladyship fora few inin'r 
 
 Lady '( 'hevenix bade him come in. Tin- man stood bet 
 her, cap in hand. 
 
 "My lady," he said, "I beg your pardon; I must make
 
 224 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 bold enough to ask you to interfere. Sir Owen he will go 
 out riding this morning. That is all good and fair, my 
 lady, but he will ride the new hunter Plantagenet, and he 
 is no more fit for it than a child. " 
 
 "You had better tell him so, Martin," returned Lady 
 Chevenix. 
 
 " My lady, I have told him, over and over again. The 
 more I tell him the more he will go." 
 
 Lady Chevenix looked helplessly at Felix. 
 
 "Mr. Lonsdale," she said, "will you go and try to per- 
 suade Sir Owen not to ride that horse ? It is a highly met- 
 tled animal, and he has never ridden it yet. " 
 
 Martin touched his forehead to Felix. 
 
 " If you could persuade the master to stay at home this 
 morning, you would do him a service, sir," he said. "In- 
 deed, my lady," he continued, turning to Lady Chevenix, 
 " Sir Owen could hardly manage Bonnie Bess this morning, 
 his hands are so shaky. " 
 
 " Thank you, Martin, " she responded ; " it was very 
 thoughtful of you to come to me. Mr. Lonsdale will follow 
 you. " 
 
 When the groom had retired she went up to Felix and 
 laid her hand upon his arm. 
 
 "I know that you will do your best for me, " she said, 
 pleadingly. 
 
 " You may be sure that I will, " returned Felix, and then 
 he went away. 
 
 He might as well have appealed to a rock. All that he 
 said, Sir Owen laughed to scorn. 
 
 " Something happen to me ?" he cried. " Yes, I know 
 what it will be. I shall come home cured of the ' blues. ' I 
 am going to gallop dull care away, and Plantagenet shall 
 help me." 
 
 Felix looked attentively at the horse. 
 
 " I was never afraid of a horse yet," he said, " but I would 
 not ride that one. " 
 
 Lady Chevenix, finding that Felix did not return, came 
 to see how matters were progressing. She gave a little cry 
 of alarm when she saw the great powerful hunter, and her 
 husband preparing to mount him. 
 
 "Owen," she cried, "my dear, do not attemp 1 " it. Pray, 
 pray do not. " 
 
 He felt rather flattered by her evident anxiety, and 
 ouched her face with hi lips. 
 
 "Good-by. Violet. Do not make a scene. I have said
 
 WEAKER THAN A TF0AT.-1.V. 225 
 
 that I will ride Plantagenet, and I mean to do so ; nothing 
 on earth shall prevent me." 
 
 She cried aloud in her distress. Felix interpos 
 
 " I should enjoy a gallop this fine morning, Sir Owen," he 
 said. " Shall I go with you ?" 
 
 "As my head-nurse, eh, Lonedale? No, thank you. I 
 can take care of myself very well, inde- L" 
 
 For more than half an hour the t)- <>c r.ia true friend, 
 the anxious wife, and the faithful ser -ant reasoned in 
 vain. They could never reproach themselves in after days 
 that they had not done their best, but their words wnv as 
 vain as the beating of tiny wavelets against a sturdy n>rk. 
 Sir Owen would ride Plantagenet, and there was an end of 
 it. The only compromise that Lady Chevenix could 
 was that he should take the groom with him. 
 
 "If it will please you, Violet," he said, "I will do so." He 
 thought himself very good-natured in giving way so far. 
 
 She liked to remember afterward that she went up to him 
 and said : 
 
 "Owen, I would do anything in the world for you, if you 
 would give up this mad idea anything ! Do please me 
 this once." 
 
 He kissed her, and then got into the saddle. 
 
 "I shall be back to dinner all right," he told her. " I 
 be rather late, for I shall ride around by Park.-rh 
 
 "Martin,"' said Lady Chevenix to the groom, "do not 
 leave your master for one moment. Do what yon can." 
 
 "I will, my lady," he replied, "but I misdoubt me it will 
 end badly." 
 
 With a heavy heart Lady Chevenix re-entered the 1, 
 and Felix went back co his writing. Violet retired t" IHT 
 own room, to while the time away with a hook. 
 
 The sunny hours of the beautiful day wore on 
 came over the smiling heavens ; yet th.-n- was a faint wail 
 in the summer wind wlii.-li t<> the weather -\vis- heralded i 
 storm. The shadows lengthened, and r-YIix had not left 
 th<- library; he had partaken 9! a bi^-mt and 
 sherry there, as he was anxious to gi-t his work done. 
 hud completely finished by six o'clock, and on 
 search of Sir Owen was told that he had not yet 
 Lady Chevenix was in her room. He would have been gl 
 if he could have gone home then; he did not 
 main for the long formal dinner and the long forma 
 ing. Still he was unwilling to leave Lady Chevmx ant 
 her husband returned. 
 
 The first bell rang, and he went to his room. en,
 
 226 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 he was told, had not returned, and her ladyship seemed 
 anxious about him. After a little while Felix went into the 
 drawing-room, where Lady Chevenix sat, dressed for din- 
 ner, looking superbly beautiful in a dinner dress of blue 
 velvet and a suite of pearls. She turned to him anxiously. 
 
 "Sir Owen has not returned," she said. "I have told 
 them to keep back the dinner until he conies. " 
 
 He saw that she was terribly anxious, and did his best to 
 cheer her. He went to the balcony, where roses and jessa- 
 mine grew in wild profusion. 
 
 "Come and look at these flowers, Lady Chevenix," he 
 said. " I read a beautiful legend about the jessamine the 
 other day." And while she stood by his side he related it 
 to her. 
 
 The anxious look fell from her face, and her eyes lost 
 their strained, intent expression. He thought, if he could 
 keep her r ttention engaged until Sir Owen returned, how 
 well it would be how much pain it would spare her. She 
 turned to him suddenly : 
 
 " Do you think anything can have happened ?" she asked. 
 " Ought I to send servants out to look for Sir Owen ?" 
 
 " Martin is with him, ' said Felix. 
 
 He left her for a few minutes, under the pretext of find- 
 ing something fchat he had missed. In reality he gave direc- 
 tions for four of the men-servants to Amount at once, and 
 ride off in search of their master, and then he returned to 
 Lady Chevenix. 
 
 "I am growing terribly frightened, Felix," she said. 
 
 In this hour of supreme anxiety all barriers seemed to 
 have fallen between them. She forgot that he was the man 
 she had forsaken and deceived. She thought of him only 
 as one in whom she put infinite trust in whom she had in- 
 finite faith. He was once more the Felix on whom she had 
 relied from her childhood upward. 
 
 " I do not think you need be alarmed, Lady Chevenix, 
 and for this reason Martin is with him. If anything had 
 happened to Sir Owen the groom would have hastened 
 back ; of that you may be quite sure." 
 
 The thought was reassuring, and Lady Chevenix was re- 
 lieved.
 
 ti THAN A WOMAN. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XLL 
 "WEAKER THAN A WOMAN." 
 
 Seven o'clock struck, and then half-past, and Felix per- 
 suaded Lady Chevenix to take some dinner. If anything 
 had happened, bethought to himself, she would be ; 
 able to meet it after dining. She \\as very unwill 
 first, but after a time she consented, and dim 
 
 "I know what I think myself," said Felix, "g 
 has called in somewhere, and they have persuaded him to 
 stav. Try to imagine that ; it seems to me not unr. 
 able." 
 
 They sat alone at the stately dining-table, when 
 ver plate and the richly cut glass I.^.krd so brillian; 
 table where Lady Chevenix had uud< i >:iany hu- 
 
 miliations. It was but a farce ; neither of them eoiil'i 
 
 Eight o'clock chimed, and no other sound broke the sum- 
 mer silence. 
 
 "I cannot sit here any longer doing nothing," said Lady 
 Chevenix. " I am quite sure now that something has hap- 
 pened ; I must send out a few of the sen an 
 
 "I have done that," Felix told her. "All that is pu- 
 nas been done ; they will return together 90 
 
 His words were prophetically true. Kveu as bespoke 
 they heard a confused noise at the grand entrance-hall 
 the rush of many feet, the cries of women, and the 
 voices of men. 
 
 Felix never forgot Violet. She arose from her seat, and 
 stood hesitating for one moment pale as death. Then sin- 
 turned to the door. But Felix was before hi-r. That whld 
 was happening in the hall was most assuredly something 
 which she must not see. 
 
 "Sit down. Lady Chevenix," he said. "You mu 
 out there. Let me see what is wrong." 
 
 She did not seem to understand him, but he j 
 in a chair, and then opened the door. There w., 
 terrified servants, and women's voices cried, "Oh, my laoj 
 oh, my la-! 
 
 He held up his hand with an imperative gesture. 
 
 "You will kill Lady < 'hevemx. be said, ' with ibw noise. 
 Let no one go near her. "
 
 228 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 He took one step forward, and at once saw the cause of 
 the commotion. A crowd of men stood round a litter, and 
 on the litter lay Sir Owen. Felix pushed them aside. 
 
 " Is he dead ?" he asked, and the answer was, " No. " 
 
 " Thank Heaven for that !" he cried. Then he uttered a 
 little cry of dismay, for Lady Chevenix stood by his side. 
 
 " What has happened ?" she said. u Tell me the worst. " 
 
 " Sir Owen has been thrown from his horse ; and Martin 
 says the horse fell on him, " cried a dozen voices. 
 
 And then, his eyes dim with tears, his whole frame 
 trembling with excitement, Martin forced his way through 
 the group, and stood before Lady Chevenix and Felix. 
 
 "My lady," he said, " I wish I had been dead before this 
 day came around. You sent me to take care of him, and 
 he is brought home so. " 
 
 " Tell Lady Chevenix how it happened," directed Felix, 
 hastily. 
 
 " Sir Owen rode nearly all the time, my lady, and I rode 
 by his side. We went all round Lilford, Harberly, and 
 Ripdale. He stopped at Ripdale, and took some refresh- 
 ment. Then he came home by the woods, and the horse 
 was all right until Sir Owen came to the ring fence. The 
 church clock at Lilford had chimed half-past seven. He 
 turned to me and said, ' Martin, I shall take that fence in 
 fine style. ' I begged him not ; I prayed him not. I told 
 him the fence was too high for any horse, even the best in 
 the kingdom, to take. But he would not listen you know, 
 my lady, he never would listen. He put the horse at the 
 fence, and it refused. He whipped it and spurred it until 
 my blood ran cold, and then he put it at the fence again. 
 But Plantagenet would not take it. A third time he used 
 the whip and spur, until the horse went almost mad. A 
 third time he went at the fence. The horse tried his best, 
 but his fore-feet caught the top, and he fell over, master 
 being underneath him, my lady. When I went to raise 
 him, I was afraid he had been crushed into a shapeless 
 mass, but he was not, nor was he killed, for I felt his 
 heart beating. I had a flask of brandy in my pocket, and I 
 put it to his lips he could not swallow it. I had to leave 
 him there while I galloped off to the nearest cottage and 
 gave the alarm. Then we made a litter, and brought him 
 home." 
 
 Felix turned to him. 
 
 "How long will it take you," he said, " to ride to Lilford, 
 and bring back two doctors ?" 
 
 "I can do it in two hours and a half," replied Martin,
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAX. 229 
 
 "Go at once," said Felix, "and lose no time. You, John, 
 go to Ordstone Station, and send a telegram to Sir William 
 Daly, the great London physician. Tin- address is Hyde 
 Park Gardens. Say what has happened, and ask him to 
 come at once. You, Stephen, go for Mrs. Ha the 
 
 carriage, so that she can return at once. Horton, il 
 will help me, we will carry Sir Owen to his room." 
 
 Felix sent for Mrs. Ward ley, the housekeeper, and when 
 she appeared he begged of Lady Chevenix to leave them 
 for a time. She was very unwilling to do so. 
 
 "I ought to be with him, Felix," she said. "I ought, 
 indeed." 
 
 " So you shall be when I think it is right to send for y 
 he answered, and she went away. 
 
 They carried the baronet into a spacious, hands. 
 furnished bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the i 
 lighted. They laid him on the bed of down, and the faithful 
 servants wept over him. 
 
 "I always knew that it would be so," said Mrs. War 
 "I have always expeeted this evil day. I was his mo- 
 nurse, sir," she added, speaking to Felix, "and I n 
 him until he was three years old. He never won I 
 never and it has come at last." 
 
 The men took off his clothes, and placed him betw.-en the 
 fine linen sheets. Felix examined hi: 
 could discover no bruise, no wound. But for the pallor of 
 his face he might have been asleep. 
 
 "Ibegin to hope, Horton." he said to the butl 
 there is not much the matter. 1 cannot see a wound. H< 
 is stunned with the fall." 
 
 But Hort'.n shook his white head. 
 
 " I am afraid, sir, that it is more than that. V. 
 is it nov 
 
 Felix took out his watch. 
 
 "It is just a quarter past nine," he replied. 
 
 "It w'ill take two hours and a half to bring 
 
 ; that will ma it a qu 
 might come in, sir. There is nothing to frightei 
 
 Then Lady Chevenix did come in. Felix ! 
 
 Of" ll { tf* 
 
 "I begin to have every hope,"" 1 ' - 
 much the matter, I think 
 broken limbs nor bruises. 1 am of opinion 
 has been stunned by the fall We will bathe his 
 try me brandy between bia lips. I do not 
 
 there is very much the ma
 
 230 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Lady Chevenix went up to her husband, and knelt down 
 by his side. She had never -professed any love for him, 
 but, as he lay there, white, silent, and helpless, a keen 
 sense of pity and compassion for him awoke in her heart. 
 She took his hands in her own, and rubbed them. 
 
 "Owen," she said u my dear, try to speak to me." 
 
 They brought brandy ; Felix gave it to him himself with 
 a spoon, and this time they were quite sure he swallowed 
 it. Felix looked at Violet. 
 
 "He has swallowed it," he said ; "and see there is some 
 color coming back to his lips. Lady Chevenix, speak to him 
 again. " 
 
 "Owen, "she said "my dear, can you speak to me?" 
 And this time there was no mistake ; one of his eyelids 
 moved, and his lip?, trembled faintly. 
 
 " He is getting better !" she cried. " I can see his lips 
 move !" 
 
 They redoubled their efforts, and presently the pale lips 
 parted. Felix gave him a little more brandy. They left 
 nothing undone that they could do, the four who stood so 
 anxiously by him his wife, Felix, the butler, and Mrs. 
 Wardley. At last the baronet gave a deep sigh and opened 
 his eyes. His wife bent over ^im. 
 
 " Are you better, Owen ?" she asked, gently. 
 
 He looked up at her. 
 
 u Better ?" he repeated. " I am all right." 
 
 " Tell me what is the matter ?" 
 
 " I had a nasty fall. I remember it now," said Sir Owen. 
 " It stunned me. I do not remember how I came home 
 though." 
 
 They told him, and he listened attentively. 
 
 " So Plantagenet f ell on me," he said. "I wonder that 
 he did not kill me. As it is, I am not hurt. I am stunned 
 dazed a little. Very likely I fell upon my head, but it is 
 wonderful that I am not hurt." 
 
 " I am very thankful, " put in Lady Chevenix. " It might 
 have been so much worse." 
 
 " Yes, it might. I own now that my conduct was very 
 foolish. Violet, you will give all those poor fellows who 
 helped to bring me home a handsome reward, will you not ? 
 Lonsdale, I am glad that you are with me. You will stay, 
 will you not ?" I shall be all right to-morrow. " 
 
 They asked him if he had any pain. He said "No." 
 There was a strange giddiness in his head, and a strange 
 sensation of numbness in his body, but, save for that, he 
 felt all right.
 
 WEAKER 77ALY A WOMAX. 231 
 
 The old butler, when he heard that, turned and quitted 
 the room. He felt sure as to what \vas <-, uning. 
 
 Sir Owen lay perfectly still. The lain; '] lighted. 
 
 and their clear, brilliant li^ht fell on the 
 face of Felix Lonsdale, and on the tnmb;. 
 Owen's wife. 
 
 "How bright and pleasant everything said the 
 
 baronet " How .strange it seems to be lyin- here ! I shall 
 get up to-morr w." Yet, when he tried 
 a sense of h'.'lplt-^n.^s that he could not understand. " It is 
 strange," he said to Felix, "that I have neither woin 
 bruise. I was quite stunned, but that is all. This numb- 
 away with a few hours' n-st. I a 
 you are here. Lonsdale. Yon will not leave m 
 will you { I feel strangely wakeful, and it is dreadful to lie 
 awake through tne lon^ hours of night." 
 
 "Of course I will stay,'' he replied, "and^ady Che\ 
 too." 
 
 "How strange it was, Lonsdale, that you and I should 
 have been talking abo t death this morning ! It must have 
 been a foreboding of nis accident. I have had a wom, 
 escape. I shall never forget it. I cannot think how it 
 was that brute did not kill me. Violet, come nearer t 
 and let me hold your hand. What a strange sensation it is 
 to be frightened at nothing, as I am." 
 
 She came nearer to him. and took his hands in hers; he 
 looked at her. 
 
 "I have had a narrow escape," he said again, with a shud- 
 dering cry "a narrow escape. Violet, this will do wh 
 lecturing and no sermon could do. It will make me 
 ter man. I will be a better man. my dear I will, ii:< 
 I will give up brandy, and I will be kind ; : I will. 
 
 Violet. I will look after things better tl 
 will help the poor, and go to church.'' 
 
 There was a brief silence, and then h- started suddenly. 
 
 "I was asleep," he said - --" a-Jecp and dp-ami: 
 Strange ! I shall be better to-morrow. I wish tl. 
 of numbness would go. It is nothing, but it is unco.: 
 able I cannot stir. I shall be a better man after 
 let. We shall be happier than we have 
 wish to-morrow were com--, that '. mi-lit iM \\\ 
 you need not send for any doct< 
 My head is dizzy; it will SOOn be all right." 
 
 "They sent for doctors as soon as you 
 home," rem;irk"d Lady ( 1 hevenix. 
 
 " They need not see me if they come." he said. ' 4 You can
 
 232 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 tell them I have no pain, no wound, no bruise. I do not like 
 doctors, and I shall be all right to-morrow." 
 
 Ten o'clock and eleven o'clock struck. He talked to 
 them the whole time ; but at eleven he complained more of 
 the terrible numbness and the inability to move. 
 
 " I lie here like a log," he said. " I shall be glad when to- 
 morrow comes." He looked haggard and restless as the 
 time wore on. "I will not ask for brandy," he remarked, 
 " though I should like some ; but I mean to give it up I 
 do, indeed. You will see, Violet, how happy we shall be 
 when I am well." 
 
 It was nearly midnight when the doctors came Doctor 
 Brown, the old established practitioner, and Doctor Brene, 
 the clever young physician from London, who had bought 
 a practice in Lilford. They looked in wonder at the scene 
 the superb room, the pale, lovely woman in her dress of 
 blue velvet and pearls, the man lying on the bed. 
 
 Felix explained rapidly what had happened. 
 
 "I am all right," said Sir Owen. "They need not have 
 troubled you, gentlemen. I have no pain, no bruise, no 
 wound. The fall stunned me that is all. " 
 
 The doctors looked at each other, and then asked Lady 
 Chevenix if she would leave them with her husband. 
 
 "There is no need," he said, impatiently. "Lonsdale, 
 never mind what they say ; do not go. " 
 
 " I will not be long away, " replied Felix. 
 
 He did not like the look that had passed between the doc- 
 tors ; it was not a hopeful one. He touched Lady Chevenix 
 gently on the arm. 
 
 "Let us retire for a few minutes," he said, and, kissing 
 her husband's face, Violet rose and quitted the room. 
 
 They did not go far. Through the oriel window at the 
 end of the corridor the summer moon was shining, and 
 they both walked thither. She looked up at Felix, and he 
 saw that she trembled. 
 
 u l am frightened," she said. "It seems so strange." 
 
 In perfect silence they stood at the window, watching 
 the moonlight on the gardens. They had been there quite 
 twenty minutes when the door of Sir Owen's room was 
 slowly opened, and Doctor Brene came to them. 
 
 "I have bad news for you," he said, in his grave, full 
 voice. " Lady Chevenix, you must be brave. I have very 
 bad news." 
 
 She could grow no paler. She stood white, calm, and 
 self-possessed before him, but her heart was beating pain- 
 fully, and every nerve was strained to the utmost.
 
 WEAKER THAX A WO MAX. 233 
 
 "You must promise to !isten quietly to what I ha- 
 say. Tell me first whether Sir Owen has any worldly affairs 
 to settle." 
 
 Lady Chevenix looked at Felix, as though she hardly 
 understood. 
 
 u He cannot have much to do," he said. "His will was 
 made and signed some mon; 
 
 She seemed to understand neither question nor an.- 
 She looked at the doctor. 
 
 "What is it f she asked. "I do not understand. Tell 
 me about my husband. *' 
 
 "He is very ill. Lady Chevenix very ill. in 
 
 "But," she cried, "he has no pain lie has n< wound !" 
 
 "So much the worse. Any pain would !> than 
 
 none. The truth is no\v promise me to be ealin. 
 Chevenix the truth is that Sir Owen has injured 
 and that there is no chance for his life. ' 
 
 She trembled so much that the doctor Brought a < 
 and placed her in it. He asked Fjlix to 
 
 "Try," he said, "to bear up for .. few hour \ 
 band cannot live louder, ami you must be with him. 
 must comfort him to the last.' Try to bear up." 
 
 " I will," she replied " My pour Owen ! And ho do* 
 know r 
 
 >. He knows nothing of it yet," he an w. 
 this vdne, and come back to him. It is midi. 
 he cannot live until sum-is. 
 you must tell him, if you can, that h<- b 
 
 " I cannot," she said. "I know it is ir.y pi 
 but I cannot do it. Ins me things I am .i.-in a 
 
 woman ; this is one of them.'' 
 
 "Then I must tell him myself," return.-] I 
 he moved away slowly, "but that is not as it should I 
 
 lix," she' said, "i IK. 
 
 know nothing of death. I am t-rntied at the thought < 
 Do help me." 
 
 "i will," he answered "ail-that I 
 
 They went back to the room, and Sir Owen lool 
 
 t ll f * V ( * II t ti 1*6 (1 
 
 "'Why did you M mo be tortured with doet 
 "Iwaa getti er quickly, and th.-y < 
 
 me with their : 
 thev say that I am ^'in- to di- : ' 
 
 He uttered tb- last word wit! 
 
 "It is all i. itinued. 
 
 with the fall that is all; it is not!.
 
 234 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 more, I assure you. Lonsdale, send for your father. I 
 want to see him ; he has always been kind to me, in his 
 way. He will see at once there is nothing the matter ; send 
 for him." 
 
 Felix left the room at once, and sent Martin off for his 
 father. He asked if the carriage had returned with Mrs. 
 Haye, and was told that it had not. He went back to the 
 room, and found Violet kneeling by her husband's side. 
 Her head, with the golden hair all unfastened, was on the 
 pillow, and she was trying to reason with him. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THIETY THOUSAND A YEAR. 
 
 At one o'clock in the morning Darcy Lonsdale reached 
 Garswood. He had no words in which to express his sur- 
 prise and dismay on hearing of Sir Owen's accident. He 
 had returned home on the previous evening from London, 
 and a few hours afterward received the summons to Gars- 
 wood. He went direct to Sir Owen's room, and was startled 
 by the loud cry with which the dying man received him. 
 
 "Come here, Darcy," said Sir Owen. "You have more 
 sense than all the doctors put together. Do I look like a 
 dying man ?" 
 
 "You look better than I expected to find you," answered 
 Mr. Lonsdale. 
 
 " Yet they say I am dying. They say my spine is injured. 
 I am talking to you now, yet they say when the sun rises I 
 shall be dead. It is absurd say it is absurd, Lonsdale. " 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale looked down with infinite pity on the face- 
 that was almost convulsed with terror. 
 
 " I am afraid, " he said, " that you have heard the truth. 
 It would be cruel to give you one false hope. It is time foi 
 you to make your peace with Heaven." 
 
 Sir Owen turned his agonized face to his wife. 
 
 " Oh, Violet,, they are all against me, my dear, but you. 
 You do not believe it, do you ? You are kinder, and you 
 care more for me. What is my life to them ? Tell me do 
 you believe that I am going to die i 1 " 
 
 She whispered her answer. No one heard it but himself, 
 and with a wild cry he turned away his face. 
 
 " They are all alike. They want me to die. They will not 
 let me live." he exclaimed. 
 
 Doctor Brown stopped his wild raving by telling him 
 that the quieter he was the longer he would live. The
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 235 
 
 presence of the two doctors, however, irritated Sir Owen 
 so greatly that they were compelled to go down- 
 Felix followed them. The night had grown cold and chill. 
 A storm was brewing; the, wind was wailing round \\w 
 house, bending the tall trees, and robbing them of lea 
 
 The servants were all up, and a fire had been lighted in 
 the library. Felix ordered hot coffee, and sent SOUK to his 
 father and Lady ( iievenix. 
 
 "This is a terrbile state of' things," said one doctor to the 
 other. "There seems to be no sense of what should he 
 done. We ought to send for the vicar." 
 
 "Yes, it would be better," agreed the other. "It would 
 save appearances. But I am no believer myself in death- 
 bed conversions." 
 
 "You forget," rejoined his friend, " that mercy in 
 extended even at the last moment." 
 
 " No ; I do not forget that. But I think the best pn-; 
 tion for death is a good life. I would not chan 
 with Sir Owen." 
 
 Felix sent at once for the Vicar of Lilford, and tin 
 turned to the baronet's room, leaving the doctors together. 
 
 Sir Owen had grown very quiet now. He lay with Vio- 
 let's hands clasped r his, as though, clin._ r. he 
 could not die. Darey Lcnsdale sat at the other side, his 
 kind, sensible face full of compassion. He had seen nothing 
 in all his life that affected him as this death -l."d scene did. 
 
 The dying man looked upas Felix entered the room, and, 
 taking one hand from Viol 't, held it out to him. 
 
 "I am no worse," he said, but the voice wa 
 faint. "' Have you sent the doctors hoi: 
 
 Felix bent over him without replying, and t 
 such kindly sorrow and anxiety in his face that Sir i 
 said : 
 
 " You are a good friend what I call a true fr; 
 dealing with you was not fair as regards Violet I. 
 you forgive me ?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Felix, "I forgive you." 
 
 "Now look at me," whispered the taint VO\ 
 at me. I feel weak, but tint is through lying br- 
 and being frightened. Tell me, do 1 seem like a dying 
 man?" 
 
 With a woman's weakness Felix bent 1< 
 face that a few hours since had seemed to him repute] 
 so that Sir Owen should not see the tears which idled bos 
 eyes.
 
 236 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "Do not be angry with me," he said. "I dare not say 
 'No.' " 
 
 The baronet groaned ; and shortly afterward Mrs. Have 
 arrived from Lilford. Lady Chevenix never moved ; she 
 still knelt by her husband's side, and Darcy Lonsdale kept 
 his station opposite. Sir Owen smiled when Mrs. Have 
 came in he had always liked her. 
 
 " Did they send for you also ?" he said. " What folly ! You 
 must not believe one word they say. " 
 
 The darkness of the night passed there was a faint 
 gleam of early dawn in the eastern sky. The dying man's 
 quick ears detected the first notes of the birds. 
 
 " Hush ! Hark !" he cried. " The birds are chirping ! 
 Now who is right/? They said that I should be dead before 
 the dawn ! Draw those hangings, Violet, and put out the 
 lamps. It is dawn now ; I see the red light in the sky. I 
 am right, and the doctors are wrong. " 
 
 They drew the hangings and put out the lamps, and the 
 dawn came flushing into the room. The great window 
 faced the east, so that the first rays of the sun shone di- 
 rectly into the room. How gray and haggard Sir Owen's 
 face looked as those beams touched it ! 
 
 Darcy Lonsdale discerned what Violet could not the 
 speedy coming of death. He knelt down by the dying 
 man's side, and he spoke to him as no one would have 
 thought he could speak. He dwelt so much upon the 
 mercy of Heaven and the goodness of God that Sir Owen's 
 pale lips trembled. 
 
 " I wish," he said, " that I had thought of all that before. 
 It is too late now much too late." 
 
 The vicar came, but \hen he stood by the baronet's 
 death-bed it was perceptible to all that Sir Owen neither 
 heard nor understood. He roused himself soon afterward, 
 however. 
 
 "I feel very ill, Violet," he said " very ill, indeed. I 
 have no strength ; I cannot move. Can it be true what 
 they said ? Call the doctors back, and tell them they must 
 do something for me. " 
 
 They were brought back, and such an hour passed then 
 as they hoped never to see again. Sir Owen's terrible cries, 
 his screams of fear for he was afraid to die horribly 
 afraid of the unknown future distressed them. It was 
 such a scene that those present were long in forgetting it. 
 Then, when the bright sun came forth in his splendor, and 
 the birds chirped loudly, the baronet turned his face to his 
 wife, sighed softly, and his spirit fled.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAX 237 
 
 He had been dead some minutes before the doctors found 
 it out, and the same sunbeams gilded the dead face of tho 
 husband and the white beautiful living face of the wife. 
 
 They carried her away, for the horror of the scene ].: 
 too much for her. Sin was so ovt rwnelmed . 
 alarm among those ^ho loved her. It was bright morning 
 then. The doctors took some breakfast, and each went of): 
 to his duties. Lady Chevenix lay in her room, with Mrs. 
 keeping anxious watch by her. Felix went ] 
 Darcy Lonsdale remained, to take charge of e 
 thing. 
 
 The gloom of the next few days was great. Into the 
 darkened house there came no sunlight. 1'eople 1 
 and coming, all intent on the same melancholy busu. 
 
 : rations for the funeral. Dull gloomy days they werp 
 into which came no gleam of hope. 
 
 Sir Owen's death caused great dismay; still no 
 
 much surprised at hi:' untimely end ; and, curiously 
 enough, the suddenness of it excited great pity. People who 
 had spoken unkindly of him, and condemned his Eaul 
 most vigorously, now grieved most for him. 
 errors seemed to be covered by the great dark, thick 
 of death. 
 
 The day of his funeral came, and half the county : 
 tended. Sir Owen was buried in the church-yard 
 where the oak trees seemed to murmur among then 
 that they had foreseen what would happen, in tin 
 davs when he walked under the sp read ing shade c 
 
 xneu cum, ua6 reading of the will The a 
 trustees assembled in the library, and Lad> ( . 
 
 her widow's dress, entered BOOH after 
 
 bv Mrs. Have. There was some little commot 
 
 enta toe gentieinan brought a chair, another a to 
 
 stool. She looked so delicately lovely in her widow's 
 
 her gulden hair half hidden by a p< ': < 
 
 heavV folds of rich crape sweeping the ground, ^ 
 
 Arlington hastened to ffi ;l ." s J 
 
 words" took his station by her side 
 
 that he and Captain Hill were the two e: 
 
 will. Hespob Bwwords to normal 
 
 then both composed t! , 
 
 Itwasagoodandjus dde.^tly the 
 
 thoughtful mind. Mr. " ';"!- <;l ." ; 
 
 almost every clause in it. '-V'"!' ' ', 
 
 had a handsome legacy; the u .
 
 238 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 friends every one was remembered. The bulk of his for- 
 tune, with Garswood, was left to his " dearly beloved wife. " 
 There was a very handsome bequest to Francis Haye, and 
 one to the vicar ; there was a large sum left to each charity 
 in the neighborhood. 
 
 There was a murrrur when the reading ceased. Every 
 one was pleased. Lady Chevenix bowed as she quitted the 
 room, and the gentlemen stood in little groups to talk 
 about her. 
 
 " What a fate !" said Lord Arlington. " So young and 
 so beautiful ! She will have an income of over thirty 
 thousand pounds per annum, too. What a strange fate !" 
 
 "That comes of having a beautiful face," put in frank 
 Captain Hill. " A beautiful face is better than a fortune. " 
 
 "At times," said Darcy Lonsdale. "Every beautiful 
 woman is not favored like Lady Chevenix." 
 
 Then matters pertaining to the estate were discussed by 
 the executors, and it was arranged that, with the young 
 widow's consent, all business should still be left in the 
 hands of Mr. Lonsdale. 
 
 A very different scene was passing in the room where 
 Lady Chevenix sat with her mother. Mrs. Haye was walk- 
 ing up and down, her pride and elation almost more than 
 she could conceal. 
 
 " I always liked Sir Owen, my dear. I always said that 
 he was a most honorable man. What could be nobler than 
 his treatment of you? I have known such terrible things 
 happen. " 
 
 " What kind of things, mamma ?" asked the r widow, but 
 there was little interest in the tone of her voice. 
 
 " Terrible things, my dear. I have heard of rich men 
 dying, and leaving a handsome fortune to their wives on 
 condition that they never married again. Now I call that 
 most atrociously mean," 
 
 "So it is, mamma," said Lady Chevenix, "and very 
 wrong, too." 
 
 She spoke, however, as one whose thoughts were not 
 with her words. She had untied the widow's cap, and was 
 caressing with her fingers the long golden hair that fell 
 over her shoulders. Mrs. Haye did not observe her. 
 
 "Sir Owen, you see, Violet, had more sense than that. I 
 have never heard of a more generous will. Only twenty- 
 six, and you do not look twenty, young, beautiful, with a 
 fortune like that what more could any woman desire?" 
 
 " I desire no more, mamma. I only feel as though I
 
 WEAKER THAN A TF03/.4.V. 239 
 
 wanted a long rest. I am very tired ; no one can tell how 
 tired I am." 
 
 Your income will be over thirty thousand a year. Only 
 think of that. And it was so good of your dear hu- 
 to leave your father and myself five thousand pounds ; it 
 showed such a kind feeling. It amch 
 
 good fortune should have fallen to your lot/' 
 
 The young'widow looked around her sumptuous room. 
 "Yes," she said, "it seems strange to remember that I 
 
 nee Violet II 
 
 " 'Beautiful Violet Have,' all the young farmers called 
 you, 1 ' rejoined Mrs. Have. Then she saw the golden 
 lying on the folds rf crape. An expression of horror 
 over her face. "My dear Violet, how can you beso 
 'she cried, "and after such a will as that .' !' 
 
 . my dear child, at once. Only in: 
 if one of the servants saw you. I should never 1". 
 
 . 
 
 '-I did not think of what I was doing," said Lady Ci. 
 nix. languidly. 
 
 " But you must think of such things. Ttou must study 
 
 It is a duty." 
 
 Mrs. Have hastened to her daughter's side, and with li 
 own hands wound the golden hair into a large knot 
 
 her head. 
 
 , not take it oil' again, Yi..let," she said; after 
 a will it seems quite hi . 
 
 She wondered why her daughtei laughed wit 
 hopeless expression she who was misti 
 sand a year. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIH. 
 
 "WHAT IS IT?" 
 
 Long months had passed since Sir Owen was laid in his 
 grave, and now Au_ 
 ripe fruits and yellow corn. Lady Chevenix 
 
 d, was a model widow. >"<;<-' 
 
 elapsed since her husband's death hardly < 
 had seen her. Visitors ! I'"* 
 
 admitted; they had lefl cards and condol. d hart 
 
 , approved of the fact that 1 ni* 
 
 !*!, g of time wither 
 
 It-^s. indeed; that most estnnai.le lad> who Had
 
 240 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 the long course of seclusion who saw that the golden 
 head was not uncovered until the proper time who 
 brought to her daughter all the news of the outer world, 
 and formed the one link between her and society in gen- 
 eral. 
 
 Nothing could have been more decorous or proper, and 
 every one felt it to be quite the right thing to speak of 
 Lady Chevenix as feeling her husband's loss so keenly 
 that she was no " Dnger able to see any one. 
 
 Did she feel it so keenly ? She never asked herself the 
 question. She had been overwhelmed with the horror of 
 the closing scene as indeed had every one else who had 
 witnessed it. It had haunted her sleeping and waking 
 hours, as it had the days and nights of every other witness. 
 She had been stunned and bewildered by it. She had been 
 feo frightened that all her natural high spirits had left her. 
 Did she regret Sir Owen very much ? She could not tell 
 she never asked herself the question. She had been 
 shocked, startled, horrified but it was hot the keen sorrow 
 of her loss that made her shrink from all observation. It 
 was rather the reaction from what she had suffered. And 
 she suffered still. She often started in alarm from her 
 seat, her heart beating with terror, thinking that she heard 
 her husband's voice ; then she remembered that he was 
 dead. She woke often from her sleep, her pillow wet with 
 tearss, her whole frame trembling with the horror of some 
 terrible dream, in which her husband was an active figure 
 and then she remembered with a strange emotion that he 
 was dead. 
 
 It was strange to go about the house without fear : it 
 was strange to give her orders with certainty that thev 
 would be obeyed ; it was strange to knoAv that she need 
 tremble and suffer no more. There were to be no more 
 anxious hours spent in waiting for her husband to go out 
 and come in ; it was all over he waL dead. She said 
 the words to herself a hundred times each day " Sir Owen 
 is dead." She had found it difficult to realize her subser- 
 vience ; she found it just as difficult to realize her inde- 
 pendence. She told herself -at times that she was absolute 
 mistress of Garswood absolute mistress of thirty thou- 
 sand a year ; but she could neither realize nor understand 
 it. 
 
 One day Lord Arlington found it necessary to see Lady 
 Chevenix on businsss ; he was accompanied bj Captain 
 HiJl. She received them with quiet grace, and listened 
 with intelligence to all their business statements ; then she
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 241 
 
 laid it was her express wish that Darcy Lonsdale should 
 continue to act in every way for her, but as he would have 
 more to do, she insisted on doubling the salnry Sir < >\ven 
 had paid him. Lord Arlington was very pleased about it, 
 and the interview ended satisfactorily. 
 
 Meanwhile Darcy Lonsdale spent whole days at Gars- 
 wood, and it was strange that he never once mentioned 
 Felix to Lady Chevenix nor did she inquire about him. 
 But one day, when some protracted business was coining 
 to an end, she looked up suddenly, and said : 
 
 "Your son was very kind to me in my distress, Mr. 
 Lonsdale. I can never forget bow kind be was. 1'. 
 him I do not know what I should have done/' 
 
 "I am sure that he would be pleased to be of service to 
 you, Lady Chevenix," he replied. 
 
 "It was doubly kind of him. lie heaped coals of I' 
 my head," she declared, warmly. After a fe\v minutes she 
 added, "I should like very much to make him a pp 
 Mr. Lonsdale just as a slight acknowledgment of bis kind- 
 ness to me. I should like to present him with a diamond 
 ring. I thought I would consult you first. What d> 
 think of it?" 
 
 She saw Darcy Lonsdale's face flush. He did not ai: 
 for a few minutes ; then he replied : 
 
 "I will speak to you quite frankly, Lady Chevenix. I do 
 not think that he would like it." 
 
 She bowed to him. 
 
 " I am glad that I asked you," she replied. "You know 
 best." 
 
 "I am quite sure that the fact of his having been ol 
 vice to you will be far more to him than any di.n 
 or anything that could be given to him,' 1 said Dai 
 dale. 
 
 " How is your son ?" she asked. " Is ho well ? 1 b i 
 comes here. " 
 
 " He is quite well,but so busy that we see little of him a 
 home. He works without intermission." 
 
 She looked as though she would fain a 
 question. She played for a few minutes with t! 
 of her widow's cap, and her beautiful faee flushed. \\ hi 
 ever the question might have been that she wished 
 it remained unsooken. , 
 
 On that same evening her mother was at < 
 Lady Chevenix seemed restless. She changed to 
 tinually, and then, tired of sitting, she walked up and 
 down the room.
 
 212 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "You are very restless, Violet," said Mrs. Haye. "Why 
 is it, my dear ?" 
 
 " I want to hear some news of my Lilford friends ; none 
 of them come near me. How is Eve Lester, mamma ? Has 
 she a fiance yet ? Is there any rumor of her marriage ?" 
 
 " No. People say that she has refused some good offers 
 no one knows why, " said Mrs. Haye. 
 
 "And and Felix Lonsdale, mamma. Is he going to 
 marry?" 
 
 For a moment Mrs. Haye looked keenly at her daughter, 
 and then she answered, carelessly : 
 
 " I hear nothing of him. I do not think he will ever 
 find time to marry ; he has too much business." 
 
 " Does he let me think what is the Lilford phrase ? 
 Does he 'pay his addresses' to anybody?" 
 
 She waited restlessly for the answer. 
 
 " No, " replied Mrs. Haye, " I have not heard that he does ; 
 in fact, he has no time. " 
 
 She looked again at her daughter, but Violet's face was 
 turned to the window. 
 
 Later on Mrs. Haye began talking to her of the brilliant 
 second marriages she had heard of marriages of fair 
 young widows who had been left with large fortunes how 
 they had made most brilliant matches, married lords and 
 dukes, filled grand positions, and made famous names. 
 She did not say that there was a moral to be drawn from 
 all this, but she left it for her daughter to think over. 
 
 So time passed, and at last Lady Chevenix wrote to im- 
 plore Marian Hethcote to return to her, if only for a few 
 days for she was longing for a change. But, when Marian 
 came, it was.found that she had permission to remain six 
 months, if Lady Chevenix desired it. 
 
 Miss Hethcote deplored the sudden and untimely death of 
 the master of Garswood, but there could be no doubt her 
 second visit was more pleasant than her first. Lady Cheve- 
 nix was cheered by the presence of her young guest ; it 
 was novel to hear the sound of a laugh in the gloomy Hall. 
 Marian said to her one day : 
 
 " Dear Lady Chevenix, do you know what, if I were in 
 your place, I should do ?" 
 
 "I cannot guess," she replied. 
 
 " I should leave Garswood for a few months or longer. 
 This house is haunted, I am sure, for you." 
 
 " That is just it," she acknowledged ; " it is haunted. If I 
 go into the library I see my husband there. I fancy I hear 
 his voice in the corridors. There is not a room in the house
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 243 
 
 which has not some sad or sorrowful association. I should 
 like to go away, Marian. Will you come with me? 
 
 ma can; 
 " I will u'o with pleasure." <he replied. " V. \\ we 
 
 Shall it be to Scotland, Switzerland 
 "Let us go to Xormand ;," said I. 
 should 1 i 
 
 mamma want- -he will j. 
 
 will 'i, and ti 
 
 !th and youth and 
 
 tion Lad;. :iix and Miss Hethcote left 
 
 -lie months in pictures. pie Normandy. 
 
 to him. Slit- did another thing which p' 
 
 much, though he said little about it. "\V 
 ' i rough Loud* :.-h a hamper 
 
 'ren as i 
 
 among t'lem f"r_:< >tten. To K 
 such ornaments that her - 
 at th .MVV himself 
 
 In the letter that accompanied tir 
 "I did not i, to hid him 
 
 him ; f'>r kind 
 
 sympathy and help that 1 shall 
 
 -dale looked at his son when he read the i 
 sage; but Felix turned away without a w.ml : nor d 
 
 ion Lad\ -name. Darcy Loi; 
 
 -.vith her thoughtfulne 
 
 If.'r BOTTOM 1." he said t> his \ 
 
 But that nbstinate little lady shook her 1 
 
 the sparkling ornaments had not ehaiip-.l h, : 
 Th - at Gar- 
 
 poor Sir Owen had at tin. 
 hideous ami niirht terriblei Agaii 
 
 'itod. Nothiiiu' '-ould have been mon> p 
 told each other, with sympai L 
 
 nix" had p.n<- abroad to recruil 
 great trial. Even Lady Koli'e said to 1, 
 one of the most sensible thing 
 that, after all, she had turned out better than she I 
 had ever anticipated. 
 
 I think, Lavinia," she said, "that it was f-rtunate 3 
 lost such a chance. A widow with so much wealtl 
 very sad. I never like to think of it." 
 u I would not have cnanged places with Lady Chev
 
 244 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 for all the money Sir Owen was worth," said the curate's 
 wife. "I have at least a good, kind husband, mamma; 
 while the poor girl lived in fear of losing her life. Money 
 is a great advantage, but it is not all the world. I am hap- 
 pier now than I should have been had I married Sir Owen. " 
 
 After a few days the gossip about Lady Chevenix died 
 away, while she and Marian made themselves comfortable 
 in their pretty chateau. Violet soon recovered her bloom ; 
 a lovely tinge as of a blush rose came to her face ; her eyes 
 grew brighter, and lost all their shadow ; the last few years 
 seemed to fall from her, and she looked young and fair as 
 she had looked when she married Sir Owen. 
 
 "You appear to be so well," said Marian to her one day, 
 " yet you are so thoughtful. What are you always think- 
 ing about, Lady Chevenix ?" 
 
 " Am I always thinking ?" she asked, with a happy brood- 
 ing light in her eyes. "I did not know it." 
 
 " What is it about ? Something pleasant, I am sure, for 
 you smile as you think, and at times a little pink flush 
 creeps up to your hair even. I speak to you, and you do 
 not hear me. I leave you, and you do not miss me. Why 
 is it, I wonder?" 
 
 But Lady Chevenix made no answer. She never imparted 
 to any one these the most treasured thoughts of her life. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 "HOW I LOVE YOU!" 
 
 All Loomshire was shaken to its very center. Such news 
 had not been heard in the neighborhood for years ; there 
 was a general sentiment of rejoicing. Lady Maude Arling- 
 ton was going to be married Lady Maude, whom all the 
 inhabitants of the county looked upon as a princess. Whom 
 was she going to marry? That was the question every one 
 asked. And the answer gave universal pleasure. It was 
 the hero of the Victoria Cross Major Rawson. Every one 
 was delighted with the alliance. Lady Maude was so be- 
 loved, while the name of Major Rawson was known 
 wherever bravery or valor was honored. 
 
 The county awoke suddenly. There had been many 
 queens since Lady Maude first began to reign, but none 
 were like her, and Loomshire awoke to the knowledge that 
 it was about to lose its chief ornament, and that the time 
 was come to do all honor to the earl's daxighter. 
 
 No one was more delighted than Felix. In his heart he
 
 WEAKER THAN A JFOJ/.l.V. 
 
 thought no one good enough for the noble, beautiful woman 
 whom he admired, and who had been to him th. 
 truest of friends. He was sorry t<> lose her; lit- knew that 
 Bramber Towers would never again he the place it had heen 
 while she reigned there ; at the same time he was delighted 
 that her noble life had its reward in a noble love. 
 
 Lady Maude could have told how she had loved the 1. 
 soldier before he went to the war in which he h.. 
 such renown. She could have told how she ha<l 
 her love in her heart, and'had kept it as a prie, 
 ure, never dreamiiur that it could I 
 yet preferring to love a hero, and love in vain, t!. 
 the wife of a peer. 
 
 But Major Rawson loved her. and ther 
 to their marriage. He was heir to an aneient tit!- 
 
 pge fortune. She had a. fortune of her own. 
 Loomshire awoke, and roused itself to d<> honor f. the mar- 
 riage of its queen. 
 
 Tiie marriage was 1,, take place al the old parish 
 
 of Lilford. Lady Maude would have it so. T! 
 
 of Arlington had suggested London, and 
 Hanover square. Lady Maude had laughed. 
 
 \ it he in the old church on the hill, ' 
 },..] said. -Ii is an odd fancy, but 1 think 1 shoU 
 that 1 had heen married unless those ^1,-mn old 
 shaken their heads over me, and the rocks had h 
 
 bout my wedding." 
 
 sLady Maude had had her way all her life, s 
 
 .,-. and the ceremony was to be performed 
 
 Th.' rejoicings wer< 
 
 done anv one's heart K I to h 
 
 toe crowds of children with H 
 
 bride-tohav6 seen the poor the old fh i,, irm 
 
 up to the church to have 01 
 bSen so good to them all. I 
 
 and peeresses, with some of the i 
 
 land, wen' there. Th< 
 
 iillel with smiling fac. 
 
 Maude nothing on her wedding-diiy was sod. 
 
 ions as the M. f the children and 
 
 The wedding 
 and so goodly a company] , \ ,; 
 
 US;
 
 246 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 him for a moment, for she read in his face that he longed 
 to say something to her. She never forgot the few words 
 that he did say. She laid her hand in his for a second ; he 
 bent down and kissed it, with tears in his eyes. 
 
 " How am I to thank you, Lady Maude," he said, " for all 
 that you have done for me ? You came to me in the dark- 
 est moment of my life, and I owe to you, after Heaven, all 
 that I am. How must I thank you ?" 
 
 She looked up with a smile into the handsome face that 
 was full of emotion. 
 
 "You can thank me best," she replied, "by being, as the 
 story books say, good and happy now and henceforward. " 
 
 "I will try," he said, "and no one, Lady Maude, says 
 * Heaven bless you !' more fervently than I do I, whom 
 you saved from ruin. " 
 
 As they drove down the long avenue, amid cheers and 
 shouts and good wishes that were enough to deafen them, 
 Major Rawson turned with a smile on his lips to his wife. 
 
 "I did not know that you had such a royal dowry, 
 3Iaude. ',' 
 
 " What dowry do you mean ?" she asked. 
 
 " The dowry of blessings from young and old, rich and 
 poor. What have you done to make all these people love 
 you so ?" 
 
 She raised her eyes to his. 
 
 "I have done nothing but my duty," she replied. 
 
 " Then you have done it with grace and sweetness, " he 
 said. " Teach me to do mine as well. If* I could hear as 
 many blessings follow me as follow you I should be happy. " 
 
 " Are you not happy now?" she asked, with a charming 
 smile. 
 
 His answer was prompt and decisive. 
 
 Knowing Miss Lester's secret predilection for hearing 
 news that she was too proud to seek, Felix went over to the 
 Outlands a few days afterward. He had not seen Eve 
 lately, and was anxious about her.' He had heard Kate 
 say that she was not looking well that she had grown 
 thin and pale, and seemed to have lost some of her old 
 bright spirit ; and those few words had made Felix anx- 
 ious. Finding one evening that he had an hour's leisure 
 he thought that he could not do better than devote it to her. 
 
 Miss Lester was looking a little more cross and impa- 
 tient than usual when the young lawyer greeted her,. and 
 he asked what was the matter. 
 
 " I am not pleased about the corn," she briefly replied. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it. What is the matter with it ?"
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 247 
 
 "It does not ripen as it should," she replied. 
 lhat must be the fault of the sun," said Felix 
 
 ^mbl? Towers J U WMe PreS6nt at ^ " ** " 
 "Yes," he replied, "I was there." 
 
 mt nff n te f e a11 t bout Lad 7 Maude's marriage. It is- 
 not often that one has the opportunity of hearii 
 such grand affairs; tell me everything that 
 
 " I came on purpose to do so," said Felix. I thought v, , u 
 
 U F . f V ( T' 1 to u hear about But h;i11 '* - 
 
 fo h\ el Perhaps she would be interest,-.!, too." 
 
 'No,' replied Miss Lester, "she would not-unless it 
 TV ere about a marriage in the moon. I tell herahvavs that 
 she is waiting to marry the man in th- moon. Sit dowS 
 v th. -s,- bee-hives. Never mind the bees: th.-v will 
 not Sting you unless you interfere with th.-m. As I sit 
 here lean see what is going on around me. and n,, man 
 dl'^ while my eyes are on him. Tell me about Lady Maude 
 
 st. Do you know, I heard a foolish rumor 
 Lonsdale P' 
 
 "I am afraid you have lieard a great many fal<,. run 
 in your time, Miss Lester," he remarked 
 that the world is full of them. AVhat was th, 
 
 lei- to"? 
 
 "I heard that you were in love with Ladv Ma i 
 that she liked you," said Miss Jane, solemn 
 
 He laughed BO heartily that she f.-lt at once : no 
 
 truth in it. Her grim face relaxed at the sound 
 mirth. 
 
 "How absurd !" he said. "There is no lady in 1 
 whom [ hold in higher reverence and esteem than ' 
 Maude. As for being in love with her, it 
 that she is an earl's daughter, and in my own fashion 
 as proud as a king. I would no more marry a ri-h %\..: 
 and live on her money than I would <-h 
 
 He marveled why Miss Jane ]ouk< -illy at him. 
 
 "I wonder if you will always think so?" si 
 nestly. 
 
 I am quite sure that T shall. I think independ 
 noble (|iiality, and one to which Kw^lishn: 
 
 , 
 
 may lay claim. I have a great respect for it, and 
 ever exoivi.se it."
 
 248 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "Now tell me abc rt the wedding," said Miss Lester. And 
 Felix gave her a most animated account of it. 
 
 She was delighted, and would have listened to him for 
 another hour, but that her keen eyes detected a dairymaid 
 enjoying the homage paid by one of the reapers. 
 
 "Go into the house and find Eve," she said. "I shall be 
 with you directly. " 
 
 Felix found Eve in the garden, and so intently was the 
 girl thinking that she never heard his footsteps until he 
 stood by her side. 
 
 " Eve !" he said, gently, and he was startled by the sudden 
 change in her face when she saw him. It was dyed crim- 
 son, and the sweet, earnest eyes fell before his. She could 
 not speak to him at once, and a sudden conviction flashed 
 .across his mind that at the moment he had accosted her 
 she was thinking of him. 
 
 " My dear Eve, " he said, " are we such strangers that you 
 .should be so startled by my presence ? I was told you 
 were not looking so well, and I am come to see." 
 
 "I am quite well," she answered, in her sweet, low 
 voice, " and very pleased to see you. " 
 
 " You look well enough just now. You have the color of 
 & rose in your face," he told her. "May I find a seat here? 
 I have an hour to spare, and am come to spend it with you." 
 
 He sat down on a little garden chair, under the luxuriant 
 jessamine, and began to talk to her. A sense of peace and 
 repose always came over him when he was with Eve a 
 sense so sweet that he never cared to disturb it, and the 
 same magical feeling was stealing over him now. When 
 they had been talking for some time, he looked at her, and 
 then he saw how true Mrs. Lonsdale's words were. The 
 sweet face had grown very thin and pale ; there was a dull 
 look in the tender eyes, as though she had wept bitter 
 tears. She was much changed, and Felix was pained to 
 see it. He marveled as to the cause, and then decided to 
 question her. 
 
 " Eve," he said, gently, "you are not well. Why do you 
 not go to the sea-side for change of air?" 
 
 " I am happier here than I should be anywhere," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 His ears detected a tone of patient weariness in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Eve," he said, impulsively, "I do not believe you are 
 happy. Have you any trouble or sorrow ? Trust me, as 
 1 trust you. " 
 
 The sweet face looked up at, him.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 2 49 
 
 - had gone a^ayshe sat under the 
 
 jessamine, and once she cried 
 
 love " ^ y U WiU neV6r kn W in this world how 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 MRS. HATE'S RESERVE. 
 
 One fine morning in September a letter camo to the 
 of Lonsdale & hoii which presented very familiar 
 to those who received it. The creamy col 
 the delicate handwriting, the faint perfume 
 CTCBrt on the seal each and all were Jamil 
 "It is from Lady Cheveniac," said Felix, aa he placed it 
 
 8 his father of all the letters that had 
 from her he had never opened one. 
 
 Mr. Lousdale read it, and then looked at }\\< 
 "She i 8 coming home, "he announo will l,o at 
 
 '.-ood by the end of the week, and wants me to see that 
 everything is ready for her. I had better 
 Hall at once. Ah, her. -t script- I 
 
 one in a lady's letter! 'Remember me kindly to Mrs. 
 Lonsdale-aiid Felix.' " 
 
 "She is very kind," said Felix, as he sorted his pap. 
 "I suppose you told her what an accumulatioi 
 awaits 1 
 
 }. I thought it time she either returned 
 fuller powers Of acting,* 1 replied Mr. Li.nsdale. 
 she is c..niing ]i omr . I ,],, ,,,,t like the Jlall 
 makes the whole neighborhood dull." 
 
 Darcy Lonsdaie rode oil at once \\itli IT 
 very pleaded the household at <Jai-<\\ 
 young mistress had been woi-sliiped among them. 
 Were delighted at tile thought of her reti. 
 Kave all nei-cssar\- Orders 90 i : 
 find everything ready on her return, and should , 
 uny comfort or luxtn-y. 
 
 !!< called on Mrs. H.-iye, and found t' 
 heai-d fi-om her daughter, and that she \v 
 wood to be in read ii:' 
 
 very ambition had pleir 
 
 good adv. alth 
 
 and a title, she must look for something higher still.
 
 250 WJSAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "She ought to marry a duke next," she said to her hus- 
 band, but Francis Haye answered : 
 "It is just possible she may not care to marry again." 
 
 His wife laughed at this. 
 
 "After proving herself so sensible, do you think she in- 
 tends to retire upon her laurels ? You may depend upon it, 
 Francis, her second marriage will be far more brilliant 
 than her first. " 
 
 "You know best, of course, my dear," said Francis 
 Haye, meekly. " Violet owes a great deal to your training.* 1 
 
 "I flatter myself," remarked Mrs. Haye, "that I have 
 made her what she is. My prudence and diplomacy, dur- 
 ing her first foolish engagement to Felix Lonsdale, made 
 her Lady Chevenix. " 
 
 " That I believe, but I doubt if she has ever been really 
 happy since. Do you remember how she used to smile and 
 blush when Felix came ?" 
 
 " It was childish nonsense ; she has something better to 
 do than smile and blush now," replied Mrs. Haye, 
 severely. " I hope when she does come you will not en- 
 courage her in any nonsense. Only imagine if we should 
 live to see her a duchess ! I always knew that she would 
 be fortunate in life. What a cruel thing it would have been 
 if she had married Felix Lonsdale !" 
 
 At the end of the week another letter came to the office 
 at Lilford, asking Darcy Lonsdale to go over to Lady 
 Chevenix at once. He went, and on his return he said to 
 Felix : 
 
 " There is a terrible accumulation of work at Garswood. 
 Lady Chevenix wishes me to remain at the Hall for a week, 
 and clear up all arrears. It will occupy a week the 
 Michaelmas accounts are always heavy, but, Felix, I can- 
 not spare a week. Lord Arlington's rent-dinner and many 
 other things are close at hand. I do not think I can spare 
 a week. I made a suggestion to Lady Chevenix, which she 
 seemed very pleased with ; it was that, instead of my going 
 to the Hall for six days, we should both go for three that 
 is, of course, if you are willing. " 
 
 " It is a matter of indifference to me, father," he replied. 
 " Whichever plan suits you best, or pleases you best, I will 
 follow." 
 
 "Then we will both go. It is far easier to go to Gars- 
 wood and take a clerk with us than to have all that mass 
 of documents brought to the office. " 
 
 So it was settled that they were to go to the Hall, and do 
 all the business as quicuiy as possible there.
 
 WKAKEK TRA3 A WOMAN. 251 
 
 "I shall prefer sitting up at night," said Felix. *! can 
 always work better when there is perfect silence. A few 
 hours 1 extra work each night, and we shall soon have 
 finished." 
 
 He little dreamed to what that sitting up would ' 
 Thov went <>n {he .M<ui'l.ty evening a beautiful uuturnT 
 evening, when the sunbeams fell on 1 i 
 lighted up the pietures<pi <>f buil.lt 
 
 visitors were at the Hall. Captain IV11, M 
 Hcthente who seemed as th.>ii.L:h she would ne 
 
 Chevenix again Lady Hi-owning, and M i all 
 
 guests whom Lady Chevenix had invii 
 
 Father and son were taken at once to her boudoir, v. 
 she sat alone, and never in her whole lift- had Vi..l-t I- 
 80 charming. The year of quietness ami repose in t! 
 
 formandj " marvelously beneti. 
 
 While there she had not a sh:ul>\v "f care; she i 
 nothi' 3*i t() realize her 
 
 tune and to recruit her health. The consequ 
 She i with a lovely and dainty hi... MM. 
 
 no longer the faintest shadow on her lace; it v 
 
 it, laughing light; the violet eyes W( 
 bright as stars, the searlet lips untroubled. 
 
 din the light. .ft 1 
 sun and his eyes were <!a//led by her 
 
 ,re a dress of rich bla.-k velvet - 
 as to show the while neck, .m which a 
 gleamed like fnv. She wore diamond br; 
 arms ; diamond stars sh..ne in the coils of goldei . 
 
 In kindli<-st greeting she held out her v 
 hands in Mr le and his BOD, but 
 
 ttyhadforafewmiii then 
 
 am so delighted," she -th ahoa 
 
 beautiful eyes. K "Ithoug] 
 away from the other 
 
 Mr. Lonsdale, take this easy-chair. I -b 
 into the old fa - '.^h; 
 
 - 
 
 -
 
 252 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Lady Chevenix seemed to have grown young again ; her 
 sunny smiles, her unusual laughter, her quick, clever 
 repartee, her keen enjoyment of their society all were 
 noticeable. She had indeed altered ; she was like beautiful 
 Violet Haye ; all trace of the quiet, cold Lady Chevenix had 
 vanished. 
 
 Then her smiles died away for a few minutes as they 
 talked of the terrible trial they had gone through together. 
 She looked with soft, luminous eyes into Darcy Lonsdale's 
 face. 
 
 " What old friends we are !" she said, thoughtfully. 
 " And how strange it seems that you should have been with 
 me when he died that Felix should have been my chief 
 comfort ! What a riddle life is to read !" 
 
 After a few minutes Mr. Lonsdale remarked : 
 
 " You must not charm us into forgetting our work, Lady 
 Chevenix ; there is so very much to be done. " 
 
 " You can begin as early as you like in the morning, " she 
 said, " but this one evening you must give to me. Think 
 what a pleasure it is to me to talk to such old friends. I 
 shall get up early, too, and see that you have breakfast 
 before you begin. I shall make your tea ; I am sure that 
 no one else could make it nicely enough. " 
 
 Darcy Lonsdale told her laughingly that she would spoil 
 him, and both gentlemen were surprised to find that they 
 had been talking for an hour instead of a few minutes. 
 
 They arose when the first bell rang for dinner, and Lady 
 Chevenix, looking at Felix, asked him : 
 
 " How is Evelyn Lester ?" 
 
 He told her that she was not looking either bright or 
 well lately, and then they separated. 
 
 Long after father and son had left her the beautiful 
 woman sat with a happy, brooding light in her eyes, and 
 a smile like summer sunshine on*her lips. And when she 
 arose to return to her visitors she murmured to herself : 
 
 " At last, ray love, at last !" 
 
 It was a pleasant evening ; the dinner-party was bright 
 and cheerful, and after dinner the guests had music, cards, 
 and conversation. More than once Lady Chevenix made 
 room for Felix near her, and talked to him. But, if Lady 
 Chevenix was unusually kind, Mrs. Haye was unusually 
 cold to him ; whenever she saw her daughter talking to 
 him, under some pretext or other she interrupted the con- 
 versation. She tried to patronize him, but all efforts at 
 patronage recoiled upon herself. There are some men who
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAX. 253 
 
 never will be patronized, and he was one ; his natural 
 pride and dignity of character quite prevented it. 
 
 The evening was a very pleasant, one. Lady Clic\ 
 was a charming hostess , she neglected no one. She had the 
 rare gift of making ^very one feel perfectly at home, and 
 <>ach one separately seemed to lie her most favored i 
 Felix could not help contrasting tha 4 visit with his last, 
 when she had suffered such tortures of anxiety and hu- 
 miliation. He CQ- id not help thinking of the unhappy man 
 who had died so young, victim to his own folly -the man 
 who had once been master of all this wealth and had made 
 bad use of it. 
 
 It was a pleasant ev.-iimg. If Felix had been more vain 
 he must have with what great respecl and eon-: 
 tion he was tr a" d ho : Lady ( 'hevenix deferred te him 
 on every point how she consulted his tastes, his \\: 
 his convenience. if he had been more vain he would 
 been more flattered by it he would have seen it. (!ut he 
 did not. The chief thing that struck him was the col 
 and reserve of Mrs. Have. 
 
 During the next f w days father and son worked hard; 
 - early and did not leave work until it was time 
 to prepare for dinner. Darcy Loiisdale declared that Lady 
 Chevenix would . poil him. She devoted i 
 >ly to their comfort ; she studied them. 
 
 At the end of the t bird .lay there yet remained tin 
 four hours' hard work. 
 
 "We must go -morrow," said Darcy: "we m 
 the first thing in the morning, let what will ha].; 
 
 Felix decided to go back to his writing immediai 
 dinner, and not to pause again until he had fini- 
 
 ihe only plan. Lady ( 'lievemx smiled thoughtfully 
 when she heard it. 
 
 -It will he best, "Twill - 
 
 ,1 cheerful lire and refreshment 
 to work so hard over my atl'a; 
 
 So. when the dinner was ended Felix v 
 library and began to write. Lady < !h< 
 cuj. of her favorite cafe imir. Later 01 
 in a refreshment-tray, which waa place,! .,n 
 him. 11.- heard the s,.imd of music and ' 
 night drew on. ceased. \]}< fathi 
 night" to him, and then silence fell u\ er the house.
 
 254 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 THE TEST. 
 
 As Felix Lonsdale wrote busily, there came to him the 
 memory of a story he had read in which a lawyer like him- 
 self sat alone in the library of a country-house, and the 
 spirit of its dead owner came to tell him of some wrong 
 that he had done in life. 
 
 " It is a pleasant thought !" smiled Felix to himself, and 
 then he was startled for a moment. A faint odor of vio- 
 lets floated near him, and, looking up, he saw Lady Cheve- 
 nix. 
 
 She was standing by his side, looking down on him with 
 a light on her face that had not shone there for long years. 
 Never had this beautiful woman looked more beautiful 
 than now, with her charming head bent over him, stand- 
 ing in the half darkened room like a vision of light. The 
 crimson glow of the fire and the soft radiance from the 
 lamp on the table fell over her. She wore a very hand- 
 some dress, which showed her lovely shoulders, her white 
 neck and rounded arms a dress that in the ruddy firelight 
 presented most' marvelous hues. With it she wore a dia- 
 mond necklace, and diamond stars shone in the golden hair. 
 
 There was something more than beauty in her face ; he 
 knew it the moment he raised his eyes and saw her. There 
 was love love such as had not shone there since she had 
 bidden him farewell. The firelight gleamed on her jeweled 
 hand, on her marvelous face, her golden hair. She stood 
 before him in all the pride and magnificence of her wealth 
 and her loveliness, a vision such as rarely greets the eyes 
 of men. And, as he looked at her, with somewhat of won- 
 der and inquiry on his face, she sank slowly on to her 
 knees, and bent her head before him. 
 
 "Lady Chevenix," he cried, "you must not do that I I 
 cannot allow it !" 
 
 She laid her hand on his arm the hand on which shone 
 her wedding-ring. 
 
 "Listen to me, Felix," she said, and the sweet voice 
 stirred unwontedly his heart and soul. " I have waited 
 impatiently for this hour. You are going away to-morrow, 
 and I must speak to you to-night. Marian is in the ante- 
 room there ; I brought her with me. I told her I must
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOXAN. 255 
 
 speak to you to-night, and she came at once. Felix, will 
 
 you listen?" 
 
 " How can I help but listen ?" he replied. " What do you 
 wish to say to me, Lady Chevenix ?" 
 
 With a charming gesture of impatience she laid a finger 
 on his lips. 
 
 " You must not call me 'Lady Chevenix,' " she said. " I 
 am 'Violet' to you. Say 'Violet,' and then I will tell you 
 what I came for." 
 
 haps, if he had had time to prepare himself, to think 
 
 matters over, to take some precautions, lie would have 
 
 known better how to listen, and wli was, 
 
 iddenly to have token possession of him, of 
 
 his whole nature. 
 
 11 You make me say what you will, Violet," he B 
 
 She clasped her hands, and laid them upon his . 
 
 "I want to tell you a story, Fein 
 your attention while I narrate it, N i 
 gi r l_young, foolish, and, the world said, t 
 vain, too, of her beauty, and ex] 
 things with it. She loved with all her h 
 was more than worthy of her love, and she promised t" be 
 his wife. But sorrow and misfortune earn-' to him, wink 
 
 i Ithy wooer sought her one who offered h- 
 and title, houses and lands-and she well, 
 of her, Felix. She was vain, and much weal 
 woman; she was young, too, and not <<. 
 nobility enough, however, to see what 
 not to do it. She was tempted by her love ..t 1< 
 comfort She was badly ad vised, wrongly mllu. 
 
 weaker, I say again, fchanawomai pher 
 
 the one man in the world whom she loved and mar 
 
 the wealthy suitor. How she suffered no one * 
 
 one can tell. Her marriage turned out to t 
 
 trous one. She had money, luxury 
 
 never had one moment of happiness 01 
 
 of rest. She had outward l.rillian,. 
 
 life was one round of lamentation and anx... 
 
 one knew what she suff. OI! V *!";) 
 
 sf 
 
 of humiliat 
 
 . 
 
 free. What do you tinuit 
 
 she did, Felix "
 
 256 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I cannot say," he replied, in a low, hoarse voice. 
 
 " I will tell you. After those long years she found that 
 she still loved the dear companion of her youth. She said 
 to herself that he had never married perhaps he still 
 cared for her and one night, when he was sitting alone, 
 she went to him as I have come to you knelt by his side 
 as I kneel by yours and prayed to him as I pray to 
 you 'Oh, my lost love, my dear love, forgive me, and 
 take me to your heart again !' " And- the lovely head 
 drooped until it lay upon his arm. 
 
 He made no answer just then. His whole soul was stirred 
 within him his whole heart touched. After a few minutes 
 she raised her face to his, and he saw tears upon it. 
 
 "Violet," he said, "I do not know what to say to you. 
 You have taken me so completely by surprise. I am lost 
 bewildered. I cannot collect myself." 
 
 "I thought you would say 'Yes' to me at once," she re 
 turned, sadly. " Oh, Felix, have you not forgiven me ? Tell 
 me that first. Have you forgiven me ?" 
 
 He looked at her thoughtfully, watching the firelight 
 gleaming on her golden hair and on her rich jewels. 
 
 " Yes, I have forgiven you, Violet I forgave you long 
 ago." 
 
 " Quite, or was it only a half forgiveness, Felix ?" 
 
 " Quite, " he replied. " I am sure of it. My heart was 
 full of hot anger for many long months, but it died away, 
 and then, when I saw that you were not happy, I forgave 
 you." 
 
 " With all your heart, Felix ?" 
 
 " With all my heart, " he answered, and then there was 
 silence for a few minutes between them. 
 
 " You forgave me ? Then, Felix, why will you not take 
 me into your heart again ?" 
 
 His face grew deadly pale his hands trembled. She saw 
 such deep emotion in his face that her own grew pale. 
 
 " You see but one side of the question, " he said. " Now 
 listen to me. I loved a girl, Violet ah, Heaven, how I 
 loved her ! She was the very light of my eyes ! She- 
 was the pulse of my heart 1 She was the very soul of 
 my life my one priceless jewel ! She loved me her 
 fair face brightened for me her sweet eyes rained love 
 and kindness on me her voice made all my music ! I 
 had no life outside her sweet life ! Heaven forgive me, I 
 worshiped her no man ever worshiped a woman so madly, 
 so blindly, or so well. If at any time my poor life would 
 have served her, I would have given it. Jf at any time I
 
 WEAKER THAN A WO MAX 257 
 
 could have died for her, I would have died. Ai 
 
 kind to me. It drives me mad even now. when I n 
 
 ber that she once placed her arms around my 
 
 promised to be my wife. Then over the heaven of m\ 
 
 tent what clouds came I 1 was working -as m 
 
 works to make a home for my darling. and place her in 
 
 it. I was seeking every picture, every ornament tl 
 
 thought would beautify a home, for one who would h- 
 
 adorn it most. What happened '. A wealthier 1. 
 
 not, mind you, one who loved her m.. vliorn 
 
 she could love a man, to say the best of him. 
 
 soul and hard of heart ; he could not even . the 
 
 exquisite loveliness of my love. He held out his hands to 
 
 her, and they were filled with gold; he offered her 
 
 money, jewels everything that women love. 1! 
 
 to scorn the notion that any tie to me bound her. '] 
 
 him,' he said 'he is poor. Come to me I am rich.' 
 
 What did she do, this love of mine, who held my heart iu 
 
 her hami 
 
 The beautiful head drooped lower and low. 
 "Have pity on me, Felix." she cried, "have pi" 
 " I do not mean to be hard ; lam onlyteli;: -nth. 
 
 That is my version of the story, Violet. "\Vhat did si 
 Did the first noble instincts of true \v her ? 
 
 Did she turn with fidelity to me? No. She ilun- my love 
 
 in my face, she trampled my life under her 
 she crushed my heart in her hand she jilted ; 
 do not shrink &Om the word, Violet; it is the onl\ 
 She jilted me left me to be the subject of n 
 and 'women's jeers left me to a burning f'r 
 that nothing could slacken or cool left me with my hfo 
 ruined.' 1 
 
 Again she raised her hands to him, and r-r 
 " Ifave pity on me ! You are terribly hard." 
 "Nay, I am but just, Violet, And thru this w. 
 had left me to laughter and ruin came t 
 that women can be so light came to me 
 
 d me to take her into my heart a-aiu. 
 which had been ox* e, was to 
 
 by a smile, the torture to bo soothed 
 
 words :'' 
 
 He stopped ; the passion of his own wor 
 "You said you had forgiven mi ' ^" 
 
 hands touched his clustering hair. 
 
 "Yes, I have forgiven yon. List. Violel 
 
 came to me again, this woman who had betrayed mo, *
 
 256 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 the dead man's spoils in her hand. She came to me bright 
 with jewels, radiant with the magnificence his wealth had 
 provided for her the wealth for which she left me. She 
 held out her hands to me laden with his treasures ; she 
 brought to me the spoils her perfidy and falsehood had won 
 for her. I should be less than a man if I shared those spoils 
 wth her should I not, Violet ? When you left me, and men 
 laughed because you had left 'me for money, my very 
 sorrow had a dignity in it. What should I be now, even in 
 your eyes, if I took you back to my heart with the same 
 money that your falsehood had won ? I should be less 
 than a man. " 
 
 "I cannot understand you," she said, piteously. 
 
 In his passion he seemed to rise to a height which that 
 weak soul could not reach, but the pitiful, pleading voice 
 touched him and made him gentle again. He looked down 
 into the lovely face. 
 
 "Violet, you will uncorstand this. Suppose that when 
 you loved me most I had lett you and had married a rich 
 woman a woman whom I did not love, but married solely 
 because she was rich that she died after a few years, and 
 I came back to you with her money in my hands, and 
 asked you to share it would you do so ?" 
 
 "Yes, I think I should, Felix." 
 
 " Perhaps I might have expected such an answer from 
 you. I would not act in such a fashion. I should be less 
 than a man now to take dead Sir Owen's gold, and with it 
 you. " 
 
 She looked at him with a half bewildered air, yet still 
 seemed to think that she could persuade and soften him by 
 sweet words. 
 
 "I have been so unhappy without you, Felix," she mur- 
 mured. " You do not know all ; it seemed to me as though I 
 had lost the half of my soul when I lost you it is not 
 wrong to say so to you now. I was very unhappy, Felix. 
 I found out soon afterward that I could never be happy 
 without you." 
 
 He made no answer, and she took courage. She laid her 
 face on his arm. The waves of golden hair fell over his 
 hands. 
 
 "Do forgive me, Felix," she said. "I was so young, and 
 so thoughtless. I did not understand. " 
 
 So she knelt, while the firelight played over her, and the 
 face of Felix Lonsdale was turned from her. 
 
 "I am sorry for it all, Felix," the sweet voice went on 
 M so very sorry. You see, dear, there were great excuses
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 259 
 
 for me, though they do not seem great to you. I was very 
 vain every one flattered me and praised me, and I \\a's 
 led away. I thought my boauty was great enough to merit 
 any station. Then, Felix, I was so young oh, my dear, 
 forgive me, I was so young and foolish ! I have repented 
 of it ever since. I love you now just as much as when 
 we stood in the moonlight together." 
 
 He raised her face and looked into it. It was beautiful 
 enough to tempt any man to forego honor. He looked into 
 the depths of the violet eyes. 
 
 "You are sorry for it, Violet," he said "really and truly 
 sorry ?" 
 
 "Yes, I am, indeed, Felix," and her hands wen- clasped 
 around his own. "I am, dear my life has been all re-ret." 
 
 " Answer me truly if the time came over ugain, would 
 you act in the same manner?" 
 
 The soft eyes wavered half a moment., and then fell. 
 
 "I cannot tell; it cannot come over again. That is a 
 
 strange question. Answer me one truly, Felix. Do you 
 
 love me '." 
 
 She saw the sudden gleam of passion light in his 
 and deepen in his e; 
 
 "Do I love you? Yes. Heaven help mo, I do ! If I did 
 not love you, I should not suffer." 
 
 "You are <|iiife sure that you have not met any one sineo 
 Whom you liked even ever so little, Felix .'" 
 
 "No," he answered; -when a. man has loved a w.. man 
 like you, Vinlet, it is not easy to forget her." 
 
 "Then, Felix, if you love me and 1 love you, why should 
 we not be happy? What stands between 
 
 "My own honor," he replied - "my dignity as a man, my 
 pride as a gentleman. If you were penniless, Yjol.-t. I 
 would kneel to you, 1 vow, and pray you to be my \\ 
 
 "What stands between us. Felix <" she asked a-ain. 
 
 "Your dead husband's gold the g..ld for which you 
 broke your plighted troth and left me. V- :"let, 
 
 that you were young and thoughtless when you sinned, 
 that you hardly n-ali/ed all you were doing. 1 believe 
 that. Suppose now 1 belie\ed in you, and airain let myself 
 drift upon the golden sea of hope and love. S-me wealthier 
 suitor might come an earl this time and you would leavo 
 me once more. " 
 
 "No, never again," she cried, clinging to him i 
 again !" 
 
 His face softened into deepest tenderness as ne looked a*
 
 2GO WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 her. The old love so long trampled down and repressed 
 seemed to leap into new and vigorous life. 
 
 " Never again !" she repeated. " I love you and I would 
 be true to you !" 
 
 "Then give me a proof. I hate this wealth for which 
 you forsook me ! I hate this splendor and magnificence 
 for which you bartered your truth and fidelity. I will 
 never benefit by them. They robbed me of you, the}- de- 
 stroyed the best part of my life I will have none of them. 
 No man shall say of me that I profited by your falsehood 
 and enjoyed the price of your sin for it was a sin, Violet. 
 Listen to me, my darling. This is what my honor dictates 
 and my honor is dearer to me than my life. 1 love you, 
 and ask no higher gift from Heaven than to call you my 
 own; but you must come to me unfettered with dead Sir 
 Owen's wealth I will have none of it. You must gi\ e up 
 your mansion, your jewels, your servants all the magnifi 
 cence furnished by him. I will provide a beautiful house 
 for you not grand and stately like his, but a home that 
 shall be a heaven of love. You married for money, Violet 
 money did not bring you happiness. Now marry for 
 love that will." 
 
 She looked up at him with a bewildered air. 
 
 " I do not understand. Do you mean that I am to sur- 
 render all the fortune my husband has left me ?" 
 
 "I mean just that, Violet; I will never share it." 
 
 "But, Felix," she said, "that .would be absurd, now that 
 it is all mine to do as I like with. What could I do with 
 it?" 
 
 "Build hospitals, churches anything you like except 
 keep it." 
 
 She looked at him thoughtfully. 
 
 " Do you not think that that is very hard ?" she said. 
 
 " No, I do not ; to share it, to benefit by it, would seem to 
 me like sharing a sin. There is the true test of love, 
 Violet. I forgive with all my heart the fault that you say 
 was committed in the thoughtlessness of youth now I 
 give you the chance of redeeming it. Give up the wealth 
 that tempted you to do me wrong, and I will bless the 
 day that brings you to me again. 1 ' 
 
 He looked at the diamond necklace she wore ; unclasping 
 it, he laid it upon the table. 
 
 "Your neck is a thousand times more beautiful," he 
 said, " without that circlet. Can you give up all such deck- 
 ings, Violet?" 
 
 "It is such a thing to ask me," she said.
 
 THAN A wox.\\: 
 
 "It is a true test of love. You had i 
 fore between me and money then you chose -mom ; 
 place the two before you again which will you <! 
 
 You can not plead youth, or i-norance, or vanii. 
 undue influence now. You have learned many i'; 
 I s;iy this is a true test of love. l!ut. Violet, 'it is no; 
 to ask you to decide hurriedly take time over it It is 
 much to ask. I know; but I otl'er something better in re- 
 turn and you sliall never ren-'iit the sacrifi- 
 
 "All the world would laugh ;it me," she said. 
 
 "The world would say you had ^iven up all for love. lint. 
 Violet, mind, 1 do not wish to persuade you. 1 leave the 
 decision to yourself. For the second time in your li! 
 have to Choose between love a.ud money. Ponder i! 
 tell me in a few days what you have decided upon.' 1 
 
 She looked up at him wistfully. 
 
 "Is that your final decision. Felix '." she a>ked. 
 
 "Yes; I cannot change it. Violet. .Most men mak> 
 idol of something ; my idol is self respect," he replied. 
 
 "Could you not make an idol of me :" she whispered. 
 
 "Yes, if you are not framed in a golden setting." he an- 
 swered. 
 
 She was silent then for a few minutes, while the firelight 
 played over her golden hair, and he drew the loiitf shining 
 
 Bfl through his fi Hirers. Slu- laid her head on his I : 
 and closed her eyes. 
 
 "Let me rest here for a few minutes," she said ; ' 
 only have I ever found rest on earth." 
 
 ' When she raised her eyea to his they were wet with 
 tears. 
 
 " Felix," she said, "I miM ^o now ; it is growing 1 
 Will you kiss me before I go?" 
 
 He bent down and kissed the lovely face not once, but 
 many times. Then she arose to <|iu't the room, lie remem- 
 bered long afterward how she kept her eyes tixed <m his 
 face until she reached the door. 
 
 "Good-by, Felix," she said, and tin- very tone -, 
 voice was like a si^h. 
 
 He had kept himself outwardly very calm during the- 
 interview. Violet did not know what a terrihl' 
 was raffing within him. He threw aside paper and 
 when the door was (dosed. 
 
 1 can write no more." he 9aid. 
 
 His heart bent fast and his brain * 
 every pulse throbbed wildly, every nerve was stra:
 
 262 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I must go out into the air," he told himself; "these 
 walls are stifling me," 
 
 He went out through the window, and he spent the 
 night; as he had spent many another, in walking rapidly, 
 so that he might beat down the temptation that was come 
 to him. 
 
 For it was a temptation. So loving and so lovely, so 
 gracious and fair, was Violet that he could have clasped 
 her to his breast, and have cried out in rapture that she 
 was his. But honor stood between them. He would never 
 accept the dead man's gold. 
 
 In the morning he did not see Violet at the early break- 
 fast. Miss Hethcote came down and made tea. Lady 
 Chevenix had sent her, she said. She did not seem quite 
 well. Miss Hethcote looked inquiringly at Felix, as though 
 she would fain ask what had passed between them, but no 
 word was spoken, and Darcy Lonsdale left Garswood quite, 
 unconscious that it had been offered to his son. 
 
 The next two days were days of torture to Felix. How he 
 passed them he never knew. On the third came a letter in 
 the well-known handwriting, with the faint familiar odor 
 of violets. He knew it was Violet's answer ; and, though 
 he was a strong, brave man, he trembled to open it. 
 Within that folded paper lay the words that might affect 
 the whole of his future life. Either Violet had written to 
 say that for his sake she would give up wealth, luxury, 
 and magnificence, or she had decided on giving him up to 
 retain that to which perhaps her heart clung. 
 
 "It was the only test," he said, as he took the letter in 
 his hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIL 
 
 A QUIET WEDDING. 
 
 This was Violet's response to Felix Lonsdale's request 
 about dead Sir Owen's wealth : 
 
 "MY DEAR FELIX: I have thought well over the matter recently 
 discussed by us, and I have decided. I know that I am weaker than 
 a woman but I cannot give up my fortune. It seems to me such a 
 foolish thing to do. After being accustomed to every luxury, I could 
 not give it up. I love you, and shall always love you ; but the test 
 was too hard. I have pictured myself back in the old scenes, leading 
 the old life, and I could not undergo it. I would most cheerfully 
 share all I have with yon, but 1 cannot give it up for you do you 
 think it was quite right to ask me ?
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 "I do not suppose I shall ever be htxppy br.t yon will. I a! 
 noble enon"h for yon; and, if you had married in- y,,nr dissij 
 ment would have been ^at. Von will uu- I 
 
 me . 
 
 whom vou will love and marry. I kn" 
 
 now, I say it forever ; but former I shall U ,y >ur unhappy, N io 
 
 He laid the letter down and look.-l at it. 1 ! 
 expected such an uuswi-r, yet hi< disappoint 
 great and his eyes tilled with trars. It had 1 
 
 i and very dear to him, this i>tv<-i>us ! 
 the end \vas sorrow : still he i-'.uM n-.t siirpr 
 
 h,)sen that which si: 
 "and I cannot blame her now. In. el her. 
 
 He did it bravely, as he had done it 1" 
 his whole heart into his work, and fought in 
 with the great master-passion tof his 
 
 For some time after that it was rumored^in Lil 
 Ladv Chevenix was n-.t well ; that she had 
 and'h.-r spirits; that she was ill an^saw r,.,,,,,. Hi, 
 mite suddenly she sent for Darcy Lonsd 
 ^rsSh^wme to the conclusion thai 
 w^od did not suit her ;1tot for the fut m, ; , 
 
 divide her time between London and 1 
 P ri<> she added that the Marqu 
 
 t. imvtheCJarsw,,,,,!. - that *e thought of s^- 
 
 i,U them to him; hut it would b ' ** 
 
 he retained Darcy Lonsdale as his aj . 
 
 Alter son,, months, during which T^wlj p '' 
 
 i 
 
 six ,,,o,,ths -,.,-.. over, the DM. 
 
 rfie would probably b 
 
 U n-v occupante of 
 
 with his twora 
 svants^av, more 
 than th, wealthy^
 
 264 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 growing old, and did not go so often to the office. The 
 "small army" were rapidly growing up. Everything was 
 prosperous and happy where so many trials had once 
 seemed to threaten general destruction. Kate was one of 
 the leading ladies now in Lilford and very much enjoyed 
 the position. Time had softened Miss Lester, while Eve 
 had grown more beautiful and spirit wile. 
 
 Felix worked on steadily. He still made his home with 
 his father, but Katie, in speaking of him, said, with tears 
 in her eyes, that some day Providence would reward him 
 for his goodness to them, and that he would find a wife 
 worthy to be his partner for life. 
 
 He went to see Evelyn when he had an hour to spare ; 
 they were the best of friends. Years afterward he saw how 
 she had guided him without ever seeming to advise how 
 she had influenced him without ever seeming to use her 
 influence ; and when he began the great battle of political 
 life she was his right hand. 
 
 The time that had been foreseen and prophesied had ar 
 rived. The borough of Ord stone was vacant, and through 
 the interest of Lord Arlington, Felix had been returned. 
 
 It Avas no surprise, for every one had prophesied it 
 Genius must and will make its way to the front when it it 
 allied with perseverance and industry; genius alone does 
 \ittle. 
 
 "M. P. for Ordstone." Felix Lonsdale was pleased he 
 exulted as men exult. He had now a foremost place he 
 had made a name. Like all other men worthy of anything,, 
 he was ambitious ; and it seemed to him that his ambition 
 would be realized. 
 
 On the evening of the day of his election it was some 
 relief to him to escape from the noise of the crowd, and 
 spend a quiet hour with Evelyn. How she rejoiced with 
 him! How she exulted in his success! How wise and 
 sweet she was in her counsel ! It seemed. to him as though 
 his soul had found one more than a friend. 
 
 ' ' My foot is 011 the first step of the ladder. Eve, how 
 high shall I climb, do you think ?" 
 
 He never forgot the beautiful, earnest look on her fair 
 f;tc" as she answered : 
 
 "As high as heaven, I hope." 
 
 Anil those tew words, spoken by the tender lips of a noble 
 wonrvTi, were to him like an eloquent sermon. From that 
 hour iiis Hie seemed to have higher and better aims, and 
 into it came no dreftm of woman's love, until one day,
 
 WEAKER THAN A H'OUA.V. 265 
 
 Kate, having some leisure, hud a long conversation with 
 llilil. 
 
 "Can you understand an allegory, Felix?" she a 
 
 him. 
 
 '"Yes, I think so," he replied. "Try me, IIHK' 
 
 "Then- was once a man," began Kate, "who stood with 
 
 h;s feet firmly planted upon the earth, and his 
 I looking up nt the clouds. At his le-i : 
 
 i of priceless v;iiue. and at a disl. 
 Mess piece of shining: jrlass. This man of \\ hon'i I 
 1 upon the pearl until it \vas almost, hidden in tho 
 dust, while he went eagerly in search of tliel.it of . 
 i>o you understand. Felix '." she asked, afler a lew minutes. 
 
 "Only VI icly, ninth-''. 1 am the man. In 
 
 nize the bit of shining glass, but not the pearl." 
 
 "Not the pearl !" repeated Kate. "Well, that [.rove.- what 
 I have often thought, that, while men ma\ he clever and 
 keen and intellectual, they may, at the sa;;,e time, he hlind 
 as hats. That pearl has hem under yur eyes tor many 
 yeai-s. Ah, 1 see you do not understand :'' 
 
 Nor did he. Kate went on talking to him. 
 
 "Von will he a. man of mark, Felix everyone 
 But you will he like all other men : \oiiwill want a 
 wife. If Hie facts could he trot at, it would he found that 
 some of the greatest, men of the day owe much of their 
 fame to the wise jr.uida.nce of a wise wile." 
 
 "I believe that." he replied, "hut ah, well, we : 
 
 :i>out it, intnlrr. 1 suppose a. li Ul-'d lor 
 
 him." 
 
 "A man's fate is just what, he likes to make it." dec! 
 "When you are inclined to marry, never 
 heauty ; look out lor a nohle \\oman nohility of chai 
 is far hetter than heauty." 
 
 The words struck hini as hein- hut the r;-; etition of 
 words written to him. 
 
 "The world is full of nrhle women. ntinued. 
 
 "Look at i Wli; re would you find mi- 
 
 more gracious, or nohle.' She is t rue and tender ami 
 
 she has a. fund of clear common 
 vivid, hri-ht imagination, a quick. 
 
 as for heauty, 1 see more in h'-i '' in 
 
 any face I have ever seen/ 1 
 
 "Eve Lester!" he cried. "Certainly no woman eou. 
 nobler. Oh, ///<"//'. issiiethe |. 
 
 "Yes; you most blind, most dear. 'use of
 
 266 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, 
 
 boys ! She is the pearl, and you never saw her in your 
 hurry to pick up the worthless shining colored glass. " 
 
 Eve Lester. How blind he had been 1 He looked up at 
 Kate. 
 
 "Do you know, madre," he said, "she has been so much 
 part of my life all my life that I have never thought of 
 her apart from myself. " 
 
 A wise woman alw r ays knows when she has said enough. 
 Kate turned the conversation ; nor could he persuade her 
 to say more about Eve. But the idea had taken hold of 
 him, and Kate smiled softly to herself on seeing how 
 deeply he was engrossed in thought during the remainder 
 of that evening. 
 
 Felix had never realized until then what Eve was to him. 
 He went back over all his life. She had been his adviser, 
 his counselor, his friend. She had aroused all noble 
 thoughts in him, all great desires. She had fired his ambi- 
 tion ; she had shown him his road in life. He had never 
 dreamed how much he owed to her influence until he 
 thought all this over. 
 
 He remembered how, in the darkest hour of his father's 
 life, when earth was all cold, and the heavens seemed 
 made of brass, she came to his house like an angel of light 
 and consolation. She had offered him her all, and was 
 honestly grieved because he would not take it. As Felix 
 sat thinking of her, he recalled a thousand instances of 
 her sw r eet wisdom and goodness. 
 
 "It is true," he mused ; "we are sometimes perfectly ig- 
 norant of our greatest blessings. I should never have 
 known all that Eve has been to me until I lost her. " 
 
 Under this new light, he said to himself that he muse see 
 her, he must go over and talk to her, he must discover 
 what she really w r as to him how dear, how needful and 
 he would do it at once ; there should be no delay. 
 
 He went the next day, and the result of their conversa- 
 tion was that he did not leave her until she had promised 
 to be his wife ; for he found out that she loved him, and 
 had loved him only all her life he found out that he had 
 indeed been blind and foolish, for she was really the one 
 great treasure of his life. 
 
 The engagement afforded the greatest of pleasure to all 
 their friends ; there was not one dissentient voice. And 
 now, indeed, Kate Lonsdale was happy. 
 
 "I shall be the -dowager Lady Lonsdale," she said to 
 Eve, with a happy laugh. " There has been only one mis-
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 267 
 
 take from the beginning. Felix ought to have chosen you 
 from the first." 
 
 "It is sufficient," returned Eve, "that he has chosen me 
 now." 
 
 She asked him one day : 
 
 " Why do you always call me 'Pearl,' Felix? It is not 
 my name/' 
 
 "It is my n.-une for you," he replied, "and I shall use no 
 other." But he never told her why ; the past conversation 
 between Kute and himself remained a secret. 
 
 There could have been no happier marriage. Felix had 
 a beautiful house prepared for his wife not the pretty cot- 
 tage omc where his golden-haired love had stood and de- 
 cided that it was not good enough for her, but a fair and 
 pleasant mansion, standing in the midst of sunny grounds 
 a home that a princess might have envied because of its 
 artistic beauty and bright aspect. 
 
 It WHS a quiet wedding, but Eve would have it so. She 
 would have neither carriages nor a train of bridesmaids, 
 nor children stro wing flowers, nor any of the ceremonies 
 that attend a country public wedding. She walked quietly 
 to the dear old church at Li I ford, looking very fair and 
 Sweet, with the light flush caused by the morning air on 
 her face. The sunlight streamed in at the windows as she. 
 plighted her faith to the only man she had ever loved, and 
 whom she was to love forever. 
 
 Then Felix took her away to the Lakes, and they were 
 very happy. 
 
 They were sitting one day on the- border of AVinderinere, 
 When Eve raised her sweet face to her husband, and said : 
 
 "Felix, you love me very much now f 
 
 "Yes, my pearl more, tlia-n you know," he replied. 
 
 "Do you do not be cross with me because 1 ask the 
 question do you ever think of Violet?" 
 
 He took her hands in his own. and kissed them. 
 
 "Listen, darling," he said. " I w 1 answer you in other 
 words than my own- sweeter, indeed, than any words that 
 I could say ; 
 
 "Within the kingdom of my soul 
 
 I hid you .ntcr. l>v<\ to-dny 
 Submit i'ny lit" t<> y<mr control, 
 
 And k'hv my heart. uj> t" your sway. 
 
 " 'Our- only thuU'.'ht part. 
 
 Ami will ' remain 
 
 There is one chtimbi-r in my heart- 
 There even you might knock in vain.
 
 268 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 " 'A haunted chamber, long ago 
 
 I closed it, and I cast the key 
 Where deep and bitter waters flow 
 Into a waste and silent sea. 
 
 "Dear, it is haunted. All the rest 
 
 Is yours ; but I have shut that door 
 Forever now. 'Tis even best 
 That I should enter it no more. 
 
 " 'No more. It is not well to stay 
 
 With ghosts, their very look would scare 
 Your joyous loving smile away 
 So never try to enter there. 
 
 " 'Check, if you love me, all regret 
 
 That this one thought remains apart; 
 Now let us smile, dear, and 1'orgct 
 The haunted chamber in my heart.' " 
 
 When he had finished he bent down, and kissed the fair 
 face, and Eve, knowing the way to his heart, said : 
 
 "I am quite content, and I trust you." 
 
 And they talked of other things, while the sun shone over 
 the lake and the birds sang their sweetest. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 DESOLATE SPLENDOR. 
 
 Five years had passed since Felix took his fair wife home 
 to Eden House he would call it u Eden" because it held 
 his Eve and Eve was now one of the happiest women in 
 the kingdom. For in the room where she spent her morn- 
 ings a bright sunny room looking upon a beautiful world 
 of trees and flowers stood a little cot, and in this cot slept 
 a baby Eve's baby. He was, his mother said, the loveli- 
 est, the finest, the most intelligent in the whole world, and 
 Felix laughed as she defied any one to produce such 
 another. 
 
 Felix wanted Eve to accompany him for the Parliament 
 ary session. She looked longingly at the baby, and then 
 longingly at him. 
 
 " How can I possibly leave little Lester ?" she said. " Aunt 
 Jane would take great care of him, but she says he wants 
 reforming and I should not like to have him reformed." 
 
 " Bring him with you, Pearl, and he can assist the Legis- 
 lature of the nation," replied Felix, laughingly. 
 
 And Eve was only too pleased to comply.
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 209 
 
 No happier household ever settled for a time in the mod- 
 ern Babylon. Felix tool* very nice apartments, where his 
 wife could enjoy London to her hear*'* content, Eve was 
 in one respect. Sh" never merged the wife in the 
 mother. She never neglected her hu b.nd for her child. 
 She was so discreet and wise in the management of her 
 time that, while she was one of the most devoted mothers 
 in the world, she was at the same time one of the most <!<- 
 voted wives. Felix never felt, as bonie husbands do, that 
 he had a rival in his own child. 
 
 They went to London when Parliament opened, and when 
 May <-ame around the great city wore its fairest d 
 
 They sat ai breakfast one bright morning, with "the un- 
 equaled baby, ' as Felix called him, rolling i a thick rug 
 at their feet, when M Vtter was brought addressed to "Mrs. 
 Felix Lonsdale, 13 L'uper Park < he placed 
 
 it in his wile's ban- Felix recogni/ed the delicate hand- 
 writing, while he oinellvd a faint odor of violets. 
 
 Kvr opened it quickly, and then, pale and breat! 
 looked up at her husband. 
 
 'Listen, Felix," she said, after a few seconds, and she 
 
 " My DEAR EVE : I should like to see von and I-Ylix once more. 
 My husband is not well, and the doc4 ordered him t< 
 
 the south of France or Italy we think of ^oin^ to Florence audit 
 may lu- ;\<-ar- In-fore I return. Let me gee you both ! When 
 
 , your name.-; aiming the arrivals, it me that breath 
 
 of Lilford air \i:-.~ ni'. You will not refuse me t: 
 
 I shall ever ask of you? Call at Hok.-ly House at two o Vlork to- 
 day. 1 >hall wait for you. Ever your friend, YIOI.KT KOKKIA." 
 
 looked up again. 
 
 "llokely:' 1 she stiid. "Why, Felix, is Violet married 
 D ;" 
 
 "She married the Duke of Rokely three months ago," re 
 plied Felix. "I said nothing to you about it. She has mar- 
 ried one of the wealthiest dukes in England." 
 
 "She was beautiful enough for a duchess,* said 
 gently. 
 
 " She is not so beautiful in my eyes as you, my i 
 rejoined Felix, and tin-re was truth in his voice. His wife 
 smiled. 
 
 " What about the haunted chamber?" she asked. 
 
 "It is swept and garnished," he replied. She smiled 
 proudly. 
 
 When I heard what you said about it I made a resolu- 
 tion that I would get into the haunted chamber," she told
 
 270 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 him. "Some one said once that blonde women were all 
 insipid and weak of purpose. It is not true, is it, Felix ?" 
 
 "No," he replied. 
 
 " Now, " said his lovely wife, " if I looked into that cham- 
 ber, what should I see ?" 
 
 "Your own image," he answefed* and she believed him. 
 
 "We will go and see Violet, Duchess of Rokely," she 
 said, " if you are willing. That is not the letter of a happy 
 woman.'' 
 
 She understood why he was so anxious about her toilet 
 why he insisted that she should wear the fashionable 
 spring silk and the pretty Parisian bonnet. He kissed her 
 when she stood ready dressed. 
 
 "I am so proud of you, my darling," he whispered. 
 
 And those few words brought a lovely flush to her fair 
 face and made her fairer than ever ; then they drove off to- 
 gether to Rokely House. 
 
 It was one of the finest ducal mansions in London. Eve 
 was awe struck as the great hall door opened and she saAV 
 the liveried servants and the magnificence that might have 
 befitted the palace of a king. Her Grace, the Duchess of 
 Rokely was at home, and awaited them. 
 
 They went through suite after suite of magnificent rooms 
 until they reached her grace's boudoir, where she had 
 elected to receive them. It was a superb apartment octa 
 gon-shaped the panels and ceiling most exquisitely 
 painted, the hangings all of blue velvet and gold ; priceless- 
 treasures of art lavishly scattered around, buhl, marquetry, 
 old china, rare pictures, most exquisite statues orna- 
 ments of gold and silver, and in the midst of all this mag- 
 nificence stood an imperially beautiful woman, who looked 
 at it all with proudly contemptuous eyes. 
 
 Violet had grown even more beautiful. Her superb figure 
 was more fully developed ; her fair face had something in 
 it haughtier and colder. Very proud she looked as she 
 stood there, dressed in her favorite colors, blue and white 
 a dress of blue velvet relieved by trimmings of white 
 silk. In one hand she held a priceless fan ; the other white 
 and jeweled hand lay upon the table. 
 
 Her lovely face grew white even to the lips as Eve and 
 Felix entered the gorgeous room, but she advanced to meet 
 them ; she took Eve's hands in her own, and looked at 
 Felix. 
 
 w I am so glad to see you. It was kind of you to come. J 
 longed to see you both before I went away. Sit down and
 
 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 271 
 
 talk to me tell me all about Lilford. I shall never see it 
 again." 
 
 Very soon Eve had told her all she knew, and then, as 
 Lilford -to her meant the baby, she entered into a de- 
 scription of his charms. Was she mistaken, or did she 
 really see tears shining in the proud eyes '. 
 
 "I am so glad you have a little son, Felix. I ho; 
 will grow up like you, as good, as true, and as noble." 
 Then Violet's fare flushed, and she bent, her proud charm- 
 ing head before them. "I may never see you again, 
 said; "let me say out to you all the thoughts that are in 
 my heart. I am glad that you are married. I am glad, 
 i. hat Felix has found comfort in your love ; love him 
 always, love him truly, love him well; and oh, believe 
 me, Kve !--if you have little daughters, teach them that life 
 holds no treasure like love, that wealth, fame, titles, 
 honors, are the shadow, love the substance." 
 
 I shall be sure to teach them so, for I believe it," re- 
 marked sweet, wise Fve. 
 
 "I was always weaker than a woman," declared Violet, 
 with a proud, sad smile. "I flung a trea.su re from me and 
 lost it. Now I have everything that in my wildest dreams 
 1 ever longed for. I wear a coronet ; the world lies at my 
 feet, and with it all, when I wake sometimes my pillow is 
 wet with tears, for my heart is lonely, and will be lonely 
 until I die. Still I have made my own cho: 
 
 Felix saw a beautiful Sevres vase on the table near which 
 she stood ; it held a spray of lilac. 
 
 41 You retain your love'for the old home flowers." he said. 
 
 She took the lilac from the vase, and held it to her lips. 
 
 "I keep them near me always," she said. " when ihe\ 
 in bloom. Do you remember the lilac bush, s at home, 
 Felix ?" 
 
 Yes, he remembered them and how he had sunVn'd the 
 bitterness of death while the wet branches wa 
 his head. 
 
 Then she asked some questions about their h 
 their home life. 
 
 M You are very happy, "ahe said. -Tell me that, it will 
 
 be the plcasaiitest thin:.- 1 can hear." 
 
 "Yes," replied Felix, "wear* very happy.* 1 
 She drew a costly uin- from her finger. 
 " Fve," she said, " \var this for mj 
 
 M much if you refused. Now put your arms around 
 
 my neck you,' the true wife of a true man -and
 
 272 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
 
 Say ' Good -by, Violet. ' I never hear my own name now, 
 and I am tired of titles." 
 
 Felix held her hand one minute in his own. 
 
 " Good-by," she said. " In the midst of your happy life do 
 not quite forget me ; try to remember me as you knew me 
 years ago not as you know me now. " 
 
 And they went away, leaving her, in the midst of her 
 desolate splendor, with the spray of lilac in her hand. 
 
 [THE END. 1