. . . . ' I;'-': ' '.' : 
 
 
 

 

 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA.
 
 THE MISTRESS 
 
 OF 
 
 COURT REGNA 
 
 By CHARLES GARVICE 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 PUBLISHERS . . NEW YORK 
 
 Copyright 1895 and 1897, by George Munro's Sons.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A TOUKG girl stepped out upon the balcony which ran along 
 the tall first-floor windows of Court Regna, and, lightly rest- 
 ing her clasped hands upon the rail, gazed straight before her. 
 
 Her name was Claire Sartoris. She was on the verge of 
 twenty, and she was very beautiful. 
 
 A girl must be extremely good-looking nowadays to attract 
 attention, to say nothing of admiration, because there are so 
 many good-looking girls about, and they have all learned the 
 art of setting forth their beauty to the best advantage. No 
 man or, for that matter, woman ever passed Claire without 
 taking a second glance; and many a man carried the remem- 
 brance of her face about with him for days, sometimes for 
 years, afterward. 
 
 Her face was oval and colorless. It had been likened to old 
 ivory; it had also been likened to a peach with the bloom off 
 it; neither simile was a good one. Her hair was dark, black 
 indeed, but of soft texture, and inclined to curl and ripple 
 above the low brow. Her brows were rather heavy for a 
 young girl, and under their shadow the gray eyes sometimes 
 looked olack, and sometimes violet. It was, indeed, rather 
 difficult to tell, without close examination, what their color 
 really was. Her mouth was not particularly small, and the 
 lips were delicate rather than full, but exquisitely shaped. 
 They were expressive lips, and the expression they wore con- 
 veyed to the observer the impression that their owner possessed 
 a strong will, and had learned the secret of how " to suffer in 
 strength and silence." 
 
 She was slim of figure, but supple, and her attitude, as she 
 bent forward slightly over the rail, was full of that grace 
 which is one of God 's best gifts to woman. She was dressed 
 in plain black merino, relieved only by an edging of white lace 
 at her throat and at her wrists, which, though it was not par- 
 ticularly fashionable, suited her marvelously. 
 
 2135S26
 
 (J THE DISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 From where she stood she could just see above the tree- 
 tops a slice of greenish-blue sea, over which the sail was shin- 
 jng redly. Below her lay wide and velvety lawns, studded by 
 well-kept flower-beds, '^, wing like parterres oi ! rubies and 
 amethysts set in a surro;; : ding of emerald. Beyond the lawns 
 rose the trees, which in a dark Hue stretched away to right and 
 left, sloping up to the cliffs, which they clothed and hid. 
 
 It was one of the loveliest views in England, and quite 
 unique of its kind, for the cliffs of old Albion are mostly Dare 
 Df foliage; but these of Court Ilegna were clothed as by a rich 
 garment. But, though she appeared to be looking at it, 
 Claire did not see it. She was absorbed in thought. For one 
 of the most wonderful things that had ever happened to a 
 young girl had happened to her, and although it had occurred 
 to bor a fortnight ago, the wonder and the marvel of it still 
 held possession of her, and day and night she thought and 
 pondered over it, sometimes asking herself whether it was 
 really true. 
 
 For, a fortnight ago, Lord Wharton had died, and left 
 Court Eegna, with its miles of land, its substantial farms, the 
 village of Eegna, everything hi the great house from cellar 
 to garret, everything in the vast stables, from a worn-out 
 broom to the costly horses, to Claire Sartoris. And as she 
 stood on the balcony, with her eyes fixed dreamily on the set- 
 ting sun, her half-parted lips were saying: " It is all mine! I 
 am the mistress of Court Regna." 
 
 She did not say it boastfully or gloatingly, but wonderingly, 
 and almost sadly, as if the vastness of her possessions weighed 
 upon her, as if she felt lonely in the great house, surrounded 
 by the dark fringe of wind-tossed trees. 
 
 As she stood thus, she heard the sound of rolling wheels 
 coming up the drive to the entrance, and with a start and a 
 slightly heightened color, she antered the room behind her, 
 and stood with one hand rest, ig upon the back of a chair, as 
 if waiting. Presently the do. r opened, and a footman in dark 
 livery announced in hushed .ad expressionless tones: 
 
 " Mrs. Lexton!" 
 
 A middie-aged lady, with a worn face and timid eyes, 
 entered, and Claire, with a f;.int smile, went forward to meet 
 her, and took her hand and kissed her. 
 
 " So you have come, Maryl" she said in a low voice, with 
 a perceptible tremor in it. 
 
 ' Yes, Claire," said the elder woman, who was much 
 agitated; " of course, I came directly. Why did you not send 
 for me before? though it was very good of you to send for me
 
 THE MTSTRT?SS OF COURT REGNA. 7 
 
 at all! Oh, my dear, how tall you have grown! And how " 
 her voice dropped " how beautiful!" 
 
 Claire blushed slightly, but only for a moment. 
 
 " I should scarcely have known you," went on Mrs. Lex- 
 ton, " you have altered so." 
 
 " I was only a child when you saw me last, Mary," said 
 Claire. " And a great deal has happened since then." 
 
 " Yes, yes!" nervously assented Mrs. Lexton, with her 
 timid eyes fixed upon the beautiful face, as if she could not 
 remove them. " I am so anxious to hear it all! You muse 
 have so much to tell me " 
 
 " Yes," said Claire in a low, firm voice, which, for all its 
 firmness, was like a note of music. " But you must come 
 and take off your things. It is nearly dinner-time, but you 
 shall have your tea all the same; I will have it sent up to your 
 room." 
 
 She rang the bell. 
 
 " Some tea to Mrs. Lexton's room/' she said to the foot- 
 man. And Mrs. Lexton watched her, as if impressed by the 
 girl's quiet dignity and air of command. " Come!" said 
 laire; and drawing Mrs. Lexton's arm within hers, she led 
 her to the room prepared for her. 
 
 As they went along the corridor, the elder woman looked 
 about her, and down at the great hall, not with vulgar curi- 
 osity, but with a kind of wonder on her refined face. 
 
 Claire noticed it, and smiled faintly; and Mrs. Lexton mur- 
 mured, apologetically: 
 
 " I am not used to such grandeur, dear." 
 
 " You will very soon get used to it, Mary," said Claire. 
 " Sit down in that easy-chair, and let me take your bonnet off 
 for you. How tired you must be after your long journey! 
 You are looking just the same, Mary; just the same kind, 
 lovable face, just as I have pictured it many and many a 
 time. Heaven knows how often I have longed for a sight of 
 you; and how often I have longed to write and tell you of 
 that longing." 
 
 " He would not let you write, dear?" said Mrs. Lexton, in 
 an awed whisper. 
 
 Claire turned her eyes away. 
 
 " He would not let me write to any one, nor see any one of 
 my old friends," said Claire. " The first day I came here, 
 years ago, Lord Wharton told me of his wish in the matter. 
 It was his express command that I should hold no communi- 
 cation whatever with those I had left." 
 
 *' I know I understand dear," said Mrs. Lexton. " How
 
 g THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 sad it must have been for you! Have you been very unhappy 
 
 he nlire looked thoughtfully out of the window. 
 
 "Not vm unhappy," she said; " scarcely unhappy at all. 
 Sometimes Tt C E very lonely-tor Lord Wharton would 
 
 ~*lXto beTshutVp in this great house alone with 
 an old man?" 
 
 ISd^fmoS, with spotless collar and cuffs of white 
 linen brought in the tea. Claire poured out a cup. 
 
 " You take sugar, I remember, she said. 
 
 The elder woman was so absorbed in her *$&* 
 of wonder at the calmness, the exquisite repose, of the solita y 
 you* g girl, that she held the cup in her hand and seemed to 
 forget the tea, though every nerve was aching for it f 
 
 Tell me everything, Claire, dear! she said. .all 
 
 BO strange, seems so wonderful, that I can scarcely realize t. 
 She looked round the expensively furnished room, as if it 
 
 ; r 'the bed, and leaned her arm on the broad brass 
 
 ra When it comes to telling you, Mary," she said, " there 
 seems after all, so little to tell. Nothing eventful seems to 
 havroccurred since Lord Wharton sent for me five years ago. 
 I remember that night as clearly as if it was but yesterday. 
 Therbmught me into the library, which, you will see pres- 
 ently, and there I saw a very old man sitting upright m a 
 great oak chair. He looked so white, that I remember I 
 thought he must be half dead; but to eyes were full of tierce 
 
 and I trembled as he fixed them piercingly on me. 
 She paused a moment, as if she were recalling the scene, 
 and Mrs. Lexton gripped the tea-cup nervously, and, leaning 
 forward, gazed at the dreamy face. 
 
 "'So you are Claire?' he said; 'and you have come to 
 take charge of Court Regna and me?' He laughed, or his 
 mouth shaped as if he were laughing, though no sound came. 
 'A young mistress!' he said. Let us come to an under- 
 standing! If you are to remain here, you will be good 
 enough to forget everything that you have left behind lou 
 will write to no one-see no one of your people. You will 
 belong to me as a daughter belongs to a father. Young as 
 YOU are, you will understand what 1 mean, I think, for you 
 do not look a fool/ I said nothing; but he seemed satisfied, 
 and he rang the bell. The housekeeper came, and he said to
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 9 
 
 her, ' This is Miss Claire Sartoris. She is mistress here; you 
 will do as she tells you you may go.' That was all. From 
 that day to this every one in the place regarded me as its mis- 
 tress/' 
 
 " Claire! And you so young!" 
 
 " Yes; but I soon grew old. I was free to go where I 
 pleased, do as I pleased, as long as I was ready at his call." 
 
 " He was not unkind to you, Claire?" 
 
 " Not unkind," said Claire; " but not kind. He could not 
 be. There was scarcely a moment that he was not in pain. 
 He never complained; but it seemed to madden him some- 
 times, and then " she paused " at those times he seemed 
 to hate the whole world, and especially those near him; and 
 whenever the black fits were upon him, he would remind me 
 that my future was at his disposal, and that I had no claim 
 upon him." 
 
 " My poor Claire! And yet " 
 
 " Only the night before he died he told me that he had /eft 
 me nothing beyond a small income. I did not expect any 
 more I did not want any more. I had grown fond of him 
 almost to regard him as a father " Her voice dropped, and 
 her eyes became downcast. " I was sorry that he was dead. 
 When the lawyer, Mr. Sapley, came and asked me to be pres- 
 ent at the reading of the will, I begged him to excuse me, 
 but he insisted; and I sat in a corner of the darkened room, 
 scarcely listening, and not understanding a word. And it 
 was only after he'd explained to me two or three times, that I 
 understood that Lord Wharton had left me everything of 
 which he was possessed." 
 
 " Everything, Claire?" breathed Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 " Everything!" said Claire. " The house, the whole 
 estate everything!" 
 
 Mrs. Lexton drew a long breath. 
 
 " It is wonderful!" she murmured. 
 
 "It is wonderful!" assented Claire. "I have not, even 
 yet, fully realized it. Lord Wharton himself told me that I 
 was to expect nothing but a few hundreds a year. In 
 moments of anger he had even threatened to deprive me of 
 those. Never by word or sign had he given me any hint of 
 his intention to make me his heiress." 
 
 Mrs. Lextoc leaned back. 
 
 " And the relations, Claire?" she asked. 
 
 " I do not know of any," said Claire; " excepting very dis- 
 tant ones, like myself. There were some at the funeral and the 
 reading of the will; but no one came here during Lord
 
 10 THE MISTKESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 ton's life-time, and he held no communication with them. 1 
 know, because I read and wrote all his letters. He saw no 
 one but the doctor and Mr. Sapley, the lawyer, who is the 
 agent of the estate." 
 
 " It is like a romance!" said Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 " It is. Sometimes I think I shall wake and find it all a 
 dream. When I am sitting by myself, alone in this great 
 house, I often think that I hear his voice it was harsh and 
 hard, and you could hear it at a great distance calling to me; 
 and I rise and take half a dozen steps toward his room. Then 
 I remember that he is dead, and that I am my own mistress, 
 and that he will never call me again." 
 
 There was silence for a minute or two. 
 
 " And what do you mean to do, Claire?" asked Mrs. Lex- 
 ton. " You will go away for a change; leave here for awhile?" 
 
 " No, I think not," said Claire, musingly. " I have been 
 here so long that I feel frightened at the thought of going into 
 the world. I am like the prisoner of the Bastile, who, when 
 they had released him, begged them to take him back to his 
 cell.'.' 
 
 " But, my dear " remonstrated Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " That is my feeling at present. It may pass in time; but 
 for the present I will stay here. I have sent for you to keep 
 me company, Mary. You will not feel it dull or lonely?" 
 
 Mrs. Lexton laughed. 
 
 " My dear Claire, how could I possibly feel dull with you, 
 and in such a place as this? Its beauty and its grandeur 
 makes me feel very much as Aladdin must have felt when he 
 first saw his palace. I think if I were to remain here twenty 
 years I should find enough to amuse and interest me. 
 
 Claire laughed. 
 
 " And yet you have seen so little of it?" she said. " Would 
 yon like to walk round the house, or are you too tired?" 
 
 Mrs. Lexton rose instantly. 
 
 *' It is what I am dying to do," she said, as she caught up 
 her bonnet. 
 
 They went down the broad staircase, and into the hall. 
 Claire waved her hand slightly. 
 
 " Family portraits," she said. " That is Lord Wharton." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton gazed with awe at the grim, stern face. 
 
 " It is the last on the line," she said; " are there no 
 others?" She spoke almost in a whisper, as if she were in 
 church, for the stained windows gave a dim, religious light to
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGHA. 11 
 
 the vast place, and the vaulted roof resembled that of a 
 cathedral. 
 
 " There are no others after his," said Claire. She pointed 
 out the tattered flags hanging from the roof, the men in 
 armor, and the ancient weapons arranged in quaint patterns 
 upon the paneled walls; and then she drew her companion 
 through the wide door-way into the open air. 
 
 They stood upon the terrace for a moment or two, while 
 Mrs. Lexton looked at the long and noble facade in silent 
 amazement. 
 
 " I've read of such places, and seen pictures of them, 
 Claire," she said; " but I have never imagined any places like 
 this." 
 
 " There are very few like it," said Claire, absently. " But 
 let us come into the garden." 
 
 They crossed the lawn, Mrs. Lexton marveling at every 
 step, and following a winding path through the trees, 
 mounted to the cliff, to a spot from which the trees had been 
 cleared, and from which they could obtain a panoramic view 
 of the sea, the coast line, and the fields and woods of Court 
 Regna stretching far inland. Mrs. Lexton looked round for 
 a time in speechless admiration; then a cluster of houses built 
 in a cleft of the rocks which formed a narrow valley running 
 steeply to the sea, caught her eye, and she exclaimed: 
 
 " There is a village there, Claire. What is it?" 
 
 " That is Regna," said Claire. " It is a very famous place. 
 There is no other village in England like it. There is just 
 one street, as you see, and it is so steep that no carriage can 
 go down it; most of the roadway is composed of steps. Those 
 little dots you see moving up it are donkeys, bringing up fish 
 from the boats which lie inside the harbor. Do you see the 
 little pier?" 
 
 Mrs. Lexton drew a long breath of appreciation and de- 
 light. 
 
 " It is wonderful," she said. " It is like a picture!" 
 
 " A great many pictures have been made of it," said Claire. 
 " Artists come from all parts of the world to paint it. There 
 is not a cottage or a nook in it that has not been put on can- 
 vas. Regna is one of the show places, and in the season hun- 
 dreds of excursionists flock into it. They come by coach from 
 Thraxton, which is about fourteen miles away, or by steamer. 
 The narrow street is sometimes so crowded that one can 
 scarcely pass. That is in the season, of course; at other times 
 it is as quiet and deserted as any other English village." 
 
 " To whom does it belong?" asked Mrs. Lexton.
 
 12 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " To Lord Wharton I mean, to me." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton stared. 
 
 "To you? To you? The whole village!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Lexton. 
 
 " Yes," said Claire, calmly. " Every house; a great many 
 of the^boats themselves; those donkeys may be mine; certainly 
 every inch of the laud is. I do not know whether the vessel? 
 pay a toll to the pier, but if they do, it is mine." 
 
 " Oh, I can not realize it, Claire!" 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " And now you can understand how I fail to realize it," she 
 said, gently. 
 
 They walked on, and presently they came to another clear- 
 ing, from which they could see prosperous farms dotted 
 amongst the neatly hedged fields. 
 
 " And these?" asked Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 "Are mine also," said Claire. "That large farm is 
 Westcroft; and that Low Barton; and that one over there 
 Failby. The farm near the house, just beyond the stables, is 
 the Home Farm. It supplies us with butter and cream and 
 eggs, and it costs a small fortune to keep up." 
 
 ' Those woods over there in the distance, surely those are 
 not yours?" 
 
 "Indeed, yes!" replied Claire. "The estate stretches 
 further than you can see." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton drew another long breath. 
 
 " I am growing bewildered, Claire," she said. " I can not 
 take it all in at one view. I must come up here and look 
 steadily at one part of it, and when I have realized that that 
 belongs to you, I must turn to another part, and so on." 
 
 Claire laughed softly. 
 
 " We will go down this way," she said, " and look in at the 
 stables; you will not have time to see the whole, but we will 
 just walk through." 
 
 They went down by a winding path, similar to that by 
 which they had ascended, and, passing under a lofty arch of 
 stone, entered the paved stable-yard. Grooms and stable- 
 helps touched their caps, and stood expectant and ready to 
 obey Claire's command. With a word to one and the other, 
 she led Mrs. Lexton into the stables. They were lofty, and 
 constructed on the most approved principles, and the horses 
 of Court Regna were better housed than many a human being. 
 Mrs. Lexton marveled at it all, and marveled still more at 
 the familiar and fearless way in which Claire went from stall 
 to stall and putted and caressed the horses.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 13 
 
 " This is my special mare," she said, drawing the sleek 
 head of the beautiful animal down to her cheek. 
 * You ride but, of course," said Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 " I spend most of my time in the saddle/' said Claire, " or 
 driving this pair of cobs. I will take you for a drive to-mor- 
 row, and you must learn to drive yourself; you shall begin 
 with that dear old pony there; he has been petted so much 
 that he is almost human, and, indeed, is more trustworthy 
 than most humans." 
 
 As they passed out by a door at the lower end of the stables, 
 a gentleman came toward them, as if he had just left the 
 house. He was an oldish man, tall and gaunt, his broad 
 shoulders stooped slightly, and his long arms swung in a 
 peculiar manner at his side; his face was big-featured, with 
 beetling brows, from under which gleamed small and cunning- 
 looking eyes. The mouth was huge and coarse, though the 
 lips were thin. He was dressed in dark and sober clothes, 
 and looked in every inch a professional man. At sight of 
 him, Mrs. Lexton was conscious of a feeling of repugnance, 
 and as the small eyes darted stealthily from Claire to her, she 
 drew back timidly. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HE raised his hat, with a smile that was at once obsequious 
 and self-assertive. 
 
 " Good-evening, Miss Sartoris," he said in a subdued but 
 harsh voice. " I have driven over to see about the lease of 
 "Westcroft; but you are engaged, I see." 
 
 " My friend, Mrs. Lextou, has but just arrived," said 
 Claire. He raised his hat in acknowledgment of the intro- 
 duction. 
 
 " I will come over to-morrow," he said. " Or, perhaps, 
 Mordaunt will come; he knows all about the lease." 
 
 " Very good," said Claire. " But will you not stay and 
 dine with us?" 
 
 " Thank you, no, Miss Sartoris; there are one or two things 
 I wish to see to, and I want to get back; thank you all the 
 same. There is nothing I can do for you? No? Then I will 
 wish you good-evening. Good-evening, madame." And, 
 raising his hat again, he bowed and stood aside to allow them 
 to pass. 
 
 " Who was that, Claire?" asked Mrs. Lexton, when they 
 had got out of hearing. 
 
 " Mr. Sapley, the lawyer and agent." ,
 
 14 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " What an odd -looking man!" 
 
 "Odd?" said Claire. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Lexton, reluctantly, but as j/ she were 
 forced to explain, " Don't you think he has a most unpleas- 
 ant face?" 
 
 " Did it strike you so?" asked Claire. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Lexton. "It reminded me of a ser- 
 pent's; it was so broad at the top, and his eyes glittered so. 
 But, forgive me, Claire, it is like my presumption to criticise 
 your friends so harshly and within a few hours of my arrival, 
 too." 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " I don't know that Mr. Sapley is exactly a friend of mine, 
 Mary," she said. " The Sapleys have been agents to the 
 estate for ever so many years, and Lord Wharton placed the 
 fullest confidence in him though he never made a friend of 
 him. But he made no friends of any one. And you did not 
 like Mr. Sapley 's face?" 
 
 Mrs. Lexton gave a feminine little shudder. 
 
 " It isn't of any consequence, Claire," she said. 
 
 " I suppose he is not particularly pleasant looking; but I 
 have got used to him, and his countenance doesn't impress 
 me as it has impressed you. Use is everything." 
 
 " Who is Mordaunt?" asked Mrs. Lexton. " His clerk?" 
 
 " No; his son," replied Claire, indifferently. " I have 
 seen very little of him. He has just come from Oxford, I 
 believe." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton gazed at her companion in a half-bewildered 
 way; she remembered her a girl, all legs and wings, stooping 
 over an exercise-book in a cheap sea-side lodging, and the 
 change, not only in Claire's circumstances, but in her form, 
 face, and manner, confused the timid woman. 
 
 As they re-entered the house, by a door opening into the 
 back hall, a bell rang somewhere above them. 
 
 " That is the dressing-bell," said Claire. " You will not 
 need to make an elaborate toilet, Mary; we are, of course, 
 quite alone. Can you find your way down to the drawing- 
 room see, this is it or shall I come and fetch you?" 
 
 When Mrs. Lexton came down, she found Claire awaiting 
 her in a drawing-room of vast proportions, and decorated in 
 dull white and gold, with furniture and hangings of amber 
 and sea-blue. The room was magnificently striking; but 
 Claire was still more striking as she stood by the window, 
 looking at the falling sun. Her maid had, perhaps in honor 
 of the visitor, clothed her in a plain but rich black silk, th
 
 THE MI8TKESS OF COURT REGtfA. 15 
 
 soft texture of which draped her graceful figure to perfection. 
 The maid had also fastened a diamond ornament in the dark 
 hair, and placed a red rose in the bosom of the dress. Claire 
 was quite unconscious of the effect she produced indeed, she 
 scarcely knew what she wore as she came forward, quite 
 simply, and drew her friend's arm through hers as the butler 
 announced dinner. 
 
 The dining-room was not particularly large, but it was 
 famous for its old oak and its pictures and plate, and im- 
 pressed Mrs. Lexton, even more perhaps than any other part 
 of the house had done. The dinner was not an elaborate one, 
 as dinners go nowadays, but its courses seemed endless to the 
 faded woman, for whom a chop or a sole had hitherto amply 
 sufficed for her principal meal; and the noiseless ministra- 
 tions of the stately butler and the two tall footmen made 
 her for a time nervous and constrained; but, aided by Claire's 
 quiet and perfect self-possession, Mrs. Lexton succeeded in 
 dispelling her feeling of shyness, and the two friends talked 
 freely, and enjoyed their meal. But all through it Mrs. Lex- 
 ton's wonder at the change in Claire remained with her. 
 
 When they returned to the drawing-room, Claire took her 
 by the arms, and gently forced her into a deep-seated chair. 
 
 " Now you shall rest, Mary, and I will play to you," she 
 said. " I must have tired you out with my talking." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton leaned back in the luxurious chair with a sigh 
 of content, and Claire went to the piano. As she played 
 softly, she was thinking of the past, which the presence of 
 this middle-aged cousin of hers had brought back so plainly. 
 She had been left an orphan in Mary Lexton's charge, and 
 had been brought up by her until the day Lord Wharton had 
 suddenly remembered his very distant relation, Claire Sar- 
 toris, and had sent for her. 
 
 She went on playing for a time, almost forgetful of her 
 auditor, and when she presently looked round she found that 
 Mrs. Lexton had fallen asleep. She rose softly, and stood 
 looking down at her for a moment or two, then she went to 
 the open window, and stood gazing over the lawns. It was 
 still light, a rosy light from the sunset, and Claire, taking a 
 small Indian shawl from a chair, put it over her head, gypsy 
 fashion, and went down the steps into the garden. 
 
 She wandered slowly between the flower-beds, picking a 
 blossom now and again, intending to make a posy for Mrs. 
 Lexton, who was passionately fond of flowers. And with a 
 bunch in her hand, she strolled aimlessly along the smooth 
 path toward the wood, which ran to the verge of the garden.
 
 16 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGJTA. 
 
 The shadowy coolness under the trees tempted her co enter, 
 an 1 she passed into the twilight made by the thick, overhang- 
 ing boughs. 
 
 A little way into the wood was a small arbor, raised above 
 the path by a mound; and she went into it and sat down, and 
 began to arrange the flowers. She had not been there many 
 minutes when she heard footsteps, and, looking down, she 
 saw a young man walking along the path in the direction of 
 the house. 
 
 He was not a bad-looking young fellow, and wore a riding- 
 suit not altogether ungracefully; though he did not carry his 
 head very well, and was rather round-shouldered. Claire 
 knew him it was Mr. Mordaunt Sapley. 
 
 As he came abreast of the arbor he stopped, and, looking 
 round, whistled and called " Trap, Trap!" and Claire, bend- 
 ing forward, saw a fox terrier pup playing amongst the brake 
 at a little distance. It was so engrossed in sniffing out the 
 rabbits, that it either did not hear its master's call, or ignored 
 it; and Claire saw Mr. Mordaunt Sapley's face grow impa- 
 tient, and then angry. 
 
 At that moment Claire was struck by a certain resemblance 
 in the son's face to his father's. She had always thought if 
 she had thought about it at all that Mr. Mordaunt was 
 rather good-looking; but at that moment he looked ugly and 
 repellent. 
 
 He called the pup two or three times, and with an oath. 
 The dog came at last came cringingly. Mordaunt picked it 
 up by the scruff of its neck, and, holding it aloft, lashed it 
 cruelly with his riding-whip. 
 
 The wi etched little animal shrieked piteously; and Claire, 
 crimson with indignation, sprung to her feet, and had gained 
 the door of the arbor, with the intention of rushing down to 
 rescue the dog, when some one sprung from the opposite 
 bank, and, alighting almost on the top of Mr. Mordaunt, 
 natohed both dog and whip from his grasp, and sent him 
 backward against a tree. 
 
 Claire stood rooted to the spot, her hands clinched at her 
 side, a thrill of womanly satisfaction and delight stirring 
 through every vein. 
 
 The new-comer was a young man of stalwart proportions, 
 and, as he confronted Mr. Mordaunt, of more than usually 
 imposing appearance. His face was red, under a coating o* 
 tan, and a pair of brown eves flashed with ominous fierceness 
 nto Mr. Mordaunt's small ones. With a woman's quickness.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 17 
 
 Claire noticed that his tweed suit was worn and travel-stained, 
 and that his boots were covered with dust. 
 
 She waited and watched intently. The new-comer patted 
 the dog with a gentleness which, coming after his furious 
 onslaught, surprised Claire, and set it down; then he bent 
 Mr. Mordaunt's whip until it snapped in twain, and flung the 
 pieces at that gentleman's feet. 
 
 " I should advise you not to buy another, sir/' he said, 
 " until you have learned how to use it, or, rather, how not to 
 use it." 
 
 His tone was almost a calm one, though his eyes were still 
 flashing, and the strongly cut lips were still quivering. Mr. 
 Mordaunt picked up his hat and glared at him. 
 
 " Who the devil are you 9" he demanded, with suppressed 
 passion. 
 
 " And who the devil are you ?" said the other, and still 
 more calmly. " But don't trouble yourself; I'm not particu- 
 larly anxious to know the name of a man who is cur enough 
 to beat a young dog as you were beating that pup." 
 
 " D n your impudence!" snarled Mr. Mordaunt, pushing 
 his white face forward, and clinching and unclinching his 
 fist. " How dare you interfere with me? What right have 
 you to interfere? The dog's mine, and I've a right to beat 
 it, if I choose, without being called to account to say nothing 
 of being insulted by every accursed tramp!" 
 
 " The dog may be yours," said the stranger, now perfectly 
 calm; " but I question your right to beat it as you were 
 doing, and every tramp would be justified in stepping in to 
 the rescue. Why, you coward! you ought to thank me for 
 letting you off so easily! You would, if you knew how hard 
 it was for me to hold my hand. Thank your stars that I 
 broke your whip across my knee, instead of across your back, 
 as you deserved!" 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt's face was an excellent study for a painter 
 who wished to portray Impotent Rage. 
 
 " You you are an insolent scoundrel!" he said, hoarsely. 
 " What are you doing here? You've no right here; this is 
 private ground, and you are trespassing!" 
 
 " That may be," said the other; " and if you are not the 
 owner, I will apologize. If you are, please understand that I 
 hold myself justified in trespassing anywhere to protect a 
 helpless dog from a cowardly cad!" 
 
 The last word struck home, as a true word always does. Mr. 
 Mordaunt, forgetting discretion in his fury, sprung forward 
 with uplifted hand. The stranger waited, without moving a
 
 18 1HE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 muscle, until Mr. Mordaunt's arm was within reach; ihen he 
 grasped it, and, in an extraordinary fashion, Mr. Mordaunt 
 Sapley found himself lying on his back, staring up at the tree, 
 as if he had lost all interest in the a flair. He had, in fact, 
 been thrown down so suddenly and violently as to knock the 
 genses out of him for a time. His opponent looked down at 
 him for a minute with a grave smile, then he touched him 
 with his foot. 
 
 " Get up!" he said, quietly. " The next time you feel par- 
 ticularly anxious to strike a man, have your left ready to guard. 
 Why, man, if I had liked, I could have knocked you through 
 the trunk of that tree, instead of laying you gently on your 
 back. Get up, for Heaven's sake! Here is your hat," and 
 he rolled it forward with his foot. 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt got up on his legs they seemed rather 
 unsteady and glared sullenly under his brows at his opponent. 
 
 " I'll I'll trouble you for your name and address! You 
 will pay for this! You've committed a brutal assault!" 
 
 " That's true," acquiesced the strange young man. 
 " We've both committed a brutal assault on a puppy." He 
 smiled. " But you want my name; you shall have it. It's 
 Gerald Wayre. I'm staying in the village, where you can 
 serve me with any summons or process of the law you please." 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt fumbled for his pocket-book, and, with a 
 
 freat show of calmness, proceeded to write down the name; 
 nt his hands trembled so, that he dropped the pencil. And 
 the stranger, with a half-pitying, half-contemptuous smile, 
 picked it up for him. Mr. Mordaunt snatched it from his 
 hand. 
 
 '* How do you sp^ll it?" he snarled. 
 
 " I always spell it, W-a-y-r-e; but you can spell it as you 
 like. I've a notion you won't forget it." 
 
 14 You will hear from me," repeated Mr. Mordaunt. " I 
 shall summon you for trespass and assault. My name is" 
 
 " Don't trouble," said the stranger; " I'm not at all 
 anxious to know your name in fact, the less I know about 
 yon the better I shall be pleased." 
 
 1 Leave these grounds!" said Mr. Mordaunt. 
 
 " Presently, when I've lighted my pipe," was the response. 
 4 Meanwhile, I should advise you to go home as quickly aa 
 possible, and rub your back with embrocation, or you won't 
 be able to move to-morrow, and that would be a pity." 
 
 With a stifled oath, and a look of malignant fury, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt departed. 
 
 The victor, left in possession of the field, seated himself on
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 19 
 
 the bank, and taking out a pipe, slowly and carefully filled it 
 and lighted it, and as carefully stamped out the match with 
 his heel, in case it should ignite the dry bracken. 
 
 Claire had stood motionless during the whole of the scene, 
 which was the most dramatic she had ever witnessed. She 
 stood motionless still, being, naturally, desirous of concealing 
 her presence. But presently she was somewhat startled by 
 seeing something moving at her feet. It was nothing more 
 terrible than the poor little fox terrier, creeping up to her for 
 protection and consolation. 
 
 She stooped as softly and noiselessly as possible, and 
 picked it up in her arms, where it nestled closely, still trem- 
 bling, and pressing its soft head against her warm throat. 
 
 Cautiously as she had bent down, the sharp eyes of the 
 young man had seen some movement. He looked up, and, as 
 he saw her standing in the half light a vision of loveliness, 
 and grace, and dignity his brown eyes opened to their fullest 
 extent, and he held his pipe rigidly suspended away from his 
 lips. Astonishment held him in thrall. 
 
 Their eyes met, and the color began slowly to rise to the 
 ivory of her face. Would he speak come toward her? 
 
 He did neither. Lowering his eyes slowly, he rose and 
 stretched himself, with an exaggerated air of ease, as if he 
 wished to convey to her the impression that he had not seen 
 her. Then he put on his hat, yawned slowly, and moved 
 away. 
 
 Claire drew a long breath. If she had had any doubt 
 about it before, the doubt was now dispelled, and she knew 
 for certain that the man was a gentleman. Nothing could 
 have been better done than his affectation of not having seen 
 her. It was the perfection of delicacy. 
 
 She waited for a few minutes, feeling relieved, and must ifc 
 be admitted? vaguely disappointed, by his departure. Then, 
 with the puppy still in her arms, she went quickly to the 
 house. 
 
 She gave the dog to a groom, and told him to lock it up, 
 and that she would see it in the morning, and then she went 
 into the drawing-room where Mrs. Lexton, awake from her 
 slumber, was half nervously awaiting her. 
 
 " I fell asleep, dear I'm so sorry!" she said. 
 
 "But I'm very glad/' said Claire. "It is the rery best 
 thing you could have done after your long journey. We will 
 have some tea now; or would you prefer coffee?" 
 
 " It seems so rude of me to fall asleep the very first even- 
 ing," said Mrs. Lezton, with e^lf-reproach. *' Have vou been
 
 20 THE JllSSTKi:: ; S OF COUKT KKGNA. 
 
 iuto the garden?" glancing at the shawl which Claire hod 
 thrown on a chair. 
 
 " Yes; it is beautiful out to-night- 
 Mrs. Lexton interrupted her with an exclamation. 
 
 " Claire! Your diamond ornament!" 
 
 Claire put her hand up to her hair. The epray was missing. 
 
 It was a valuable piece of jewelry, and, for a moment, she 
 was filled with consternation; and then, desirous of relieving 
 Mrs. Lexton's anxiety, she said, lightly: 
 
 " Oh, that's all right." 
 
 " You took it off before yon went out?" said Mrs. Lexton. 
 *'' That was wise, dear." 
 
 While they were at their tea, a footman entered. 
 
 " A gentleman wishes to know if he can see you, miss?" he 
 said. 
 
 " A gentleman? What is his name?" 
 
 " He did not give it me, miss. He said you wouldn't know 
 it. He apologized for coming so late; but said it was impor- 
 tant business, and that he would not detain you for more than 
 a minute. He is in the library." 
 
 " Very well," said Claire. 
 
 She poured out another cup of tea for Mrs. Lexton; then 
 rose, and with a glance at her hair, and that little touch which 
 the least vain of women seem bound to bestow upon it on such 
 occasions, went into the library. 
 
 The principal actor in the melodrama of the wood was 
 standing under the candelabra, and on the table in front of 
 him lay her diamond spray. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN her surprise, Claire started slightly, and a faint color 
 came into her face. The young man regarded her gravely, 
 and inclined his head. 
 
 Claire saw by the light of the lamp that he was good-look- 
 ing, if not actually nandsome; the dark eyes looked from 
 under level brows; there was a slight wave to the short hair; 
 the mouth was firm, and looked rather pugnacious, and the 
 square chin carried on the impression. In short, strength 
 epoke from the face as distinctly as it proclaimed itself in the 
 figure. 
 
 Claire noticed, also, a certain air of pride which belonged 
 to face and manner. For instance, though the inclination of 
 the head was respectful enough, there was nothing approach- 
 ing the senile in it, but a kind of restraint which seemed to
 
 MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 21 
 
 intimate that the young man considered himself to be in thi 
 presence of an equal. 
 
 All this Claire took in, just as a camera takes in a view, in 
 an instant, and as she stood waiting for him to speak. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris?" he said. 
 
 And the voice, though much gentler than that in which ha 
 had spoken to Mr. Mordauut Sapley, was grave, and not with- 
 out dignity. 
 
 " I am Miss Sartoris," assented Claire. 
 
 " I have to apologize for disturbing you at so late an hour, 
 Miss Sartoris/' he said; "but I found this ornament in the 
 little wood or spinny over yonder, and, guessing that it 
 must belong to you or some lady staying at the house, I 
 thought it best to bring it here at once. The owner would 
 naturally be anxious about it." 
 
 " Thank you; I am very much obliged to you," said Claire. 
 " It belongs to me; I must have dropped it in the woods." 
 
 He did not say " I saw you there;" but he took up the 
 spray, and looked at it thoughtfully. 
 
 " They are diamonds, and of great value, I suppose?" he 
 said, as he handed it to her; and his dark eyes sought hers. 
 
 Claire took the ornament, and glanced at it indifferently. 
 
 " Yes; they are diamonds. And I suppose it is of value." 
 
 " Then Pm very glad I found it," he said. " Bui^-you'll 
 forgive me must it not have been very insecurely fastened 
 for you to have dropped it without knowing it?" 
 
 " There is only the long hair-pin to which it is attached," 
 said Claire. " Will you not sit down?" she added. 
 
 He declined, with a slight movement of his hand. 
 
 " I will not detain you," he said. " I was only going to 
 say that it would be as well if you were to fasten it more 
 securely for the future. Some man as poor, but a little more 
 dishonest, may pick it up next time, and then " 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 Claire colored, but smiled, too. 
 
 " I am afraid one is very careless about such things," she 
 said, " and deserves to lose them; but I didn't make the 
 thing, and " she looked at it " I am sure I don't know 
 how to fasten it more securely." 
 
 " Permit me," he said, and held out his hand. 
 
 He examined the long double pin. 
 
 " Nothing could be easier," he said. " You have only to 
 fix a couple of small screws or nuts on the ends of these pins 
 when you've placed the ornament in your hair." 
 
 " That would be a great deal of trouble," said Claire.
 
 2V THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " Yes," he admitted; " almost as much trouble as looking 
 for it when it is lost. Bat, I beg your pardon. I am pre- 
 suming to offer you advice which I'm afraid is not very 
 valuable." 
 
 Claire's eloquent lips parted with a smile. 
 
 " I don't think it is," she said. " No one could possibly 
 fasten screws on this thing when it was once in the hair." 
 
 He laughed, and it was a very pleasant little laugh, as frank 
 as his eyes. 
 
 " I might have known I was presuming," he said. 
 was the old business of ' fools rushing in where angels feared 
 to tread.' My only excuse is that I meant well. " He took a 
 step toward the door as he spoke. 
 
 " No excuse is necessary," said Claire. " It was very kind 
 of you to make the suggestion; and I am grateful to you, 
 both for it and the restoration of my spray. Will you tell 
 me to whom I owe my thanks?" she added, with a certain 
 timidity which made her voice sound graver than the occasion 
 required. 
 
 He stopped and looked at her steadily. 
 
 " My name is Gerald Wayre," he said. " I have to offer 
 yon an apology for trespassing," he went on. " I was on the 
 way this evening to the village, and I was tempted to stray off 
 the footpath into the wood. I am aware that in these parts 
 wanton trespass approaches a capital offense; but I hope you'll 
 forgive me. 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " On this occasion the trespass was a very fortunate one for 
 me," she said. " If you had not gone into the wood you 
 would not have found my spray." 
 
 She waited a moment to see if he would refer to the quarrel 
 with Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, and admit that he had seen her; 
 but as he did not do so, she added: 
 
 " Are you staying in the village?" 
 
 " Yes, for a short time," he said. 
 
 Claire was conscious of a singular curiosity respecting him; 
 singular because, as a rule, she felt little curiosity about any 
 one. 
 
 " You are an artist?" she asked. 
 
 He hesitated a moment 
 
 " Well, I suppose an architect is something of an artist," 
 he said. 
 
 " You are an architect?" 
 
 ' Yes, 1 suppose I mav say so," he replied, " though I 
 have not architected much, I am studying the business. It
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 23 
 
 is a good excuse for wandering about, and staring at buildings 
 old and new, hideous and otherwise." 
 
 " I am afraid you will not find anything very interesting in 
 Regna," said Claire. 
 
 " I don't know," he said, as if he were not so certain. 
 " There's an old ruin on the hill over there which looks worth 
 interviewing." 
 
 " It is St. Anne's Chapel," said Claire, quickly. Of 
 course, it belonged to her. " If you would like to examine is 
 I will give you the key; the entrance gate is locked. I had 
 forgotten the chapel. But there is nothing else, I think." 
 
 " No; excepting this house," he said. " Thank you very 
 much for the key; I shall be very glad to have it." 
 
 " Is this house interesting?" asked Claire. 
 
 " Oh, yes; a portion of it," he said. " It is almost unique 
 in its way." 
 
 " I did not know it," she remarked. " If you would like 
 to examine it, to take sketches, or or whatever it is you do, 
 please do so." 
 
 " You are very kind," he said. " But I'm afraid I should 
 be somewhat of a nuisance, should I not? It is not as if the 
 house were unoccupied." 
 
 " That does not matter," said Claire. " I suppose you 
 allude to the old wing?" 
 
 " Yes," he assented. 
 
 " That is almost unoccupied," said Claire, " and you are 
 quite at liberty to examine it." 
 
 " Thank you," he said again. " I should like to do so 
 some day, when there is no chance of my being a nuisance. I 
 will wish you good-night now, Miss Sartoris. " 
 
 They went into the hall together; and Claire suddenly 
 remembered, and said : 
 
 "Oh! if you'll wait a moment, I will fetch the key for 
 you." 
 
 She disappeared; and, left alone, he stood with his hands 
 behind him, and looked round the hall with the quick, com- 
 prehensive glance of an artist. Then he turned his eyes and 
 watched her as sbe came down the stairs. 
 
 The beauty of her face, the grace and refinement of her 
 figure, seemed exquisitely appropriate to their surroundings. 
 She had thrust the diamond spray into her hair, as if glad to 
 get it back, and under this her eyes shone softly, and with a 
 half -pleased, though grave, expression. An old iron key hung 
 upon her white forefinger. 
 
 " There is the key," she said. " I hope you will find the
 
 M THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 chapel interesting enough to repay you for the trouble of a 
 visit" 
 
 " Thank you/' he said once again; ' I will send the key 
 back." And, with another " good-night," he went out. 
 
 Claire stood where he had left her for quite a couple of 
 minutes. She seldom met strangers, and visitors were very 
 rare indeed at the Court, and this adventure for it might 
 almost be called an adventure was an event in her life. She 
 recalled his face and his manner, the first so handsome, the 
 latter so full of a kind of pride and frank brusqueness. 
 
 Suddenly it occurred to her that he had been rather magis- 
 terial with her; he had scolded her, or almost scolded her. 
 And she had she not been rather too free with a perfect 
 stranger? At the thought the color rose to her pale face. 
 She returned to the drawing-room, and, in answer to Mrs. 
 Lexton's glance of interrogation, said: 
 
 " It was some one to see me on business." She broke off 
 with a smile. " Oh! I'd better tell you, Mary! I had lost 
 my spray, and it was found by this young man who brought 
 it." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton laughed. 
 
 " My dear Claire! You had really lost it? How lucky to 
 get it again and so soon! What a terrible temptation to 
 anybody finding it! What was the young man like? What 
 is his name?" 
 
 " Oh! he is just a young man. His name is Gerald 
 Wavre." 
 
 Do you know him?" 
 
 " No,*' said Claire. 
 
 She was going to say, " I have never seen him before," but 
 remembered the scene in the woods, and stopped. 
 
 " He must be very honest," said Mrs. Lexton. " That 
 ornament must be worth a couple of hundred pounds." 
 
 Claire flushed slightly. 
 
 " He is a gentleman; at least, I think so." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton looked at her curiously. 
 
 " I mean that though he was not well dressed his clothes 
 were not new, were well worn he looked and spoke like a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " t H e i8 . 8tavin & here I suppose?" said Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 ics; in the village. He is an architect, or something of 
 
 the kind, and is traveling to study." 
 
 She did not tell Mrs. Lexton that she had given him the key 
 St. Anne's Chapel; for again it seemed to her that she hod 
 
 own too free with a stranger, and she changed the subject.
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COUKT REGtfA. 35 
 
 They sat and talked for some little time, and then Claire 
 insisted upon Mrs. Lexton going to bed. 
 
 After the elder woman had gone, Claire stood by the win- 
 dow, looking out at the night; and, notwithstanding the 
 arrival of her friend, the feeling of loneliness still remained 
 with her. She went to the piano and touched the keys softly, 
 but all through the music she heard Gerald Wayre's voice. 
 And she was angry with herself for not being able to forget 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GERALD WAYRE lighted his pipe, and walked through the 
 garden and down the steep village street, until he almost 
 reached the beach; then, turning to the right, he stopped 
 before a thatched cottage inn where he lodged. An old fish- 
 erman, as round as a tub and as fat as a porpoise, sat on a 
 seat against the cottage wall, and in a perfect bower of roses. 
 He took his pipe from his mouth, and touched his hat to 
 Gerald. 
 
 " Been for a stroll, sir?" he said. " It's a grand night for 
 a walk." 
 
 " Yes," said Gerald; and he sat down beside Captain 
 Hawker nearly every man in Eegna was called " captain " 
 and, tilting his hat back, looked at the moonlit sea. 
 
 " That's a fine house you have up on the hill, Captain 
 Hawker," he said. 
 
 " Meanin' the Court, sir?" said the old man, with a nod. 
 " Yes, it be; it's the grandest house in these parts, and we're 
 all on us mighty proud on it." 
 
 " And justifiably," said Gerald. " To whom does it 
 belong?" 
 
 " To the young lady as lives there, Miss Sartoris," said 
 Captain Hawker. "It did belong to Loj^l Wharton, but he 
 left it to her. She's the landlady of all of us, as you may say, 
 and quite like a queen here." 
 
 " Do you see much of her?" asked Gerald. 
 
 " She comes down along now and again, sir; but not very 
 often, an' mostly in the evenin'. She's a very kind-hearted 
 young lady, but a bit proud-like, as she's reason to be, you 
 may say. She ain't one of those ladies as pokes their nose 
 into cottages with tracts and advice; ain't familiar in any 
 way, indeed; but she's good to the poor, and has always a 
 pleasant word for the children." 
 
 Gerald smiled. The rough picture seemed to hit off the
 
 g(J THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 stately girl, with the clear oval face and dark-gray eyes, quits 
 exactly. 
 
 " And does she live in that big place alone?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir; at least, she did, but I'm told as there is a lady 
 oome to stop with her." 
 
 " Poor girl!" said Gerald to himself. 
 
 The captain took his pipe out of his mouth, and looked at 
 him with some surprise. 
 
 " ' Poor/ sir, did you say, beggin' your pardon? She's as 
 rich as Creases; simply rollin' in money." 
 
 " Just so!" said Gerald. " I meant that it was a great 
 responsibility." 
 
 ' Ah, yes, sir," said Captain Hawker. " I see what you 
 mean the estate and all that; but Mr. Sapley looks after 
 that; he's the agent as we pays our rents to, and manages the 
 estate." 
 
 At that moment a young girl came out of the cottage door, 
 a girl with a pretty and rather delicate face, with soft brown 
 hair, and soft brown eyes, and soft red lips. She was neatly 
 dressed in a frock of gray merino, by no means badly made. 
 She was Lucy Hawker, the captain's daughter. 
 
 " Hasn't Mr. Wayre come back, father?" she asked. " His 
 supper is ready, and spoiling." 
 
 Gerald rose; and she started, and the color flew, in good, 
 honest fashion, to her pretty face. 
 
 " Here I am, Miss Lucy,'* said Gerald, " and spoiling for 
 the supper." 
 
 He entered the sitting-room, upon which the outer door 
 opened, and found a plain but well-cooked meal awaiting 
 him. There were fresh herrings Regna is famous for its 
 herrings mutton cutlets Downshire, in which Regna is 
 situated, is famous for its mutton a junket, and strawberry 
 jam. 
 
 Lucy waited upon him, with downcast eyes, and a timid 
 little smile playing about the corners of her lips, as if she 
 enjoyed his enjoyment of the fare. Now and again he spoke 
 to her. 
 
 " If you treat me so well, Miss Lucy," he said, as he helped 
 himself to a second serve of junket, " I shall never want to 
 leave Regna." 
 
 The girl flushed with pleasure. 
 
 " I'm glad you're pleased, sir," she said; and her voice 
 grew as soft as her hair, or her eyes, or her lips. 
 
 " Pleased? Who wouldn't be? My dear Miss Lucy, it's a 
 supper fit for a prince. If you only knew what suppers I have
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 27 
 
 eaten a crust of dry bread in the Pyrenees, half a watermelon 
 in Naples, a slice of buffalo-hump in the Rockies, a basin of 
 porridge in the Trossachs, a steak of cod in Newfoundland " 
 
 " You seem to have been everywhere, sir," she said. 
 
 " Very nearly," he assented, carelessly. " But in no place 
 where the cooking is better done, and the attendance more 
 charming." 
 
 The girl's face blushed a rosy red as she gathered the cloth 
 together in her hand, and left the room. Gerald lighted his 
 pipe, and leaned back in his chair with indolent content, and 
 looked round him. 
 
 In one corner of the room was an easel; a couple of guns, 
 and as many fishing-rods, stood on brackets on the wall; a 
 small pile of books was upon a side table, upon which also 
 stood a box of instruments used by architects. A thick 
 mackintosh hung on a hook behind the door; waders and fish- 
 ing-boots stood in a corner of the room. Gerald looked at 
 them all in indolent content, then he drew a large and rusty 
 key from his pocket and looked at that, and as he looked at 
 it, a vision of the pale oval face rose before him, and he 
 thought of Miss Sartoris, the owner of Court Regna. 
 
 Presently, as if the contemplation of her wealth had re- 
 minded him of money matters, he took a purse from his pocket 
 and emptied its contents upon the table. There were five 
 sovereigns, a few shillings and a few coppers. " All my 
 worldly wealth," he said to himself. " It will not last me 
 long, and then Ah, well! enough for the day is the evil 
 thereof;" and he rose and went out to the rough terrace over- 
 looking the sea, and smoked the pipe, which is at once peace 
 and contentment to the poor in pocket. 
 
 About the same time Mr. Sapley sat in his den, bending 
 over some deeds and papers. He had built for himself an 
 ugly, square house on a piece of land just outside the Regna 
 estate, so as to be well in sight of things; and he had also an 
 office in the neighboring town. Mr. Sapley had a great many 
 houses in the locality, and pieces and scraps of land all over 
 the place. He had started life as an errand-boy to a firm of 
 solicitors in Downshire, had worked himself up in the usual 
 way, and had gradually absorbed his former employers' busi- 
 ness. Indeed, Mr. Sapley had a knack of absorbing things. 
 It is a very useful and profitable knack. He lent money to 
 small and struggling builders; and they got smaller, and 
 ceased to struggle. Mr. Sapley absorbed them. Not only 
 small builders and other tradesmen, but people of more con- 
 sequence went to Mr. Sapley in their difficulties, and, sooner
 
 28 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 
 
 or late, they found themselves in his power, and Mr. Sapley 
 picked their bones. 
 
 No one could openly accuse him of dishonesty, whatever 
 they thought. He always went to work in a strictly legal 
 fashion, and nightly slept the sleep of the just. It was said 
 that he cared for no one but himself; but this was not true. 
 There was one other person in the world for whom he had au 
 affection, and that was his only son, Mordaunt. It was for 
 him that Mr. Sapley was hoarding up money, and in him that 
 his ambition centered. He had sent him to Oxford, allowed 
 him a liberal allowance, and brought him up to think himself 
 some one of importance. And Mr. Sapley intended that Mor- 
 daunt should be some one of importance. Between the county 
 families and a country solicitor a very wide gulf yawns; 
 Sapley meant his son to cross that gulf, meant him to become 
 " county family " himself. 
 
 There was only one way of achieving this ambition, and 
 that was by marrying into the local aristocracy. The local 
 aristocracy would have been both indignant and amused if 
 they had had any notion of Mr. Sapley's idea, but Mr. 
 Sapley was cautious, and " moled " along underground in 
 silence, waiting his opportunity. As he bent over his papers 
 most of them were headed " Court Regna Estate " the door 
 opened and Mordaunt entered. He had washed himself, and 
 brushed the dirt from his clothes, but there was a dark mark 
 on his face, and doubtless several others on various parts of 
 his body. He looked sullen and ill-tempered, and scowled as 
 his father looked up with a, " Well, Mordaunt, ready for 
 supper?" 
 
 'it does not much matter whether I am or not; there's no 
 supper ready. This house is shamefully mismanaged. Why 
 don t you get a decent housekeeper and a proper staff of 
 servants, instead of that old hag, Prosser?" 
 
 Mr. Sapley smiled, and showed his fang-like teeth. 
 
 "Prosser's cheap, Mordaunt. The more servants, the 
 more waste. Supper will be ready directly. Did you see 
 Grimley?" 
 
 ' Yes," replied Mordaunt, " and he savs he can't pay." 
 
 ;' They all say that," remarked his father. 
 
 " He says that the crops have been bad, and he has had a 
 deal of sickness." 
 
 ' They all say that also. I'll be sworn he has a nest-egg 
 put a way on the sly; and it does not matter if he has not- 
 ing is enough stock to pay us. We must sell him upl 
 M,. daunt."
 
 THE MISTKES8 OF COURT REGITA.. 29 
 
 Mordaunt nodded callously as he dropped into a chair and 
 put his legs on another. He had been to a university and 
 associated with gentlemen, but his speech and his manners were 
 those of the rampant cad when he was alone with his father, 
 or his equals and inferiors. It is a question whether Oxford 
 and Cambridge do not turn out more cads and snobs than any 
 other educational establishments, especially of late years, 
 now that every flourishing tradesman sends his son to " col- 
 lege," to make a gentleman of him. But his father saw 
 nothing wrong, and looked at him admiringly. He considered 
 Mordaunt's *' free and easy " manners quite distinguished. 
 
 " There's some papers I wanted you to glance over," he 
 said, " but you seem tired. What's that mark on your 
 face?" he broke off to ask. 
 
 Mordaunt reddened resentfully. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," he replied, sullenly; " I fell down. No, 
 I don't feel inclined to bother with anything in the way of 
 business to-night. I suppose it's something connected with 
 the Court estate? By the way," he went on with affected 
 carelessness, but with a sidelong glance at his father, " why 
 don't these infernal keepers keep a sharper look-out over the 
 place? All sorts of bounders and ragamuffins are trespassing 
 on the grounds. I came across one to-night, and he was 
 abusive, the scoundrel! I took his name, and I was half a 
 mind to give him a good thrashing. I shall summon him to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Better not," said Mr. Sapley; "I don't think Miss 
 Sartoris would like it." 
 
 " I suppose we manage the estate, not she," said Mordaunt, 
 insolently. 
 
 Mr. Sapley pursed his lips. 
 
 " Yes; that is true. But she is the mistress," and he 
 showed his teeth. " It wouldn't do to offend her. She's 
 very different to the old lord; you could do what you liked 
 with him, if you only knew how to manage him; and I think 
 I knew that." He grinned cunningly. "It's not so easy 
 with Miss Sartoris." 
 
 " She looks quiet enough," remarked Mordaunt. 
 
 Mr. Sapley shook his head. 
 
 " Looks are deceptive, especially with women. The girl's 
 got a will of her own. Only yesterday she wouldn't sign the 
 paper to eject those Styles; and she doesn't like the tourists 
 and excursionists interfered with. Thinks the place almost 
 belongs as much to the public as to her. No; I don't think 
 she would like you to summon any one for trespass."
 
 90 THE MISTHEfiS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " She must be a fool!" said Mordaimt, elegantly. 
 
 " No, she isn't a fool," said his father, looking down at his 
 papers with half-closed eyes, like a bird of prey peering at the 
 mangled body of a victim. " Oh, no; she's not a fool; and 
 the man who bought her for one would lose by the transac- 
 tion. Women are deceptive, Mordaunt; you'd know that if 
 you'd had my experience." 
 
 " She's not the first woman I've seen," remarked Mor- 
 daunt, under his breath. 
 
 Mr. Sapley turned his papers over with a preoccupied air, 
 glancing covertly under his bushy brows at his sou's sullen 
 and downcast face. 
 
 " She's a good-looking girl, don't you think, Mordaunt?" 
 
 Mordaunt yawned. 
 
 " Oh, yes! Good-looking enough," he said. 
 
 " How do you get on with her, now?" asked Mr. Sapley in 
 a casual kind of way. 
 
 "Oh! well enough," replied Mordaunt. " She's rather too 
 proud and starchy for me. I hate that kind of thing! She 
 looks at me as if she scarcely saw me, and speaks to me as if 
 I were a kind of upper servant. I'm an Oxford man and a 
 gentleman; and I tell you flat, I don't like it." 
 
 Mr. Sapley shifted uneasily on his chair. 
 
 " Of course, of course!" he said. " But you must make 
 allowances, Mordy. She's not only the owner of Court 
 Regna, but a distant relation of Lord Wharton and one of the 
 county families." 
 
 " Yes; and she seems to remind you of it every time she 
 speaks to you. I hate your county families! They behave 
 themselves as if they were gods. They crow loud enough on 
 their own dunghills; they'd sing a great deal smaller if they 
 were up in London. They'd find their level there." 
 
 " I dare say," assented Mr. Sapley; " but they are gods in 
 their own places, and we've got to pretend to kneel and wor- 
 ship them especially when we make money out of them." 
 He touched the papers caressingly. 
 
 There was silence for a minute or two, during which 
 Mordaunt rolled himself a cigarette, without asking permis- 
 sion, and blew the smoke across his father's face. 
 
 " She'll be expected to make a great marriage," said Mr. 
 Sapley. 
 
 I dare say," assented Mordaunt. 
 
 " She's a very beautiful girl, with all deference to you, 
 Mordaunt; and she's the mistress of Regna. She might aim 
 yery high."
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 81 
 
 " She may aim as high as a prince," said Mordaunt, " for 
 all I care." 
 
 Mr. Sapley eyed him curio nsly. 
 
 " It would be a very nice thing for a man to step into/' he 
 said. " Kegna is almost unique in its way, and the man who 
 married her would be quite a personage. He'd be one of the 
 connty families. " 
 
 " I dare say," assented Mordaunt, again, with another yawn. 
 
 " I wonder who it will be?" mused Mr. Sapley, watching 
 his son's face still covertly. " Miss Sartoris is a girl who 
 would follow her own fancy. She wouldn't care who the man 
 was, so long as she liked him." 
 
 Mordaunt took the cigarette from his lips, and looked at his 
 father with a little more attention. 
 
 " What are you driving at, governor?" he asked. 
 
 Mr. Sapley smiled mysteriously, and shuffled on his chair. 
 
 " I was just thinking, Mordy," he said, " what advantages 
 you have got compared with what I had. I began life in 
 quite an humble way; I can remember sweeping out Good- 
 child's office" 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt, the Oxford man, reddened resentfully. 
 
 " What's the use of going back to all that?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, I swept out his office," continued Mr. Sapley, 
 looking straight before him, as if he were regarding the past. 
 " And T used to hold Goodchild's horse when he went for a 
 ride, and touch my hat to the clients when they gave me a 
 shilling." 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt moved uneasily on his chair. 
 
 " And then I got a stool at one of the desks, and addressed 
 the letters and copied the deeds. I must have had a head on 
 my shoulders, even in those days, for I remembered what 
 those deeds were about. I could recite some of them now. 
 I worked my way up to confidential clerk. Old Goodchild 
 was an easy-going fool, as well as old, and he got to rely on 
 me; he had to make me partner. I got the business into my 
 own hands; then I dissolved partnership, and set up foi 
 myself. Nearly all the business followed me. Old Goodchild 
 retired on a few hundreds a year, and I took the whole of his 
 practice." 
 
 " What's the use of going over all this?" asked Mordaunt. 
 
 Mr. Sapley continued as if his elegant son had not inter- 
 rupted him: 
 
 " It's all nonsense to say a man struggles hard; it all came 
 easy to me. Before I was five-and-twenty, I was agent to 
 three estates, and had got the p'ractice of the whole place.
 
 32 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Then I got Court Regna. I'd had my eye on that for a long 
 while, for 1 knew there were pickings to be made out of it. 
 Lord Wharton never interfered with anything, and I've had 
 it all my own way." 
 
 He touched the deeds again lovingly. 
 
 " What's the use " began Mordaunt. But Mr. Sapley 
 continued: 
 
 " I'm what is called a rich man; but, as you said, though 
 you meant it in another way, what's the use? All the gentry 
 here remember me sweeping out the office and holding the 
 horses. With you it's different. " 
 
 " I should hope so," muttered Mordaunt, dutifully, under 
 his breath. 
 
 " You are an Oxford man and a gentleman. The world's 
 open to you; you can look up boldly to things that I could 
 never dare lift my eyes to. You'll be a rich man, Mor- 
 daunt." And the man's voice grew softly triumphant, in 
 strange discordance with his hard, vulture-like face. " There's 
 no knowing what heights you could climb to. Why, you 
 might" 
 
 He glanced at Mordaunt half cunningly, half fearfully. 
 
 " What are you driving at?" asked Mordaunt, again under 
 his breath. 
 
 Mr. Sapley pushed the papers from him with his claw-like 
 hand, and leaned back in his chair. 
 
 " There's nothing you couldn't attain to. I've made a 
 geitleman of you; you haven't swept out an office, or held 
 horses. You've got the college manner and the college tone, 
 and you've got some of your poor mother's good looks. It 
 all lies within your grasp." There was a silence. Mordaunt 
 had allowed his cigarette to go out, and it dropped from his 
 fingers as he stared at his father's hawk-like face. 
 
 " What are you driving at?" he said, under his breath. 
 
 " If I were in your place," went on Mr. Sapley, ignoring 
 the question, " I should look around and seek my oppor- 
 tunity. You're young, and you've got, or will have, money 
 You can marry well. Here's Court Regna, for Distance." 
 
 Mordaunt sat bolt upright. 
 
 " Court Regna?" he repeated, in amazement. 
 
 Mr. Sapley glanced at him with a cunning smile. 
 
 " Court Regna," he repeated. " It's owned by a young 
 girl unmarried. And the man who marries her will step 
 into one of the prettiest properties in England, will become 
 one of the county families."
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COTJBT REGffA. $3 
 
 f " Me marry Miss Sartoris!" exclaimed Mordaunt, forgetting 
 his grammar, and sitting bolt upright. 
 
 ' Why not?" snarled Mr. Sapley, bending forward, with 
 his sharp eyes fixed on his son's wide-open ones. " You are 
 young, good-looking, and have opportunities of meeting her 
 ( which few men have. If I were in your place " 
 
 Mordaunt laughed discordantly. 
 
 " You must be mad, guv'nor," he said. " Miss Sartoris 
 wouldn't look at me. She regards me as a kind of servant. 
 She doesn't know what I'm like. She scarcely bows when we 
 meet; she wouldn't know me outside Court Regna." 
 
 Mr. Sapley showed his teeth, and hissed half contemptu- 
 ously, half defiantly: 
 
 " Bah! You haven't half the pluck I had. Oh, I'm not 
 blaming you; it's the difference in the training. Faint heart 
 never won fair lady. Doesn't the prospect allure you? To 
 be the husband of a beautiful girl like that. To be the mas- 
 ter of Court Regna, one of the show places of England the 
 world!" 
 
 Mordaunt threw himself back in his chair, and laughed 
 scornfully. 
 
 " You're dreaming, guv'nor," he said. " She wouldn'i 
 look at me. I'm just the son of her agent, and no more." 
 
 A dusky red overspread Mr. Sapley's face. He looked 
 uglier than ever. 
 
 " You're an Oxford man, and a gentleman," he said. 
 " And suppose I help you?" 
 
 " You help me!" exclaimed Mordaunt, leaning forward. 
 
 Mr. Sapley bit his lip, as if he had said too much. 
 
 " Well, I might help you," he said. " Who knows? Any- 
 way, the thing is not impossible; it is less than impossible, it 
 is probable." 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt stared at him. The young man's common- 
 place, and rather sordid face was alive with a kind of cute- 
 ness. 
 
 He had hitherto looked up to Miss Sartoris as a sort of 
 queen. He had admired her beauty, but as a subject might 
 admire that of an empress. She had seemed something far 
 and away beyond his reach. And now to be told that he 
 might become her husband, might become the master of 
 Court Regna, might enter the charmed circle of the county 
 families! 
 
 It took his breath away. He leaned forward, the bruise 
 Gerald Wayre had made upon his face showing plainly, his 
 small eyes alight with the light reflected from his fathers.
 
 34 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Do you mean what you say?" he demanded 
 
 wiSSia^H^^^ 
 
 ESrf Pn^ ?J? Tt f lffi| 
 & Ea-and your father swept out Goodchild's office!" 
 U Mordaunt rose and paced up and down the small room. 
 "It seems impossible!" he said. "How can you help 
 
 Mr. Sapiey gathered the papers together with a sweep of his 
 
 X,OT- you mind," he said. "You'll know all in good 
 time. If you want my advice, I say, see as much of her aa. 
 vou can. Never mind her proud and haughty ways. Ihey 
 Li't count." He showed his teeth. 'You can pay her 
 back for them when you're married. Go and see her on busi 
 ness as often as you can. Get into her confidence that s the 
 way I alwavs acted. Study her likes and dislikes and natter 
 her Flatter her, Mordaunt! It's the quickest way to a 
 woman's heart. I'll keep in the background as much as pos- 
 sible. Let her think that yon, and not me, are necessary to 
 her. She's all alone here, and you've got the first chance. 
 Make the best use of your time, and when you've got a foot- 
 ing with her, come to me, and I'll do the rest!" He looked 
 up at his son through eyes made into slits, and showed his 
 fangs in an encouraging smile. 
 
 Mordaunt leaned his arms upon the table, and stared at his 
 father almost breathlessly. 
 
 The prospect unfolded before him was simply dazzling. To 
 be the husband of Claire Sartoris, the master of Court Regnal 
 The mere thought bewildered him. 
 Father and son regarded each other in a pregnant silence. 
 The door opened and an old woman thrust in her head. 
 " Supper's ready!" she said in a harsh voice. 
 They went into the room which served as dining and draw- 
 ing-room, where the table was spread for supper; cold meat, 
 cheese, and a st9ny-lookiug pie. Neither of them eat much. 
 They were both thinking of the alluring prospect spread out 
 before them. Presently Mordaunt pushed his plate away and 
 rose. 
 
 " I'll take a turn," he said. Mr. Sapiey nodded and filled 
 a long clay pipe, the long clay pipe which was always an eye- 
 sore to his elegant son. Mr. Mordaunt crossed the Regna 
 ground by a aide path, and went down to the pier, and 
 descended by the stone steps Jo the beach. He was sheltered
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 3* 
 
 from observation from the village, and from everything 
 excepting the boats at sea. He lighted a cigarette and 
 smoked for a few minutes, then he whistled sharply, and 
 after a few minirtes there came a sound like a bird, and pres- 
 ently a young girl tripped quickly down the steps of the pier 
 and joined him. 
 
 It was Captain Hawker's daughter, Lucy. 
 
 Mordaunt Sapley went to meet her, and put his arm round 
 her waist, and kissed her. 
 
 " I thought you were never coming!" he said. 
 
 " And I thought the same of you," she said, breathlessly^ 
 " How late you are!" 
 
 " I have been engaged on business," he said. " You 
 heard my whistle?" 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I have been waiting for it. It's well I 
 didn't hear it before, for I had to get our lodger's supper." 
 
 He drew her close to him, and smoothed the soft brown 
 hair from her forehead. " Did you think I wasn't coming?" 
 he said, " and was it frightened?" 
 
 She nestled closer to him. "I thought you would come," 
 she said, " but I mustn't stay long, Mordaunt. Father and 
 the gentleman are both outside the cottage, and they may see 
 us." He kissed her, taking his cigarette out of his mouth to 
 do so. 
 
 " Bother your father and your lodger!" he said. 
 
 There was a silence. The girl leaned her head on his 
 shoulder, her eyes turned to his face. 
 
 " What a lovely night, Mordaunt," she murmured. 
 " Have you have you spoken to your father yet?" 
 
 He shifted uneasily, but smiled encouragingly. " Not yet, 
 Lucy," he said. " There's plenty of time. What are you 
 shuddering at?" for a shiver had run through her. 
 
 " Speak to him at once, dear!" she said. " Tell him oh, 
 tell him!" 
 
 " All in good time," he said, easily. " I must break it to 
 him gently. You don't mistrust me, Lucy?" 
 
 '* No, no!" she said, eagerly, as if she were trying to con- 
 vince herself. " I don't distrust you, dear; but you said that 
 you would speak to him; and I want to know. I am afraid 
 that father will find out, that he will see, that some one will 
 see us our lodger!" 
 
 " Who is your lodger?" asked Mordaunt. 
 
 " A gentleman," she replied. " A Mr. Gerald Wayre!" 
 
 Mordaunt started. " They must not know!" he said. 
 
 " Not till you have spoken to your father," she agreed,
 
 36 THE MISTRESS OF COUET REGNA. 
 
 cheerfully. " Oh, Mordaunt, I am afraid of what he will say! 
 Do you think he will be very angry?" 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt kissed her hair, and flung the end of his 
 cigarette into a pool left by the tide. 
 
 " You've not said anything to any one?" he asked. 
 
 " I've not told any one!" she breathed, drawing herself 
 away from him. 
 
 "'That's right," he said, " don't say anything to any one 
 but of course you wouldn't. It will all come right directly. 
 I'll speak to my father " 
 
 "And and we shall be married!" she murmured, hiding 
 her face on his breast. 
 
 " Yes, of course we shall be married," he assented, fum- 
 bling for his tobacco and cigarette paper. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE next morning Gerald climbed the hill to St. Anne's 
 Chapel. It was a lovely morning; the sky was bright, and 
 the sea was blue, and a breeze coming direct from Labrador 
 made the trees round the Court musical. 
 
 Gerald had his sketch-book in his pocket, and his pipe in his 
 mouth, and, having had a good breakfast, and being young 
 and strong, and of a cheerful spirit, was in the best of humors. 
 
 The path up to the ruin wound in zigzag fashion until it 
 came to a little lawn-like space in front of the old iron gate, 
 which admitted to the second inclosure of the chapel itself. 
 Gerald pulled out his key to unlock the gate, when he saw 
 that it was heavily padlocked, and that his key was useless. 
 The ruin looked tempting, and Gerald was rather disappointed. 
 He walked round the railings; but they were all in good con- 
 dition and not climbable, and, with a shrug of the shoulders, 
 he sat down on a little mound, and proceeded to sketch that 
 side of the chapel which presented itself to him. 
 
 While he was at work, he was asking himself what he 
 should do with the key. Should he send it back by one of the 
 fisher-boys, or should he walk up to the Court with it himself? 
 If he did the latter, perhaps Miss Sartoris would think him 
 intrusive, would think he wanted to force his acquaintance 
 upon her, because he had been fortunate enough to find her 
 diamond ornament. 
 
 " No, I had better send it back," he said to himself. 
 
 ' The less you have to do with dames of high degree the 
 
 better, my dear fellow. You'll send the key back with a
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COUET REGNA. 37 
 
 polite expression of thanks, and, in the language of the 
 classics, take your hook. " 
 
 As he arrived at this decision, he heard a peculiar noise 
 down the hill behind him, and, listening, found presently that 
 it was an approaching horse. He craned his head to look, 
 and saw a lady riding up a narrow track. It was a very nar- -. 
 row track, and not altogether a safe one; but the rider ! 
 appeared quite at her ease, and sat her horse as if she were 
 cantering on a level road. Gerald was himself a good rider, 
 and he watched her with critical admiration, which changed 
 to surprise as lie saw that it was Miss Sartoris. 
 
 She looked more beautiful in the young man's eyes in her 
 well-fitting riding-habit even than she had done in her even- 
 ing-dress of the night before; indeed, she was grace personi- 
 fied as she sat lightly and firmly in her saddle, seeming part 
 of the beautiful horse she rode. 
 
 " You have plenty of pluck, my lady!" said Gerald to him- 
 self, as she left the narrow track, and came at a canter up the 
 steep hill, a slip on which would have precipitated her into 
 the depth below. 
 
 Fronting the chapel, she pulled up, and sat looking 
 thoughtfully before her. The exercise, perhaps the danger, 
 had bestowed a tinge of color on the clear ivory of her face; 
 her eyes were glowing rather than sparkling. And Gerald sat 
 and watched her, absorbed in her beauty, while one could 
 count twenty; then, remembering his manners, he rose and 
 raised his hat. 
 
 She did not start; but turned her head slowly, and bowed 
 slightly. 
 
 " You have come to sketch the chapel?" she said. " Have 
 you not been inside?" 
 
 " Not yet/' he said. " The fact is, the gate is padlocked 
 as well as locked, and I can't get in." 
 
 She looked at the gate with, it seemed to Gerald, a touch of 
 annoyance. 
 
 " I did not know there was a padlock," she said. " I do 
 not know who has put it there except it was Mr. Sapley. 
 The ordinary lock was sufficient. And can you not climb 
 over?" 
 
 Gerald looked at the spear-headed railings. 
 
 "Well, I could," he said, "but I have not too many 
 clothes, and these would run some risk." 
 
 " Is there no way of getting in?" she asked. 
 
 " Only by unlocking the padlock, or breaking it," he said. 
 
 " Please break it," she said.
 
 38 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 There was a faint tone of command in her voice, as if she 
 were still rather annoyed. 
 
 "Oh, it doesn't matter," he said, "thank you. I am 
 making a sketch of this south side." 
 
 " Do you mean you have nothing here to break it with?" 
 she asked. I 
 
 " Oh, no!" he responded, glancing at a piece of rock. 
 
 " Then, will you break it, please?" 
 
 There was still more of command in her voice, and, with- 
 out another word, he took up a piece of rock, and with a blow 
 or two shattered the padlock. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. " You can go in now when you 
 please." 
 
 " I will finish this sketch first." Then, with a dread that 
 she was going, and with a desire to keep her, " What a fine 
 morning. That is a beautiful horse you are riding, Miss Sar- 
 toris." 
 
 She drew her gauntleted hand along the horse's glossy neck. 
 
 " She is a very good horse," she said. 
 
 " And a clever one. She came up that steep track splen- 
 didly. It is rather a dangerous ride." 
 
 " She is used to it, and I am used to her," said Claire. 
 
 " So I saw," he remarked. " There are very few ladies who 
 would care to come up that break-neck place even on foot." 
 
 Claire looked over her shoulder at the track. 
 
 " I have never noticed that there was any danger," she 
 said. 
 
 She leaned a little forward, in so graceful an attitude that a 
 sudden temptation assailed Gerald. He left the chapel, and 
 began to make a rapid sketch of her on one side of his paper. 
 
 " Do you paint in oils?" asked Claire. 
 
 " Sometimes," said Gerald, seizing the excuse to look at 
 her. 
 
 " You are an artist as well as an architect, then? 1 ' she said. 
 
 " Did I say I was an architect? "Well, I suppose I am. 
 I've been so many things." 
 
 Claire looked down at him with a veiled curiosity. She 
 saw, now, in the full morning light, how handsome he was. 
 There was something hi his face more interesting than regu- 
 larity of features. 
 
 * You've been so many things?" she repeated. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 ' Yes; I am what the world calls an adventurer, Miss 
 Sartoris." 
 
 " What is that?" asked Claire.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COtJKT REGNA. 39 
 
 " Well, in the old days it mean a soldier of fortune, a man 
 who sold his sword to the highest bidder, one who went 
 a-sailing in search of new lands, or somebody else's ship and 
 treasure; it meant all sorts of romantic things. Nowadays it 
 means a kind of vagabond, a ne'er-do-well, who gets his living 
 in odd ways, and is always regarded as a kind of disreputable 
 character whom it is best to avoid. " 
 
 " You are not very charitable to yourself," said Claire. 
 
 She spoke almost coldly, to conceal her increased interest. 
 
 He laughed a short and not unmusical laugh. 
 
 " You asked me, and I told you the truth,'* he said. " I 
 have been an adventurer that is, vagabond ever since I can 
 remember. (If I can only keep her sitting still another ten 
 minutes I shall have got her)! At the early age of fifteen 
 I ran away to sea, and worked my passage out to America in 
 a sailing ship. So you may say that I am a sailor. Out hi 
 America I worked my way by breaking stones, chopping 
 wood, and similar intellectual occupations to the mines. I 
 worked in the mines for two years." 
 
 " So that you you are a miner," said Claire, absently. 
 
 " So that I am a miner," he assented, trying to indicate the 
 exquisite wave in her hair. " Mining is not an exhilarating 
 pursuit. There is too much ' tailings ' about it.'* 
 
 Claire leaned her elbow upon her horse's neck, and looked at 
 him. 
 
 " What are tailings?" she inquired, with a kind of 
 reluctant curiosity. 
 
 " Tailings are, so to speak, the dregs of the ore that fall at 
 the bottom of the stamping machine, the machine that stamps 
 out the precious metal from the rock. There still remains 
 some of the silver in these tailings, and they have to be 
 washed to separate the metal from them. It is a maddening, 
 a soul-destroying occupation. I threw it up and went cattle- 
 driving; so that you may call me a cowboy." 
 
 " And did you like that better?" asked Claire. 
 
 " Very much," he said, beginning to sketch hi rapidly the 
 body of the horse. " It is the most delightful of all lives, 
 spent in the open air, mostly in solitude; with the best of horses 
 to ride, and Nature an open book before you. That was 
 life." 
 
 " Why did you leave it?" she asked. Then she bit her lip, 
 angry with herself for putting the question. She drew herself 
 up, with a sudden resolve and hauteur, which he had noticed 
 on the previous night. But he was absorbed in his itealthy 
 work, and did not notice her expression now.
 
 4O THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " Because of a little quarrel with my employer," he said, 
 quite frankly. " He tried to rob me of my wages wages 
 earned by the sweat of my brow, and very often at the risk of 
 my neck. We settled it in the usual way. " 
 
 She did not ask how this time, but inquiry looked from her 
 lovely eyes, and spoke from her mute lips. 
 
 " Every little dispute over there is settled by the revolver/' 
 he said. " It is more expeditious than the law, and cheaper. 
 He tired at me and missed me. I then ' covered ' him, as 
 they call it, and made him count out the money on a stone 
 half-way between us. So we parted. Then I went back to 
 the cities, to a place called Ariona. They wanted to build a 
 jail there they always want a jail directly a town grows 
 prosperous; it is an outward and visible sign of civilization. 
 There was no one there who knew how to draw a plan out, 
 and as I knew no less than the others, I offered. So I built 
 the jail at Ariona and the mayor thereof was the first pris- 
 oner. Embezzled the town funds. I architected several jails, 
 churches, and other public buildings for other places. That's 
 why I am an architect but I am afraid I am boring you." 
 He had nearly finished the horse. 
 
 " No!" she said. That was all. 
 
 " I had made some money, and I put it into a mine. I might 
 as well have put it into the gutter. Then I started life again 
 with one suit of clothes and two dollars. The president of the 
 mine, who had made a large fortune out of the same enter- 
 prises, said he was very sorry for me, and knowing that I was 
 a bit of an artist, said that I might paint his wife's portrait." 
 
 He looked up with a smile, and though Claire endeavored to 
 look coldly neutral, the smile was reflected in her eyes. 
 
 " The lady was fat, fair, and forty. I made her slim, a 
 beautiful blonde, and five-and-twenty. She said it was life- 
 like, quite life-like. Her friends said well, I don't know 
 what they said, but they all wanted their portraits painted by 
 the same truthful hand. I became the fashionable painter oC 
 Gip's Sling. So that's why you can call me an artist, if you 
 wish to flatter me." He was bestowing a few loving touches 
 to the folds of her habit. 
 
 " I might have been at Gip's Sling now, painting ladies, 
 but well, even the portrait painter has a conscience. Mine 
 grew restive. I fled, leaving a portrait half finished, and 
 took to the wilds again. I hunted with the Indians for over 
 a year, learned their language, slept in their wigwams, and 
 
 >t much store of far and hide. I was called * The White 
 unter,' because I was rather ready with my Winchester;
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffl. 41 
 
 and I had become so like an Indian that on several occasions 
 my fellow-whites, who chanced to meet me, travelers and 
 traders, took me for the noble red-man, and talked Indian, or 
 made signs." 
 
 Claire drew a long breath. It was like Desdemona listen- 
 ing to Othello. 
 
 " I fancy I should have spent the remainder of my days 
 with those children of the forest, but one morning there hap- 
 pened to come a bank of clouds across the sky that looked like 
 cliffs. I thought of the cliffs of old England, and a sudden 
 homesickness fell upon me and took possession of me. I 
 sold my skins and feathers to the chief, and that same night 
 rode out of the camp, and straight for the coast, and took ship 
 for England; and so came back to the land of my birth, 
 which I had not seen since a boy." 
 
 He tilted his hat back from his forehead, and looked up at 
 her with a grave smile. 
 
 Claire only half awoke from the spell which his story had 
 cast over her. 
 
 " Doubtless you are glad to get back to your friends.'* 
 Feeling that she must say something. 
 
 The smile died away from his face, and it grew graver. 
 
 " I should have been if I had had any/' he said, very 
 quietly. " But I haven't. I knew no one in England. " 
 
 " Your relations?" said Claire again, reluctlantly. 
 
 " I have none," he said. " I never knew my father or my 
 mother. I was brought up by a couple who had had charge 
 of me since I was a child; it was from them I ran away. But 
 I am quite sure I have wearied you to death, Miss Sartoris, 
 and probably disgusted you with this choice sample of 
 egotism. I assure you I am not in the habit of recounting my 
 adventures in this wholesale fashion; indeed, I don't think I 
 have ever mentioned them to any one before," and he frowned 
 slightly, as if he were puzzled, and rather annoyed with him- 
 self for having been so confidential. 
 
 " You have not tired me," said Claire. " It has been 
 very very interesting. I do not think many men have had 
 such a varied and adventurous life." 
 
 "It's to be hoped not," he said, with a faint smile. 
 
 " It does not sound altogether an unhappy one," remarked 
 Claire. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 " Oh, no!" and the laugh died away, and a touch of mel- 
 ancholy came into the dark eyes.
 
 4J THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGJTA. 
 
 " It has been rather a lonely and solitary one," he saidj 
 gazing at the sketch. 
 
 " Have you finished it?" asked Claire. 
 
 " Yes; just finished it," he replied, absently. 
 
 " Will you let me see it?" she asked. 
 
 It was an awkward request. 
 
 He reddened slightly and looked confused; then he said; 
 " Certainly; one moment!" 
 
 He took out his penknife and rapidly cut off his sketch 
 portrait of her, then took the sketch of the chapel to her. 
 
 She bent down and looked at it. 
 
 " I thought you said you had finished it?" she remarked, 
 innocently. 
 
 " Oh; not quite," he said. " As much as I meant to do 
 this morning. 
 
 " It will be very good," said Claire. 
 
 " Thank you," he said, humbly. " I will go into the 
 chapel now and look round." 
 
 Claire gathered her reins together as if about to ride off, 
 then she said: 
 
 " Perhaps the door is locked also; I will see." 
 
 She slipped from the saddle, and flinging the bridle over 
 the railings, passed through the gate and tried the old oaken 
 door. It was open, and Gerald, removing his hat, followed 
 her in. She noticed the little act of reverence, and was 
 pleased. They looked round together in silence for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " It is a beautiful old building," he said, " and in a won- 
 derful state of preservation, considering its age. It is Nor- 
 man. " 
 
 " You tell it by the" 
 
 "By the arches and the lines over them," he said, "as 
 well as by other signs. That is the effigy of a Norman 
 knight. There are tombs here," he added, as he bent down 
 to examine the floor. 
 
 " Yes," said Claire; " some of the Whartons are buried 
 here. Lord Wharton was very proud of the chapel, and had 
 great care taken of it." 
 
 He poked about, pushing the grass aside and disclosing 
 time-worn memorial slabs. 
 
 " The lichen has eaten away most of the inscriptions," he 
 said, " but some of the letters still remain; one feels them 
 better than sees them." He passed his hand over the stone. 
 
 Claire bent down on the other side of it. 
 
 " Is that so?" she asked.
 
 43 
 
 " Yes; see!" he said, " or, rather, feel." 
 
 Claire was much interested. She took off the gauntlet from 
 her right hand and passed her finger softly^ over the stone, her 
 eyes half closed. 
 
 "You are feeling in the wrong place," he said; " there are 
 no letters there. Permit me," he took her hand and guided 
 it along the faintly marked line. 
 
 As his hand inclosed hers firmly, yet gently, a strange thrill 
 ran through Claire, beginning at her finger tips, and running 
 through her whole frame. She felt a desire to draw her hand 
 away from his, and yet an incapacity to do so. She glanced 
 at him through her half-closed eyes, her breath coming a 
 little faster, her dark brows drawn into a slight frown. But 
 he seemed quite unconscious, and quite engrossed in their 
 strangely mutual task. 
 
 " Can you feel anything?" he asked. 
 
 His face was of necessity very close to hers, and its nearness 
 confused her and made it difficult for her to speak on the 
 instant. At last she said, and coldly: " I think I felt a 
 letter." 
 
 " What is it?" he asked. 
 
 " It is a G," she said. 
 
 " Yes; and the next?" 
 
 " Is it an E?" she asked. 
 
 He passed his fingers over the letter and looked at her ab- 
 stractedly. 
 
 " You are right/' he said. 
 
 " And the next is an R or a K," she said. 
 
 *' It is an E. How quick you are! A woman's fingers are 
 so sensitive. That is why they make the best fishermen, as 
 an Irishman would say." 
 
 She wanted to draw her hand away, but though she could 
 have done so now, she did not like to do so. 
 
 " The next letter has quite gone," she said, " but the next 
 is an L and then a D." She spelled out the \rord as far as 
 she had deciphered it, " GER LD." 
 
 She raised her eyes and looked at him. 
 
 " It must be Gerald," she said. 
 
 He laughed. " Yes; my name, strange to say; and yet not 
 strange; it is a common enough name." 
 
 " It was one of Lord Wharton's names," said Claire. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " no doubt it is a family name, and we 
 should find it on other tombs here." 
 
 He still held her hand as if he had forgotten he held it. 
 
 She drew it away and stood upright and looked round,
 
 44 THE MISTRTSb OF COURT EEQNA. 
 
 holding her breath for a moment, and with a faint coloi 
 mantling in her cheek, but when he looked up at her the coloi 
 had gone, and she was as cold, or, rather, reserved, as usual. 
 She glanced at the watch on her wrist. 
 
 " I must go," she said; " I hope you will find some interest- 
 ing things to draw here." 
 
 "Thank you," he said, half absently. "But I don't 
 expect I shall find anything more interesting than the sketch 
 I took outside;" and his hand slipped into his jacket-pocket 
 where the sketch of her lay hidden. 
 
 " Good-morning," she said. 
 
 " You will let me help you to mount?" he said, as he raised 
 his hat. 
 
 " No, thank you," she said, rather quickly, without turning 
 her head; and she passed out. 
 
 Gerald Wayre stood for a moment looking at the door- way 
 through which she had disappeared. It seemed to him that 
 the chapel had become dark all of a sudden. He looked down 
 at i^e tomb abstractedly, then he stooped and picked up 
 something; it was her gauntlet. He held it in his palm and 
 gazed at it thoughtfully; he could have almost fancied that it 
 retained the warmth of her long, shapely hand, whose touch 
 seemed still to linger about his fingers. He pressed the glove 
 against his cheek; then, with a flush and an impatient excla- 
 mation, he flung the gauntlet from him and turned his back 
 upon it. 
 
 But a moment or two afterward he glanced over his shoulder 
 at it; it seemed to have a reproachful expression, as if it were 
 a sentient human thing, and with another half-augry, half- 
 impatient exclamation, he strode to it, picked it up and thrust 
 it into his bosom. There it seemed like a warm, living 
 thing, nestling against his heart. 
 
 His lips grew tight, and he frowned. 
 
 " \\ hat has come to me?" he said under his breath. " I 
 must be mad!" 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CLAIRE rode down the perilous path, and long before she 
 had got to the road at the bottom, she missed her glove. She 
 was rather annoyed at her carelessness, for gauntlet riding- 
 cloves are not to be bought in every country town; but she 
 felt that she could not go back after it. Mr. Wayre was there 
 still. She would go back for it to-morrow morning. 
 kw Ag she went at a gentle trot along the road that winds ta
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 45 
 
 the Court, she saw Mr. Mordaunfc Sapley coming toward her. 
 He raised his hat, and stopped, as she came up with him, and 
 Claire pulled up. 
 
 " Good-morning,'* he said, with the mixture of familiarity 
 and respect in which he always addressed her, and which 
 Claire did not like. " I was going to the Court, Miss Sar- 
 toris; my father wishes me to speak to you about Grimley's 
 farm. They are behind-hand with their rent, and he thinks 
 they ought to have notice to quit; he would have given them 
 notice last week, but he er fancied that you did not wish 
 him to." 
 
 " Are they very much behind?" said Claire, hesitatingly. 
 Lord Wharton had never interferred with Mr. Sapley, who 
 had, in reality, ruled the estate, and she wished to follow in 
 Lord Wharton's path as closely as possible; but the idea of 
 ejecting a tenant, of treating any one of them harshly, was 
 repugnant to her. " Grimley broke his arm last autumn," 
 she said, " and the harvest was bad; I do not like turning him 
 out of the farm; he has been there a great many years." Her 
 eyes grew pitiful. " 1 should be glad if Mr. Sapley could let 
 him remain and give him another chance." 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt Sapley looked up at her with as much 
 admiration in his small eyes as he dared display. 
 
 " You are so kind-hearted, Miss Sartoris!" he said, with an 
 ingratiating smile, aud the finnikin Oxford drawl, which 
 Claire disliked as much as she disliked his manner. " Of 
 course, he ought to go; a man has no right to stop on a farm 
 when he can not pay the rent, and we have been very lenient 
 with Grimley. My father has to do his duty by the estate, 
 you know, Miss Sartoris. He has only your interest at 
 heart." 
 
 " I am quite sure of that," said Claire, " and I should not 
 venture to interfere in any way/' 
 
 " Oh, the place is yours," he said, coming a little nearer, 
 and looking up at her in a way that made Claire's face grow 
 colder and more reserved. " Your word is our law, and we 
 are all your very humble but willing slaves." 
 
 Claire tried to smile. 
 
 " I don't know that I require any slaves, Mr. Sapley," she 
 said; " but you are very kind; and I shall be glad if your 
 father can let Grimley remain. ; ' 
 
 " I am sure he will," said Mr. Mordaunt, " especially as 
 you desire it so much." He smiled very impressively, and 
 laid his hand upon the horse's neck. She seemed to resent 
 his touch, though she had accepted Gerald's caress willingly
 
 46 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 enough, and Claire resented it also; it was almost as if Mr. 
 Mordannt Sapley had laid his hand upon her arm. She drew 
 herself up unconsciously, and her brows went straight. 
 
 " Good-morning," she said, with that tone which a woman 
 uses when she draws herself aloof from the person she ad- 
 dresses, and with a cold bow rode away from him. 
 
 The smile died away from Mr. Mordaunt's lace as he looked 
 after her, and his lips moved as if he were swearing under 
 his breath; then the smile came back again, though in rather 
 a sickly fashion, for she had pulled up, and looked back at 
 him, as if she wished to speak. He hurried toward her, 
 hurried instinctively, though he would have liked to have 
 sauntered. 
 
 " I found a dog of yours last night, Mr. Sapley," she said, 
 looking over his head. " It is locked up in the stable; the 
 groom will give it to you if you ask for it." 
 
 He reddened, and his small eyes were cast down, and then 
 raised to her face with a slinking kind of inquiry. Had she 
 witnessed the scene between him and Gerald Wayre? But her 
 face was like that of the Sphinx; and as she rode off, Mr. 
 Mordaunt gnawed at his mustache, and swore again. 
 
 " Curse her, she speaks to me as if I were a dog myself!" 
 he said. " She hates me; worse than hates me, looks down 
 at me as if I were the dirt under her feet! The guv'nor must 
 have been mad last night when he talked as he did stark, 
 staring mad. Yet he said he could help me. What did he 
 mean? Oh, he must have been mad! He ought to have seen 
 her treatment of me this morning!" And he walked on, 
 gnawing at his lip, and cutting viciously at the wild flowers 
 beside his path. 
 
 At the turn of the road from which another leads down to 
 Regna, she paused for a moment or two to look at the ex- 
 quisite view. Here the cleft in the rock in which the village 
 lies opens out like a funnel, and a triangular piece of the sea 
 is visible. It glowed like a sapphire this morning, the fishing- 
 boats dancing on an ocean of jewels. 
 
 " If 1 were an artist, like Mr. Wayre, I should like to paint 
 that," said Claire to herself. 
 
 As she was about to ride on, a girl came out from a meadow 
 gate-way, and stood with her hands shading her eyes, looking 
 UD the road down which Claire had ridden, and up which Mr. 
 Mordaunt had gone. It was Lucy Hawker, and Claire, who 
 knew and liked tbe girl, called to her softly. 
 
 Lucy had not seen Claire, and as she heard her name, she 
 started with a yivid blush, and seemed about to shrink back
 
 THE MISTBESS OF COURT REGHA. 47 
 
 into the meadow again; then she stopped, with her hand 
 pressed against her bosom, and her breath coming fast. 
 
 Claire rode up beside her. 
 
 " Good-morning, Lucy," she said. " How startled you 
 look! Did I frighten you?" 
 
 " Oh, no, miss," said Lucy, dropping a courtesy. " That 
 is yes; you did startle me a little. I thought it was some- 
 body else." 
 
 Claire smiled and looked at her with friendly admiration. 
 In her pretty print frock and cotton sun-bonnet, Lucy made 
 a charming picture of rusticity. 
 
 " Whom did you think it was?" she asked. 
 
 Lucy fumbled nervously with the strings of her sun-bonnet, 
 and looked as if she were confused. She had thought it was 
 Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, but she could not say so. She was 
 asking herself, in a nervous tremor, whether Miss Sartoris had 
 seen Mordaunt Sapley parting from her a few minutes ago. 
 A sudden idea struck her. 
 
 " I thought it might be Mr. Wayre, miss," she said. 
 
 The smile still lingered on Claire's face; but a slight color 
 also rose to it. 
 
 " Mr. Wayre?" she said; and there was a touch of coldness 
 in her surprise. 
 
 " Yes, miss," said Lucy, regaining her composure some- 
 what, but still blushing under the regard of Claire's violet 
 eyes. 
 
 There was something magnetic in those wonderful eyes of 
 Claire's, and Lucy felt as if they were reading her secret; so, 
 as she answered, the blush still came and went. " Mr. Wayre, 
 the gentleman who lodges with us." 
 
 "Oh!" said Claire; " I did not know that he was staying 
 at your cottage. And you were looking for him?" 
 
 " Yes, miss," replied Lucy, looking down, and working the 
 toe of her neat but serviceable boot into the grass. " I I 
 wanted to tell him that his lunch was ready. I I thought 
 he might be painting somewhere near at hand." 
 
 " He is sketching up at the chapel," said Claire, a little 
 coldly. She could not account for the girl's evident confu- 
 sion. " I hope he is a good lodger?" she added, aimlessly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, miss," said Lucy, with enthusiasm. " He's the 
 best we ever had so kind and thoughtful; and he gives so 
 little trouble, and he's so pleased with everything. Father 
 says it's quite a pleasure to have a gentleman like him at the 
 cottage. There's many that comes tourists, and such
 
 48 THE MISTRESS OF COTJBT BEGNA. 
 
 like as calls themselves gentlemen, but they're not L*eaJ gen 
 tlemen, like Mr. Wayre." 
 
 " I am glad you have so satisfactory a lodger," said Claire. 
 " You've not been up to see me lately, Lucy." 
 
 Lucy had been in the habit of coming up to the Court now 
 and again, bringing fish or mushrooms; and Claire had often 
 taken her round the garden, and filled her emptied baskets 
 with flowers. 
 
 Lucy looked from right to left, with a little troubled expres- 
 sion in her eyes, then cast them down, and dug at the grass 
 nervously. 
 
 " Having a lodger has kept me busy, Miss Claire," she 
 said, with a little catch in her voice. 
 
 " I see," said Claire. " Well, you must come up as soon 
 as vou can; I have some new flowers to show you.*' 
 
 " Thank you, miss," said Lucy, timidly, and with a sup- 
 pressed sigh. 
 
 " You will find Mr. Wayre up at the chapel," said Claire; 
 and with a nod and a smile she rode on. 
 
 Lunch was on the table when she got home, and Mrs. Lex- 
 ton awaited her. 
 
 Claire sat down in her habit. 
 
 " I hope you've not been dull, Mary?" she said. 
 
 " Oh, no, dear," replied Mrs. Lexton. " It sounds rude, 
 but I have scarcely missed you. I've been wandering about 
 this lovely place, and trying to persuade myself that it is all 
 real. It is like a beautiful picture. I haven't seen half of it 
 yet." 
 
 " We will make a tour of inspection after lunch," said 
 Claire. 
 
 Mrs. Lexton looked at her admiringly. 
 
 " And I have not quite persuaded myself that you are real, 
 Claire," she said. ll How well you look! Did you have a 
 nice ride?" 
 
 " Yes," said Claire, rather absently. 
 
 She was asking herself whether she should tell Mrs. Lexton 
 about her meeting with Gerald Wayre; then, ashamed of her 
 hesitation, she said, quickly: 
 
 " I have had quite an adventure this morning. I went up 
 to the chapel on the hill and met Mr. Wayre, the gentleman 
 who found my spray last night. He is an architect," she 
 smiled, and ever so many other things, and he is sketching 
 the chapel." 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Lexton, with placid interest, " ia he a 
 elerer young man?"
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT EEGKA. 40 
 
 "Yes, I think so," said Claire, with an indifference which 
 she felt was assumed. " I only saw a part of a sketch which 
 he had made. Shall we go for a drive this afternoon, or 
 would you like to wander about the grounds, Mary?" 
 
 Mrs. Lexton said that she would rather see something more 
 of the house. 
 
 " I feel that I want to know it as soon as possible," she 
 said. 
 
 Claire laughed. 
 
 " Your enthusiasm is quite catching, Mary/' she said, 
 " although I have been here so many years, there are some 
 parts of the house that I have not been into. A portion was 
 always kept closed during Lord Wharton's life; and since his 
 death," her voice dropped, " I have felt no desire to penetrate 
 into it. The inhabited part is quite huge enough for one 
 person, and I am glad you have come, Mary, to share it with 
 me. Wait till I have changed my habit and we will start 
 while your enthusiasm is still hot." 
 
 She exchanged her habit for a dress of plain white merino, 
 whose black sash made it a significant mourning, and they 
 went into the ground and toward the wing which Gerald 
 Wayre had spoken of on the preceding night. Here the walls 
 were closely covered by ivy, which had partly overgrown some 
 of the windows. With its arched door-way and diamond 
 panes, the wing looked very ancient and somewhat weird. 
 
 " How exquisite!" exclaimed Mrs. Lexton. "And this 
 part is unoccupied?" 
 
 " Yes, and has been for years. I think the rooms have 
 been left undisturbed since the time of Lord Wharton's grand- 
 father. The village folk say that it is haunted, and that 
 figures of the usual vagueness and whiteness are seen to pass 
 the windows. I believe that a murder was once committed in 
 one of the rooms." 
 
 "How delightful!" said Mrs. Lexton, with a shudder. 
 " We can get in, I suppose?" 
 
 " I have brought some old keys with me," said Claire, 
 "and I am hoping that one will fit. Yes; this is the one. 
 How stiff the lock is!" 
 
 The key turned after some pressure, and the door creaked 
 back on its hinges. They entered a small passage with an 
 old worm-eaten stair at the further end. Dust lay thick 
 everywhere, and to Mrs. Lexton's consternation a mouse, as 
 much startled as she was, scampered across the oak floor. 
 They opened the doors leading to the ground-floor rooms, and. 
 found themselves in spacious apartments, furnished in old-
 
 50 THE MISTBESS OF COURT KEGtfl. 
 
 world style, and with the dust as thick as in the hall. Clairt 
 looked round her curiously, and Mrs. Lexton held her breath. 
 
 " I can quite understand the village people's belief," she 
 said; " the place feels haunted. What magnificent furniture! 
 Claire, it is a sin to leave it here, neglected and going to 
 ruin." 
 
 " Let us go upstairs," said Claire. 
 
 They went up to the upper floor. It was as fully furnished 
 as the rooms below. One was a bedroom, with the hangings 
 to the bed in rents, torn by the hand of Time. A satin cover- 
 let lay across a chair, as if it had been thrown there the night 
 previous. 
 
 " The murder may have been committed in that bed!" said 
 Mrs. Lexton in an awe-struck voice. " Let us come away!" 
 
 They went into the opposite room, and Mrs. Lexton uttered 
 an exclamation of surprise. 
 
 " Why, this has been used lately," she said. 
 
 It was furnished as a sitting-room, with old oak furniture 
 and dark maroon hangings. There were pictures on the 
 walls, and ashes in the grate, and the dust was not nearly so 
 thick as it was hi the other rooms they had visited. 
 
 " See, Claire, some one has been writing at this bureau!" 
 said Mrs. Lexton. " Here is the pen and some torn paper!" 
 
 " I do not know who could have used it," said Claire. 
 " Unless it was Lord W barton; and I do not know why he 
 should come here. That door must lead to the inhabited part 
 of the house. He could come in here through that." 
 
 As she indicated the door, Mrs. Lexton started, and erinped 
 
 * ii - * 'Oil 
 
 Claire s arm. 
 
 " What is the matter?" asked Claire. 
 
 " There is some one moving behind that door!" 
 
 They both stood motionless and listened. Mrs. Lexton 
 went pale. Claire heard a faint noise and the door opened 
 slowly. Mrs. Lexton emitted a faint scream. The door 
 opened wider, and Mr. Sapley appeared. 
 
 He started at sight of them, and a curious look passed over 
 his face; then he bowed, and his large mouth twisted into a 
 smile. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris!" he said. 
 
 Claire had regained her self-possession in a moment 
 
 " Yon frightened us, Mr. Sapley," she said. " I thought 
 no one came here?" 
 
 He looked at her sharply with his small eyes. 
 * No one does," he said; " but II was tolc 
 
 told that a part of
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 51 
 
 the wing was falling to ruin, and I thought I would look to 
 it. I am disturbing you; I will go, and come another time." 
 
 " No, please," said Claire. " I should like to see the part 
 you speak of." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton had drawn back behind her. Mr. Sapley's 
 peculiar physiognomy impressed her more unpleasantly even 
 than it had done the night before. 
 
 " Certainly," he said, obsequiously. " It must be at the 
 further end. If you will follow me." 
 
 They followed him down-stairs, and into the open air. Mrs. 
 Lexton drew a breath of relief, and even Claire was glad to 
 get into the sunlight. Mr. Sapley looked up and down the 
 wing, and poked about with his stick. 
 
 " Yes; it is bad," he said. " I think it had better be seen 
 to at once. The whole of this part ought to come down and 
 be rebuilt. It ought to have been done before. It will 
 require some care; I will get an architect from Exeter or 
 from London. " 
 
 At the word "architect," a thought flashed through 
 Claire's mind. 
 
 " I know an architect who will do it," she said. 
 
 Mr. Sapley turned his eyes upon her sharply. 
 
 " You know an architect?" he said, as if he were off his 
 guard for a moment; then, recovering himself, he smirked: 
 ** Who is he, Miss Sartoris? I hope he is a good one; it will 
 need some skill." 
 
 Claire looked straight before her with a look of decision 
 which Mr. Sapley had learned to know and hate. 
 
 " His name is Gerald Wayre," she said, " and he is staying 
 in the village." 
 
 Mr. Sapley started slightly, and his small eyes turned 
 inward, as if he were trying to remember something. 
 
 " Certainly!" he said. " Any one you wish, Miss Sartoris." 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 GERALD was sitting at breakfast the second morning after 
 his meeting with Claire at the chapel, when Lucy entered with 
 a letter. 
 
 " For me?" he said, looking up from his plate in some 
 surprise. For there was no one from whom he expected a 
 letter. 
 
 *' Yes, sir," said Lucy; " a boy has just brought it from 
 Mr. Sapley's." 
 ^ .She flushed a little, and looked down as she spoke the name.
 
 53 THE MISTRESS OP COURT EEGNA. 
 
 " Oh!" said Gerald, queerly. 
 
 Perhaps it was the summons for trespass. 
 
 He opened the letter, and his grim smile changed to one of 
 astonishment. The note was a short one, and intimated that 
 Mr. Sapley would be glad if Mr. Gerald Wayre could meet 
 him at the Court at twelve o'clock that day, to confer with 
 Mr. Sapley respecting some proposed repairs to the building. 
 If that hour would be inconvenient, perhaps Mr. Wayre would 
 came another. 
 
 Gerald laid the note on the table, and gazed at it reflect- 
 i vclv 
 
 Though the letter had come from Mr. Sapley, the agent, 
 Gerald knew, or, rather, felt, that it had been ordered by the 
 mistress of the Court. How should Mr. Sapley know that he 
 was an architect, or, knowing it, be willing to employ him? 
 Should he go? Prudence whispered: " Send a polite refusal; 
 it will be better for you not to see any more of the Miss Sar- 
 toris whose glove you have got hidden in your waistcoat- 
 pocket, just over your heart; indeed, it will be wise of you to 
 pack up your few belongings and depart from Eegua for some 
 distant clime as distant as possible." But at Gerald's age 
 Prudence is not often listened to. The prospect of doing any- 
 thing to the Court, the thought of the few pounds which 
 remained in his purse, tempted him to acceded to Mr. Sapley 's 
 concise but polite request. 
 
 " Anyhow, I'll go and see what he wants," he said. " Beg- 
 gers ought not to be choosers; and if I don't like it I can say 
 no. There will be no harm done." 
 
 He found the boy who had brought the note sitting in a 
 ramshackle room, which was attached to the cottage, and 
 formed the inn part of it 
 
 " Tell Mr. Sapley ' all right;' I will be there," he said. 
 
 Then he went to his room and put on his best suit, got his 
 box of drawing instruments, and a block of cartridge paper, 
 and went out. 
 
 It was much too early to present himself at the Court, and 
 he made a round of it, thinking deeply as he went. He had 
 no idea of what was wanted, or whether he would be man 
 enough for the job; but he had never lacked confidence, and 
 it did not desert him on this occasion. 
 
 As he strode along he stopped now and again to look round 
 him at the village lying m the clefts of the rocks, at the 
 prosperous farms, at the thick woods and fertile uplands; and 
 reminded himself for about twenty times that they all 
 belonged to this young lady who had sent for him; that she
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 53 
 
 Was rich, and a power in the land, and that he was a poor 
 devil of an adventurer upon whom she had taken pity. She 
 had been so friendly with him up at the chapel that he had 
 been inclined to forget the difference between them; he must 
 be on his guard against forgetting it for the future. 
 
 As the stable clock struck twelve, he went up the terrace 
 steps, and was met by the butler at the hall door. 
 
 "Mr. "Way re, sir?" he said, interrogatively; "this way, 
 please." And he led Gerald into the library. 
 
 Mr. Sapley was seated at the table, and he rose and looked 
 at Gerald with a keen scrutiny in his small eyes. Now, he 
 had intended to treat this unknown young man with a curt 
 kind of condescension, with the patronizing manner with 
 which Mr. Sapley's kind only barely veil their insolence; but 
 there was something in Gerald's manner and countenance 
 which made Mr. Sapley pause. 
 
 Gerald did not look the kind of man to submit to insolence, 
 however veiled; and there was something in the calm, grave 
 regard of the dark eyes, something in the self-possessed bear- 
 ing of the strong and graceful figure which made Mr. Sapley 
 lower his eyes and shuffle his huge, fiat feet uneasily. 
 
 "Mr. Wayre, I presume? Will you take a seat?" 
 
 " Thank you," said Gerald; and he sat down. 
 
 At the sound of his voice, Mr. Sapley started slightly, and 
 glanced at him with a keener scrutiny. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris whom you have met, I believe?" he put 
 the question as if he were assured of an affirmative, " desired 
 me to write to you respecting some repairs that are required 
 in the old part of the Court. You are an architect, Mr. 
 Wayre?" 
 
 " Yes," said Gerald. 
 
 " I ask you, because I do not find your name in the 
 directory." 
 
 "It isn't there," said Gerald. " I am not a member ol 
 the Institute; or, indeed, a recognized member of the profes- 
 sion," he added, frankly. 
 
 Mr. Sapley looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " That is rather awkward, Mr. Wayre," he said. " The 
 work we wished to consult you about it rather er a delicate 
 business. It is the restoration of an ancient part of the Court, 
 and requires some technical knowledge and skill. I am afraid 
 Miss Sartoris did not know that you were not a regular pro- 
 fessional." 
 
 Before Gerald could answer, the door opened, and Mor*
 
 54. THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 daunt Sapley entered. He stopped short as he saw Gerald, 
 and his face grew red and ugly with malice and resentment. 
 " This is Mr. Wayre; my son, Mr. Wayre," said old bapley. 
 Gerald, as he bowed, regarded Mr. Mordaunt without a sign 
 of recognition, but Mordaunt's face grew redder and more 
 sullen. , . 
 
 " Mr. Wayre tells me that he is not a professional archi- 
 tect," remarked Mr. Sapley. 
 
 Mordaunt looked over Gerald's head. " Then that settles 
 the business, I should think/' he said, with a covert sneer. 
 " We couldn't think of intrusting important work to an ama- 
 teur." 
 
 " I am scarcely an amateur," said Gerald, addressing the 
 father. " I have done work and been paid for it. That 
 removes me from the category of amateur, does it not?" 
 " What work?" asked Mr. Sapley. 
 Gerald mentioned his jails and other buildings. 
 " Abroad, on the other side of the world!" said Mordaunt, 
 lounging against the window and eying Gerald with an affec- 
 tation of contempt. 
 
 " Have you done nothing in England?" asked Mr. Sapley. 
 " Nothing," said Gerald, quietly. 
 
 Mr. Sapley' s face grew clearer, and his manner a little more 
 pompons. 
 
 " I am afraid that we could scarcely give you the commis- 
 sion under the circumstances," he said. " We have no 
 evidence of your capacity." 
 
 " Very good," said Gerald; and he rose. " I think you're 
 acting quite reasonably, and I don't complain; indeed, I am 
 much obliged to you for having given me the chance. Good- 
 morning, gentlemen." 
 
 Mr. Sapley rubbed his chin and glanced at him hesitat- 
 ingly, but did not speak, and Gerald had nearly reached the 
 Hoor when it opened and Claire stood on the threshold. She 
 I looked very tall and statuesque in her white frock, and Ger- 
 ald, as he drew back slightly, felt his heart give one throb of 
 admiration. She looked from one to the other, then bowed 
 to him. He noticed that she did not give him her hand. 
 
 " Good-morning," she said, calmly. " Is the business 
 finished already?" and she looked inquiringly at Mr. Sapley. 
 ' It is, Miss Sartoris," said Gerald, with a faint smile, 
 which, however, did not conceal his disappointment. " Mr- 
 Sapley does not consider that I have experience, reputation, 
 enough for this work whatever it is; and I have no right to
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT EEGNA. fiS 
 
 complain of his decision. It was very kind of you of 
 him " he corrected himself quickly " to send for me." 
 
 A faint color rose to Claire's face as she stepped into the 
 room and stood by the table. 
 
 " There must be some mistake," she said; and she looked 
 at Mr. Sapley with the expression of reserve which almost 
 amounted to hauteur. " Have you told Mr. Wayre what is 
 necessary to be done, what is required?" 
 
 Mr. Sapley drew his beetle brows over his eyes. 
 
 " No/' he said, as curtly as he dared. " Mr. Wayre has 
 not been here five minutes. I asked him a few questions as 
 to his experience usual questions and he admitted that he 
 had done nothing of the kind in England, and appeared to 
 agree with me that the work ought to be intrusted to a 
 responsible architect." 
 
 Claire glanced at Gerald, who offered no contradiction of 
 Mr. Sapley's statement. 
 
 " But Mr. Wayre has not seen the part of the building that 
 requires alteration, repair?" she said, half interrogatively. 
 " Had you not better see it before you decide?" and she 
 turned to him. 
 
 " I shall be very pleased," replied Gerald. 
 
 "Very well, then!" she said, with a woman's impatience 
 and impulsiveness. " It would be better for us to go and see 
 it instead of wasting time talking of preliminaries." 
 
 Mr. Sapley's face darkened for a moment, then put on his 
 obsequious smile. 
 
 " A very good suggestion, Miss Sartoris," he said. " I was 
 just about to make it when you came in; but Mr. Wayre 
 caught me up, so to speak. We will go and see the wing at 
 once. This way, Mr. Wayre." 
 
 Claire passed out of the room, but paused in the hall. " I 
 will go with you," she said; and she went up the stairs for her 
 hat. 
 
 The three men went out, Mr. Mordaunt, at whom Claire 
 had not even glanced, bringing up the rear and eying the back 
 of Gerald's head with sullen hatred. He had " got himself 
 up " in an expensive and beautifully fitting riding- suit, and 
 as he regarded himself and compared his clothes with Gerald's 
 well-worn ones, he was filled with an amazed resentment that 
 Claire should have bestowed all her attention on this stranger 
 and left Mr. Mordaunt Sapley unnoticed. Who was the fel- 
 low? and why was she so friendly toward him? Why didn't 
 he let the beggar take himself off?
 
 gg THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " This is the wing/' said Mr. Sapley, acidly, and pointing 
 to it with a claw-like finger. 
 
 " It is a very fine specimen of early English," said Gerald. 
 
 " Yes," assented Mr. Sapley, insolently. " And ought not 
 to be .spoiled by ignorant patching." 
 
 ' " You are right," said Gerald, cheerfully, as he examined 
 the weak places. " I should think a great portion of it 
 from that window, say ought to come down and be rebuilt. 
 The old plan might be even improved upon. " 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt sneered. 
 
 " That would require a first-class architect," he said. 
 
 Gerald nodded with a pleasant frankness, which was more 
 indicative of his contempt for Mr. Mordaunt's opinion than 
 any words could have been. 
 
 " Quite true," he said. " The question is whether I am 
 architect enough?" 
 
 As he spoke, Claire came down the terrace and joined them. 
 
 " Well?" she said, addressing no one of them in particular; 
 but Gerald turned to her. 
 
 " A greater part of this wing should be rebuilt, Miss Sar- 
 toris," ne said. " I can not say how much until I have made 
 a minute examination. I will do so, if you wish, and I will 
 make the drawing of the rebuilding I should recommend. If 
 you approve of the plan, and desire to employ me, I shall be 
 glad to do the work. If not well, there is no harm done, 
 and Mr. Sapley can sent for an architect of repute. There 
 are plenty who would be delighted with such a commission 
 as this." 
 
 He spoke pleasantly and frankly, but his tone was quite 
 different to that with which he had talked to her two morn- 
 ings ago. It was as if he wished to mark the difference 
 between them, to indicate that he was sensible of the fact that 
 ahe was his employer and he her servant. 
 
 Claire kept her "eyes fixed on the building. She noticed the 
 alteration in his manner. 
 
 " That is a very fair offer, Mr. Sapley?" 
 
 " Oh, very fair," he assented, sourly. " You bind yourself 
 to nothing, of course, Miss Sartoris." 
 
 " Of course!" said Gerald, emphatically. 
 
 11 It does not sound quite fair, after all," said Claire, still 
 looking at the building. " If I should not like the plans, Mr. 
 Wayre will have had all his work for nothing. " 
 
 " I shall be quite content," said Gerald, quickly. " Frankly, 
 I am hoping you will like the plans; anyway, I shall be de- 
 lighted to seize the opportunity of studying the old work,"
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 5^ 
 
 Mr. Sapley's brows went up and down. 
 ' Then that is settled?" he said, dryly. 
 
 " Yes," said Mordaunt, with his Oxford drawl. " Perhaps 
 Mr. Wayre will have no objection to putting his proposal in 
 writing." 
 
 The color rose to Claire's face, and she seemed about to 
 speak quickly, but before she could do so, Gerald said: 
 
 " Quite so; that is only right." 
 
 " And give us a couple of references," added Mordaunt, 
 staring beyond Gerald. 
 
 Gerald looked at him. 
 
 "References?" he said, quietly. "I am afraid I cannot 
 do that." 
 
 " It is usual," said Mordaunt, with a still more pronounced 
 drawl. 
 
 " I know no one in England to whom I could refer you as 
 to my respectability," said Gerald, gravely, but with no sign 
 of resentment. 
 
 " Surely " began Mordaunt, with a faint sneer; but 
 Claire turned to Gerald quickly. 
 
 " It is quite unnecessary," she said. " We are not afraid 
 that you will run away with the old wing, Mr. Wayre." 
 
 Gerald inclined his head, perhaps to hide the swift look of 
 gratitude which flashed into his dark eyes. The two Sapleys 
 exchanged glances, and then stared at the ground. 
 
 " How soon can you commence?" asked Claire, trying to 
 speak in a matter-of-fact way. 
 
 " At once. I have nothing to do/' Mr. Mordaunt smiled 
 significantly. " And I am eager to begin." 
 
 " Very well," she said, as if the matter were settled. 
 " Please get on with it as quickly as possible; the old building 
 may be dangerous. Good-morning, and thank you." She 
 inclined her head and moved away from them, and the Sap- 
 leys stood, rather awkwardly, staring at the building. Then 
 Mr. Sapley cleared his throat. 
 
 " I don't know that there is anything else to arrange, Mr. 
 Wayre," he said, with the air of a man who finds it difficult 
 to be civil. " Of course, it's very er irregular, but Miss 
 Sartoris " he shrugged his heavy shoulders " Miss Sartoris 
 
 is 
 
 (4 
 
 Impulsive and confiding," put hi Mordaunt. " Well, she 
 is responsible, not we. " 
 
 Gerald made no retort to this pleasant remark, but pushed 
 his hat from his brow and contemplated the wing with aa 
 absorbed air, as if he were already at work at his plans.
 
 58 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REQNA. 
 
 "I think you said you knew no one in England, Mr. 
 Wayre?" said Mr. Sapley in a dry, suspicious tone. 
 
 ''No one," assented Gerald, quite cheerfully. " I have 
 been abroad all my life. The wing seems quite uninhabited." 
 
 " It is. Abroad? What part, may I ask?" said Mr. Mor- 
 daunt, insolently. 
 
 Gerald took out his pocket-book, and jotted down a memo- 
 randum before replying, and Mr. Mordaunt's face, while h 
 was being kept waiting, grew red with suppressed rage. 
 
 " America," said Gerald, at last. 
 
 " Rather a large address," sneered Mordaunt, taking out a 
 cigarette. 
 
 " Isn't it?" said Gerald, with a pleasant smile. ' Mr. 
 Sapley, shall I find a ladder about the premises? I want to 
 get on to the roof." 
 
 " Yes, in the stable-yard, no doubt," said Mr. Sapley, 
 grimly. 
 
 " Thanks," said Gerald in the most cheerful way; " then 
 I'll go and look for one." 
 
 And he strode off, humming the " Soldiers' Chorus " from 
 "Faust." 
 
 Father and son looked at each other. 
 
 " What the devil does it mean?" demanded Mordaunt, with 
 suppressed fury. " She must be mad to trust this fellow a 
 complete stranger, for all she knows, a common thief and 
 swindler with such work. He ought not to be permitted 
 near the Court! I say he may be a common thief and 
 swindler, for all we know. She must be mad! Why, she 
 seems to to have taken a fancy to the beast." 
 
 Mr. Sapley shook his head. 
 
 " That's not likely," he said, as if he were speaking to 
 himself. " She's too proud; it's just a whim. And, between 
 you and me, Mordy, we're to blame for the way things have 
 gone. We were too sharp for him before her. You put your 
 foot in it, asking for references 
 
 Mordaunt turned upon him with a currish snarl. 
 ' That's right, blame me, of course!" he said. " I tell you 
 it wouldn't have mattered what we had done or said; she had 
 made up her mind to employ him. She had taken a fancy to 
 the fellow." 
 
 Mr. Sapley shook his head. 
 ' No,'' he said, reflectively. " But it doesn't matter" 
 
 Doesn't matter?" echoed Mordaunt, with a sneer. 
 ' No," said Mr. Sapley, his brows well over his eyes, & 
 under lip projecting with an expression half resolute, half.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGflU. 69 
 
 threatening. " It doesn't matter! Don't you be afraid, Mor- 
 daunt. You keep your eyes open and wait. Wait! I'll give 
 her rope enough " 
 
 His voice died into an incoherent mutter as he turned and 
 walked away, with bent head and scowling brows. 
 
 r CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GERALD went round the end of the house in search of the 
 stables. He quite understood the Sapleys' antagonism to 
 him: a man you have knocked down doesn't generally love 
 you. But Gerald was not much concerned, and felt that he 
 could hold his own against both father and son, especially if 
 Miss Sartoris stood his friend, as she had done this morning. 
 
 How lovely she looked in her plain white frock and how 
 proud and reserved ! He thought of Diana and several other 
 goddesses; then pulled himself up short. 
 
 " What you have to do, my friend, is to restore the wing of 
 Court Eegna, not moon about the beauty of its mistress!" 
 
 On his way to the stables he came upon a tiny cottage. It 
 was quite a surprise to him, for it was almost hidden in a 
 little shrubbery. It stood in a miniature garden all aglow 
 with flowers, and was so pretty an object that Gerald, artist- 
 like, stopped to admire it. 
 
 As he did so, a little girl, leading an old woman by the 
 hand, came out. At sight of Gerald they paused on the 
 threshold, the girl bobbed a courtesy, and the old woman, 
 screening her eyes with a trembling hand, peered at Gerald 
 for a moment, then courtesied, and murmured something 
 inaudible. 
 
 " I don't know, granny; it's a stranger," said the girl, 
 shyly. 
 
 Gerald raised his hat, and seeing that they were making for 
 a rustic seat, drew it forward into the sun for them. The 
 girl thanked him, with downcast eyes, and the old lady watched 
 him intently, and her lips moved again. 
 
 " Thank you, my lord," she said in a thin voice. 
 
 " You are quite welcome," said Gerald, gently. " But I'm 
 afraid you mistake me for some one else; I am not a lord 
 worse luck!" 
 
 The old woman listened intently, and a smile flickered over 
 her face an eager, wistful smile, which touched Gerald. 
 
 " Your lordship is very kind," she quavered. " I trust 
 her ladyship is well; I have not seen her of late,"
 
 00 THE MISTRBSS OF COURT REQNA. 
 
 " Whom does she take me for?" Gerald asked of the little 
 
 r"iT*| 
 
 " I I don't quite know, sir," she replied, shyly. " She- 
 she is very old, and often doesn't quite know what she says." 
 
 Gerald nodded, and raising his hat again, with his pleasant 
 smile, passed on. 
 
 One of the pensioners of the Court; an old servant, no 
 doubt, he thought. 
 
 He went into the stable-yard, and inquired of one of the 
 met. for a ladder. He was grooming a horse, and touched his 
 hat respectfully as he answered: 
 
 " There's one at the back of the yard, sir; I'll get it." 
 
 " No, no!" said Gerald. " I'll get it. Don't leave your 
 horse; they hate being left in the middle of their toilet." 
 
 " So they do, sir, so they do!" said the man, with no abate- 
 ment of his respect. " It isn't every gentleman that under- 
 stands that." 
 
 " I've had a great deal to do with horses," said Gerald. 
 "That's a good mare." 
 
 The man beamed with pleasure. " It's Miss Sartoris's," 
 he said. " Yes, she's almost human, as you may say, sir. 
 Miss Sartoris pets her, and horses are quick to catch at kind- 
 ness, ain't they, sir? I'll get the ladder for you almost in a 
 minute." 
 
 " No; you go on; I'll manage it," said Gerald. He found 
 the ladder, and, though it was a good weight, got it on his 
 shoulder and set off with it. The man eyed him with ap- 
 proval. " That's a gentleman, anyhow, Bess, for all he ain't 
 above carrying a ladder," he remarked to the mare; and she 
 pricked up her ears and tossed her head in assent. 
 
 Gerald carried his ladder round to the front of the wing and 
 mounted to the roof. As he had expected, he found it in a 
 very bad condition. It would all have to come down. He stood 
 with one foot on the parapet, looking at the view, not know- 
 ing that Claire and Mrs. Lexton were looking at his tall figure 
 standing out against the background of the blue sky. When 
 he came down again he set to work taking measurements, and 
 then, feeling in the vein, took his pipe, and seating himself on 
 the grass, made a rough, experimental sketch or two. Fortu- 
 nately for him ho was an artist as well as an architect the 
 two things don't always go together, alas! and he had caught 
 the spirit of the old building. He sketched rapidly, and with 
 an intense eagerness, now and again jumping up to take a 
 measurement or to get a different view. 
 
 In his mind's eye he gaw the old wing, not only restored,
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT KEGffA. <J1 
 
 but improved. He would throw out square windows in the 
 Elizabethan style, with stained glass in the tops of the latticed 
 panes; there should be a carved stone porch, with a griffin, or 
 some other heraldic animal, at either side, and seats within. 
 He pictured to himself Miss Sartoris resting there, with the 
 sunlight falling on her through the leaves of the ivy, which, 
 of course, should trail over the porch, and he started, for 
 t/laire's voice suddenly woke him from the dream in which 
 he had been so absorbed that he had not heard or seen her and 
 Mrs. Lexton's approach. 
 
 He rose and slipped his pipe in his pocket at the imminent 
 risk of a conflagration. 
 
 " Are you here still?" asked Claire. It did not sound very 
 hospitable, but he understood. " Mary, this is Mr. Wayre." 
 
 Gerald raised his hat and bowed, and he and Mrs. Lexton 
 looked at each other, and Mrs. Lexton was at once favorably 
 impressed. He looked at his watch." 
 
 " Four o'clock!" he said. " I had no idea it was so late! 
 Time passes very quickly when one is at pleasant work." 
 
 " And have you had no lunch?" asked Claire, with a little 
 touch of self-reproach. 
 
 He laughed. " No; but I can't have needed it, as 1 didn't 
 think of it. Tobacco is a very good substitute, Miss Sartoris." 
 
 " We ought to have thought of it, Mary," said Claire, 
 looking at Mrs. Lexton as if it were her fault. " I will send 
 you out something at once; or would you rather come into the 
 house?" 
 
 " Please don't trouble," he said. " To tell you the truth, 
 I don't care to break off just now. I'm in the humor." 
 
 " And we interrupted you," said Claire, gravely. 
 
 " No, no," he said, quietly. " Not in the very least. 
 Please don't go that is, if you want to stay. I mean 
 
 As is always the way, Claire's self-possession increased as 
 his diminished. 
 
 " Have you been making some sketches?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes; but they are only sketches, not finished drawings, of 
 course. " 
 
 Claire smiled. " Oh, we won't ask to see them." 
 
 " You may see them," he said, extending them to her. 
 She did not take them, but went up beside him and looked at 
 them. 
 
 " How beautiful!" exclaimed Mrs. Lexton, from the other 
 side. " And how quickly you have done them!" 
 
 " They are just impressions," he said " memoranda, so to 
 speak. I may alter them altogether, later on,"
 
 62 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Claire had not expressed any opinion as yet, and he glanced 
 at her expectantly. 
 
 " The new part will be finer than the old/' she said, look- 
 ing from the drawings to the house. 
 
 Gerald felt a glow of satisfaction. 
 
 " I sha'n't alter it then, much/' he said, decisively. " 1 , 
 am glad you are pleased, Miss Sartoris; and I hope that you 
 will like the finished plans." 
 
 " May I look at them again?" she said. 
 
 " Certainly; I am afraid they are very grimy as well as 
 rough, for I have been climbing about the roof." He 
 glanced at his hands. Claire looked at them also, and noticed 
 that on a finger of the left hand there was a ring. It was an 
 old-fashioned ring, of the signet kind, with an engraved stone. 
 
 It had not been on his hand when they were up at the 
 chapel. She only noticed it vaguely, her attention having 
 been attracted by the quaintuess of the form of the ring. 
 
 She looked at the sketches closely. " This is the outside 
 only," she said; " what will you do with the inside?" 
 
 " I haven't seen that yet. It all depends upon the other 
 part of the house; I mean the part that adjoins this wing." 
 
 " You can go inside now, if you like/' she said; " I have 
 the key." 
 . " I should like to," he said. 
 
 They went toward the door. A maid crossed the lawn, and 
 Claire beckoned to her. " Tell Nichols to send the tea out 
 here, please," she said. " For three." 
 
 " That is an excellent idea, Claire," said Mrs. Lexton. 
 " It would have been painful if Mr. Wayre had fallen ex- 
 hausted before our eyes. 
 
 Gerald laughed. "1 have gone without food for many 
 more hours than these," he said, lightly. " But a cup of tea 
 will be delightful." 
 
 He opened the door, and they entered. He was deeply 
 interested, not only in the general aspect of the rooms, but hi 
 their plan and architecture. 
 
 " Oh! these must be saved, if possible!" he said, enthusi- 
 astically. " Nothing one could devise could fitly replace 
 them. The stone-work is magnificent, and the carvings 
 well, we could put them up again, it's true, but it wouldn't 
 be quite satisfactory. We must save them. That is, I beg 
 your pardonl 1 am talking as if I were already the accepted 
 architect" 
 
 14 You are. I hav seen the sketches and am satisfied." 
 said Claire.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REG1U. 03 
 
 He inclined his head. "Better wait until the plan is 
 finished; Mr. Sapley may also then be satisfied." 
 
 " Mr. Sapley?" Claire began, laconically; then she stopped. 
 " We had better go upstairs. You will not be frightened with 
 Mr. Wayre to protect you, Mary?" 
 
 " That isn't fair, Claire! You were just as frightened as I 
 was! We were in the room the other day, when Miss Sartoris 
 was telling me that it was haunted, when we heard a noise be- 
 hind that door and some one entered. It was only Mr. Sapley, 
 but we were both scared for a moment; and I think he was as 
 much startled as we were." 
 
 " It only wants a real well-authenticated ghost to make it 
 perfect," said Gerald. " This room has been occupied 
 lately," he remarked, his quick eye noticing, as they had done, 
 the comparative freshness of the room. " It would make a 
 delightful sitting-room or library. It is not often used, of 
 course?" 
 
 " Not at all, that I am aware of," said Claire. 
 
 " It would make an admirable room for Mr. Wayre to use 
 while he was at work," remarked Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 " Oh, I can work in the open air, thank you," he said. 
 
 " It rains here sometimes," said Claire, quietly. " You 
 had better accept Mrs. Lexton's suggestion." 
 
 It was not for him to bandy words with his employer. He 
 bowed. " Very good, and thank you very much." He 
 
 f lanced gratefully at Mrs. Lexton. " I may take that old 
 ureau into the light of the window?" 
 
 " You may arrange the furniture as you please, of course," 
 said Claire. 
 
 With the impulsiveness of his nature, he went to the bureau 
 and half dragged, half carried it to the window. " By the 
 way, there may be some papers in it," he said, as he looked 
 at it. 
 
 " They will not be of any consequence, I should think," 
 said Claire. " You can keep them together and lock them up 
 in one of the drawers." 
 
 " Very well." He brushed the dust from his hands, then 
 stopped suddenly and looked at them and round him with a 
 kind of grave anxiety. 
 
 " What is the matter? Have you hurt your hand?" asked 
 Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 " No, no," he said. " I have dropped my ring some- 
 where." 
 
 ' You had it on just now, outside," said Claire. 
 
 " I know," he said. " Please don't trouble," for of course
 
 $4 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 they were looking round for it. " I shall find it somewhere 
 about the rooms. I don't generally wear it, for it is too 
 
 was get- 
 
 " No," he said, " but I should be sorry to lose it. I have 
 had it all my life, and carried it safely in strange places and 
 through strange scenes. But I am sure to find it; I beg you 
 won't trouble. 
 
 " Oh, we must find it!" said Mrs. Lexton. " It is dread- 
 ful to lose a family relic, as I imagine this is." 
 
 " I don't know," he said, grimly. " I have always had it. 
 It was given to me by the woman who took charge of me 
 when I was a lad. I don't know that it belonged to any one 
 belonging to me." 
 
 Claire had said nothing, but had paced to and fro slowly, 
 her eyes bent on the ground, and even in that moment he 
 noticed how exquisite a picture she made, moving with infinite 
 grace through the antique room. Suddenly she stooped and 
 picked up the ring. 
 
 " There it is!" she said, holding it out to him. 
 
 " Oh, thank you! Thank you!" he said, gratefully, as he 
 took it from her and placed it on his finger. 
 
 " You should have kept it until a reward was offered, 
 Claire," said Mrs. Lexton, laughingly. 
 
 " Had you not better put it into your pocket; you may lose 
 it again?" said Claire, gravely. 
 
 He put it into his pocket at once. If she had said, " Had 
 you not better hang it round your neck by a string?" he 
 would have obeyed. 
 
 "If we rebuild the interior, we must take care of these 
 panels," he said, indicating the oak that covered the walls. 
 " They could be put up again just as they are, for they are iu 
 capital condition; at least, nearly all of them. Some of them 
 are rather shaky." He went round the room tapping the 
 dark, worm-eaten oak. " They did their work thoroughly in 
 those days," he saidj " these are as firm as the day they were 
 put up." 
 
 As he spoke, he struck one of the panels with the soft side 
 of his closed hand, and, as if in mockery of his assertion, a 
 panel just above his head sprung loose, and hung by a nail on 
 the wall. 
 
 Mrs. Lexton laughed. 
 
 " You were too flattering, Mr. Way re," she said, " They
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 65 
 
 did not build as strongly ' She stopped in mid-sentence. 
 (t Why, what is that behind the panel?" she asked, timidly. 
 
 Claire and Gerald had already seen it. It was a portrait of 
 a lady. 
 
 " That is strange!" he said. " Did you not know it was 
 there, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 " No," said Claire, not taking her eyes from the picture. 
 
 It was the portrait of a young woman, the face one of 
 extreme beauty, but of a type unlike that of the family pict- 
 ures in the hall. 
 
 Gerald got a chair, and wiped the dust from the painting. 
 
 " One can see it better now," he said; and, unconsciously, 
 his voice grew lower. " It is a very beautiful face. Do you 
 know who it is, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 Claire shook her head. She seemed unable to withdraw her 
 eyes from the picture. 
 
 "No. I do not think it is a Wharton. It is not like any 
 of them." 
 
 " I wonder why it was hidden in this way?" Mrs. Lexton 
 said in almost an awed voice. " We seem fated to meet 
 with the mysterious in this room, Claire. " 
 
 " It is not an old painting," said Gerald, who had been 
 examining it, " though it is painted in the Georgian manner. 
 There is something Joshua Reynoldish about it." 
 
 He touched the canvas reverently with his forefinger. 
 
 " I know nothing of it," said Claire. 
 
 " Who used this room?" asked Gerald. 
 
 " Lord Wharton, if any one," she replied. " The rooms 
 adjoining this the modern rooms, I mean were sometimes 
 used by him." 
 
 " Do you think he covered it up?" asked Mrs. Lexton in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " The hand that placed that panel over it was not the hand 
 of a professional carpenter," said Gerald, absently, as he stood 
 looking at the portrait. 
 
 " You are interested in it, Mr. Wayre?" said Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 He started slightly. 
 
 " Yes, naturallv," he said. " It is rather a mysterious find. 
 It is well painted, and it is a pity it has been neglected. 
 There are mold spots you see? It ought to be carefully 
 cleaned." 
 
 " I will send it to London," said Claire. 
 
 " It is not necessary to do that, if you will intrust it to me, 
 Miss Sartoris," he said. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, simplT. 

 
 68 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " We may find out something about it, Claire," remarked 
 
 Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 Claire looked down silently, and Gerald understood her feel- 
 ings in an instant. 
 
 " Lord Wharton would like his secret kept if it was his, 
 she said. " We could replace the picture as we found it if 
 you wished, Miss Sartoris," he added, as he took the picture 
 from its place, and stood it with its face to the wall. 
 
 Claire had moved to the window. 
 
 " Yes. Tea is ready," she said. " Let us go down. 
 There is the key, Mr. Wayre." 
 
 She handed him the key quite naturally, and Gerald's face 
 flushed at this fresh proof of her calm confidence. 
 
 The servants had set the tea on a table under a tree, and it 
 looked particularly inviting to Gerald, who was beginning to 
 discover that he was hungry. 
 
 " I must wash my hands," he said. "No, thank you, I 
 won't go into the house; there is a pump in the stable." 
 
 Mrs. Lexton looked after him with an approving smile. 
 
 " I think you have discovered a treasure, Claire," she said hi 
 her kind fashion. 
 
 Claire looked into the tea-pot before answering. 
 
 " Yes? Mr. Sapley does not think so," she said. 
 
 " I dare say not," said Mrs. Lexton. " Mr. Sapley did not 
 find him! How I do dislike the look of that old man, Claire! 
 And how handsome this one is!" 
 
 Mrs. Lexton laughed. 
 
 " How impassive you are, Claire! You are quite right to 
 be. Of course, he is only a kind of servant, and you are his 
 employer; but I must say that he never for a moment seems 
 to forget it. Nothing could be nicer than his manner." 
 
 Gerald, with his nice manner, came back at this moment 
 and Claire gave him a cup of tea. There was no chair fo* 
 him, and, after handing round the bread and butter, he sat 
 down on the grass. 
 
 ' Yon must be famished, Mr. Wayre," said Mrs. Lexton. 
 " Not famished, only hungry," he said, laughing. Claire 
 extended a cake. 
 
 ' You shall have all that and the toast," she said. Gerald 
 leaned on his elbow and looked at the two ladies, and round 
 about him, with his happiness quite plainly portrayed in his 
 countenance. 
 
 ;< They used to say in the bush that I had the devil's own 
 luck, and I begin to think that I have!" he thought. " If 
 any one had told me, three days ago, that I should be sitting
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 67 
 
 here drinking tea with the mistress of Court Regna, and 
 engaged as her architect, I should have laughed him to scorn." 
 
 He turned over his sketches. " I shall work at these to- 
 night," he said, almost to himself. " Fortunately, there is a 
 good lamp at the inn." 
 
 " You are staying at the Hawkers'?" said Claire. 
 
 " Yes," he said; " they are comfortable diggings; the cap- 
 tain is a remarkably pleasant old man, and the cooking is an 
 agreeable surprise; while Miss Lucy makes a model waiting- 
 maid, and is attention itself. I have fallen in clover." 
 
 Claire glanced at him, then looked straight before her 
 thoughtfully. He had spoken Lucy's name quite naturally, 
 and without the least hesitation. Why had the girl blushed 
 and been so confused when she referred to her lodger? 
 
 " There are some very interesting characters amongst the 
 fisher-folk in Regna," Gerald went on. "I fancy an author 
 would find them worth studying. Oh, by the way, speaking 
 of characters, I have just seen an extremely interesting old 
 lady. She came out of a tiny cottage round there. She was 
 in charge of a little girl, and they were sitting in the garden, 
 like two figures out of an Academy picture. A most delight- 
 ful old lady, with snow-white hair and a shrewd old face." 
 
 " You must mean Mrs. Burdon Nurse Burdon, as she is 
 always called. " 
 
 " She is an old servant, I suppose?" 
 
 " Yes," said Claire. " She was Lord Wharton's nurse." 
 
 " She must be very old, Claire," remarked Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 " She is old, very, very old. No one knows her age. I 
 am not sure that she knows it herself. She is a wonderful 
 old woman in her way, and was, until lately, in possession of 
 all her faculties." 
 
 " You must take me to see her, Claire." 
 
 " Yes, I often go and sit with her, and though she does not 
 recognize any one, she always remembers me. Her mind 
 wanders sometimes; she has bad and good days." 
 
 " This must be one of her bad days," said Gerald, half 
 absently. 
 
 "Why?" asked Claire. 
 
 " Oh " He hesitated a moment, then he went on, with 
 a smile. " She addressed me as * my lord,' when she saw me, 
 and asked after 'her ladyship/ It is the first time I have 
 been mistaken for a member of the peerage, and I was rather 
 astonished." 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " That is strange," she said.
 
 (Jg THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " Yes, very strange," he said. 
 
 " I meant that she should have conferred a title or nobility 
 upon you. She does not often make mistakes of that kind. 
 I wonder for whom she mistook you." 
 
 Gerald shook his head. " I may bear some slight very 
 slight resemblance to some nobleman in the locality/' he 
 suggested. 
 
 Claire thought for a moment. 
 
 <: There is only Lord Chester," she said, " and he is an old 
 
 " Should you like to be a peer, Mr. Wayre?" asked Mrs. 
 Lexton in her soft voice. 
 
 " I would rather be Gerald Wayre, the architect of the new 
 wing at Court Regna," he said. 
 
 The moment the words had left his lips he regretted them, 
 for though Miss Sartoris's face had shown no resentment, he 
 feared she might think the response presumptuous, lie 
 changed the subject with some skill, and presently rose. 
 
 " I will take the sketches home and get to work, Miss Sar- 
 toris. Good-afternoon, and thank you very much." 
 
 There was a moment or two of silence after he had gone, 
 then Mrs. Lexton remarked: 
 
 " How well he said that." 
 
 " What?" asked Claire, absently. 
 
 " That he would rather be himself and rebuild the wing, 
 than a lord." 
 
 Claire looked straight before her. 
 
 " It was rather a foolish speech," she said, quietly. 
 
 When Gerald had reached the stables he remembered the 
 ladder. He pulled up with a slight feeling of annoyance. It 
 would not do to leave the ladder stuck up against the house, 
 for, though burglars might be vara avi at Regna, the thing 
 was a temptation to the curious as well as to the dishonest. 
 He did not like to go back, and yet he could not allow the 
 ladder to remain there. 
 
 " What nonsense!" he said, jeering at himself for his 
 reluctance. " Miss Sartoris will not notice my return any 
 more than she would that of any other workman about the 
 place!" 
 
 But he was relieved when he got back to find that the ladiea 
 had gone. 
 
 He shouldered the ladder and was returning with it, when 
 he saw Claire and Mrs. Lexton standing in the cottage garden 
 beside Mrs.- Bardon and the little girl. He intended to walk
 
 69 
 
 past them without any sign, but as he caine to the group, the 
 old lady dropped a courtesy and quavered out: 
 
 " Good-morning, my lord!'" 
 
 He could scarcely let the quaint salutation go without any 
 response, and so he smiled and nodded. 
 
 Claire laid her hand on the woman's arm which she had 
 drawn within her own. " You do not know that gentleman, 
 xiurse?" she said. 
 
 The old woman looked up at her with a shrewd, half- 
 secretive expression in the faded dim eyes. 
 
 " Yes, yes!" she said in her thin voice. " I know him well 
 enough, and so do you, my lady." 
 
 Claire changed color for a moment, then she said, gently, 
 and with a smile: "And now you don't know me! I am 
 Claire Sartoris, your little girl, as you used to call me." 
 
 " I know I know!" crooned Mrs. Burdon, nodding her 
 head and half closing her eyes, as if she were sharing a jest 
 with Claire. 
 
 " And that gentleman is Mr. Way re," said Claire. 
 
 " Yes, yes! quite right," said the old woman. " Quite 
 right, my lady. I know his lordship as well as I know you! 
 Why do you plague me so?" she broke off suddenly with the 
 fretful resentment of extreme old age. 
 
 The ivory of Claire's face grew rose tinted, and Gerald has- 
 tened to her relief. 
 
 " It is of no use, Miss Sartoris!" he said. " Mrs. Burdon 
 insists upon my nobility even with a ladder on my shoulder," 
 and with a laugh he hurried on. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GERALD went to work at his plans that same evening. The 
 lamp, as he had said, was large; it was also hot, but he did 
 not realize how warm the little room had become until he felt 
 the perspiration starting out on his forehead. Then he rose 
 with a laugh, and, lighting his pipe, strolled out for a stretch 
 and a breath of fresh air. 
 
 It was a lovely night, with a delightful breeze from the sea; 
 and he sauntered down the steep, roughly paved path to the 
 jetty. He was quite absorbed in his work, and looked at the 
 beautiful seascape absently enough; but presently he became 
 conscious of the figure of a young girl walking along the beach 
 and close to the cliffs, which rose perpendicularly from the 
 very edge of the sea-line. 
 
 As the moon emerged from a bank of cloud he saw that the
 
 70 THB MISTRESS OF COURT REONA. 
 
 girl was Lucy Hawker. He was thinking, absently and 
 casually, that it was rather strange for her to be walking alone 
 at that time of night; but concluding that she was tempted by 
 the beauty of the evening, he was turning away, when he saw 
 another figure come down a path and join her. It was a 
 young man this time, and Gerald fancied he bore some resem- 
 blance in form and bearing to Mr. Mordaunt Sapley; but he 
 was too far off for Gerald to identify him, and, while he was 
 looking, the two figures disappeared round a bend of the cliff. 
 
 Gerald was just at that moment trying to decide upon a 
 knotty question in connection with the plans, and forgot all 
 about Lucy and her companion directly they passed from 
 his sight. He solved the problem in about half an hour, and, 
 relighting his pipe, started to return to his plans. 
 
 There was another road, a mere track, leading direct from 
 the beach, and he decided to take it for a change, and was 
 climbing up the steep path, when Lucy dropped in front of 
 him from the overhanging rock. 
 
 " Miss Lucy!" he said. 
 
 She started, and uttered a faint cry of surprise and alarm, 
 and stood looking at him for a moment or two with wide-open 
 eyes, then glanced swiftly over her shoulder. 
 
 ' You you startled me, sir I" she said. 
 
 " I am very sorry/' said Gerald. " Where did you spring 
 or, rather, drop from? I thought for a moment that it was 
 a goat. Is there a path up there?" 
 
 think I saw you down on the beach by the cliff, didn't I?" 
 She was silent for a moment; then she said, with a forced 
 
 laugh: 
 
 "I dare say, sir; I was down there." 
 " And not alone?" said Gerald, with a faint smile. 
 " Oh, yes!" she said; " I was alone" 
 11 That's strange," said Gerald. " I thought" 
 Then he stopped. It was scarcely fair to make any remark 
 
 upon the girl's movements. 
 " At least, almost all the time," she said. " One of the 
 
 fishermen spoke to me; perhaps it was him you saw?" 
 Gerald accepted the explanation unsuspectingly. After all 
 
 t was extremely improbable that Lucy, who seemed always so 
 
 truthful and modest, should volunteer a falsehood. He must 
 
 have been mistaken in thinking the man like Mordaunt 
 
 oapley.
 
 1HE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. ft 
 
 {t I suppose this is good fishing weather?" he remarked. 
 
 She assented, and they talked about fishing as they walked 
 tip the path side by side. Presently he said: 
 
 " I hope the lamp is full of oil, Miss Lucy? I have a lot of 
 work to do to-night. Perhaps you know that I may be 
 employed at the Court, rebuilding the old wing?" 
 
 " I heard you were there, looking at it, sir," she answered. 
 " I am very glad! It is a beautiful old place, the Court, and 
 Miss Claire is a kind young lady." 
 
 " You like her?" said Gerald. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir! She has always been good and kind to me! 
 Everybody likes her, though sometimes she seems seems 
 proud and stand-offish; but she is never so with me leastways, 
 very seldom." She stifled a sigh at the correction. "I've 
 known her ever since she came here; we were girls together 
 like though different, of course. I think she is the loveliest 
 young lady I have ever seen," she added, warmly. 
 
 Gerald felt as if he should like to shake hands with Miss 
 Lucy on the spot; but he wisely made no response. 
 
 " This is a lonely path," he remarked, after a pause. 
 " But I suppose you don't mind being out alone?" 
 
 " No; I'm used to it, sir," she said, simply. " Very few 
 people come along here; only the^coastguard and a fisherman 
 now and again." 
 
 " And here comes one of them," said Gerald, as a man 
 came slowly down upon them. 
 
 The path was narrow, and he drew aside to allow the man 
 to pass, and, as he did so, he peered at them curiously, and 
 then touched his sou-wester, and gave them " good-night." 
 
 " It's Jenks, the coastguard," said Lucy, when the man 
 had passed on. 
 
 But after he had gone a few paces, he stopped, and came 
 back to them. 
 
 " Beggin* your pardon, sir," he said, civilly, with another 
 touch of his cap, "but could you oblige me with a pipe o* 
 bacca? I've run out, and " 
 
 " Certainly," said Gerald; and he opened his pouch, and 
 emptied the contents into the man's horny hand. 
 
 rt Oh! I won't take all, sir," he said. 
 
 " I've half a pound at home," said Gerald; " you're wil- 
 come to this." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. Mr. Wayre, bean't it?" 
 
 "Eight the first time," assented Gerald, pleasantly. 
 "Good-night." 
 
 " He is always asking for tobacco," said Lucy, with a amila.
 
 72 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " I can sympathize with him," said Gerald. " It must bfl 
 lonely work pacing the cliffs all night; and a pipe's company. 
 Well, here we are! Good-night, Miss Lucy." 
 
 She had stopped a few yards from the cottage, and looked 
 at it hesitatingly, and she responded to his good-night in a 
 low voice, and melted away from his side like a shadow. 
 
 " So Miss Lucy's sweetheart is a fisherman?" he said to 
 himself. " Well, I wish her luck!" 
 
 He worked late into the night, and the next morning, after 
 breakfast, went up to the Court. He had brought some 
 necessary tools and materials with him, and thinking that it 
 would be as well to take them to the room Miss Sartoris had 
 BO kindly lent him, he unlocked the door and went upstairs. 
 
 To his surprise, a maid was hard at work, dusting and 
 cleaning up generally. 
 
 " You need not go," he said, as with a courtesy she made 
 as if to retreat I only want to put these things on the 
 bureau. " 
 
 " Yes, sir. You can put them inside, if you like," she 
 said, respectfully. " The drawers are cleared out. Mr. 
 Sapley was here quite early this morning, and did it." 
 
 " That was very kind of him," said Gerald. " I shall be 
 glad of the drawers." 
 
 " Shall I leave the picture here, sir? It looks rather untidy- 
 like." 
 
 She looked at the portrait standing against the wall where 
 Gerald had placed it. 
 
 " Yes, please," he said; and he took it up and looked at it 
 for a moment or two. 
 
 The sweet face seemed to have something pathetic in it 
 which he had not noticed on the previous day, and he sighed 
 as he placed it against the bureau, intending to take it home 
 and clean it that evening. 
 
 " The room looks quite bright and cheerful," he said. " I 
 see you have put up some fresh curtains to the window, 
 Susan." 
 
 " Yes, sir; Miss Sartoris said I was to, and to light a fire if 
 you thought it at all damp. My name's Emily, if you please, 
 sir." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Gerald. " Emily's a prettier 
 name than Susan. It was very kind of Miss Sartoris. Never 
 mind the fire; the sun is coming in through the window, and 
 will dry the room famously. " 
 
 He went outside, and fell to work; but, engrossing as his 
 work was, he reflected everv now and then on Miss Sartoris'u
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT KEGKTA. 73 
 
 thoughtfulness and kindness. It also struck him that Mr. 
 Sapley had been very prompt in clearing out the bureau. 
 " But he is within his right to distrust a man who can't give 
 references/' he thought. 
 
 During the morning he caught himself wondering whether 
 Miss Sartoris or Mrs. Lexton would visit that part of the 
 grounds; but the morning passed, and they did not appear. 
 He had brought some sandwiches with him, so that he might 
 have a good reason for refusing an invitation to lunch he 
 would guard against intruding himself upon Miss Sartoris 
 and was munching one as he walked up and down with his 
 measuring-rod in his hand, when he heard the roll of a car- 
 riage, and saw a landau and a splendid pair of horses driving 
 down the road toward the house. The two ladies were inside, 
 and he raised his hat, but turned away immediately. 
 
 " There is Mr. Wayre," said Mrs. Lexton. " How busy he 
 looks! Shall we go and see how he is getting on, Claire?" 
 
 " Perhaps we should interrupt him," said Claire. 
 
 " Perhaps so; but I don't think he would mind," said Mrs. 
 Lexton. 
 
 Claire did not respond, and they went into the house. It 
 seemed, however, that she had not forgotten his presence, for 
 when the tea came hi she told the footman to take some out 
 to Mr. Wayre. 
 
 Gerald saw him coming across the lawn with a daintily laid 
 silver salver, with a slight feeling of disappointment. Per- 
 haps Miss Sartoris would come out later on? 
 
 But the afternoon passed without a visit from her, and he 
 finished for the day and went home, feeling as if something 
 were wanting to complete his satisfaction. 
 
 The next morning, while he was at work outside, Mr. Sap- 
 ley came up. Gerald had expected to find him anything but 
 amiable, but, to his surprise, Mr. Sapley was quite civil, and 
 appeared, indeed, bent upon making himself agreeable. 
 
 I see you are getting on, Mr. Wayre," he remarked, 
 glancing under his brows at the sketches and plans lying on 
 the grass. " I hope you find it interesting. Have you got 
 everything you want?" 
 ,. Gerald replied in the affirmative, and thanked him. 
 
 " You must let me know if you haven't," said Mr. Sapley. 
 " Perhaps you would like an extra table, or something, put 
 up in the room you're using?" 
 
 " No, thank you," said Gerald; " I have all I want hi the 
 table already there." 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Mr. Sapley. * Bv the way, I cleared out
 
 74 THE MISTRESS OF COURT 
 
 that old bureau for it might be useful. There were only 
 some old papers there, nothing of consequence, but I thought 
 you might like the drawers empty." 
 
 Gerald said they would be very useful, and, as a return for 
 Mr. Sapley's civility, showed him the rough sketch of the plans. 
 
 Mr. Sapley's eyebrows went up, and his loose lips drew ; 
 together. 
 
 ?< Pretty elaborate," he said. * There will be a rare lot of 
 work here, and it will cost something!" 
 
 " It is rather elaborate," Gerald admitted. " But well, 
 I didn't think the cost was of much consequence," he added, 
 frankly. 
 
 Mr. Sapley shot a glance at him. 
 
 " No, no, he said, rather hastily, " just so. 1 don't know 
 that it matters " He paused and rubbed his chin. " It's 
 a matter for Miss Sartorfs, of course. Fine day, Mr. Wayre," 
 and with a contortion of his face which was intended for a 
 smile he went off. 
 
 Miss Sartoris did not come near the old wing that day. But 
 Gerald saw her walking on the terrace, and he paused once or 
 twice in his work to glance at the graceful figure with a 
 curious wistfalness. Had he offended her? Perhaps she 
 resented the foolish speech he had made just before leaving 
 them? He walked home that evening rather thoughtfully; 
 but flung his moodiness from him as he sat down to his plans. 
 He finished them that night, and as he leaned back in his 
 chair said that they were, at any rate, " not bad." The next 
 day he packed them carefully and sent them to Miss Sartoris, 
 and immediately fell a prey to the demon Suspense. 
 
 Claire was at home when they arrived, and she carried the 
 parcel to her own room to open it The plans were well- 
 drawn, and Gerald had spent a great deal of pains in finishing 
 that of the front of the wing. It was, in fact, a remarkably 
 pretty bit of water-color; and Claire gazed at it admiringly. 
 
 How clever he is!" she caught herself murmuring. There 
 was no question about her liking the plan; it seemed to her 
 just perfect Mr. Sapley was in the library, and she went 
 straight down-stairs to him. He rose and glanced at the roll 
 in her hands. 
 
 " These are Mr. Wayre's plans," she said. " Will you look 
 at them, please?" 
 
 He laid them out on the table and studied them for some 
 time in silence, and, to her surprise, he said, at last: 
 
 " Very good; very good indeed J"
 
 1HE MISTKESS OF COUET REG3STA. ?fi 
 
 " I am glad you approve of them, for I like them very 
 much," said Claire. 
 
 " Yes, they are very good," he said; " I don't know that 
 you oould have anything better." 
 
 " I am quite satisfied with them," said Claire. 
 
 " Then I suppose the work had better be got on with, Misg 
 Sartor is?" he said. Claire assented. " Yes," he said, 
 musingly; then he stole a glance at her. " It will cost a 
 large sum of money," he remarked in almost the same tone 
 he had used when speaking to Gerald. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so," said Claire; " but it is better to have 
 the thing well done, is it not?" 
 
 " Quite so quite so," he assented. " I will advertise for 
 tenders at once." 
 
 " Can not some one on the estate do it?" asked Claire. 
 " I would rather employ one of our own people." 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 "Very good. Whoever undertakes it must satisfy Mr. 
 Wayre of his capacity to carry out the work," he said. 
 
 Claire was surprised again. 
 
 "Thank you; I had forgotten that. Mr. Wayre will be 
 glad that you approve of the plans," she added. 
 
 He lowered his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, if they satisfy you, Miss Sartoris," he said. He took 
 up a slip of paper which accompanied the drawings. " I see 
 Mr. Wayre has given us an idea of the cost. I mentioned it 
 to him yesterday." He raised his brows as he handed the 
 paper to her. " It is a large sum!" 
 
 Claire looked at the paper. There was only a line or two, 
 and her attention was bestowed upon the firm, clear hand- 
 writing rather than on the amount suggested. 
 
 " Yes/' she said, absently. The writing seemed to her 
 characteristic of Mr. Wayre. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Sapley, rubbing his chin. " I don't 
 know that we can meet it out of the current account. We 
 shall have to sell some stock." 
 
 He spoke in as easy, matter-of-fact way, and arranged the 
 papers before him in a preoccupied manner. 
 
 " Yes/' said Claire again, assentingly. Her ignorance of 
 business or her resources was complete, and she did not under- 
 stand his proposal in the least. 
 
 " If a small local man does the work, he will want some 
 money to start with," he went on. " If you wish it com- 
 menced at once, perhaps you had better have the money 
 ready."
 
 7(J THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " It would be better, no doubt," said Claire. " Do not let 
 anything create a delay." 
 
 "Just so," he said. She had moved to the window with 
 the drawing of the front elevation in her hand, and did not 
 see the look he cast at her, a glance of surprise combined with 
 satisfaction. He seated himself at the table, and watching 
 her, drew from his capacious pocket-book a paper, and rapidly 
 filled in some blank spaces in the writing upon it. 
 
 " Will you sign this, if you please, Miss Sartoris?" he 
 said, when he had finished. 
 
 Claire bent down at the table, and scarcely glancing at the 
 paper, appended her signature. 
 
 " Thank you," he said. He did not take the paper up im- 
 mediately, but left it lying on the table; but a moment or two 
 afterward he dropped one of the plans on the top of it, com- 
 pletely covering it. 
 
 " Shall I write and inform Mr. Wayre his plans are 
 accepted," he asked, " or will you?" 
 
 "If you will be kind enough," said Claire, with her hand 
 on the door and her face turned from him. 
 
 Mr. Sapley waited until the door had closed on her, then he 
 caught up the hidden paper which she had just signed, and 
 with a grim smile of satisfaction, blotted the signature and 
 carefully replaced the document in his pocket-book as if it had 
 suddenly become exceeoingly precious. 
 
 As he was returning the book to his pocket the door opened. 
 Mr. Sapley started, and his hand gripped the lapel of his 
 coat and drew it across his chest as if he were afraid that Miss 
 Sartoris was returning to demand the paper from him. But 
 it was Mordaunt who entered, and Mr. Sapley let his hand fall 
 on the table with a sigh of relief. 
 
 Mordaunt glanced at the litter of plans, and scowled. 
 
 " I suppose that d d fellow has got his way with those 
 
 things?" he said. Mr. Sapley nodded. 
 
 "Take care, Mordy!" he said, warningly. " Miss Sartoris 
 has only just left the room." 
 
 " I know," said Mordaunt, sullenly. " I saw her through 
 the window as I passed. What was she signing just now?" 
 
 Mr. Sapley looked up he had seated himself at the table 
 again with a sharp glance of inquiry. 
 
 " Signing?" he replied. " Oh, yes, yes. A lease, only a 
 lease. ' r
 
 THE MISTKESS OP COUET BEGtfA. 57 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 EVIRYTHING went smoothly and almost rapidly as au 
 express as with the building; for the moment Gerald was 
 informed that Miss Sartoris desired to avoid delay, he set to 
 work " to clear the line," as he expressed it, and made the 
 slow and sleepy folk of Regna and the neighboring town of 
 Thraxton " sit up " with a vengeance. 
 
 He chose a young man, just starting as a builder, for the 
 work, and at the set-off, informed him that he, Gerald, meant 
 to keep a sharp eye on the affair. The young fellow Lee, 
 by name saw that he had to do with a master-mind he could 
 rely upon, and assented cheerfully. 
 
 So it happened that one morning, Claire, walking to the end 
 of the terrace, heard the sound of a pick and saw the dust 
 arise. She walked round to see the cause, and there were a 
 couple of men picking away at the old masonry, and Gerald 
 down below with his dark eyes fixed upon them watchfully. 
 He was so intent that he did not hear her approach. 
 
 " Why, you have begun?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes," he said, turning to her with a certain eagerness 
 which he immediately suppressed. " You wanted it down at 
 once, did you not, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 " Yes, oh, yes," she said, looking at the men perched on 
 the roof. " But I didn't think you would commence so soon!" 
 
 He laughed the short laugh which she had learned to know 
 so well. " At once, means ' at once/ with me," he said. 
 " I'm afraid it doesn't mean quite the same to the good people 
 down here; they should have spent a few years with me over 
 there;" he jerked his head back in the direction of America. 
 " I'm afraid they will make rather a mess," he went on, " but 
 I have arranged to pull down a bit at a time, and it will be 
 carted away as it falls, so as to make as little confusion as pos- 
 sible. What's the matter, my man?" he broke off to inquire 
 of one of the men who had paused and looked hesitatingly at 
 the stone- work he was picking at. " I'm taking Mr. Lee's 
 place while he is at breakfast," he explained. 
 
 The man made some reply, and Gerald, with an " Excuse 
 me," to Claire, went up the ladder, and after a short confer- 
 ence, took the man's pick and successfully dislodged the stone, 
 which fell with a dull thud to the ground. Claire watched 
 him with some little anxiety. It seemed to her that he was in 
 something very like danger, as he stood on the ledge of the
 
 78 THE MISTRESS OF COURT 
 
 coping which was being " wrecked," and when he came down, 
 she could not help saying: 
 
 " Isn't it rather dangerous?" 
 
 " Oh, no," said Gerald, confidently. " Not if you are at 
 all careful." 
 
 " Then I hope you they will be careful," she said, cor- 
 recting the " you " with " they " quickly. 
 
 " Oh, they are all right," he said, easOy. " They are all 
 picked men; I have taken care of that; and Mr. Lee, the 
 contractor, is a sensible young fellow, who will run no risks. 
 He will be here nearly all the time, and when he isn't, I shall 
 take his place. I think you had better stand back a little, 
 Miss Sartoris, a stone might rebound and reach you." 
 
 Claire drew back obediently, and presently went into break- 
 fast. When she came out on the terrace again, he was still 
 there, and, as he did not leave until dinner-time, it was 
 evident that he had neglected his own breakfast. 
 
 During the afternoon Mr. Mordaunt Sapley came on the 
 scene. He had received a hint from his father, and greeted 
 Gerald as amiably as he could; and Gerald, who was the last 
 man in the world to bear malice, responded pleasantly. 
 
 " My father has gone up to London, Mr. Way re," said 
 Mordaunt, as he turned to go away. " If there is anything 
 you want I shall be glad to do it for you." He made the 
 offer with downcast eyes; but Gerald disregarded his manner 
 and thanked him cordially enough. Mordaunt went up to 
 the Court and asked to see Claire. 
 
 ;< My father asked me to tell you that he was wired for to 
 London, Miss Sartoris," he said. " There are one or two 
 papers he would be glad if you would look at." He spoke 
 almost humbly, and his manner was so marked an improve- 
 ment on his ordinary one that Claire was agreeably surprised. 
 " About the Grimleys, Miss Sartoris," he said; " my father 
 thinks they ought to go, but I ventured to plead for them, 
 and he says they may stay of course, I told him you wished 
 it" 
 
 Claire was gratified, and showed her pleasure by a smile 
 perhaps the first she had bestowed upon Mr. Mordaunt. 
 
 ' Thank you," she said. " I am very glad to hear that. 
 It was very kind of you to plead for them." Mr. Mordaunt 
 was very nearly guilty of one of his Oxford smiles, and so 
 destroying the good impression he had made, but he checked 
 himself in time. " Is there any tiling I can do for you this 
 morning, Miss Sartoris?" he asked, with his new air of defer- 
 ence. Claire discussed one or two matters relating to the
 
 THE MISTBESS OF COURT REGtfA. 79 
 
 estate with him, and he took his departure remarkably well 
 pleased with himself. 
 
 "The guv'nor's right!" he said. "He's a knowing old 
 fox! Yes, I must bend the knee and play the ' humble 
 retainer ' business, if I want to get on with her. I wonder 
 what the guv'nor has got up his sleeve, and whether there is 
 anything in this idea of his.'' It doesn't sound probable, but 
 I'll give it a trial. The husband of the mistress of Court 
 Eegna! It sounds too good to be true; like a fairy-tale. 
 Yes, she's beautiful though I prefer something in Lucy's 
 style; something soft and gentle. Poor little Lucy!" He 
 smiled condescendingly and stroked his slight mustache. He 
 was up at the Court again the next day, and behaved himself 
 so well that, it being just lunch-time, Claire asked him to 
 remain for the meal. He accepted, and kept so careful a 
 guard upon himself that Mrs. Lexton, to whom he had been 
 especially polite, was quite impressed in his favor. 
 
 " The son is a great improvement on the father, Claire," 
 she remarked. " Mr. Mordaunt is is almost a gentleman." 
 
 " Yes, almost!" assented Claire, absently. It was a pity 
 Mr. Mordaunt Sapley could not hear her! 
 
 She ran upstairs as she spoke, and presently came down 
 again with her hat on, and went round to the wing. She had 
 got into the habit of going round there, or watching from the 
 end of the terrace, and often Gerald was unaware that she was 
 looking on, and that she was more frequently looking at him 
 than at the work. Sometimes he took off his coat and lent a 
 hand at the more dangerous portions of the demolition, and 
 once or twice Claire had discovered that she was holding her 
 breath as she watched him standing on the edge of one of the 
 broken walls, with the stones falling from quite under his feet. 
 He was sitting on a heap of debris, smoking his pipe, when 
 she came up that afternoon, and he rose with a capital affec- 
 tation of indifferent but respectful politeness. He had 
 learned to set a guard upon himself like Mr. Mordaunt. 
 
 " How fast you are getting on!" said Claire. 
 
 " Yes; thanks to Mr. Lee," said Gerald, indicating the 
 young builder, who touched his cap, and looked pleased as 
 he moved' away. 
 
 " A capital fellow!" said Gerald. " It was a rare piece of 
 luck getting hold of him. But, then, I am lucky." 
 
 " Are you?" asked Claire, with a faint smile. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "When things are at their worst, I 
 always drop on my feet, Miss Sartoris. " He smiled, and, not 
 for the first time, Claire noticed that he not only snjiled with
 
 80 THE MISTRESS OF COUKT KEGNA. 
 
 his lips, but with his eyes, and that they were very handsome 
 and expressive at such times. 
 
 " I think we are rather astonishing the natives," he sai<*, 
 looking at the broken wing. " It takes their breath away. 
 We shall begin rebuilding at the end of next week. 1 wanJ it 
 all, or nearly all, covered in before the winter is upon us.'' 
 
 Lee came back and spoke to him, and they went amongst 
 the ruins. Claire stood looking up at the men at their work 
 of demolition, and lost sight of Gerald for a moment or two, 
 then she saw him standing near the old wall. He had his 
 back to it, and to her, and was giving some instructions to 
 Lee, who had mounted to the roof. Claire was thinking, half 
 unconsciously, how completely Gerald was master of ihe 
 situation; that his very attitude, and the quiet ring of his 
 musical voice, were eloquent of self-reliance, and ehe felt a 
 slight thrill of admiration, the tribute which every woman 
 pays to the strong man who is lord of himself and others. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the pleasant little glow was dispelled, for 
 ehe saw, or fancied that she saw, the wall near which he 
 stood, tremble and shake. Her heart leaped, and then seemed 
 to cease beating for a moment. If the wall were to fall while 
 he was standing there, it would come down upon him and kill 
 him. She tried to call to him, but, to her horror, her tongue 
 seemed to refuse to answer to her will. The terrible dumb- 
 ness lasted only for a moment, but when she did call, her 
 voice was drowned by the noise of the picks and the falling 
 stones, and did not reach him. 
 
 She saw the wall again quiver like a huge living thing 
 there was no fancy about it this time. And Gerald, still look- 
 ing up at Lee, with a smile, and all unconscious of the doom 
 that threatened him. She felt as if she could not move, as if 
 she were rooted to the spot for a second that appeared an age 
 to her; then she sprung forward, and had almost grasped his 
 irm, when Gerald as if he had been watching the wall all 
 the time quietly stepped back. As he did so, the mass fell 
 with a terrific noise. He smiled, and nodded approvingly, 
 then heard a kind of gasp behind him, and, turning sharplv, 
 found Claire at his elbow. One of the stones had rebounded, 
 and fallen close at her feet, and, for the moment, he thought 
 she had been struck. 
 
 His fear for her turned him sick and white, and he caught 
 her arm and drew her back. As is the way with Gerald's 
 kind of man, his emotion made him stern, and it was in a 
 tone that sounded like passionate anger that he demanded: 
 
 '' Why did you come so close? How could you be so im-
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 81 
 
 prudent? My God! the wall might have fallen upon you! 
 Come back!" 
 
 Claire's face was deathly white, and the terror still lingered 
 iu her eyes as she raised them to his. But even when the 
 color had come back she did not show any resentment of his 
 manner and speech. And she did not say: " I came to save 
 you! " 
 
 Her eyes fell, and she stood quite silent. Gerald drew a 
 long breath his hand was still on her arm, and none too 
 gently and he wiped the sweat from his brow. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss Sartoris," he said. " I am 
 afraid I was rough and unmannerly; but you gave me a nasty 
 fright. Let me beg of you never to come so near again 
 never to pass that mark!" He dug his heel into the lawn. 
 "I must ask you to promise me, please!" he added, with a 
 touch of his former sternness. 
 
 Claire tried to smile, but the smile would not come. She 
 felt his hand begin to tremble on her arm; and, perhaps, he 
 was conscious that it was so trembling, for he withdrew it.' 
 But he still waited with tightly compressed lips, and a rather 
 pale face, for her promise. 
 
 " I promise," she said. And she said it almost meekly. 
 She, Claire Sartoris, mistress of Court Eegna! " It was fool- 
 ish; I thought " She stopped, and bit her lip. 
 
 " You thought it wasn't coming down just yet?" he said. 
 " Oh, but it is never sate to trust a wall in that condition." 
 
 " It doesn't matter what I thought," she said, with a faint 
 smile. " I will not go so near again." 
 
 She turned from him as she spoke, and went slowly back 
 to the house; but she passed quickly to her own room, and 
 locking the door, "let herself go." The restraint she had 
 put upon herself broke down, and with her hands covering 
 her face, she swayed to and fro like a stately pine buffeted by 
 the wind. She could still see him standing by the threatening 
 wall; and she could still hear his stern voice, feel the hard 
 grip of his hand. The shadow of the terror she had endured 
 mingled with a vague mystical pleasure and delight that 
 bewildered and frightened her by its strangeness. 
 
 He had been angry with her and " bullied " her; but she 
 knew that his anger had proved his regard for her safety, his 
 consternation at her danger, and she felt no resentment. 
 
 After awhile the reaction passed, and she sunk into a chair 
 in a kind of stupor, in which she kept asking herself whether 
 she would have sprung toward the wall, as she had done, to 
 save, say one of the workmen?
 
 82 THE MISTRESS OF COURT BIMW1. 
 
 Gerald also suffered from a reaction, and when she had dis. 
 appeared, he stood looking at the building, as if he had lost 
 all interest in it as if, indeed, he rather hated it; and after a 
 time he walked off. He was scarcely conscious that he bad 
 spoken, grasped her, so roughly; he could only remember her 
 terrible danger; and every now and then, as he strode along to 
 the cottage, he took off his hat, and wiped the perspiration 
 from his brow. 
 
 When he had got home he felt as if he could not remain 
 indoors, as if the small room were not large enough for his 
 quivering nerves. And presently he went down to the beach. 
 A boat belonging to Captain Hawker was dancing on the 
 water near the shore, and, signing up to the captain, who was 
 in his accustomed seat outside the cottage, for permission, he 
 pulled her in by her chain and went on board. A sail would 
 do him good, blow all the " nonsense " out of his brain, and 
 drive the remembrance of her peril out of his mind. 
 
 He was setting the sail when he heard a step on the beach 
 behind him, and, looking round, saw Claire. He raised his 
 hat, paused a moment with the sail in his hand, then stepped 
 ashore. 
 
 " I want to apologize for my " he began; but Claire, 
 with a swift rise of color, interrupted him: 
 
 " Do not speak of it," she said. " You were quite right. 
 It does not matter. Are you going for a sail?" 
 
 '' Yes," he said, accepting her refusal to hear more. 
 
 " It is a lovely evening," she said. 
 
 It seemed to him that she looked at the boat wistfully. 
 Was it possible that ? On the spur of the moment, almost 
 without thinking, he said : 
 
 " Would you care to come, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 Claire looked beyond him. 
 
 " Are you going far?" she asked, quietly; though her con- 
 icience whispered that she was wrong. 
 
 " As far as you like I mean, I only intended running over 
 to the island and back." 
 
 He nodded to a small island called the Eaglet, which lay 
 like a bird on the sea. 
 
 " I should like to come," said Claire, after a brief second 
 or two. 
 
 "One moment," he said in a matter-of-fact way. 
 
 He hoisted the sail, shipped the rudder, and spread his coat 
 over the seat 
 
 "Now, if you will go round to the jetty, I will bring the 
 boat, w that you can step in without wetting your
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 83 
 
 He handed her in, and she sat in the stern, putting his coat 
 aside. 
 
 "Better sit on that, please," he said: "the seat maybe 
 wet." 
 
 " It is quite dry," she said. 
 ' You can steer? But, I beg your pardon, of course " 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " Oh, yes. There is a nice breeze." 
 
 He looked up at the sail and nodded, as the boat skimmed 
 along, and then looked at Claire, asking himself if she were 
 really there, or whether he was dreaming. How had he sum- 
 moned up the audacity to ask her? 
 
 Claire looked the picture of calm serenity it is a way 
 women have when they are doing anything wrong and her 
 calmness served to restore his self-possession. 
 
 " This boat is like an old friend," she said. " I used to go 
 out in it with Captain Hawker when I was quite a girl." 
 
 " I thought you managed her as if you understood her," he 
 remarked. " She is a good boat. " 
 
 " One needs a good boat on this coast," said Claire. 
 
 He looked round. 
 
 " It looks calm enough." 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " It is one of the most treacherous places in England," she 
 said. " A storm gets up here as quickly as the storm raised 
 by Prospero's wand." 
 
 " Yes?" he said. " I have not seen one since I have been 
 here. You know the Eaglet?" he went on, for the sake of 
 saying something. He was still trying to grasp the fact that 
 she was really sitting there, within a few feet of him. 
 
 "Oh, yes! It is a delightful little place, all combes and 
 caves, and crowded by sea-birds. We used to come nesting 
 here Captain Hawker, his daughter Lucy, and I and I 
 remember how I used to fancy that I should like to live there, 
 in Eobinson Crusoe fashion, away from everybody." 
 
 She spoke absently, almost dreamily, and he leaned for- 
 ward, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes fixed on her face. 
 
 " That sounds nicer than it is in reality," he said. " I 
 have tried it, and, like friend Kobinson, I think solitude on an 
 island is only agreeable when there is some one to share it 
 I was shipwrecked on one of the Pacific islands when I was a 
 lad, and it was the most unromantic and uncomfortable time 
 I ever spent." 
 
 She, too, leaned forward a little, her eyes fixed upon him 
 with an interested expression.
 
 84 THE MISTRESS OF COUET BEGtfA. 
 
 " Were yon there long?" 
 
 "Not very. Four days.*' 
 
 He began to tell her about it, and she was so absorbed that 
 she neglected her steering, and was suddenly recalled to it by 
 a eudden puff of wind and the jibing of the sail. 
 
 "Oh! I beg your pardon,'* she said, almost meekly. 
 "That was my fault." 
 
 " Not at all," he said, mendaciously, and in rather a pre- 
 occupied fashion, for, as he looked up, he saw an ugly cloud 
 coming up from the west. 
 
 Claire followed the direction of his eyes. 
 
 " There is going to be a storm," she said, easily. 
 
 He bit his mustache. 
 
 " I'm afraid there is," he said. " I hope it won't rain." 
 
 " It will not matter so far as I am concerned," she said, 
 glancing at her serge dress. 
 
 He shook his head gravely. 
 
 A moment or two afterward the rain he dreaded began; the 
 cloud grew thicker and darkened the sky, and the wind began 
 to rise in a threatening way. 
 
 He leaned forward, and taking up his jacket, put it round 
 her. 
 
 " No!" she said, very quietly. " Please put it on! My 
 dress is nearly, if not quite, waterproof." 
 
 He saw that she wished it; and he slipped the coat on. The 
 wind grew fiercer and the rain heavier, and, calling himself a 
 careless idiot for not studying the weather before asking her 
 to accompany him, he looked uncertainly from the island to 
 the mainland. 
 
 " I don't know what to do," he said, at last. 
 
 " Go on," she said, quietly. " It would be rather risky to 
 turn now while the storm lasts." 
 
 He looked down. Was she fated to run a double risk in 
 one day through his carelessness? Claire leaned back, grasp. 
 ing the tiller firmly, and keeping the boat in a straight line 
 for the island. She was apparently quite regardless of the 
 rain. 
 
 " You are getting fearfully wet!" he said. " And to think 
 that I might have put my mackintosh in the boat." 
 " It is of no consequence," she said, easily. 
 
 The wind had brought a warm tint to her face. Her eyes 
 were glowing. 
 
 " It is like the old days," she said, presently. " It is so 
 long since I have been on the sea in a storm." 
 
 "It might have been kind enough to keep fine," he said.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 85 
 
 " Here is the island. Hadn't we better run her into the creek, 
 and go ashore? There would be some shelter in one of these 
 caves there. " 
 
 " Very well," she said. 
 
 As she ran the boat into the little haven, the heavens seemed 
 to open, the thunder broke with a deafening roar, and a flash 
 of lightning rent the darkness, which was almost as that of 
 night. 
 
 Gerald jumped with the anchor, and, standing up to his 
 middle in water, drew the boat ashore. 
 
 " Now, quick!" he said. 
 
 She stood poised for a moment on the gunwale, like a bird 
 read for flight the resemblance struck Gerald even at that 
 moment then he gave him her hand, and almost lifted her 
 to the beach. 
 
 " Run to that cave!" he said. 
 
 He forced the anchor down with his foot and followed her. 
 The cave was but a small opening in the rocks, and there was 
 barely room for them both to stand in it, and Gerald remained 
 outside. 
 
 " Oh, come in!" she said, almost impatiently, a clap of 
 thunder partly drowning her voice. 
 
 He went in, and they stood side by side. They were shel- 
 tered from the rain, but not from the wind, which seemed 
 blowing from all points of the compass. 
 
 " It is taking longer than I thought," she said, venturing 
 to peep out. 
 
 It proved an incautious movement, and the wind, taking 
 advantage of it, swept her hat from her head. 
 
 " That is gone forever," she said. " No, please let it go; 
 you could not get it!" for Gerald had made a movement as if 
 to pursue it. " There! it is in the sea!" 
 
 As she spoke she put up her hand to her head, for the hat 
 had taken some mysterious pins and fastenings with it, and 
 her hair was coming down. 
 
 Her color rose, and she laughed. She seemed at this mo- 
 ment just a wild school-girl, excited by the wind and the 
 storm; quite a different person to Miss Sartoris, of Court 
 Eegna. 
 
 Gerald looked at her. The storm was thrilling through 
 him and something other than the storm. She stood so 
 close to him that the sleeve of her dress brushed against his 
 arm; the exquisite face was within a few inches of his own. 
 
 As she stood with one hand holding her jacket close, the 
 Other up to her head, she spoke a few words now and again;
 
 86 THE MISTRESS OF COUfiT 
 
 but he was silent, and presently she grew silent also, as if tht 
 storm and the darkness were beginning to affect her. 
 
 " It is very weird," she said, at last. 
 
 And he fancied that there was something constrained in her 
 voice, as if she were growing nervous. 
 
 "It will be over directly," he said, encouragingly. " Are 
 you getting cold? If you would only let me put my coat 
 round you! It is of no earthly use to me!" 
 
 *' No, no!" she said in a low voice. " I wish it would not 
 lighten so! It makes the darkness immediately afterward 
 so" 
 
 Her voice broke suddenly, for something had rushed from 
 just above their heads into the open air, with a wild, unearthly 
 shriek. She uttered a sharp cry, and completely unnerved 
 and unconscious of what she was doing, turned swiftly to him, 
 and putting her hands on his shoulders, hid her face on his 
 breast. 
 
 His arm went round her, in a movement as unconscious as 
 her own; he felt her hair, released from her hand, sweep like 
 silk across his lips; and his face grew white under its tan as 
 he set his teeth hard. He could feel her trembling, quiver- 
 ing with nervous terror as her hands clung to him, and the 
 desire in his heart to bend his head and kiss her, to whisper, 
 " 1 love you!" was almost irresistible. But he set his teeth 
 still harder, his face grew stern, and his voice sounded almost 
 harsh as he said, with labored breath: 
 
 " Don't be alarmed; it is only a sea-gull." 
 
 His voice seemed to recall her scattered senses. With a 
 little shudder and a gasp, she looked not up at him, but 
 over her shoulder. Her hands dropped to her side, and she 
 drew away from him, gathering her hair together. Then she 
 looked at him as if scarcely realizing his presence as if she 
 were quite unconscious that she had, only a moment ago, 
 clung to him for protection. 
 
 "It startled me! ; ' she said, panting. "Why, you look 
 scared too." She laughed. 
 
 It was evident that under the stress of the moment she was, 
 in very truth, unconscious of having flown to him. 
 
 * Yes," he said, trying to speak lightly, but feeling as if 
 every word were wrung from him. " It is all right; see, 
 it is clearing now." 
 
 He put bis hand to his lips uncertainly, for it seemed to him 
 as if her hair was still upon them with its unconscious but 
 maddening carew.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 87 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE storm began to clear away almost as rapidly as it had 
 gathered. Gerald stole a glance at Claire's face; it was quite 
 free from embarrassment, and though without a trace of color, 
 quite unabashed, though her brows were rather straight. It 
 was evident that she did not know in the very least degree 
 that she had flung herself upon his heart, and yet there was a 
 vague sense of something having happened during that 
 moment or two when the heavens were rent by the lightning. 
 And Gerald was relieved, indeed glad, that it should be so. 
 He was aquiver with the sense of his close contact with her, 
 and his heart, against which hers had beat so wildly like an 
 imprisoned bird beating affrightedly against its cage 
 throbbed turnultuously. At that moment he knew that he 
 loved her fully and passionately, so passionately that his lips 
 trembled still for the caress of her hair, so truly that he 
 almost resolved to go away from Court Regna for a tune, until 
 he had fought down his hopeless love and subdued it. 
 
 For it was so hopeless! Here was he, an adventurer, as he 
 had called himself, well-nigh penniless, in love with the mis- 
 tress of Court Regna! It was worse than absurd. He called 
 his pride to his aid as he stood there his arm touching hers 
 and bitterly laughed himself to scorn for a presumptuous idiot. 
 
 The sooner he got his work done and cleared out of Court 
 Regna the better for his happiness and peace of mind. 
 
 " It seems to have cleared," he said, at last, and speaking 
 in quite a matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 They went down to the boat, and as it was rocking a great 
 deal, he got in, and holding it fast, put out his disengaged 
 hand for her. " Rest your arm on my shoulder, Miss Sar- 
 toris," he said. " A false step would be awkward for you." 
 
 Claire laughed softly. " I have had to clamber on board 
 in worse seas than this," she said, and, just touching his 
 hand, she sprung, lightly as a feather, into her place. He 
 shipped the anchor and put the boat round, and she was soon 
 skimming homeward. 
 
 " I am afraid you will be late for dinner," he said, " and I 
 know you must be very wet." 
 
 " It doesn't matter in the least," she replied. " I told 
 Mrs. Lexton that I was going for a long walk I intended 
 going to one of the fajois, but I strajed toward the beach
 
 88 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 instead and she will think that I have been waiting for the 
 storm as I have been; and we shall be dry before we get 
 home. I am afraid I have given you a great deal of trouble." 
 
 " Not at all!" he said, promptly, and with a politeness 
 which was grimly and absurdly incongruous with the state of 
 his feelings. " lam sorry it didn't keep fine." 
 
 There was a silence for some minutes as he busied himself 
 with the sail, and Claire watched him dreamily. The vague 
 sense that, in some way, they had become close friends, 
 haunted her; and, combined with this, was the consciousness 
 that she was strangely happy and content notwithstanding 
 that she was wet and late for dinner, and ought to be anxious 
 and concerned at keeping Mary Lexton waiting. She would 
 have been astonished and not a little affronted if any one had 
 told her that her happiness and contentment sprung from the 
 fact of Gerald's presence, for Clair, unlike most girls of her 
 age, knew little of love. She had lived so lonely a life with 
 the old lord, had met so few men, and was so ignorant of the 
 art of flirtation and the cultivation of sentiment, that it never 
 occurred to her that she was to put it mildly taking a very 
 deep interest in Mr. Gerald Wayre, and that she found it 
 pleasant to look at him and listen to him; that she admired 
 with a warm admiration his self-reliance and strength of 
 body and character. She did not guess that his lips had 
 kissed her hair, that he was at that moment throbbing with a 
 strong man's passion. 
 
 Gerald found it difficult to keep up an exchange of com- 
 monplaces, and he began to hum naif unconsciously. Claire 
 listened dreamily for a time, then she said: 
 
 " What is it that you are singing?" 
 
 He started slightly. " Was I singing? I beg your pardon, 
 I didn't know. Let me see, what was it? Oh, yes; an In- 
 dian song." 
 
 " It sounded rather pretty," said Claire; " sing it louder; 
 do you mind?" 
 
 1 Certainly," said Gerald. " I'm afraid I can't translate 
 the words, and they will sound awful gibberish." 
 
 Raising his voice only just sufficiently for it to reach her, 
 he sung the. song. It was a plaintive Sioux chant, and the 
 Indian words were quaintly musical. He had a capital voice, 
 a clear and firm tenor, and Claire listened with delighted sur- 
 prise. There seemed nothing this young man could not do! 
 A faint smile curved her lips, as she leaned forward with her 
 chin resting on her hand, her violet eyes resting on his faoe, 
 turned sideways to hear as he watched the sail,
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 89 
 
 " That is beautiful!" she said, as the last notes died away. 
 " It sounds quite pathetic. What does it mean?" 
 
 " Oh, it is the song of the hunter, and it is addressed to his 
 sweetheart. I have heard the young braves sing it outside the 
 wigwams just before they were starting for a big hunt. It is 
 a kind of serenade, and the hunter promises, if the big horse 
 meaning the buffalo spares him, to return with plenty of 
 furs and skins to lay at the feet of his beloved. The meter of 
 the song is that of Longfellow's ' Hiawatha.' Artemus Ward 
 says, * Injins is pisen;' and so they are generally, but there is 
 just a little romance about them now and again." 
 
 " I should like to have an English translation," said Claire. 
 
 " I'm afraid it wouldn't be much use my trying," he said, 
 regretfully. " I haven't the literary instinct, I'm sorry to 
 say." 
 
 ' Will you sing something else?" she said, after a pause. 
 " It is delightful on the \vater." 
 
 He was too wise to sing a sentimental ditty in English* 
 and he chose a Canadian boating-song, and sung it quietly as 
 before. 
 
 " You have a good voice, Mr. Wayre," said Claire, absently. 
 " I am sorry Mrs. Lextor is not here; she is so fond of music, 
 and would be delighted with those two songs. Perhaps you 
 will be so kind as to come up to the Court some evening and 
 sing for her?" 
 
 " She is sorry Mrs. Lexton is not here!" thought Gerald, 
 miserably. " But of course she is! Why shouldn't she be? 
 I am a fool not to know that I am nothing but ' Mr. Wayre, 
 my architect/ to her!" " I shall be very pleased, Miss Sar- 
 toris," he said, aloud. " Why, what is that?" he added. 
 They were nearing the pier, and he saw, on the road far above 
 it, a carriage standing. 
 
 " It looks like the Court carriage," said Claire, carelessly. 
 "Yes, it is." 
 
 " We are nearly home now," he said, with a half-uncor> 
 scious sigh. 
 
 " Yes," she assented. " I have enjoyed the sail very much, 
 and I am very much obliged to you." 
 
 " Don't mention it," he said, with a ghastly attempt at a 
 smile. 
 
 As she steered the boat alongside the landing, Mr. Mordaunt 
 Sapley came down the steps. It was evident that he had been 
 waiting for them. 
 
 " I saw that you had been caught in the storm, Miss Sar<
 
 90 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 toris," he said, " and I ventured to send up to the Court fo'f 
 the carriage." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Claire, pleasantly. She felt happy 
 enough that evening to be pleasant even to Mr. Mordaunt. 
 " It was very kind of you." 
 
 " I knew you must be wet, and I thought you would like to 
 get home quickly. There are some wraps in the carriage." 
 
 " Oh, but I am not cold, thank you," said Claire. 
 
 " It is er rather risky sailing, this weather," he said, as 
 he offered his hand to help her out, and he glanced with a 
 sullen resentment at Gerald, who was letting down the sail, 
 and had not offered her his. 
 
 " But it was quite fine when we started," said Claire; 
 " and it has been a very pleasant sail." And she looked with 
 a smile at Gerald; but his face was turned away from her, 
 and was set impassively. It almost looked as if tie were glad 
 to resign her to Mr. Mordaunt. 
 
 " At any rate, it would have been better if you had had 
 some waterproofs with you," said Mordaunt. " You run the 
 risk of a severe cold, Miss Sartoris." 
 
 Claire laughed softly. 
 
 " You forget that I am used to our own Downshire climate, 
 Mr. Mordaunt," she said. " And we were under shelter 
 during the storm." 
 
 Still Gerald did not speak, and, with a slight compression of 
 her lips, she said: 
 
 " Good-evening, Mr. Wayre, and thank you," and turned 
 away. Mr. Mordaunt conducted her up to the carriage, and 
 would have enveloped her in wraps, but Claire smilingly 
 refused them, and he stood bareheaded until the carriage 
 drove away. Then he went down again to the landing, and, 
 after watching Gerald roll up the sail, said : 
 
 " I'm afraid Miss Sartoris is very wet." 
 
 Gerald was not in the humor at that moment for much of 
 Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, and he answered, rather shortly: 
 
 "I'm afraid so." 
 
 " Wouldn't it have been as well if you er had taken a 
 proper boatman and some mackintoshes, Mr. Wayre?" said 
 Mordannt in a condescending fashion, which nettled Gerald 
 almost beyond end urance. 
 
 " Should you call me an improper boatman?" he said, with 
 a dangerous smile. " My good sir, I am quite competent to 
 manage a boat. But you are right about the mackintoshes," 
 he said. " I was an idiot to forget them."
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT R1GNA. 91 
 
 " It would not have mattered if you had been alone,'* con- 
 tinued Mr. Mordaunt. " But Miss Sartoris is a lady " 
 
 " So I always thought," said Gerald, with a cheerfulness 
 which was even more dangerous and misleading than his 
 smile. " As you are standing there you may as well catch 
 hold of that rope and make it fast. Thanks. Fine evening 
 now, isn't it? By George! it's later than I thought." 
 
 " Yes, rather too late for a lady to be on the water in this 
 weather," said Mordaunt. 
 
 " And I shall get a scolding from Miss Lucy for spoiling 
 a meal," continued Gerald. At this innocent remark Mr. 
 Mordaunt paused on the brink of another exasperating sen- 
 tence, and, with sudden accession of color and a suspicious 
 glance from under his brows at Gerald, started up the steps. 
 
 Gerald slept little that night, and when he fell into a rest- 
 less doze, he dreamed that he was standing in the cave with 
 Miss Sartoris' s hands on his shoulders, and her heart beating 
 against his, and that Mr. Mordaunt Sapley of all persons 
 in the world was attempting to drag them apart, and that 
 at last he succeeded. 
 
 In the morning he found that his coat was still wet, but he 
 did not send it down to be dried; instead, he hung it near the 
 window, and, having done so, stood for a moment looking at 
 it, and thinking that a few hours since it had been round the 
 woman he must teach himself not to love. 
 
 When he went down to the Court, he felt that he should 
 like to send in and ask if Miss Sartoris had caught cold, but 
 he resisted the desire. All the same, he found himself look- 
 ing out for her all through the morning, and felt a dull ache 
 of disappointment because she did not come. It was a busy 
 morning, and Lee came to consult him frequently. 
 
 " We'd better begin pulling down the rest, Mr. Wayre," he 
 said; " but there's the furniture still in your rooms." 
 
 " That's all right," said Gerald, rousing himself. " I'll 
 
 get it moved into the adjoining rooms directly. In fact," 
 e added, glad of something active to do, " I'll move it my- 
 self/' 
 
 He went up to the room the others on the ground-floor had 
 been cleared and set to work. Miss Sartoris had given him 
 permission to convey the furniture into the room of the new 
 house adjoining the old, and he began to carry in the chairs 
 and smaller articles first When he came to the bureau he 
 found that it was in two parts, and in lifting the top, two or 
 three old papers fell to the ground. They had either dropped 
 from the drawer, at the end of which they had caught, and sq
 
 92 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 been overlooked by Mr. Sapley, or from a secret depository. 
 One looked like a receipt, the others were papers folded 
 lengthways; all of them had evidently been in the bureau 
 some time. 
 
 He scarcely glanced at them, and thrust them into his 
 pocket, intending to give them to Mr. Sapley or Miss Sar- 
 toris, whichever he chanced to see first; and he was carrying 
 in the hangings, when the door opened and Claire entered. 
 
 The blood new to Gerald's face for a moment, then left it 
 as pale as his tan would permit. She did not change color, 
 but a smile to him it seemed a heavenly smile dawned on 
 her face. 
 
 " Oh, why did you not have some of the servants to do 
 this?" she said. 
 
 " It wasn't necessary," he said. " It has taken very little 
 time. I hope you have not caught cold from yesterday's wet- 
 ting, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 " Oh, no, no,'' she said, and she smiled again. It seemed 
 to him that there was a new note in her voice, one still more 
 musical than of old; but he thought that it was a fancy on his 
 part, born of his newly discovered love. " I am not in the 
 least the worse. And have you carried all those things in 
 yourself? Let me help you," and she went to some of the 
 hangings he had thrown on a chair. 
 
 " No, please don't," he said, quickly. " They are smoth- 
 ered with dust and " he glanced at the beautiful morning 
 frock. She hesitated, then her hands fell to her side, and she 
 stood watching him. "There is no chance of a storm to- 
 day," she said, presently. " Mrs. Lexton and I are going to 
 drive to a flower show at Thraxton. At least," she added, 
 more gravely, " she will see the show, but I shall remain in 
 the carriage, of course." Lord Wharton's death was too 
 recent to permit of her appearing in public. She looked round 
 the room. " Is it all clear now?" 
 
 " Yes. Oh, by the way, I found some papers, Miss Sar- 
 toris; they tumbled out of the old bureau." He took them 
 from his pocket and held them out to her. " Mr. Sap 1 17 
 must have overlooked them when he cleared out the things." 
 
 She did not take the papers, but glanced at them indiffer- 
 ently. 
 
 " I suppose they belong to him," she said. " I will give 
 them to him; or, perhaps," she added, with a little laugh, 
 " you will not mind taking charge of them. If I take them, 
 I shall be sure to put them somewhere and forget them."
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 93 
 
 " Certainly/' he said, as he replaced them in his pocket. 
 " Most ladies do that." 
 
 She smiled, and moved toward the door, but lingered, look- 
 ing out of the window; then, as if she had suddenly remem- 
 bered, she said: " Oh, Mr. Way re, I told Mrs. Lexton of your 
 singing, and she I will be so glad if you will come and dine 
 with us this evening. Will you?" 
 
 The invitation was given in the frankest and simplest way, 
 and Gerald, with a leap of the heart, and forgetting all his 
 resolutions, was about to accept as simply, when he remem- 
 bered something else, and quietly said: 
 
 " Thank you very much, Miss Sartoris, but I am afraid I 
 shall not be able to come." 
 
 The faintest smile of disappointment, not unmixed with sur- 
 prise, crossed her face. " You will be busy?" she said, a 
 little coldly. 
 
 " No/' he said, frankly, and with a second's hesitation. 
 " The fact is, Miss Sartoris, I don't possess an evening suit." 
 
 Claire's face cleared, and she laughed softly. 
 
 " I don't think Mrs. Lexton will mind, and I am sure I 
 shall not," she said, with a little touch of pleasant contempt 
 in her voice. " If that is your only reason for declining, pray 
 come. I am afraid you will find it dull " 
 
 " No, I shall not find it dull," he said, almost abruptly; 
 the prospect opened to him like a glimpse of Paradise. " I 
 shall be glad to come." 
 
 " Eight o'clock, then/' she said. " And you will bring 
 some music?" 
 
 He laughed and shook his head. " What little I possess I 
 carry in my head," he said. 
 
 " What a funny place to keep it," she said, with a touch 
 of girlish playfulness which thrilled him. It seemed to him 
 as if he should never know her, or exhaust the " infinite 
 variety " of her charm. She went, leaving the room, to his 
 fancy, echoing with the sweetness of her laugh, radiant with 
 the reflection of her loveliness. 
 
 He went about for the remainder of the day like a man in a 
 dream. The evening shone before his mental vision with rays 
 of gold. To spend two, say, three, hours with her! Lee and 
 the men noticed the rapt look on his face, and one man said 
 to another: 
 
 " He's a rare fine-looking gentleman, Mr. Wayre, bean't 
 he?" 
 
 When he came home he took out all his clothes, and put 
 them under a severe inspection, and after the most profound
 
 94 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGttA. 
 
 and anxious consideration chose a dark serge suit as being th 
 nearest approach to evening dress. Then he folded up the 
 others and put them back into the portmanteau, and with 
 them the coat he had worn that day. 
 
 And he, of course, quite forgot the papers which were still 
 in the pocket of the coat. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE Thraxton flower-show was a great event, second only 
 in importance to the annual visit of the great traveling circus, 
 and everybody who could by any means attend it, made a 
 point of doing so. It was held hi Lord Chester's grounds, 
 and his lordship and the rest of the aristocracy put in an 
 appearance and wandered in and out the tents and about the 
 
 grounds with that fixed smile which always indicates intense 
 oredom. There was a band the Thraxton Volunteers but 
 it discoursed anything but sweet music, and was just a little 
 too loud, even for the open air. However, Thraxton was very 
 proud of it, and it was still more proud of itself, and so gen- 
 eral satisfaction reigned around. Although the Court Regna 
 gardener did not compete, his exhibit was always far better 
 than any of the others even that of Lord Chester's who, 
 though a peer, was not nearly as rich as Miss Sartoris, and of 
 much less importance than the mistress of the Court. 
 
 Early in the afternoon Claire and Mrs. Lexton drove up t< 
 the entrance, and Mrs. Lexton alighted. She had not wanted 
 to come, seeing that Claire could not go into the show, but 
 Claire had insisted, remarking that it was the only piece of 
 dissipation that she would be able to offer her friend. 
 "I shall only just walk through, Claire," she said. 
 '' You will do nothing of the kind," responded Claire. 
 " You are to look at every flower I know how iond you are 
 of them and not to hurry in the very least. I shall be quite 
 happy watching the people." 
 
 And she spoke the truth. She felt strangely happy that 
 afternoon; and, wisely, did not attempt to seek the cause; 
 though every now and then she remembered that, Mr. Wayre 
 was coming to dinner, and thought how pleasant it would be 
 to hear him sing again. 
 
 ^ The landau, with its superb bays, and servants in mourning 
 livery, went slowly up and down the road, and Claire leaned 
 back and watched the people making their way in little 
 batches toward the entrance, with its flags and streamers flut- 
 tering gayly in the slight breeze. She knew, and was known
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGJU. 95 
 
 to all of them, and she bowed and smiled in response to their 
 respectful greetings. All Thraxton and Regna seemed to 
 have taken a holiday that day, and Claire found herself laugh- 
 ing softly in harmony with a group of merry girls who went 
 by, dropping a courtesy as they passed the grand carriage. 
 
 The landau turned after a little while, and as it reached the 
 gate, Lord Chester came out and raised his hat. He was a 
 tall, thin man, of about sixty, with close-cropped white hair, 
 and a military bearing. He had been the colonel of a crack 
 cavalry regiment, and was a distinguished-looking man, and 
 he was a bachelor, strange to say. Claire had met him now 
 and again at flower-shows and similar functions, and Lord 
 Chester had a great admiration and sympathy for the beauti- 
 ful girl whom Lord Wharton had kept shut up for so many 
 years. 
 
 He had not only raised his hat, but ventured to offer his 
 thin, white hand. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you out, Miss Sartoris," he said in his 
 clear, high-bred voice, and with the smile which many women 
 had found so fascinating. " Are you not coming in? Ah, I 
 am afraid not! Yes, yes! I am sorry." 
 
 " Is it a good show this year?" asked Claire. 
 
 He gave a little shrug of his square shoulders. 
 
 " About the same as usual, I think. Of course, the Court 
 exhibit takes the lead, also as usual! Fortunately, it is not 
 wet. I don't know why; but it generally is, as you know to 
 your cost. I hope it does some good. I suppose it does." 
 He smiled, showing his white, even teeth. " I have often 
 asked myself which exerts the most blighting influence on the 
 temper a flower-show or a local concert, and I have never 
 been able to decide. I think the former, but then I am, for 
 my sins, one of the judges, and suffer accordingly. This year 
 I was going to propose that we should give a prize to every- 
 thing; it would prevent so much jealousy and heart-burning; 
 but the committee didn't see their way to it. Committees of 
 all kinds are so stupid." 
 
 Claire laughed, and as he looked at her, he was almost 
 guilty of murmuring audibly: " She is more lovely than 
 ever!" " I hear you are making great alterations at the 
 Court?" he said, aloud. 
 
 " Yes," said Claire, and half unconsciously the color 
 mounted to her face. 
 
 He sighed, but smiled. 
 
 " How lucky you are to be able to do it. The Hall is 
 nearly tumbling about iny ears, but I can't afford more than.
 
 96 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 
 
 4 new slate or two now and then/' He was rather given to 
 jesting at his poverty. " Some of these days you will hear 
 that the roof has fallen in, and will have to send some of 
 your people to dig me out of the ruins." 
 
 " I will come myself," said Claire, smiling down at him, 
 
 " Then, the sooner it falls in, the better!" he retorted, gal- 
 lantly. "By the way, 'I hear wonderful accounts of your 
 architect. Quite a clever young fellow, a sort of genius, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 "'Yes, he is very clever, I think," said Claire. The color 
 had gone again, and her face was of its ordinary whiteness. 
 
 "Strange for a man of these parts. We don't generally 
 breed geniuses." 
 
 " Mr. Wayre does not belong here," she said. 
 
 " No? I thought I knew the name." He wrinkled his brow- 
 as if he were trying to remember. " I seem to have heard it 
 before, somewhere. Then you discovered him? That was 
 very clever of you /" The horses began to fidget. " But I 
 am keeping you. May I call some day soon, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 Claire murmured her permission, and the carriage moved 
 away. 
 
 Lord Chester stroked his iron-gray mustache thoughtfully 
 as he made his way back to the tent. 
 
 " Yes, she is the most beautiful girl I ever saw; and she is 
 charming, especially when she looks straight at one with those 
 violet eyes, and smiles," he said to himself. Then he sighed. 
 " I wish I were twenty years younger!" he added, wistfully. 
 
 As the carriage reached the end of the road and was about 
 to turn back again, Mr. Mordaunt Sapley came along in the 
 direction of the show. He was very nicely dressed in a suit 
 exactly appropriate to the occasion, and wore a specimen 
 begonia in the button-hole of his light-gray frock-coat. He 
 flushed a little as he raised his hat to Claire, and flushed stil? 
 more when she returned the greeting with a smile. He couli 
 scarcely know that the smile was merely mechanical, and tht*t 
 she barely noticed him. 
 
 He entered the tent, and mixed with the crowd, nodding 
 condescendingly to the* commoner people, and smirking with 
 an affectation of familiarity with those of the county families, 
 who vouchsafed him a nod or a couple of fingers. Presently 
 he left the tent, and as he did so he saw a slim, girlish figure 
 standing near a shrubbery. It was Lucy Hawker. Mr. 
 Mordaunt frowned, and bit his lip, and, after a cautioiu 
 glance round him, strolled in her direction, and followed he* 
 into the shrubbery. She walked very slowly, so that he coul|
 
 MISTRESS OF COUKT EEGNA. 97 
 
 orerfcake her, and turned to him with a smile on her pretty, 
 soft face, which many of the Regna young men would have 
 
 one through fire and water to obtain, but which roused Mr. 
 apley's resentment. 
 
 " So here you are," he said, trying to speak pleasantly. 
 
 " Yes/' she said in a low voice, her eyes fixed on him with 
 loving pride. " I thought I should see you, Mordaunt. I 
 have been keeping about here out of the way, thinking you 
 would come in search of me. I hope you haven't been look- 
 ing for me long, and waiting?" 
 
 " Oh, no," he said, biting his mustache. " The fact is, I 
 don't think it is very wise of us to be seen together. People 
 are so quick to notice, and quicker to talk." 
 
 She looked at him swiftly and timidly. 
 
 " They have seen us together before now," she said. 
 " Surely there could be no harm in your speaking to me, Mor- 
 daunt, seeing that we have known each other ever since we 
 were children." 
 
 " Ah, yes, children," he said, still keeping a sharp look- 
 out. " But we aren't children any longer." 
 
 " Sometimes I wish we were," she murmured, sadly. 
 
 " Eh, what? You've got into a bad habit of muttering to 
 yourself, Lucy. I should break myself of it, if I were you." 
 
 She glanced at him again, and her lips quivered. 
 
 " I am as I have always been, Mordaunt/' she said, softly. 
 " You did not find fault" 
 
 " Oh, well, don't let us quarrel for the few minutes we are 
 together!" he said, pettishly; " and they'll have to be precious 
 few minutes, for some of the people are coming out of the 
 tent, and will be walking down here. And though you don't 
 seem to mind, I do. I have to think of you, you see," he 
 added, with noble disinterestedness. 
 
 " Forgive me, Mordaunt, dear," she whispered. 
 
 " There's nothing to forgive. You are just a little careiess, 
 that's all, Lucy," he said. "By George! here are some 
 coming now good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye," she murmured, hastily. 
 
 She looked wistfully up into his face, and then at the 
 begonia in his coat. 
 
 " What a beautiful flower, Mordaunt!" 
 
 " Yes, isn't it?" he said. " Take a prize, if I'd shown it 
 but we swells can't go hi for the prizes." 
 
 Her face fell; perhaps she had thought that he would gire 
 it to her.
 
 98 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " You will come down to the old place to-night, Mor 
 daunt?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," he assented, hastily. ' You walk on now, or 
 they'll see us. Good-bye;" and he turned and walked away 
 from her with a scowl of sullen impatience on his face, which 
 changed to a smirk as he met the group approaching him. 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterward, as the Court carriage was 
 standing a little way from the entrance, Lucy saw him going 
 up to it, and, naturally enough, she drew up behind the bank 
 of laurels near which she stood and watched him for to poor 
 Lucy there was no sight on earth so precious as that of this 
 elegant " Oxford gentleman " who had won her heart. 
 
 Claire, who had been studying the catalogue, looked up as 
 he approached. 
 
 He raised his hat with the respectful air which he had 
 assumed of late, and said: 
 
 " Quite a large attendance to-day, Miss Sartoris. I am told 
 that it breaks the record." 
 
 " I am very glad," said Claire. " I shall hear a full 
 account of it from my friend, Mrs. Lexton." 
 
 " I am sorry you can not go in," he said, and he smiled 
 rather nervously. " There are some very good flowers." As 
 he spoke, he looked down at the begonia which he now held 
 in his hand. " Yes. This er is rather fine, isn't it?" 
 
 Claire glanced at the flower and assented. 
 
 " Perhaps you will er accept it, Miss Sartoris?" he said. 
 " It will be a kindness to the flower; I shall be sure to lose 
 it before I get home. Please do!" 
 
 Claire attached no significance to the offer. She rarely 
 went into the village without some of the women or children 
 presenting her with a flower or a shell; and she was averse to 
 wounding any one's feelings even Mr. Mordaunt Sapley's. 
 
 " Oh. thanks," she said, and she took the flower. " It is 
 a very fine one indeed. Are you going back to the tent? II 
 so, will you please tell Mrs. Lexton on no account to hurry. 
 I am quite happy. " 
 
 With his eyes on the flower in her hand, he murmured an 
 assent, and prudently took himself off. 
 
 Lucy had seen the whole of the little incident quite dis- 
 tinctly; and as she hurried away a shadow of disappointment 
 too slight to be that of suspicion crossed her face, and she 
 sighed deeply. He had given Miss Sartoris the flower he had 
 refused to her Lucy who had given him everything! 
 
 It touched her to the heart, but her jealousy would not 
 have awakened if she had not met Mordaunt Sartley a few
 
 MISTKESS OP COURT REGKA. 99 
 
 minutes aftewaul. He was walking along, with his head 
 more erect than usual, and a smile of satisfaction on his 
 weakly vicious face, and he started as she came upon him 
 from a side walk. 
 
 " Halloo, Lucy! not gone yet?" he said, with a certain 
 embarrassment, which she was quick to divine. 
 " No," she said; " but I'm going now." 
 " So am I. Quite tired of it. Beastly bore, this kind of 
 ihinff." 
 
 "You looked happy enough just now, Mordaunt," she 
 said. " What have you done with your flower?" 
 
 He glanced at her sideways, and then at his button-hole, 
 with an assumption of surprise. 
 
 " My flower? Ah, yes; it's gone I must have dropped it. 
 Wish I'd given it to you to take care of." 
 
 Her face flushed as she shrunk with a woman's horror of a 
 falsehood on the lips of her lover. 
 
 "Yes, it is a pity," he said, lightly. "Never mind, I'll 
 bring you one from the garden to-night" 
 
 She did not thank him, and hung her head, with a strange 
 look in her face, which would have surprised him if he had 
 not been too wrapped up in his self-satisfaction to notice it; 
 and they parted at the end of the walk with only a faint 
 " Good-bye " on either side. 
 
 That evening Claire, for the first time in her life, was in 
 doubt as to what she should wear for dinner. But her hesita- 
 tion did not last. With woman's true instinct, she felt that 
 if she did not wear an evening dress, as usual, Gerald Wayre 
 would think that she attached importance to his lack of a 
 dress-suit; and she chose a handsome frock of soft black silk, 
 and still softer lace, and wore a diamond bracelet and 
 pendant, as well as the spray he had recovered for her. Per- 
 haps, too, she was half conscious of the desire to appear at her 
 jest in his eyes; and, again, for the first time in her life, she 
 felt a subtle kind of satisfaction in her attire as she went 
 down-stairs to the drawing-room. 
 
 Gerald was announced a few minutes after she had gone 
 down; and, as she glanced at him, she thought that the plain 
 serge suit gave him as distinguished an appearance as the 
 regulation attire could have done. As for him, as he took her 
 hand, he had hard work to keep his admiration from declar- 
 ing itself through his eyes. But though her beauty made his 
 heart throb, it filled him with a despairing sadness. The 
 costly gems served to remind him of the hopelessness of his
 
 100 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 
 
 passion, fle stifled a sigh, then, with a great effort, regained 
 his usual alert brightness. 
 
 The butler announced dinner almost immediately. It was 
 a most enjoyable meal. Mrs. Lexton was full of the flower- 
 show, and Claire led her on to give a graphic account of it. 
 Gerald, as he eat his dinner and listened to the two women, 
 glanced now and again round the magnificent room. Strange 
 jo say, he did not feel out of place; rather, it seemed to him 
 as if he had been used to all this stately refinement. He did 
 not feel at all uncomfortable in his serge suit, and the butler, 
 who was a severe critic of men and manners, noticed the 
 absence of any embarrassment on Gerald's part, and remarked 
 sententiously in the servants' hall, that Mr. Wayre " was a 
 perfect gentleman." 
 
 Gerald listened at first, but presently he began to talk, and 
 Claire, to say nothing of Mrs. Lexton, found herself com- 
 pletely entertained. Gerald had seen a large slice of the 
 world, and could tell of what he had seen with that graceful 
 simplicity which is beyond art. As he told them of scenes 
 and incidents in his checkered career, Claire found herself 
 listening with an almost breathless interest, and it was not 
 until the butler, placing the famous Court Regna port upon 
 the table, had coughed twice, that Claire said : 
 
 " Mr. Wayre, you will like to smoke. I'm afraid I can't 
 offer you a cigar, or even a cigarette. Lord Wharton did not 
 smoke." 
 
 Gerald said he had a cigarette. " But I am not supposed 
 to stay long," he said, as he opened the door for them. 
 
 " No, don't, please, Mr. Wayre," said Mrs. Lexton, who 
 seemed to lose her nervousness and timidity in his society. 
 
 " How delightful he is!" she said to Claire, as they sunk 
 into the luxurious drawing-room chairs. " I feel as if I could 
 never tire of listening to him. What I like so much in him is 
 the absence of self-consciousness. So many young men just 
 talk /or effect. Now, Mr. Wayre told you the most extraor- 
 dinary adventures and one feels that they are true and yet 
 so simply, and without bringing his own share in them into 
 prominence." 
 
 ;< Yes," said Claire, quietly. There was a faint color in her 
 face, and her eyes were shining brightly, as if in rivalry with 
 her diamonds. 
 
 Mrs. Lexton laughed rather disappointedly. 
 
 " I don't think you admire him quite as much as I do, 
 dear," she said. 
 
 Claire appeared engrossed in turning over the music,, and
 
 THE MISTRESS OB- COURT REGNA. 101 
 
 made no response; and she was still thus employed when Ger- 
 ald came in. 
 
 He remembered that he was asked to sing, as well as dine, 
 and glanced at the piano. 
 
 "Is it too soon after dinner, Mr. Wayre?" said Mrs. Lex- 
 ton. "I hope not." 
 
 Gerald smiled. How often had he sung in the mining 
 camp the very moment the hasty meal had been devoured! 
 
 "I'm afraid you will be disappointed if you expect great 
 things, Mrs. Lexton," he said. " I've just got the knack of 
 the street singer, that's all." He went to the piano, where 
 Claire still stood. 
 
 " Will you see if there is anything you know here?" she 
 said. 
 
 He turned over the pile of music and shook his head. 
 
 "I'm afraid not." 
 
 " What shall we do?" asked Claire, with a smile. 
 
 " I'll try and play something," he said, modestly. 
 
 " Oh!" said Claire. " I did not know" 
 
 "Oh, I only vamp," he said; and he struck a rough-and- 
 ready accompaniment, then began to sing. He did his best 
 naturally enough, poor fellow and the clear tenor notes rose 
 and floated through the room. Mrs. Lexton glanced at Claire 
 with a gesture of delighted surprise. 
 
 But Claire, standing beside the piano, made no sign, only 
 when he had finished she said, very, very quietly: 
 
 " Will you sing again?" 
 
 ;' Will not you?" he asked. 
 
 " Presently," she replied, almost coldly, for she was fight- 
 ing, with " sweet maiden ferocity," against the effect of his 
 nearness, the deep musical voice which seemed to wake a 
 subtle echo hi her heart. 
 
 He sung again, and still stronger grew the spell upon her. 
 She stood very near him, listening to every note, her eyes 
 downcast, her heart beating fast, so that the lace on her bosorn 
 rose and fell almost in unison with the liquid notes. 
 
 " Now, will you sing something?" he asked, and he looked 
 up at her with grave entreaty. She turned over the music 
 absently. 
 
 " Here is a duet, ' Love's Quest/ " he said. " I think I 
 know that. Will you sing it with me, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 The " Miss Sartoris " came afterward, as if he were 
 reminding himself of the fact that he was " Mr. Wayre, the 
 architect," and it recalled her to herself. 
 
 " Yes," she said in a low voice, and they sung. She stood
 
 102 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REONA. 
 
 close at his elbow; he could feel her breath upon his hair, feel 
 the soft, fleecy lace soft and fleecy as it was against his 
 shoulder, and he sung like a man in a dream, scarcely know- 
 ing that he sung. And yet the words were so significant: 
 
 " He knew, wheree'er he went, 
 In hopeless dreams his love was spent ; 
 For him no joy, for him no rest; 
 He toiled in vain on true love's quest!" 
 
 When he came to the last line, his voice faltered, then 
 ceased. He still played the accompaniment, but glanced up 
 at her. 
 
 From the clear pallor of her face the violet eyes shone like 
 stars, and he met their gaze. The music died away; he was 
 back hi the cave again, with her hair across his lips, her hands 
 upon his shoulders. 
 
 He glanced across the room, where Mrs. Lexton had been 
 sitting, but she had moved into the conservatory, not out of 
 hearing, but out of sight. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris!" he said, scarcely conscious that he was 
 speaking. " Claire!" 
 
 She did not move, her eyes still dwelt upon him, and 
 Was he mad, or did they shine with a sudden tenderness? 
 The divine madness of love was upon him ; he forgot the social 
 gulf that divided them, forgot that he was a penniless advent- 
 urer, and she the mistress of Court Regua. He took the 
 small white hand near him, and grasped it firmly, and love's 
 avowal was on his lips. 
 
 " Claire!" he said. 
 
 As he spoke, alas! Mrs. Lexton came back into the room. 
 
 " How well your voices harmonize!" she said. " Can you 
 not find another duet?" 
 
 Gerald glanced at her vaguely. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris Claire I must speak to you to-morrow!" 
 he said, almost hoarsely. " Do not be angry. Wait try 
 and forgive me until to-morrow!" 
 
 Alas, and alas! To-morrow is a fatal day! If he had only 
 spoken that night! Claire drew her hand away without a 
 word, but her star-like eyes lingered upon his face, and their 
 violet drew deeper. 
 
 He got up the room seemed to be swimming round and 
 said a hasty good-night to Mrs. Lexton, who looked at him 
 with pardonable surprise at his abruptness, and left the room. 
 He caught up his hat from the hall table, and strode down 
 the path through the lawns. 
 
 lie h/wl been mad, mad; and yet The tenderness, the
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 103 
 
 inexpressible glow that lay in those violet eyes, still shone on 
 him, and set his heart throbbing and leaping. Was there 
 then any hope for him? 
 
 He had reached the turn of the path, when a girlish figure 
 came quickly, yet hesitatingly, upon him, with a cry of " Mor- 
 daunt!" 
 
 He did not hear the word, but saw that the figure was that 
 of Lucy Hawker. In the electric condition of his mind, her 
 sudden presence confused him. 
 
 " Miss Lucy!" he said. 
 
 Then, as he uttered a faint exclamation, and drew back, as 
 if startled and disappointed, he said: 
 
 " We seem fated to meet by moonlight!" 
 
 She drew the thin shawl, which most of the Regna girls 
 wore, about her face. 
 
 " It's you, Mr. Wayre?" she said, with a gasp of relief. 
 
 " I, my very self," he assented, scarcely knowing what he 
 said. Then he added, for he saw that she was trembling, 
 and that her face was haggard and drawn, as if with trouble: 
 
 " What is the matter?" 
 
 And as he spoke, the Fates and his tenderness for all weak 
 things prompted him to lay his hand upon her shoulder, with 
 the strong man's ready offer of sympathy and consolation. 
 
 The words, the touch, were too much for Lucy, and she 
 bowed her head upon his arm in sudden collapse, and burst 
 into tears. 
 
 And as they stood thus, Claire stepped out on the terrace, 
 her heart beating fast, like a wild animal, in her bosom; and 
 as she looked across the lawn these two figures, the man with 
 his hand upon the girl's shoulder, the girl with her head upon 
 his arm, stood out with startling distinctness. 
 
 She looked, and her heart seemed to cease beating, a mist 
 rose before her eyes, a terrible cold, like that of ice, ran 
 through her veins, which a moment ago had thrilled so 
 warmly. 
 
 She uttered no cry, did not move, but her face grew whiter 
 and still whiter, and her lips set like those of a marble statue. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LIJCY sobbed hysterically for a moment or two, and Gerald, 
 who knew enough about women to be aware that it was no use 
 speaking to her until the little fit was over, waited patiently. 
 His new-born love for Claire filled his heart with tenderness
 
 104 THE MISTRKS6 OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 toward all her sex, and he felt very sorry for Lucy. Though 
 he did not know what was the matter, he guessed that it was 
 something connected with a love affair, and wondered how any 
 young fellow could have had the heart to bring tears to the 
 soft, child-like eyes. 
 
 If he had even known that Claire was watching him from 
 the terrace, he would have felt no uneasiness. All his heart wap 
 given to Claire, his whole being absorbed in her, and it woulu 
 never have occurred to him that she would ever dream of 
 being jealous of Lucy Hawker. 
 
 Which shows that no man has ever yet understood a woman. 
 
 When Lucy's tears had subsided, she drew a little away from 
 him, shamefacedly. 
 
 " Is anything the matter, Miss Lucy?'* he asked. 
 
 NO no, sir!" she said, with a little catch in her voice. 
 She had had time to find an excuse for her hysterical out- 
 burst. " I was walking alone in the wood and I thought I 
 heard some one behind me, then I saw you and ran up to you. 
 I was a bit frightened; I hope you'll forgive me, Mr. Way re?" 
 
 " There's nothing to forgive, Miss Lucy," he said. " I am 
 very glad I chanced to be here. Didn't you call me by some 
 name, though? I fancied " 
 
 " No, sir," she said, hurriedly, averting her eyes. 
 
 " Ah, I thought you did/' he said. " 1 was afraid you 
 were in some trouble; this is a world of trouble, Miss Lucy; 
 we all get our share." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, sir," she said, with a sigh. 
 
 " Just so. Now, if you are in any trouble and I can help 
 you, I needn't say that I shall be very glad to do so. I don't 
 want to force your confidence " 
 
 " Oh, no no, sir," she said. " You are always so very 
 good and kind." 
 
 " In fact," he continued, " there is some one who has a 
 right to know of any trouble you are in; and that's your 
 father. I have seen a very great deal of the world, Miss 
 Lucy, and I've come to the conclusion that when anything is 
 wrong with a girl or, for the matter of that, a man she or 
 he can't do better than go to the father. I haven't one 
 myself," he added, gravely. " I have never had one that I 
 remember I wish I had! but I'm quite sure that I'm right. 
 If there's anything wrong, anything that worries you, no 
 matter what it is, go to your father. I haven't any right to 
 exact a promise, but, if I had, I would ask you to take my 
 
 -i . J 
 
 advice. 
 Gerald's influence over most women was a powerful one.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 105 
 
 With such a girl as Lucy Hawker it was irresistible. She 
 drevr a long breath as if she were forming a resolution. 
 
 " You are very good to me, Mr. Wayre," she said. " I am 
 in a kind of trouble, and I will go to my father." 
 
 " That's right!" said Gerald, cheerfully, little guessing 
 that he had touched the spring of a lever which would work 
 him much woe. " You tell your father everything. Take 
 my word for it, you haven't a better friend on earth." 
 
 " I know I know!" she murmured. They walked together 
 to the cottage. It was late, but there were one or two persons 
 on the narrow road, and standing at their doors, and these 
 gave them good -night as they passed. 
 
 When Gerald reached his room he lighted a pipe and paced 
 up and down, recalling every incident of his evening at the 
 Court, and trying to realize what had happened. He had 
 called Miss Sartoris " Claire," had, with the language of the 
 eyes, told her that he loved her. To-morrow he must go and 
 tell her so plainly, by word of mouth. How would she receive 
 his avowal? had he only fancied the tender look in her eyes, 
 or was it really there? It seemed like madness to hope, and 
 yet his heart beat wildly with hope. He knew that she was 
 noble-minded; it was just possible that she would consent to 
 forget the difference between them, would sink her pride of 
 wealth and station, and consent to be his wife. 
 
 All night he dreamed of her; in the morning he rose, had 
 his bath, and after breakfast went down to the Court as usual. 
 Lee met him at the half -demolished wing. 
 
 " You haven't begun to pull down the other part yet?" 
 said Gerald. 
 
 " No, sir," said Lee. " I thought I would clear away some 
 of the stuff first; there will be less mess." 
 
 " Quite right," said Gerald. He looked round the works, 
 nd then went across the terrace to the hall door and inquired 
 for Miss Sartoris. 
 
 '* Miss Sartoris is not in, sir," said the footman. " She 
 started directly after breakfast for a ride to one of the distant 
 farms, and she won't be back till the afternoon." 
 
 Gerald went away surprised and disappointed. His heart 
 sunk. What did it mean? She must have known that he 
 would come early in the morning; had she gone away to avoid 
 him? Yes; that must be it. He was a fool to hope! 
 
 He returned to the building, and after watching the men 
 for a little while, went up to the old room. He had cleared 
 everything out of it excepting the portrait of the unknown 
 lady. He took this up and looked at it mechanically, his
 
 106 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGffA. 
 
 thoughts with Claire. The face seemed to smile at him morf 
 pathetically than ever that morning, as if it sympathized with 
 his hopes "and uncertainties. In a vague way it seemed 
 familiar to him. He dusted it carefully with his handkerchief, 
 and, deciding to take it home for cleaning that night, looked 
 round for some place of safety for it. It occurred to him 
 that it would be safer in its old place behind the panel than 
 anywhere else, at any rate, until they demolished the room, 
 and he replaced it there and fastened the panel over it; then 
 he went about his work in a perfunctory way until the sun 
 began to sink. 
 
 By that time he judged that Claire would have returned, 
 and he went slowly up to the house. The footman said Miss 
 Sartoris was in and would see him, and conducted him to the 
 library. He waited there about five minutes, and then the 
 door opened and Claire entered. 
 
 She was in her riding-habit, and as he looked at her, he 
 thought of the morning at the chapel, of the sketch he had 
 made of her, and which he looked at every night before he 
 went to sleep. 
 
 She did not offer him her hand, but stood holding her 
 whip, with her eyes downcast. There was no trace of embar- 
 rassment on her face, which was perfectly calm and almost 
 impassive. To him it seemed that it looked almost like that 
 of a Grecian statue, exquisite in its immobility. 
 
 His heart sunk. If there had been a trace of bashful con- 
 fusion in the lovely face, he would have been encouraged; but 
 he had come to tell her of his love, and he would tell her, let 
 the result be what it might. 
 
 " You have been for a long ride?" he said. 
 
 " Yes," she assented; and her voice was as impassive as her 
 face, though his conventional words thrilled through her. 
 
 " I came up this morning in the hope of seeing you," he 
 s:iid. " I have something to say to you which I almost fear 
 to put into words. To me they seem so wild, so preposterous, 
 that I scarcely dare hope that you will accept them seriously." 
 
 She did not speak or raise her eyes, but both hands closed 
 more tightly on the whip. 
 
 1 Miss Sartoris, I have told you just what I am; what the 
 world calls an adventurer. I came here in the course of my 
 wanderings, and Chance Fate, I think drew me to meet 
 you. Fate might have decreed that after exchanging a few 
 words with you, 1 should go on my way, but it willed other- 
 wise. Since that night I saw you there* in the woods we have 
 met almost daily. From the very first hour of our meeting,
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGtfA. 107 
 
 you have exerted an influence over me against which I fought 
 at first, but against which I can fight no longer." 
 
 Still she did not speak, but her breath seemed to come 
 faster for a moment or two. 
 
 " I have felt that strange influence all along. As I have 
 said, I have struggled against it. I have told myself twenty 
 times a day that you are as far above me as the stars, that you 
 are mistress of all this," he waved his hand slightly. " Rich, 
 of an exalted station, and that I am what you know. I set 
 a guard upon myself and thought that I had learned my lesson 
 too thoroughly to forget the difference between us; but last 
 night my heart broke its bonds and declared itself. I must 
 have shown you that I loved you." 
 
 She raised her eyes to his face for a second only; there was no 
 encouragement in them, but almost an expression of indigna- 
 tion, but Gerald was looking down and did not see the fleeting 
 glance. 
 
 " When a man loves a woman as I love you, and has shown 
 her by a look and a whispered word, that he loves her, he 
 owes it to her and to himself that he should speak out, let the 
 result be what it may. If I could have kept my secret, I 
 would have done so. I ask you to believe that." 
 
 His voice was almost stern, and her hands, that held the 
 whip so tightly, trembled a little. 
 
 " I know what the world would say if you were to accept 
 my love. It would say that I had no right to lay it at your 
 feet, that you were foolish to stoop and accept it. But, not- 
 withstanding this knowledge, I have come to tell you, Miss 
 Sartoris, that I love you. " 
 
 A tremor passed over her face, and the violet eyes were hid- 
 den by the long lashes. 
 
 " I love you with all my heart and soul. I have never loved 
 any woman until I saw you." 
 
 She glanced at him swiftly, and her lips parted; but she set ' 
 them again firmly. 
 
 " You are just all the world to me, and if yon send me 
 away, you send me to a life of wretchedness and misery. But 
 I do not ask for your pity; I ask for your love." 
 
 His voice vibrated with passionate earnestness, and there 
 was a ring of manly dignity in it which almost unnerved 
 Claire. But the vision of his meeting with Lucy rose before 
 her eyes, and she steeled herself. Her face at that moment 
 was like that of a cameo in its set whiteness. 
 
 " If you will give me your love it will be to me as the 
 breath of Heaven. I can say no more; I would not have said
 
 108 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 this but for last night! Miss Sartoris Claire will you for. 
 get your wealth and station and give yourself to me? Last 
 
 venture to hope?" 
 
 There was silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock 
 on the marble mantel-piece. "Will you not speak?" he 
 said, almost breathlessly. "Answer me, 'Yes,' or 'No.' 
 Be it what it may, I will accept it at once and without ques- 
 tion. I know that if I am so fortunate as to possess your love, 
 you will say so. The difference in position between us will 
 not count with you. I know that, for I have learned to know 
 you. Speak to me, Claire! Your silence is terrible! I 
 repeat, I love you! I love you! I know that if I can win 
 your love I can make you happy! All my life shall be 
 devoted to you! I " He stopped suddenly, and his strong 
 hand gripped the end of the table vise-like. Her silence 
 weighed on him, tortured him. 
 
 " Speak to me!" he said. " Do not be afraid. If it 
 should be * No,' I shall not whine or resent it. 1 have no 
 right to do so. Who am I that I should dare to hope for so 
 priceless a thing as your love! Whatever it may be, tell me 
 my fate! See, I only ask for ' Yes ' or ' No.' Which is it, 
 Claire?" 
 
 She raised her head and looked at him. It seemed to him, 
 in his terrible moment of excitement, that there was some- 
 thing almost accusatory in the gaze of her eyes, now deeply 
 violet. It might have been a look of accusation or of indig- 
 nant pride. 
 
 He waited, his heart beating fast; then the words came. 
 
 " It ia No/ " she said. 
 
 He stood for an instant, as if scarcely realizing the import 
 of the curt sentence. His head sunk as he bit his lips, as if 
 with an effort to control himself. 
 
 ;' No?" he said. 
 
 " No," echoed Claire, almost inaudibly. As she spoke, the 
 bent whip snapped, and she let the fragments drop from her 
 hand. 
 
 " I understand," he said. " I was mad, then, after all! 
 My love must have deceived me! What can I say to you. 
 Claire Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 To this question there was no reply. The silence seemed to 
 weigh upon them both, the ticking of the clock became a 
 torture. The room seemed to gwim round with Gerald; her
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT BEGNA. 100 
 
 "No" rang like a knell within his heart. Outside the sun 
 shone brightly, the sky was dyed a glowing red, but to him 
 it seemed as if a darkness had suddenly fallen upon the room, 
 through vrhich shone the face of the woman he loved, like a 
 star. 
 
 He stood with downcast eyes in silence for a moment, call- 
 ing upon all his manliness to support him. 
 
 " It is ' No '?" he said. " You do not love me?" 
 
 She made no answer, but turned away from him, so that he 
 could not see the anguish in her eyes and on her quivering lips. 
 
 He drew a long breath. '* Well, I had no right to expect 
 any other answer! It was sheer madness on my part, and I 
 ought to ask your forgiveness. I do so." 
 
 She made no response, and after looking at her he turned 
 away and looked out of the window, as if he could not bear to 
 glance upon the face which meant so much to him. The 
 silence lasted for nearly a minute; then he said, huskily, as if 
 he were trying to control his voice: 
 
 " You will find it hard to forgive me, no doubt, Miss Sar- 
 toris. My presumption must seem a heinous sin in your eyes. 
 You will not care to see me meet me again? I would leave 
 here at once, to-night but there is the building." He 
 thought for a moment, his face heavy with care. " It is not 
 necessary that we should meet. I need not come near the 
 house, and you can avoid the new building when I am there. 
 All our business can be done through Mr. Sapley. When the 
 work is completed, I will leave Eegna immediately that very 
 hour, if it be possible. I shall pass out of your life very soon, 
 and there will be nothing to remind you of the annoyance I 
 have caused you!" 
 
 She did not speak as she moved almost imperceptibly 
 toward the door. 
 
 " One moment, before you go," he said. " 1 want to 
 say to tell you, that you are quite free from blame in this 
 matter. It was sheer madness on my part a madness in 
 which you had no part. I suppose that last night my love for 
 you deluded me into imagining all sorts of wild, improbable 
 things." 
 
 Her hand went up to her bosom, and caught at the edge of 
 her habit, but she did not speak. 
 
 "I only am to blame!" he said. "I was just the moth 
 that loved a star, and thought that because it shone, that it 
 shone alone for me. By no word or look have you encouraged 
 me in my madness. Do not let it weigh upon you. I am not 
 worth a thought. A nameless adventurer has crossed your
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 path, and if he has dared to love youwhy, that is only 
 natural. He will go as he came, and there will be an end of 
 
 liim " 
 
 He forced a smile at these brave words. Claire half 
 turned, and her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but 
 he held up his hand. 
 
 " For God's sake, don't say any conventional words of pity!' 
 he said. " 1 know that I am not worthy of your love, but 
 that does not make the loss of it any easier to bear. Let me. 
 go without a word, Miss Sartoris, either of pity or of censure. 
 The man who is sentenced to death is not consoled by the 
 speech of the judge." 
 
 Claire closed her lips and moved toward the door. He went 
 and opened it for her, and as she passed out, he touched the 
 sleeve of her habit with his lips. She did not feel the caress, 
 did not meet the anguish in his eyes, and the door closed 
 between them. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CLAIRE went straight to her room. What it had cost her 
 to say that " No," no man can describe, and only a woman 
 can understand. All the while he had been talking, pleading, 
 her heart had gone out to him. Once or twice her hands had 
 almost dropped the whip, had been stretched out toward him; 
 it was only by recalling his meeting with Lucy, by keeping it 
 before her eyes, that she could find strength to resist him. 
 
 Some women, loving as she loved, would not have allowed 
 what she had seen to come between them. They would have 
 regarded it as just a man's flirtation with a village girl, would 
 probably have taxed him with it, and have accepted his 
 excuses and forgiven him. But Claire was not made like 
 most women. Her very ignorance of the world, and of tht 
 ways of the men that dwell therein, prevented her viewing 
 such a flirtation as a matter of no moment. The fact that he 
 could go straight from her presence with a look of love in his 
 eyes, the word of love warm on his lips, and caress Lucy 
 Hawker, filled her with horror. 
 
 And yet his words had borne the accent of truth; he had 
 been so manly in his declaration of love for her! Claire felt 
 bewildered, as if she had been plunged suddenly into a strange 
 world, in which men spoke with the eloquence of truth while 
 a lie was in their hearts. She suffered cruelly, for she loved 
 him deeply and passionately. What joy it would have been 
 to her to tell him of that love, to tell him that she counted
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGffA. Ill 
 
 her wealth and position as mere dross weighed against the 
 worth of his love! 
 
 She wondered what he would do now! Perhaps she had 
 driven him into the arms of Lucy Hawker. At the thought, 
 a spasm of jealousy ran through her, and she hid her face in 
 her hands. Should she go away? However carefully she might 
 avoid him she might see him, and the sight of him would cost 
 ier such acute anguish. But, no, she would not go away, she 
 was too proud to let him suspect, by her flight, that she loved 
 him; indeed, she would endeavor so to bear herself that he 
 should think that she had forgotten what had passed between 
 them, or, at any rate, deemed it of no importance. 
 
 Gerald went out of the house feeling half dazed. Though 
 he had scarcely dared to hope that she would accept him, her 
 refusal had completely crushed him. As he recalled her man- 
 ner of the previous evening, he still felt convinced that there 
 had been something in her eyes which had encouraged him. 
 If that was so, what had happened since then? Perhaps she 
 had had time to consider her position, to remember the differ- 
 ence between them, and her pride had awakened. After all, 
 it was just what he might have expected. What right had he 
 to hope that the mistress of Court Regna would stoop to love 
 a nameless adventurer? 
 
 Well, he deserved his fate. What he had to do now was to 
 keep out of the way while he was compelled to remain at 
 Regna, and to get out of it as soon as possible. He must try 
 and forget her, though it seemed to him that he should never 
 forget her, never cease to love her while life lasted ! As he 
 reached the building, Lee came up and spoke to him. Gerald 
 could scarcely bring himself to comprehend what the man 
 was saying, and Lee stopped and looked at him curiously and 
 gravely. 
 
 " You are not looking quite the thing this evening, sir," he 
 said. 
 
 " I've got a headache," said Gerald. 
 
 " You look quite knocked up, sir," said Lee. " I'd go 
 home and take a rest, sir, if I were you. There's no need for 
 you to be at the works for some days. I'd take a holiday, 
 sir." 
 
 " A holiday?" said Gerald, vaguely. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Lee. I've got it all clear before me, and 
 the plans are so straightforward that I could get out the 
 foundation and so on without troubling you for quite awhile. 
 You'd be all the better for a little change, sir." 
 
 The man's suggestion was a very welcome one to Gerald
 
 113 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 It seemed to him that if he could get away for a little tim* h 
 could bear the blow better. Every moment he was near the 
 place he would be dreading meeting her. 
 
 " I rather think I will take your advice, Lee," he said. 
 " I am feeling rather knocked up, and a change will put me 
 straight." 
 
 He went over the works with Lee, and saw that everything 
 .vas right to the minutest detail, then he went homeward. 
 The spring had gone out of his step; he walked with his head 
 bent a very different man to the Gerald Wayre of a few 
 hours ago. 
 
 He went down to the pier, and lighting a pipe, stared 
 vacantly at the sea. Like Claire, he felt bewildered. Why 
 had she said " No " so coldly? It was unlike her. She had 
 been kindness and gentleness itself up to this morning. It 
 was strange that she had not said one word of regret for his 
 foolish passion. " She might have let me down easier!" he 
 said to himself. " It was not like her!" He could not but 
 remember her many acts of kindness; how she had clung to 
 him in the cave; had always treated him as an equal and a 
 friend. Why, she had gone out of her way to ask him to 
 spend an evening at the Court. Had she been aware of his 
 love all the time, and simply been amusing herself? He put 
 the thought away from him at once. No, he knew her too 
 well to deem her guilty of that. Her treatment of him was 
 inexplicable. But it didn't matter; he had got his answer, 
 and must put up with it. After all, many a better man than 
 he had loved in vain. Was he to make moan? He would 
 bear it like a man, and try and forget her. He would go 
 away somewhere and come back and show her that, at least, 
 he felt no resentment of his dismissal. Perhaps, who knew? 
 She would let him be her friend, her humble friend, though 
 she would not accept him as her lover. 
 
 A boat was moored to the quay, just beneath him, and, for 
 the sake of something to do, he strolled down and spoke to 
 the captain. 
 
 " You've got fine weather," he said. 
 
 The man assented. " Yes, I'm hoping it will last," ho 
 said. " We sail this evening." 
 
 " Where are you going?" asked Gerald, absently. 
 
 " Coast o' France," replied the captain, cutting a slab of 
 black tobacco and stowing it away carefully in his left cheek. 
 " I should have started last night, but one o' my hands 'as 
 gone up to Thraxton to see his mother, as is ill. I expected 
 him back afore this, but I suppose she's worse. It's a ter-
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 113 
 
 riblb bad place to get a hand if you want one in a hurry. 
 This 'ere Regna used to turn out the finest seamen in Eng- 
 land; but since they've taken to salmon-fishin' they've got 
 too lazy to go to sea. It's a darned sight more amusing to 
 loaf about on the quay all day, and jest go out with a net for 
 an hour or two while the tide suits. It's a kind o' gamblin', 
 and once it gets hold of a man it's just as bad as other kinds 
 o' gamblin'. If my man, don't turn up, I shall 'ave to sail 
 short-handed; for sail I must to-night." 
 
 " I hope he'll turn up," said Gerald in his pleasant way. 
 He sauntered away and walked along the cliff. After awhile 
 it occurred to him that he was still in Regna, that he had not 
 decided where to go. He thought of walking into Thraxton, 
 taking the train for anywhere. Then suddenly he remem- 
 bered the coaster, and what the captain had said. Why 
 shouldn't he offer himself in the place of the missing man, if 
 he had not turned up? Gerald was a man who came to rapid 
 decisions. The idea suited him. He walked back across the 
 hills to the cottage, and going to his room, crammed some 
 clothes into a canvas bag, exchanging those he had on for 
 a rough jersey suit, not unlike that worn by fishermen. 
 
 He carried the bag down-stairs, intending to ask the lad 
 belonging to the cottage to take the bag to the quay, but no 
 one seemed to be about; old Hawker was not in his usual 
 place, and Lucy was nowhere to be seen. He saw through 
 the window that the vessel was getting ready to sail; if he 
 meant to go by her, there was not a minute to lose. It 
 occurred to him that the Hawkers might like to have some of 
 the money that was due to them from him. He put a couple 
 of sovereigns on the mantel-shelf, and shouldering his bag, 
 left the house, thinking that he should be sure to meet Hawker 
 or Lucy, to whom he could explain that he was going away 
 for a few days. 
 
 But he met no one on his way to the quay; most of the men 
 were at the salmon-fishing, and a shower had driven the 
 women indoors. There was no time to hunt for some one to 
 take a message, for the vessel was getting up her sails. He 
 ran along the quay and jumped on board. 
 
 The captain looked at him with natural astonishment. 
 
 " Good-evening, captain. Has your man come back?" 
 
 " No," said the captain. 
 
 " If you haven't got another in his place," said Gerald, 
 " perhaps you'll take me! I know the work. In fact, I've 
 served befoie."
 
 114 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 The captain's astonishment had not yet subsided, but with 
 the stolidity of his class, he acceded to the proposition. 
 
 " It's rather a queer fancy for a gentleman, ain't it, sir?" 
 he said. " But you know your own mind, I suppose." 
 
 "The fact is, I want a change," said Gerald. "And a 
 little hard work will do me good. Your cruise won't be a 
 long one, I suppose?" 
 
 " Can't say," said the captain. " But you can leave th 
 ship when we get to a French port. You can mess with me, 
 if you like," he added; "and, take it bye and large, you 
 won't be so very uncomfortable." 
 
 " I'm not afraid of that," said Gerald, with a short laugh, 
 as he flung his bag on the deck. " Now, captain, I'm at 
 your service." 
 
 They got the sails up, the anchor was weighed, and the 
 smack sailed bravely from the quay. It was rather a singular 
 fact, the significance of which did not strike Gerald until after- 
 ward, that no one on land had seen him go on board the 
 " Susan," and that he had left no message behind him which 
 could serve as a clew to his movements. 
 
 Just about the time Gerald had been sitting on the quay, 
 Mordaunt Sapley was making his way by the crooked and 
 unfrequented path to that part of the beach hidden by the 
 projecting cliff from the view of the little harbor. He was 
 walking slowly, and with a sullen and thoughtful countenance. 
 He was going to meet Lucy. Only a few months ago he had 
 trod the same path eagerly enough, but that was when his 
 fancy for her was fresh and keen. Like all weak and selfish 
 men, Mordaunt Sapley had drifted into his intimacy with Lucy 
 without thinking of anything but the gratification of a passing 
 desire, and without considering the consequences; and, in the 
 first flush of his enjoyment of the conquest of the simple- 
 hearted girl, he had thrust all thought of those consequences 
 from him. But when he had begun to grow weary of her, 
 ihev had commenced to loom ominously before him. 
 
 Matters were growing awkward. The little fool, as Mor- 
 daunt mentally called her, had actually believed in his promise 
 to marry her. She was getting troublesome. It would have 
 been awkward enough under any circumstances, but under 
 those in which he was placed, it was most serious. He was 
 entirely dependent on his father. At no time would Mr. 
 Sapley have consented to Mordaunt's marrying the daughter 
 of a Regna inn- keeper; certainly not now when he had actu- 
 ally set his mind upon Mordaunt's gaining the hand of the 
 mistress of Court Regna. Mordaunt knew that, fond as hie
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 115 
 
 father was of him, ambition occupied as large a share in his 
 heart as affection for his son, and that if he, Mordaunt, were 
 to dare to thwart that ambition, his father would cast him off 
 without the least compunction. The idea of going to him and 
 telling him that he would have the honor of being father-in- 
 law to Lucy Hawker was not to be entertained for a moment. 
 
 Besides, Mordaunt himself never intended to keep .us 
 promise; never at any time, even in the first flush of Lis 
 vicious passion; certainly not now, when he, too, began to 
 tbJInk that there might be a chance of marrying Miss Sartoris. 
 His heart beat fast with ambition and self-conceit as he told 
 himself that Miss Sartoris had accepted his flower, and had 
 smiled on him of late. Who knew? There might actually 
 be something in his father's assertion that he could help him 
 to become master of Court Regna. 
 
 He cursed himself as a fool for having got himself mixed 
 up, entangled, with a low-bred love affair. If the slightest 
 whisper of it reached the ears of Miss Sartoris, away went all 
 chance of his success in that quarter; his father would be 
 furious, and, in his fury, would probably disown his son and 
 cast him on the world. So that he would lose not only all 
 prospect of marrying Miss Sartoris, but of inheriting his 
 lather's ill-gotten wealth. What should he do? A change 
 seemed to have come over Lucy lately. She, who used to be 
 so docile, so yielding, had seemed to him to have grown im- 
 patient and even suspicious. He felt that his hackneyed 
 promises and honeyed speeches would have uo longer any 
 effect. She had begun to doubt him. 
 
 His face grew darker, and he gnawed his lip as he went 
 down the cleft in the rock toward the meeting-place, and it 
 was only by an effort that he cleared his face from the scowl 
 which made him look so like his father, as he came in sight of 
 Lucy. 
 
 She was seated on a rock, and she did not spring forward to 
 meet him as of old, but waited until he came close up to her, 
 then she looked up at him with something like reproach in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " You did not come last night, Mordaunt?" she said. 
 
 " I couldn't," he said, stooping to kiss her. " I was de- 
 tained at work for the governor; but I'm here now. What's 
 the matter? You look as if you'd lost a fortune." 
 
 She glanced at him, then gazed out at sea with a pathetic 
 gravity. 
 
 " I have been thinking, Mordaunt," she said, "and when 
 woman thinks, when she has done what I have done, it
 
 116 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA, 
 
 makes her sad. Mordaunt, I want you to listen to me. 
 Don't be angry " she clasped her hands tightly in her 
 lap" I want to tell you what I have decided to do/' 
 
 " Well, what have you decided to do?" he said, with 
 assumed lightness, " Something terrible?" 
 
 " Yes, it is terrible," she replied in a low voice. " I have 
 resolved to tell my father." 
 
 He started, and his lips drew together. " Tell your father, 
 Lucy?" he said. " Do you want to ruin me?" 
 
 " God knows I don't want to do that, Mordaunt!" she 
 said, " but I can't bear it any longer. I seem as if my eyes 
 were suddenly opened to the wickedness. I can't bear it any 
 longer! Somehow, something seems to tell me that you have 
 been deceiving me, that you never intended to make me your 
 wife, never intended to let your father know!" She looked 
 up at his face. It was very pale, and his eyelids were well 
 down over his eyes. 
 
 " This is rather sudden, Lucy ; isn't it?" he said. " You 
 take me by surprise." 
 
 " It is sudden," she said. ** It doesn't come all from 
 myself. I've had advice, good advice." 
 
 He started. " Who's been giving you advice?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Mr. Wayre." 
 
 His face flushed hotly, and he darted a look of positive 
 hatred at her. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you told him f" he said, thickly. 
 
 " No, no; oh, no!" she said, with a little shudder; " but I 
 met him last night, and he saw by my face that I was in 
 trouble, and he advised me, in his kind, gentle way, to tell 
 my father; and I must do so, Mordaunt." 
 
 Mordaunt's face cleared somewhat. He stood biting at his 
 mustache. He had inherited something of his lather's 
 shrewdness, and he saw at once that it would be useless to 
 remonstrate with her, or attempt to cajole her. What should 
 he do? Ruin stared him in the face. If she told her father, 
 old Hawker would go straight to Mr. Sapley; all Regna 
 would be eager to avenge the wrong inflicted upon Lucy, who 
 was the accepted belle of the place. He must temporize. 
 
 It is at such moments that terrible temptation assails such 
 men as Mordaunt Sapley. Their very cowardice and weak- 
 ness of character gives them a devilish strength. Your 
 cowards will do anything, will commit any crime, to save his 
 miserable skin, or secure his self-comfort. A terrible tempta- 
 tion assailed Mordaunt Saplev. The devil was whispering in
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 11? 
 
 his ear, as he stood there in the gloaming, beside the innocent 
 girl he had ruined. He tried weakly to put it from him, but 
 it clung to him like the loathsome embrace of a serpent coil- 
 ing round his heart. He laughed a discordant laugh, and 
 Lucy looked up at him with a slight start. 
 
 "It's funny how things come about!" he said. "It's 
 singular you should have arrived at this decision just as I have 
 arrived at a solution of our little difficulty, Lucy." 
 
 " What do you mean, Mordaunt?" she asked. 
 
 " Why, I mean that I too have come to the conclusion that 
 things can't go on like this any longer. It's not fair to you, 
 dear. I know you think I'm selfish, and, perhaps, 1 am a 
 little, but I don't lose sight of your interests also. Now, look 
 here, dearest; I'm going to be quite plain with you. You tell 
 your father, as you threaten, and I'm a ruined man, and 
 you're ruined, too. There would be an awful row, and my 
 father would cast me off without a penny, and we should be 
 just as far away from being married as we are now. In fact, 
 it's a foolish plan of yours, and I've got a far better one." 
 
 She looked at him patiently. 
 
 "Why shouldn't we go off together and be married 
 quietly?" 
 
 The color flooded her face, and her lip trembled. 
 
 " Why shouldn't we go to-night?" he said. " We could 
 catch the night mail from Thraxton, and be married in Lon- 
 don to-morrow, or the day after. A day won't matter." He 
 sneered covertly. 
 
 She rose, her hands clasped tightly, her face pale with emo- 
 tion. "Mordaunt!" she breathed. 
 
 " Why not?" he said. " Nothing's easier. After we're 
 married you can keep quiet in London. You can make some 
 excuse for leaving so suddenly, or you can tell your father the 
 truth and bind him to secrecy. He'll hold his tongue for your 
 sake." 
 
 " Yes!" she murmured. " He would keep our secret if 
 we were married." 
 
 " Just so," said Mordaunt, " and as there's no time like 
 the present, I say let us go to-night. My father's away, and 
 will know nothing. I can come back in a day or two's time. 
 Now, if you're willing, we'll start at once." 
 
 She looked round her confusedly. She was all of a tremble. 
 
 " I can't go like this, Mordaunt!" she breathed. " I must 
 have some clothes!" 
 
 He had foreseen this, and he nodded assentingly. " Eun 
 up home and get what will go into a small bundle," he said.
 
 H8 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REONA. 
 
 " Mind no one sees you, and come back as quickly as possible. 
 \\oinen are sharp at that kiud of thing." 
 
 She did not notice the sneer. 4< Oh, Mordaunt! I am 
 shaking all over," she said. 
 
 He drew her to him, and kissed her with a Judas kiss. 
 
 " It's all right!" he said. " Run up and get the bundle; 
 I'fl wait here. We'll walk along the cliff to Thraxton and 
 catch the mail, and to-morrow, or the day after, you will bt> 
 Mrs. Mordaunt Sapley!" 
 
 She stood for a moment with her hand to her head, then 
 with a long look at him, a look of gratitude and love, she 
 sped away. 
 
 When she had gone, Mordaunt Sapley sunk on to the rock 
 where she had been sitting, and stared out to sea. A cold 
 shaking fit seized him, and he shook like a leaf. The hellish 
 thought in his mind was like the presence of a very devil, and 
 overmastered him. Even then he would have turned back 
 from the path upon which his feet were stepping, a path that 
 shone redly as with blood; but it was too late, for though it 
 had seemed to him but a few minutes, he heard her footsteps 
 returning upon the rocky track, and he started to his feet, 
 white still, but trembling no longer. 
 
 '* Are you ready?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," she panted. " I got the things without any one 
 seeing me. Here they are. It is only a small bundle; you 
 will not be ashamed of me, Mordaunt?" 
 
 " Noi no!" he said, hastily. " Let us go. There is just 
 time to catch the mail." 
 
 They ascended to the cliff path. She was panting still. 
 He tried to speak, but could find no words; his tongue 
 seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. She must have 
 felt the silence oppressive, for presently she said: 
 
 " Mordaunt, speak to me!" 
 
 He turned and looked at her. 
 
 " What's the matter?" he asked. 
 
 She could not see his face, but there must have been some- 
 thing in the tone of his voice which gave her warning. 
 
 'Mordaunt!" she gasped. " I am afraid I can't do it! I 
 can't go and leave my father without a word! Let us go 
 back." 
 
 He gripped her arm. " Hold your tongue, you fool!" he 
 hissed. It's too late to go back!" 
 
 " I must! I must!" she cried. Unconsciously she raised 
 her voice. 
 ; He gripped her still mor tightly and looked round fearfully.
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT EEGNA. 119 
 
 " Hold your tongue!" he said, thickly, his mouth close to 
 her ear. " Some one will hear us!" 
 
 But fear had gained possession of her, a vague fear no less 
 terrible for its vagueness. 
 
 " I will go no further, Mordaunt!" she said in broken 
 accents. " Let me go back and tell my father?" 
 
 He laughed, and seized her other arm. " You'd rather ruin 
 me, you fool!" he exclaimed. 
 
 " No! no! 1 don't want to ruin you, Mordaunt. Let me 
 go back, and I'll promise not to say a word!" 
 
 "As if I'd trust you or any other woman," he snarled. 
 His face wore the expression it had worn when he had 
 beaten the terrier pup. 
 
 She strove to wrench her arms from his grasp. He had 
 edged her, perhaps unconsciously, to the brink of the cliff. 
 He heard the sea rolling in the dizzy depth below him, the 
 devil of murder, that had been whispering at his ear for an 
 hour past, now prompted him. He forced her still nearer the 
 edge; then, as she swayed on the brink, he released her arms, 
 and she fell over, with a cry that seemed to go through him 
 like a knife. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE moment she had fallen, Mordaunt realized what he had 
 done. He stood alone on the edge of the cliff; the girl who 
 had loved him so devotedly was lying on the beach beneath. 
 He, who ought to have cherished and protected her against 
 every ill, had taken her life. 
 
 He was a murderer! 
 
 As he realized the fact, Mordaunt, obeying the impulse 
 which comes to every shedder of blood, looked round him 
 fearfully. Had any one seen them together, had any one 
 heard her terrible cry, the cry that was still ringing in his 
 ears? All was still; "he seemed to be alone, alone with the 
 devil that had prompted him to do the deed, and now 
 mocked him with a futile remorse. 
 
 At that moment Mordaunt Sapley would have bartered all 
 his hopes of winning Claire, of inheriting his father's wealth, 
 of life itself, for Lucy's presence once more beside him. The 
 whole seemed like a hideous dream. Surely it was impossible 
 that he, a gentleman, a 'Varsity man, who vaunted himself 
 of his culture and refinement, could have stooped to a com- 
 mon, vulgar murder! What a fool he had been! If things
 
 130 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfJL. 
 
 had come to the worst, if Lucy had carried out her threat, 
 and made known their intrigue, matters would not have been 
 so bad after all. He might have given the Hawkers' money, 
 any amount of money, might have left Regna until the 
 storm blew over. He had done no more than many anothei 
 young man. She would have suffered; but people would have 
 forgiven him his share in the business and soon forgotten it. 
 
 He tore at his lips as these thoughts passed through his 
 mind, and cursed himself aloud. Then fears for his own 
 safety began to crowd upon him. The body was lying on the 
 beach; it would be found by one of the fishermen or coast- 
 guard ; if the tide washed it out to sea it would be picked up 
 by one of the boats. He must do something with it! But 
 what? 
 
 Looking round again, listening intently, he, stooping low, 
 descended the cliff, going in a zigzag fashion from ledge to 
 ledge in a way that he would not dared to have attempted 
 in broad daylight and under ordinary circumstances. That he 
 reached the bottom in safety is an extraordinary fact. The 
 sky was cloudy, but the moon behind the drifts lent him 
 sufficient light by which to see the slight form stretched out 
 upon the shore. 
 
 She was lying upon a little strip of sand with her face 
 upturned. He stumbled toward her, and, almost lying beside 
 her, laid his hand upon her heart; it was quite still; he knew 
 that she was dead. He gazed at the white face with a red 
 streak across it from a wound on her forehead, gazed in a 
 kind of stupor. Suddenly a kind of hope seized him. \Vliy 
 should not people think she had fallen over the cliff? The 
 blood flew to his face, then left it white again, as a groan 
 burst from his lips; his eyes had fallen upon her wrists, upon 
 which were the red marks of his fingers; they would be black 
 ently and would tell their own tale. 
 
 He rose to his feet, and, swaying to and fro, clasped his 
 head in his hands. What should he do with the body? His 
 eye fell upon a piece of wood, which had washed ashore from 
 some wreck; its shape bore, or he fancied that it bore, some 
 resemblance to a spade, and it gave him an idea. He sprung 
 at it, and began to dig in the patch of sand. He dug with 
 feverish energy, the sweat pouring off him in streams, his eyes 
 never lifted from his task until he had excavated a hole some 
 three feet deep. Then he straightened his back and ap- 
 proached the body. He went toward it slowly, looking over 
 his shoulder, as if he dared not permit his eyes to rest on it. 
 Three or four times his hands stretched out "toward it before
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 121 
 
 he could summon courage to touch it, and when he did so, a 
 shudder shook him from head to foot. 
 
 He dragged the body into the hole, and began to cover it 
 with sand. What horrors seized and shook him during this 
 grewsome business no pen can describe; once or twice he was 
 compelled to stop, overcome by a deathly sickness. He fan- 
 cied that he could see her face looking up at him reproach- 
 fully, could hear her voice pleading for her life. 
 
 When he had filled in the sand, he dragged some rocks and 
 stones over the grave, arranging them as naturally as pos- 
 sible; then he stopped and looked seaward. In another hour 
 the tide would cover the spot and smooth away all evidence of 
 his work. 
 
 He was safe! 
 
 His brain was working acutely now, and he could plan. In- 
 case the body should by some miracle be recovered, and he- 
 should be suspected, it would be well for him to be able to 
 prove an alibi. There was just time for him to get round the 
 cliffs and on to the Thraxton road by a path he knew, before 
 the tide rose. He would go into the hotel at Thraxton and 
 talk with some one. Chance might help him. 
 
 He started off, and had rounded the point for which he was 
 making just as the tide was within a foot of his path; then 
 suddenly he stopped, and a hot wave rushed over him. The 
 bundle which Lucy had been carrying! What had become of 
 it? Had she dropped it on the cliffs? No; he felt sure that 
 she had not done so; he remembered that it was slung upon 
 her arm as he gripped her. It must be lying somewhere on 
 the beach, somewhere near where she had fallen. He looked 
 back; the tide was coming up, there would be no time to 
 retrace his steps and return; he dared not risk climbing the 
 cliff, for his knees shook under him and his head swam. He 
 must leave it! But, oh, Heaven! the terrible danger that 
 lurked in the discovery of that bundle! He made a slight 
 detour so that he came in from inland.. Just as he entered 
 the town a man with a carrier's cart met him. 
 
 The man gave him good-night, and asked him the time. 
 Mordaunt glanced at his watch by the light of the man's lan- 
 tern, and was about to give him the right time; then, with a 
 flash of cunning, he said ten, instead of half past. 
 
 " Lor'! I thought it was later," said the man. 
 
 " That's the right time," said Mordaunt, standing full in 
 the light of the lantern and forcing a smile. " Good-night." 
 
 He went on and reached the hotel. Outside, he paused a 
 moment, and then went round to the billiard-room which the
 
 122 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 enterprising landlord had built at the back. He looked in at 
 the window; the room was empty, the gas turned low. He 
 opened the door stealthily, and entering, stretched himself full 
 length upon one of the settees. 
 
 He lay there for about a quarter of an hour, when the 
 billiard-marker entered. 
 
 "Good-evening, sir," he said, turning up the gas. 
 didn't know any one was here, Mr. Sapley. " 
 
 Mordaunt stretched himself and yawned. " I've been here 
 this last hour or more/' he said, daringly. 
 
 " Have you, now, sir?" said the marker. " I am very 
 sorry. I've been busy in the bar. And you've been waiting 
 for a game all this time?" 
 
 " It doesn't matter," said Mordaunt; " I just came over 
 for the walk; came along the turnpike road, and, feeling 
 rather tired, I fell asleep." 
 
 " You do look rather done up, sir," said the marker. 
 
 Mordaunt edged along the settee, out of the light of the 
 billiard lamp. 
 
 " That's your fancy," he said, sharply. " I never felt 
 better in my life. Get me a glass of brandy." 
 
 Immediately the man had left the room, Mordaunt sprung 
 upon the settee and put the clock above his head half an hour 
 behind time. It was an irregular clock at the best of times, 
 as he knew well; but it would serve his purpose; at any rate, 
 it would set up a doubt; and a doubt saves where murder is 
 concerned. He had raced along from the beach; the car- 
 rier's evidence, the time by the billiard-room clock, would 
 serve to set up an alibi. 
 
 The man came back with the brandy, and Mordaunt, with 
 his back to him, only pretended to put in the water, and 
 drank the spirit neat. He had a fifty game with the marker, 
 and strove every nerve to win it and did so, another point 
 in his favor. What murderer would come red-handed from 
 his deed of blood and win a game from the marker? 
 
 He talked and laughed more than usual, and when the game 
 was over went and lolled against the bar, chaffing the bar- 
 maid, while he drank some more brandy. 
 
 *' You've got a long walk, Mr. Sapley," she said. " You'd 
 better let us get the gig for you." 
 
 But he refused the offer. " I shall enjoy the walk," he 
 said. " I've been resting here nearly a couple of hours." 
 
 He lighted a cigar, and left the hotel with a laugh on his 
 lips. As he walked along he felt strangely excited. He had 
 drunk the first lot of brandy neat, and had taken very little
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 123 
 
 water with the others, and, not being accustomed to raw 
 spirits, they had taken effect upon him. After all, as he told 
 himself as he walked along, things were not so bad. It wasn't 
 murder, come to consider it coolly. She had edged toward 
 the cliff of her own accord; he had only let go of her arms. 
 And he was free of her! She had been a stumbling-block in 
 his path, a standing menace. No one would find her, and if 
 they did, no one would suspect him, Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, a 
 'Varsity man, of such a vulgar crime. He began to whistle, 
 but presently the whistle died away. Exhaustion was coming 
 upon him. He had gone through enough that night to drive 
 even a strong-minded man into a lunatic asylum. When he 
 reached the house he was limp and trembling. As he opened 
 the door his father came into the passage. The sight of him 
 gave Mordaunt a turn; he had not expected him back for a 
 couple of days. 
 
 '^Is that you, Mordy?" asked Mr. Sapley. " You're very 
 late." 
 
 " I am, rather," said Mordaunt, trying to speak with his 
 affected drawl. 
 
 Mr. Sapley looked at him as he followed into the parlor. 
 
 " What's the matter?" he asked, bending his brows. 
 
 " Matter?" said Mordaunt, thickly, and with a ghastly 
 attempt at a smile; the light and the heat of the stuffy room 
 made him reel. " Nothing. What should be the matter?" 
 
 Mr. Sapley peered at him. " You look queer," he said. 
 " Where have yon been?" 
 
 Mordaunt had hoped to reach his room unseen; this unex- 
 pected meeting with his father and his questioning unnerved 
 him. 
 
 " I've been to Thraxton for a game of billiards," he said. 
 " Beaten the marker, too. I've been there since nine o'clock. 
 I say, since nine o'clock!" 
 
 Old Sapley eyed him keenly. " You've been drinking," 
 he said. 
 
 Mordaunt laughed unsteadily. He welcomed the accusa- 
 tion. 
 
 "I've had a glass or two," he said. " The hotel liquor is 
 thundering bad, and I fancy it's got into my head. Is there 
 any soda water here?" He went to the sideboard, staggering 
 slightly, and got a syphon. " I didn't expect you back so 
 soon." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Sapley. " But I got my business done 
 quicker than I thought. I was just in time to sell out of that 
 company. It went smash the next day. No end of people
 
 124 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 ruined over that business. Mostly clergymen and widows and 
 people of that kind, I can't think how people can be such 
 fools to put their money into such concerns; but they always 
 do." He rubbed his chin, and his lips twisted into a smile. 
 " I made a good thing out of that! Feel better now? It isn't 
 like you to take too much, Mordy." 
 
 Mordaunt got the brandy decanter and poured out a liberal 
 quantity. 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right," he said; " what were you saying?" 
 
 "I was saying that luck seemed to be standing fast by 
 me," said old Sapley, taking some papers from his pocket and 
 turning them over, " and while luck's with you, then is the 
 time to strike out. How have you been getting on with Miss 
 Sartoris?" He cast a shrewd glance at Mordauut, who sat 
 with his head resting on his hand. 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Mordaunt, with a laugh and a hic- 
 cough. " She's been very friendly with me quite chummy. 
 I gave her a flower the other day, and she took it as if she 
 liked it." 
 
 Mr. Sapley stretched his mouth into a grin of satisfaction. 
 " She did, did she?" he said. " That's right, Mordy! You 
 stick to it. Keep on paying her little attentions and going 
 on the humble and respectful dodge as I advised you; there's 
 nothing gets over a woman like that. 1 know them! And 
 when the time's ripe strike! Don't you be afraid take 
 example by me I've never been afraid to seize my luck when 
 I saw it lying within my grasp. Remember that I'm at the 
 back of you!" 
 
 Mordaunt looked up at him hazily. " This isn't the first 
 time you've hinted at some kind of power you've got over 
 Miss Sartoris, guv'nor. What does it mean?" 
 
 Mr. Sapley's expression changed at once to one of cunning 
 cautiousness. 
 
 " Never you mind," he said, pursing his lips and nodding 
 with a kind of grim self-satisfaction. " You do your part 
 and I'll do mine. Your part's the love-making, and with 
 your education and the rest of it, you ought to be able to do 
 it well enough, or what was the use of my sending you to col- 
 lege. But look here, Mordy," he went on more gravely, 
 "there must be no more of this kind of thing! You must 
 keep off the drink. And there must be no philandering with 
 any other girl. I've heard that you've been seen once or 
 twice with that girl of old Hawker's what's her name? 
 Lucy"
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 125 
 
 Mordaunt's face went white, and then crimson, and he 
 started to his feet, clutching the table. 
 
 " Who says that?" he demanded, shrilly. " It's a lie! 
 It's ad dliel" 
 
 Mr. Sapley was startled at his vehemence, and the two 
 looked at each other across the table in silence for a moment, 
 then old Sapley said, almost apologetically: 
 
 " All right, Mordy; there's no need to get into a fury. I 
 only tell you what I've heard, and remind you that you've 
 got to be cautious. There's nothing a woman will forgive 
 sooner than a man fooling about another woman. But if you 
 say there's nothing in it, why, there isn't, and I'm satisfied." 
 
 " There isn't," said Mordaunt, sullenly, and covertly 
 moistening his lips, which were dry and burning. " The girl's 
 nothing to me; I've scarcely spoken to her not more than 
 any other girl in the place! What do you mean?" As he 
 spoke, he stretched out his hand for the spirit decanter; but 
 his father seized his arm. 
 
 " All right, all right, Mordy," he said, soothingly. " You've 
 had enough for to-night; let the brandy alone, and go to bed." 
 
 Mordaunt's hands fell limply on the table. " Perhaps 
 you're right," he said, with a shaky laugh, and with uncertain 
 steps he left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WHEN" Claire came down to breakfast the next morning she 
 was rather paler than usual, and there were dark shadows 
 under her eyes. 
 
 " You are not looking well, dear, this morning/' said Mrs. 
 Lexton, with tender solicitude. 
 
 " I have had a bad night," said Claire, quietly. " 1 shall 
 be all right when we've had a drive." 
 
 The night had been altogether a sleepless one for her. The 
 doubts which always follow decisive action had assailed her 
 through the silent hours of the night. After all, had she been 
 just to Gerald? Her love for him took up arms and fought 
 in his behalf. Had she any right to doubt his love, to send 
 him away with that curt " No," because of a flirtation which, 
 perhaps, was quite innocent and harmless? Very probably 
 Lucy had thrown herself in. his way, and he had meant 
 nothing more than that kind of friendliness which a man of 
 the world would extend to a simple village girl. Something 
 within her championed Gerald's cause and made her think 
 that she had been needlessly cruel, both to him and herself.
 
 12(] THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 His words rang in her ears with the accents of truth, and sha 
 almost regretted bitterly her refusal of him. 
 
 But regrets were futile now. He was too proud to repeat 
 his offer of love; he would avoid her while he was compelled 
 to remain at Kegna, and then pass from her life forever! 
 
 It is scarcely too much to say that if Gerald had presented 
 himself that morning she would have confessed her love and 
 refrained even from asking for an explanation. 
 
 After breakfast the carriage was ordered for a long drive to 
 a distant farm, and Claire was waiting on the terrace, with 
 her head resting on her hand and her eyes fixed dreamily on 
 the sea, across which Gerald was at this moment sailing, when 
 Lee passed close below her. He touched his hat, and then 
 stopped. 
 
 Claire roused herself, and wished him good-morning. 
 
 " Good-morning, miss," said Lee, respectfully and hesitat- 
 ingly. " Have you seen Mr. Wayre this morning, miss?" 
 
 The color rose to Claire's face for a moment. " No," she 
 said. 
 
 " I asked, miss, because 1 wanted to see him, and 1 didn't 
 know whether he'd be here this morning." 
 
 " Why not?" asked Claire, trying to speak indifferently. 
 
 " Well, miss," said Lee, " Mr. Wayre was looking very 
 knocked up last night quite ill, as you may say, and I made 
 so bold as to advise him to take a holiday." 
 
 Claire averted her face. " Perhaps he has done so," she 
 said, coldly. 
 
 " I'm thinking he may have done so, miss," he said, " see- 
 ing as he's not here. He's generally first on the works. I 
 shouldn't want to trouble him," he went on, shyly, " but I've 
 lost one of the plans. He may have taken it with him by 
 mistake; I think I'll walk down to the cottage. Good- 
 morning, miss." 
 
 Claire's heart sunk. Had he gone away already? 
 
 The carriage came round, and they started for their drive. 
 Claire was very silent for a time; then, as she felt that Mrs. 
 Lexton was watching her anxiously, she roused herself and 
 assumed a cheerfulness she was far from feeling. It seemed 
 as if something had gone out of her life, as if the brightness 
 which had of late warmed and illuminated it had become 
 overclouded. 
 
 They stayed for some little time at the farm, and Claire 
 proposed that they should go home another way, which would 
 take them through Regna. She would not have admitted to 
 herself that her reason for doing so was her desire to learn if
 
 127 
 
 Gerald had gone. As they drove along the road above the 
 Hawkers' cottage they saw a small group of persons on the 
 terrace talking together with evident signs of excitement. 
 Amongst them Claire discerned Lee. 
 
 " Something seems to be the matter, Claire," said Mrs. 
 Lexton. " Oh, dear, I hope it isn't an accident." 
 
 Claire stopped the carriage. " We will go down and see," 
 she said. 
 
 As they approached the cottage, the group became silent, 
 and touching their hats, looked awkward and constrained. 
 
 " Is anything the matter?" asked Claire. 
 
 " Well, we don't rightly know, miss," said a fisherman. 
 " There's something wrong in there;" and he jerked his head 
 toward the cottage. 
 
 " Something wrong? Some one ill?" asked Claire. " Who 
 is it?" 
 
 " It's Miss Lucy, miss," said the man. 
 
 " Lucy ill!" said Claire; and she hastened to the cottage. 
 
 The door was open, and she entered. Old Hawker was 
 sitting at the table, with his head bowed upon his hands. He 
 looked up, and his face struck Claire with a foreboding of 
 some great trouble. 
 
 " Oh, what is the matter, Captain Hawker?" she asked. 
 
 He rose, leaning heavily on the table. " It's my geli, 
 Lucy, miss," he said, hoarsely. 
 
 " Lucy? What is wrong with her?" asked Claire. 
 
 " She's gone!" said the old man, brokenly. 
 
 " Gone?" repeated Claire. 
 
 " Yes, miss," he said, huskily. " She's left me! My gell 
 Lucy!" 
 
 Claire was silent for a moment, and then she said: " Try 
 and tell me all about it, Captain Hawker. Perhaps you are 
 distressing yourself without cause." 
 
 The old man shook his head. " No, miss. She's gone- 
 right enough! Gone without a word!" 
 
 '' When did she go?" asked Claire. 
 
 " Last night," he said, hoarsely. " Without a word!" 
 
 " But there may be no cause for alarm," said Claire, 
 soothingly. " She may have gone to pay a visit to some 
 friend, and been detained remained the night. She will be 
 here presently. " 
 
 The old man tried to accept the encouragement, but shook 
 his head and groaned. 
 
 " Where could she have gone, miss?" he said. " She 
 could have sent word, or would have been back early this
 
 3gg THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 morning. No, miss, she's left me! Last nights she took 
 some things clothes with her, and stole away. I shall 
 never see her again!" 
 
 " Oh, why should you think that?" said Claire. 
 
 " It's borne home upon me, miss!" he said. " I know it 
 as certain as if I saw her dead this very moment. " He sunk 
 into the chair and hid his face with his huge rough hands. 
 Then he let them fall, and looked out of the window with 
 stolid despair. " I've noticed a change in her for some tiino 
 past, miss," he said. " She was nervous and timid like, 
 sometimes moping, and sometimes wild and gay like. I've 
 noticed it!" 
 
 *' Where do you think she has gone?" asked Claire. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Do not despair," said Claire. " Perhaps you'll hear 
 from her by this very next post, explaining everything." 
 
 " No, miss," he said, almost inaudibly. " She'll be too 
 'shamed to write!" 
 
 " Ashamed?" echoed Claire. 
 
 " Yes, miss," he said, huskily. " She's not gone alone." 
 
 " Not gone alone?" said Claire, with a vague presentiment 
 of what was coming. 
 
 " No, miss. She's gone with him curse him!" 
 
 Claire's eyes asked with whom; her lips refused to frame 
 the question. 
 
 " With Mr. Wayre!" said the old man. 
 
 Claire caught the edge of the table, for a sudden faintness 
 assailed her. 
 
 " Oh, no, no!" she breathed. " Not with him!" 
 
 " Ay, you may well be took back, miss," he said, bitterly. 
 " He's deceived us all. I thought him as holiest and open as 
 the day a true gentleman. But he's proved himself a 
 villain!" 
 
 " No, no!" said Claire. " It is not true. You have no 
 right " Her heart revolted against the accusation. That 
 the man who stood before her but a few hours since could be 
 guilty of the mean betrayal of an innocent girl seemed pre- 
 posterous and impossible! She controlled herself by a great 
 effort. " There is some mistake!" she said, almost calmly. 
 
 " I do not know very much of Mr. Wayre," her lips trem- 
 bled, " but I know he is incapable of doing what you suspect." 
 ' There's no mistake, miss," said the old man, shaking his 
 head. " He left last night, too, and without a word. Why 
 should he go, and at the same time, and so suddenly? He 
 wasn't thinking of going. He oulv waited to take a few
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 129 
 
 things in a bag; the room's all untidy, and littered as he 
 threw the things about." 
 
 Claire sunk into a chair. A sudden weakness seemed to 
 have fallen upon her. " 1 can not believe it! 1 ' she mur- 
 mured, more to herself than to him. 
 
 " It is impossible!" whispered Mrs. Lexton, who had been 
 standing inside the door. She was almost as moved as Claire, 
 for she had taken a great liking to Gerald, and had even less 
 cause to suspect him than Claire had. 
 
 The old man shook his head again. " Ay, so any one would 
 have said, mum," he said. "But there's other things 
 besides his going so suddenly and at the same time. He and 
 Lucy have been seen together, walking alone at night, and in 
 out-of-the-way places. Folks can tell you now it's too late!" 
 he added, bitterly. 
 
 " They was always together," said a woman amongst the 
 group outside the door. " I see 'em last night!" As she 
 spoke, Mr. Sapley pushed his way through. 
 
 " What's this I hear?" he began; then he saw Claire, and 
 removed his hat. Close behind him followed Mordaunt. He 
 was looking haggard, and just as a man does after a night's 
 heavy drinking. He would have given all he possessed to 
 have been able to keep away from the village; but he could 
 not. Something seemed to draw him toward it; a loathsome 
 craving to learn what effect Lucy's disappearance had created, 
 and how the village folks would explain her sudden and unex- 
 pected absence. 
 
 He did not enter the room, but stood just outside the door, 
 trying to call a little color into his cheeks, and to assume an 
 air of benevolent interest. 
 
 Old Sapley listened with bent brows to old Hawker's story, 
 and Mordaunt, as he, too, listened, felt a sudden thrill of 
 malignant satisfaction which at last sent the desired color to 
 his cheeks. 
 
 "Gone off with Miss Lucy!" said old Sapley, grimly. 
 " That's a bad business!" 
 
 A sudden inspiration fell upon Mordaunt one of those 
 inspirations which often come to the criminal whose brain is 
 sharpened by mingled fear and cunning. He stepped inside 
 the room. 
 
 " I don't believe it!" he said, quite warmly. " I beg your 
 pardon, Miss Sartoris. Perhaps I've no right to express an 
 opinion, as I don't know all the circumstances of the case; 
 but I can't help saying that I don't believe it!" 
 
 6
 
 130 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 CJaire raised her eyes and looked at him with a sudden 
 hope. He caught the glance, and followed up his happy idea. 
 
 don't think Mr. Wayre would be guilty of this that is laid to 
 his charge." 
 
 Claire's lips moved. Her eyes were fixed upon his face. 
 She felt grateful to him. Knowing as she did of his en- 
 counter with Gerald on the night of his arrival, his conduct 
 in standing up for the absent man seemed to her mag- 
 nanimous to a degree. Mordaunt understood the expression 
 in her eyes, and his heart warmed as if he were actually as 
 noble as he seemed. 
 
 " Mr. Wayre was a gentleman," he said. " He had his 
 faults, like most of us, but I am sure that he was incapable 
 of such baseness as this. It's true that we don't know very 
 much about him, but one can read a man's character pretty 
 correctly, even after a short acquaintance, and, as 1 have said, 
 you will find that Mr. Wayre knows nothing whatever of this 
 business, and is in no way connected with Miss Lucy's disap- 
 pearance." 
 
 Claire rose. " Thank you," she sajd, almost inaudibly. 
 " Mr. Wayre will himself thank you when he returns." 
 
 Poor old Hawker shook his head. " He won't come 
 back!" he said in a kind of stupor. " He's been seen with 
 her; he's taken her away from me!" 
 
 " Who has seen Mr. Wayre with her?" asked Mordaunt, 
 turning upon the group at the door. 
 
 There was an awkward silence for a moment or two, then 
 the woman who had spoken before, said, half sullenly: " I've 
 seen 'em, and there's several more as 'ev seen 'em; Jenks for 
 one." And she turned appealingly to Jenks, the coastguard. 
 He had been standing on the edge of the crowd, smoking his 
 pipe, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and with an 
 air of not desiring to take any part in the discussion. The 
 man had rather a sharp, hatchet-shaped face, with small, 
 shifty eyes, and these eyes had been watching Mr. Mordaunt 
 as that gentleman spoke in Gerald's defense. Appealed to 
 now by the woman, and with every eye upon him, he moved 
 uneasily, and without taking his pipe from his mouth, mut- 
 tered, reluctantly: 
 
 " Yes, I've seen 'em!" 
 
 Mordaunt looked at kirn. " When?" he asked.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 131 
 
 " The other night, on the cliff path/' said Jenks, without 
 raising his eyes. 
 
 Mordaunt seemed staggered for a moment at this combined 
 testimony; then he said, boldly: " Bat what does all this 
 prove? Nothing! Snrely a gentleman may be seen talking 
 to a well-conducted girl like Lucy Hawker without being sus- 
 pected of any evil designs! Why, any one of us, under such 
 jircumstances, may easily lay ourselves open to a similar 
 charge, if the mere fact of being seen with a person of the 
 opposite sex is considered sufficient cause for suspicion." 
 
 Mr. Sapley, who had been regarding his son with covert 
 surprise for he knew that Mordaunt hated Gerald mut- 
 tered: " I ought to have sent him to the Bar!" Then he 
 said, aloud: 
 
 " It seems to me we're wasting time. The girl can't have 
 gone far. It ought not to be difficult to trace her; she would 
 be seen and recognized at Thraxton Station, and we could 
 telegraph and put the police on her track. " 
 
 " I'll have no perlice set on my gell!" said old Hawker, 
 with sudden vehemence. 
 
 His father's speech had driven the color from Mordaunt's 
 face. It was from such practical minds as that of his father 
 he had most to fear. 
 
 " Captain Hawker is quite right," he said. " 1 can quite 
 understand his feelings. Publicity must er be avoided as 
 much as possible. We must study Captain Hawker's feel- 
 ings." 
 
 Old Sapley knit his brows and looked at his son in aston- 
 ishment. He was coming out in quite a new character. Mr. 
 Sapley could scarcely repress a grin. 
 
 " What should you advise, Mordaunt?" he said, half mock- 
 ingly- 
 
 " Inquiries must be made, of course/' said Mordaunt, " and 
 if Captain Hawker will permit me, I shall be glad to do what 
 I can. I will go down to Thraxton; I will ride to the junc- 
 tion and wire inquiries." 
 
 " They may have crossed the Channel from here or from 
 the next port," suggested old Sapley, showing by the " they " 
 that he, at any rate, believed Gerald guilty. 
 
 " She may!" admitted Mordaunt. " In that case, I fear 
 pursuit will be almost hopeless." 
 
 " She's gone with him!" muttered old Hawker, brokenly. 
 
 " I will go at once," said Mordaunt. " One of you go up 
 to the house and bring my horse." 
 
 A barefooted boy, delighted with the errand, darted off.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT 
 
 Claire rose and laid her hand it trembled upon the old 
 man's shoulder. " Do not lose all hope," she said, pityingly. 
 " Mr. Mordaunt will make inquiries at once. He will be sure 
 to find her. No one in these days of the telegraph can dis- 
 appear without being traced." 
 
 " God bless you, miss!" said the old man. " But I know 
 it's of no use. I shall never see her again!" 
 
 Claire went outside. Mr. Mordaunt was standing talking 
 to the group, and he turned to her at once. 
 
 " Let me take you to your carriage, Miss Sartoris?" he 
 said. His tone was quite different to his usual one; all the 
 foolish affectation was gone out of him. Strange as it may 
 seem, his crime and the terrible danger in which he stood 
 had almost made a man of Mr. Mordaunt Sapley. Life had 
 become a fearfully serious thing for him, and his foolish 
 Oxford tricks of speech and manner were cast from him. 
 
 As they walked to the carriage Claire said in a low voice: 
 " You have behaved very nobly this morning, Mr. Mordaunt. 
 You have stood up in defense of one who, being absent, is 
 unable to defend himself." 
 
 The blood shot to Mordaunt' s face. What a lucky idea 
 that was of his! "I only said what I thought," he said. 
 " I do not think Mr. Wayre guilty." 
 
 " Nor I," said Claire, trying to control her voice, " though 
 circumstances " 
 
 " Circumstantial evidence should never be relied upon, or 
 hardly ever," he said. " Many an innocent man has been 
 hung upon it. But even supposing that Mr. Wayre has gone 
 off with Lucy Hawker, it doesn't follow that he intends to do 
 her a wrong." 
 
 Claire had entered the carriage, and she turned her face to 
 him with parted lips. 
 
 " I mean," he said, " that he may marry her. Why not? 
 She is, I believe, an extremely nice girl, rather above her 
 station, and Mr. Wayre may consider her quit fit to be his 
 wife." 
 
 Claire said nothing, but drew her veil over her face. 
 
 " May I come and tell you the result of my inquiries, Miss 
 Sartoris; you would like to hear?" 
 
 ' Thank you. If you please Yes; I shall be glad." 
 
 The carriage drove away. When it had gone, the reaction 
 set in upon Mordaunt. The flush that the excitement of 
 playing his part had caused died away, and his face resumed 
 its worn and haggard appearance. What a terrible path he 
 was treading? He was like a man walking on the edge of a
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 133 
 
 volcano. And yet what had he to fear? Fate seemed to have 
 come to his assistance. That Gerald Way re should have dis- 
 appeared so suddenly and without cause was providential for 
 him, Mordaunt. It was true that Wayre might return at any 
 moment; but, at any rate, time was gained. Who knew; 
 Fate might stand by him still! At any rate, he held the 
 threads of the tangled web in his hand. If he could hide his 
 guilty secret, could keep Gerald Wayre from returning and 
 proving his innocence, he might follow up the steps he had 
 gained in Miss Sartoris's favor. For a moment or two his 
 dread gave way to the nattering unction of ambition. Lucy 
 out of the way, he was free to win the good -will of the mis- 
 tress of Court Eegna. 
 
 The boy came clattering down the road with his horse. 
 Mordaunt gave him a shilling, and mounting, rode quickly 
 toward Thraxton. As he came to the bend of the road, lead- 
 ing to Begna, a figure stepped out from the side path and 
 stood in his way. It was Jenks, the coastguard. 
 
 Mordaunt was riding past, but something in the man's face 
 arrested him, and he pulled up. 
 
 " Well, what is it, Jenks?" he asked, impatiently. " Has 
 anything further been discovered?" 
 
 Jenks looked at the empty pipe he held in his hand, and 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Not as I knows of, sir," he said, still keeping his eyes on 
 his pipe. " I was only going to ask your honor for a bit o' 
 'bacca!" 
 
 Mordaunt's face flushed angrily. " Is this a time to stop 
 me on such an excuse?" he said, hotly. " You're always 
 begging for tobaccol" 
 
 Jenks still looked at his pipe impassively. 
 
 " No offense, sir," he said. " I'm a poor man, and 'bacca 
 costs a deal o' money." 
 
 Mordaunt swore at him again. " I haven't any," he said. 
 " Get out of my way!" 
 
 Jenks did not move. He stood right in front of the horse, 
 and looked as if he meant to lay hold of the bridle. 
 
 " Perhaps yer honor'll give me the price of a pipe?" he 
 said. 
 
 As he spoke, he raised his shifty eyes with a peculiar expres- 
 sion to Mordaunt's face. Mordaunt went scarlet with anger, 
 and his lips parted with another oath; but something in the 
 man's small eyes was it a menace? struck Mordaunt dumb. 
 The color left his face, and he sat like a man under a epelL
 
 134 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 
 
 A sudden fear, springing from whence he knew not, cramped 
 his heart. 
 
 "Confound you!" he said; "you are a confirmed beg- 
 gar V 
 
 He took a coin from his pocket, scarcely conscious that it 
 was a sovereign, and flung it to the ground, and rode on, 
 cursing himself for a fool. for being frightened at a man's 
 glance. 
 
 Jenks picked up the coin and looked over his shoulder at the 
 retreating horseman, with a strange smile. " You're a bold 
 'un!" he muttered. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THERE was very little work done in Regna for the remainder 
 of that day. The people stood about in groups discussing 
 Lucy's disappearance with mingled sorrow and indignation; 
 for the Hawkers were old inhabitants and very much re- 
 spected, and Lucy herself had been the acknowledged belle of 
 the place. Of course, the women blamed her, while the men 
 freely cursed Gerald; and not one of them had the least sus- 
 picion of the real criminal. By some it was thought that 
 Lucy was too good a girl to be led astray, and that she was 
 either already secretly married, or that Gerald would marry 
 her at the earliest opportunity; Mordannt Sapley's boldly 
 declared opinion naturally carried some weight. 
 
 But old Hawker refused to be comforted, and was still 
 firmly convinced that he should never see Lucy again. There 
 was a good deal of pride about Regna; it was a little place by 
 itself, full of a certain independence and jealous of its reputa- 
 tion, and it was unanimously agreed that the scandal should 
 be hushed up as closely as possible; so that whatever they 
 thought, they openly declared their belief that things would 
 turn out all right, and that Lucy would return " an honest 
 woman." 
 
 Mordaunt Sapley did not come back until the next day. He 
 had left his horse at Thraxton and had gone down the line, 
 ostensibly to make inquiries. He rode straight to the cottage 
 with his report, and though he looked haggard and worn, as a 
 man might be expected to look who had been traveling so 
 many hours without rest, he bore a cheerful and encouraging 
 countenance. His reappearance had been noticed, and a small 
 group gathered round the door, and he addressed them as 
 much as the bereaved father.
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COUET KEGNA. 135 
 
 "You were right and I was wrong," he said, gravely. 
 " She has gone with Mr. Way re." 
 
 A murmur rose, and old Hawker groaned and clinched his 
 hand. 
 
 " I traced them as far as Welby Junction, and there I found 
 that a gentleman, answering to Mr. Wayre's description, in 
 company with a young girl, had taken tickets for London. 
 They failed to identify her by my description, but a porter 
 remembered seeing the gentleman carrying a bundle wrapped 
 in a large blue cotton apron or handkerchief." He paused 
 and looked inquiringly, and one of the women said: 
 
 " Ay, that's Lucy's right enough! She must have wrapped 
 her things up in it." 
 
 Mordaunt Sapley moistened his lips covertly. " That 
 removes all doubt, then," he said. " I could have placed the 
 matter in the hands of the police, but, as I said yesterday, I 
 did not think it would be well to do so, and I have communi- 
 cated with a friend in London with whom my father does 
 business, and asked him to make inquiries. He will spare no 
 expense, and I have no doubt that we shall soon hear of the 
 fugitive." 
 
 The listeners murmured their approval, and old Hawker 
 stammered a few words of gratitude. 
 
 " I am still confident," said Mordaunt, as he mounted his 
 horse, " that Mr. Wayre will act honorably by your daughter; 
 and if he should not have already done so, we will find some 
 means of compelling him. I should advise you to talk about 
 the matter as little as possible, and to think of her as 
 charitably as you can. After all," he concluded, with a 
 forced smile, " she is not the only girl who has run away from 
 home and made a secret marriage." 
 
 Mordaunt Sapley was not by any means a favorite; but a 
 great many who heard him felt convinced that he was a 
 better sort of man than they had thought him, and they agreed 
 that he had acted in this matter as a true friend to the 
 Hawkers and to Kegna in general. 
 
 Mordaunt rode straight up to the Court, feeling that his 
 dusty, travel-stained appearance would count in his favor with 
 Miss Sartoris. He was shown into the library, and presently 
 'Claire came to him. He noticed that a change had taken 
 place in her appearance since he had last seen her. She was 
 no paler than usual, but there was a set look about her eyes 
 vand lips as if she had suffered from the painful event, and as 
 if she were trying to subdue all signs of that suffering. 
 
 " I have come up at once, Miss Sartoris," he said, " for I
 
 136 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 thought you would like to hear what news I had as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " Thank you/' said Claire. She stood with one hand rest- 
 ing on the table, her face turned toward the window, as if she 
 felt strong enough to permit the light to fall upon her counte- 
 nance. No one can describe what Claire had suffered during 
 these hours of suspense; but she was not one to wear her heart 
 upon her sleeve, and her natural pride had come to her assist- 
 ance in her struggle to appear calm and unmoved. Mordaunt 
 Sapley, as he glanced at her sideways, thought that she looked 
 almost imperial, notwithstanding the youthfulness of the 
 lovely face and the slimness of the girlish figure. Even at 
 that moment he compared her with the girl he had been 
 " fool enough " to fancy, as he mentally put it, and he won- 
 dered how he could ever have bestowed a thought upon Lucy 
 Hawker while Miss Sartoris shone like a star within his ken. 
 
 " Have you discovered anything?" asked Claire. 
 
 He was careful to repeat, almost word for word, what he 
 had said at the Hawkers' cottage. 
 
 " I regret that I was wrong in expressing my belief in Mr. 
 Wayre'a innocence," he wound up. " But 1 am still con- 
 vinced that Mr. Wayre will act as an honorable man and 
 marry the girl. Why he should have persuaded her to fly 
 with him in this clandestine manner I can not imagine; but 
 no doubt he will explain his reason when he returns." 
 
 Claire averted her face slightly, a faint tremor had passed 
 over her lips. 
 
 " You think that he will return?" she said in a low voice. 
 
 Mordaunt looked at her with real or affected surprise. 
 " Will he not be compelled to do so?" he said. " There is 
 the building " 
 
 Claire moved to the window. " I should wish that to be 
 stopped now/' she said. 
 
 Mordaunt Sapley's heart leaped exultingly. 
 
 " But the contract has been entered into with Lee," he 
 said; " the work has been commenced." 
 
 I No, no, certainly not," assented Mordaunt. "It is 
 entirely a matter of money; I will speak to my father, and we 
 will take steps to stop the work immediately. In any case, it 
 would not be well to go on during Mr. Wayre's absence; and, 
 under any circumstances, we have only to carry out your 
 wishes. "
 
 THE MISTKESS OP COURT REQKA. 137 
 
 " Thank you/' said Claire, turning to him, and for the first 
 time noticing his pale face and dusty condition. " Have you 
 not been home yet? Will you not have some wine?" 
 
 He thanked her gratefully, but declined. " My father will 
 be anxious to hear my report," he said, " and I will not keep 
 him waiting any longer." 
 
 " It was very kind of you to come to the Court first," said 
 Claire. 
 
 He begged her not to mention it, and as he opened the door,, 
 he said, with admirably simulated sincerity: 
 
 " Forgive me, Miss Sartoris, if I ask you not to condemn 
 Mr. Wayre, but withhold your judgment." 
 
 He rather overacted his part; a slight color rose to Claire's 
 face. 
 
 " It can be of very little importance, Mr. Mordaunt, 
 whether I condemn Mr. Wayre or not. I trust, for Lucy's 
 sake, that your opinion of him may be a correct one/' 
 
 Mordaunt bowed himself out deferentially, and went for his 
 horse, which he had sent round to the stables. As he passed 
 through the shrubbery in which Mrs. Burdon's cottage was 
 hidden, he saw the old lady sitting on her usual bench in the 
 sunlight. He was passing on with the nod which Mr. Mor- 
 daunt Sapley was in the habit of throwing to his inferiors, 
 when Mrs. Burdon raised her head, and shading her eyes with 
 one hand, beckoned to him with the other. 
 
 Mordaunt stopped reluctantly, and regarded her with impa- 
 tient contempt. 
 
 " Have you seen his lordship this morning?" she quavered. 
 
 " What does she mean?" Mordaunt asked of the girl in 
 charge of the old woman. " Do you mean Lord Wharton?" 
 he inquired, addressing the old woman and raising his voice. 
 " He's dead long ago." 
 
 "Dead!" quavered Mrs. Burdon, as if appalled. "Not 
 dead?" 
 
 " Yes, of course he's dead!" said Mordaunt. 
 
 "It can't be true," she muttered, wringing her hands. 
 "You're deceiving me, Mr. Sapley. I know you! You're 
 young Sapley, from Thraxton, the new agent." 
 
 " You take me for my father," said Mordaunt, angrily. 
 
 " I know you well enough," she repeated, " and his lord- 
 ship will rue the day when he put trust in you!" 
 
 Mordaunt flushed angrily; but before he could speak, she 
 went on in a trembling voice: "Dead! That cant be; he 
 came to see me a few days ago. When was it? And he was
 
 138 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 young and strong then, with his young bride by his sido. But 
 I mustn't speak of her!" 
 
 " What's she talking about?" said Mordaunt, impatiently, 
 to the young girl. 
 
 She colored, and let fall the piece of needle-work she held 
 in her hand. " She's thinking of Mr. Wayre, sir/' she said, 
 dropping a nervous courtesy. " Nurse mistook the gentle- 
 man for Lord Wharton." 
 
 Mordaunt laughed contemptuously. " She's worse than 
 ever," he said. " If she gets any madder we shall have to 
 shut her up." And he walked away, leaving the old woman 
 to murmur, incredulously, " Dead? Dead?" 
 
 By the time Mordaunt had reached home he was feeling 
 worn out, and his father looked at him curiously as he entered 
 the parlor. 
 
 " You've got back from this wild-goose chase, Mordaunt?" 
 he said. 
 
 Mordaunt dropped into a chair and wiped his face, and 
 began to tell his father just what he had told to the village 
 and Claire. Old Sapley knit his heavy brows and regarded 
 him keenly. 
 
 The change that had come over his son was not likely to 
 escape Mr. Sapley 's notice. From a mass of affectation and 
 self-conceit Mordaunt had suddenly become transformed into 
 a grave and serious man of action. His father was puzzled. 
 How had the change been wrought? 
 
 " So you have discovered that this fellow Wayre has been 
 fool enough to go off with the girl? 1 could have told you 
 that, and saved you the trouble of tearing about the country. 
 And why you should take that trouble puzzles me!" he added, 
 his small eyes fixed piercingly on Mordaunt's face. 
 
 Mordaunt winced, but smiled with an affectation of cun- 
 ning. 
 
 "Miss Sartoris was anxious to know the truth," he said- 
 : * I have just been up to the Court to tell her." 
 
 " Ah!" muttered old Sapley, as if he saw light. " It was 
 done to please her? Quite right! You can't take too much 
 trouble in that direction, Mordy." 
 
 Mordaunt drew a breath of relief. He feared his father's 
 terrible keenness more than anything else. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris wishes the work at the Court to be stopped 
 at once," he said, significantly. 
 
 Mr. Sapley nodded with keen approval. 
 
 " Is that so?" he said. " By George! Mordy, you seem to 
 have woke up to some purpose! You've arot some brains
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 189 
 
 after all! You're on the right tack. We'll have done with 
 Mr. Gerald Wayre for a time, at any rate; and I tell you 
 what, Mordy, it's as well that he should be out of the way. 
 I'm inclined to believe that you were right in being a little 
 jealous of him. She was getting too thick with him. 1 hear 
 that he dined at the Court the night before he left, and that 
 she treated him like an equal; he was singing in the drawing- 
 room, and all that kind of thing. This business of old 
 Hawker's girl has come just in time; it will teach her to be 
 more careful, in future, how she hobnobs with strangers who 
 come from nobody knows where. I expect he'll get a cool 
 reception when he comes back." 
 
 " He must not come back!" said Mordaunt, unguardedly. 
 " The work is stopped. It must not be recommenced; at all 
 costs, Gerald Wayre must be kept away." 
 
 His father looked at him penetratingly. 
 
 " Well, we shall see!" he said. " But don't you be afraid 
 of Gerald Wayre, or any one else. I've got a trump card up 
 my sleeve!" 
 
 Mordaunt looked up as sharply as his condition would 
 permit. 
 
 " What's that?" he asked, eagerly. 
 
 Old Sapley nodded and chuckled. 
 
 "Never you mind, Mordy!" he said; "you'll find out all 
 in good time. You'd better go to bed, for you look as if 
 you'd been up for a week instead of a night." Mordaunt 
 obeyed, again asking himself the purport of his father's hint. 
 He went to his room, threw himself upon the bed, with a 
 groan of utter weariness and exhaustion. He tried to tell 
 himself that all was well; that not only was his awful secret 
 safe, but that he was taking long strides along the path which 
 his father's suggestion, and his own recently awakened am- 
 bition, was opening up to him. He tried to picture himself 
 as the master of Court Regna; but when he fell asleep at last, 
 he saw Lucy's white face, as it had appeared to him when he 
 covered it with the sand, and the missing bundle floated 
 threateningly through all his feverish dreams. 
 
 When he came down to breakfast the next morning, the old 
 Mordaunt Sapley seemed to have been left still further behind. 
 
 " All right after your night's rest?" asked his father. 
 
 " I am quite right/' said Mordaunt in his new tone. 
 
 Old Sapley regarded him keenly. 
 
 " In respect to this business of the building," he said. 
 " I've been thinking it over, and I've come to the conclu- 
 sion that it will be as well if I leave it as much to you as
 
 140 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REQNA. 
 
 possible. You make arrangements with Lee of course you 
 won't pay him more than you can help and have the place 
 tidied up as well as they can do it. I'll hand over the ousi- 
 ness of the estate, too, to you. You'll have to see Miss Sar- 
 toris every day, you know. He drew his huge mouth into a 
 smile. " I dare say she'd rather do business with a good- 
 looking young fellow, an Oxford man, and almost one of her 
 own class, rather than with a crusty old fellow like me. 
 Humor her, Mordy, my boy humor her! Use every oppor- 
 tunity you get! You're the only young man about her, now 
 that fellow Way re has gone, and well, women are only 
 women after all, however high their station. You were speak- 
 ing to me about that bay hunter of Grimley's. You can have 
 it, Mordy, if you like though it's a long price, and more 
 than it's worth; but a woman likes to see a man well 
 mounted." 
 
 Mordaunt thanked his father in quite a different fashion to 
 that which he would have adopted a few days ago, and went 
 down to the Court. 
 
 He found Lee hanging about disconsolately, and informed 
 him of Miss Sartoris's desire that the work should be stopped. 
 Lee offered no objection; indeed, he declared that without 
 the missing plan, which, presumably, Gerald had unwittingly 
 taken with him, the work could not be continued. 
 
 " Mr. Wayre will be back presently, sir," he said, stoutly. 
 " For, of course, this story of his having gone off with Lucy 
 Hawker is all nonsense. Mr. Wayre isn't that sort of gen- 
 tleman." The young fellow threw back his head, and 
 flushed hotly. " He's just gone off for a holiday, as I 
 advised him, and I'd stake my life that he has no more to do 
 with this business than than you have, Mr. Mordaunt." 
 
 Mordaunt winced and turned away suddenly. 
 
 The rubbish was cleared away, and the half -demolished wing 
 was left standing in as good order as possible. Mr. Mor- 
 daunt went to the Court that day and had an interview with 
 Miss Sartoris. He was at the Court every day, in fact, taking 
 the place of his father, and Claire got accustomed to seeing 
 and consulting him instead of the elder Sapley. Under his 
 changed condition, Mordaunt's manner had become ingratiat- 
 ing, and almost pleasing. To Mrs. Lexton, for instance, he 
 was particularly amiable, and she more than once remarked 
 that Mr. Mordaunt Sapley was a singularly agreeable gentle- 
 man. 
 
 And bit by bit he wormed his way, after a fashion which 
 delighted his father, into the good graces, not only of Claire,
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 141 
 
 but of all at the Court. He seemed to have an eye for every- 
 thing, and especially for anything that tended to increase 
 Claire's comfort and convenience. 
 
 Insensibly she began, woman-like, to lean upon him as, 
 certainly, she had ever leaned upon his father. There was 
 no detail respecting the estate too minute for him, and, 
 unlike his father, he appeared to share all Claire's sentiments 
 toward the tenants. It was he who suggested that a percent- 
 age should be remitted from their rents, and who pleaded for 
 the retention of tenants who could not meet their liabilities. 
 
 His old Oxford manner seemed to have dropped off him as 
 the skin drops from a serpent, and h was now always grave 
 and in earnest. Scarcely a day passed without Claire's meet- 
 ing him. Sometimes he took afternoon tea with her and Mrs. 
 Lexton, and as he was always entertaining, Claire had almost 
 overcome her dislike of him. It was true that to her he was 
 just her man of business and nothing more; but he was 
 pleasanter to deal with than his father, and she was glad of 
 the exchange. She was singularly pleased. Shut up, because 
 of her mourning, at the Court, Mordaunt Sapley was her only 
 medium of intercourse with the outside world, and, woman- 
 like, she grew accustomed to him. 
 
 It never occurred to her that he should dare to dream of 
 becoming anything closer than her man of business, and she 
 was therefore all the more free and less constrained in her 
 intercourse with him. 
 
 The days passed into weeks, while Mordaunt Sapley was 
 making his insidious progress, and nothing was heard of Ger- 
 ald Wayre. But for the half-demolished wing and his haunt- 
 ing presence in Claire's own heart, he might never have ex- 
 isted. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE " Susan " was a trim craft. Though she has been 
 called a smack, she was almost large enough to rank as a 
 ketch, for her hold was capacious. 
 
 In addition to the old captain and Gerald, she carried three 
 men and a boy. Gerald saw at- once that the captain, whose 
 name was Joslin, was a good seaman by the way in which he 
 handled his vessel. Like most of the west-country folk, he 
 was rather a reserved and self-contained man, and at first, 
 beyond a glance now and again at Gerald, he took no special 
 notice of him. The weather was fair, and the wind favorable, 
 and after the " Susan " had got well started on her course,
 
 148 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 there was nothing for Gerald to do. He had done his share ot 
 the work quietly and without fuss, and when sails were all 
 set, the deck tidied up as neatly as a man-o'-war's, he felt at 
 liberty to seat himself on the combing and light a pipe. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to say that all his thoughts wera 
 fixed on Claire. It is also scarcely necessary to say that not a 
 single drop of bitterness tinged the current of those thoughts. 
 Some men would have felt extremely bitter at the curt way in 
 which Claire had refused his offer. They would have men- 
 tally inveighed against the pride of wealth and station which 
 could harden such a heart as even Claire Sartoris's; but Ger- 
 ald was too generous and too much in love to entertain these 
 feelings. He was sick and sore with disappointment, and 
 combined with his disappointment was a vague sense of sur- 
 prise and bewilderment, but no bitterness. 
 
 Claire had seemed to him the last woman in the world to set 
 so great a value on her wealth and position as to permit them 
 to sway her actions where her heart was concerned. Why had 
 she well, yes encouraged him? for surely there had been 
 more than common kindness in her voice and in her eyes as 
 he spoke to her by the piano. Why had she not repulsed him 
 at the moment and not waited till the morning to give him 
 his dismissal with a single word? He sighed and puffed 
 vigorously at his pipe as the question beat about his mind. 
 It never occurred to him that she had seen his meeting with 
 Lucy; and if it had, it would not have occurred to him that 
 she could have been jealous. 
 
 When a man is quite innocent in his intentions, the idea 
 that he could seem guilty in the eyes of others never suggests 
 itself to him. The only reason he could assign for her refusal 
 of him was the all-sufficient one that she did not love him. 
 There was sorrow enough in this thought for him, but there 
 was no bitterness. He would carry out his resolution, go 
 back and finish the work, and then take himself off to those 
 wilds in which the old familiar life of hardship and danger 
 would help him to forget, or at least to overcome, his love for 
 the mistress of Court Regna. 
 
 He and the captain dined together in the cabin. The cap- 
 tain, of course, saw that the young fellow who had volunteered 
 as his mate was a gentleman, and in many little ways he made 
 a kind of acknowledgment of the fact. Over the pipe and 
 glass of grog that almost invariably follow a skipper's meal he 
 often dropped into conversation. 
 
 " Been long in these parts?" he asked, one evening.
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGKA. 143 
 
 " No," said Gerald, " not very long. You s I suppose, 
 know them well?" 
 
 "Born there," said the captain, jerking his head in the 
 direction of Regna. 
 
 Gerald remarked that it was a pretty place, and the captain 
 opined emphatically that it was the best place on earth. 
 
 " But that's natural, seem' that I was born there. I sup- 
 pose you saw Court Regna?" 
 
 Gerald answered in the affirmative, and though he felt it 
 would be far wiser to avoid the subject if he meant to recover 
 his peace of mind, he said: 
 
 " You know it well, of course?" 
 
 The captain nodded, and smoked thoughtfully for a moment 
 or two. 
 
 "Yes/' he said, "man and boy. Great changes there 
 lately; 1 heerd that the lord left all the property to the young 
 lady as was livin' there?" 
 ' That is so," said Gerald. 
 
 " He was a strange gentleman," remarked the captain, 
 after another silence. " I was cabin boy, then first hand, and 
 then mate, aboard his yacht." 
 
 " He kept a yacht?" said Gerald. " I had not heard of 
 that." 
 
 " That's a long while ago," said the captain. " He didn't 
 keep it here at Regna; it's a bad coast for yachting, uncer- 
 tain-like, as you may say one hour fine, the next howlin'. 
 We used to put in at one of the safer ports further down the 
 coast. His lordship was a good sailor, and could handle the 
 yacht as neatly as any man in the Bristol Channel; and I never 
 see him show the white feather excepting once, and that 
 was when we'd got the women aboard." 
 
 Gerald listened half absently. 
 
 " A party of yachting guests, I suppose?" he said. 
 
 The captain pushed his cap on to the back of his head, and 
 3tared at the floor, puffing musingly. 
 
 " No," he said, slowly, and as if he were struggling with 
 his natural reticence; " if warn't a party. Lord Wharton 
 liked to be alone on a sea-trip." 
 
 Something in the man's manner attracted Gerald's atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " What ladies were they, then?" he asked, rather to show 
 his interest than from curiosity. 
 
 The captain still seemed to hesitate; but at last he said: 
 
 " Well, I'm not given to talking about my betters, but his 
 lordship's dead, and it happened so long ago that it won't
 
 144 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNJL. 
 
 make much odds one way or t'other. It was this \ry. 
 One day his lordship come aboard, just below hen), without 
 of the women servants of the Court. I've hee'rt tell that 
 she'd been a long time in the Court service; one of the men, 
 a Regna lad, said as how she was his lordship's nirse. I for- 
 get her name." 
 
 " Was it Burdon?" asked Gerald. 
 
 " That was it!" assented the captain. " You know her?" 
 
 " I have seen an old lady named Burdon at the Court," said 
 Gerald. 
 
 " A very old woman, a bit gone in her mind?" 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 '* Yes, that's her," said the captain. " We sailed for a 
 place called Lartree, on the Irish coast, and there his lordship 
 and she went ashore. We had orders to lie off in the bay and 
 wait for his lordship. It was late at night, and dark at that, 
 when I, bein ; watch, heerd the captain's gig rowing toward 
 the yacht. I got a lantern and held it so as to light the ship's 
 ladder; and you may guess I was a bit took aback when I see 
 two women in the boat instead of one." 
 
 He had refilled his glass, and being well launched on his 
 narrative, went on more freely: 
 
 " His lordship and this Mrs. Burdon had brought a young 
 lady with them. She was a pretty young thing, though she 
 was pale and scared like, and looked as if she'd been crying. 
 She smiled and thanked me nicely as I helped her up the 
 gang- way. His lordship took her on his arm down to the 
 cabin, and 'most direckly afterward we had orders to set sail." 
 
 " A romantic incident!" said Gerald, deeply interested. 
 " Do you know who she was, or how it happened that she 
 accompanied Lord W barton on the yacht?" 
 
 The captain shook his head. 
 
 " Never knew from that day to this," he said. " His 
 lordship was a sort of close and reserved kind of gentleman, 
 and kept aloof from the crew. We'd just see him and the 
 young lady walking on the deck in the fine weather; and he 
 treated her well, just as a man treats his sweetheart or his 
 wife." 
 
 " His wife?" said Gerald. " But Lord Wharton was never 
 married, was he?" 
 
 The captain shook his head sententiously. " Can't say," 
 he said. " Fve heerd as he never was. We went down to the 
 Mediterranean with a fair wind, and his lordship, and Mrs. 
 Burdon, and the young lady went ashore. The next day w
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 146 
 
 had orders to go back to England, and we sailed without 
 them." 
 
 " And you never saw the young lady again?" asked Ger- 
 ald. 
 
 " No," said the captain. " I never see nor heerd of her 
 again. I don't know as I ever opened my mouth about the 
 business afore this; and I don't know what made me talk 
 about it now!" he added, as if half regretting his comunica- 
 tiveness. 
 
 " There is no harm done," said Gerald. " I shall not 
 speak of it again." 
 
 The captain looked somewhat relieved. " Well, as 1 said, it 
 happened a long while ago," he remarked; " and his lord- 
 ship's dead and gone to answer for the business if there was 
 anything wrong in it!" 
 
 ' You speak doubtfully," said Gerald. 
 
 :< Well, you see," said the captain, slowly, " the young 
 lady didn't seem like a light o' love. One can generally tell. 
 And hers was a good face as well as a pretty one; besides, his 
 lordship didn't treat her as a man treats a woman who's made 
 a fool of herself for him." 
 
 " It is a strange story," said Gerald. " Do you think they 
 know of it at Court Regna?" 
 
 " I don't know," said the captain; " but I feel pretty sure 
 they don't. I've never heerd any one speak of it, and it's not 
 unlikely that the men on board kept their counsel as I did 
 mine. We knew, though his lordship never said a word, that 
 he didn't want it spoken of, and we'd too good places to run 
 the risk of losing them." 
 
 " If she was his wife, why didn't he take her to Court 
 Regna?" said Gerald. 
 
 " Can't say," said the captain, shrugging his shoulders, 
 and rising, as if the subject were closed. " Better get on deck; 
 I'm thinking we shall have a change o' weather." 
 
 There was so much romance in the captain's story that it 
 remained in Gerald's mind for several hours. It struck him 
 as strange that even here, in the open sea, Court Regna and 
 its affairs had followed him; and he was conscious of a senti- 
 ment approaching pity for the unknown girl who had intrusted 
 her fate to Lord Wharton. 
 
 However, as the night came on he had little time for dwell- 
 ing upon the strange story. The captain's prognostication 
 was verified. The wind swung round, after the charming but 
 somewhat risky fashion of the Bristol Channel, and the 
 " Susan " was soon rolling in the trough of a heavy sea.
 
 146 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 
 
 Gerald and the rest of the crew were hard at work all night. 
 The canvas had to be taken in, and the " Susan " was scud- 
 ding with bare poles before a boisterous wind, which, before 
 morning, grew into a perfect hurricane. 
 
 The storm and the labor it caused came as a welcome relief 
 to Gerald, and as he clung to the shrouds, with the wind and 
 rain beating pitilessly upon him, he found it almost possible 
 to forget even Claire in the stress and strain of the dangerous 
 duties which he had undertaken, and which he performed as 
 earnestly and honestly as any other member of the crew. 
 
 Toward morning the wind subsided, but was followed by a 
 thick fog, which was still more dangerous. They had lost a 
 topmast during the night, and the vessel had been badly 
 strained, and Gerald, as he made his way along the drenched 
 and slippery deck, to ask a question of the captain, saw, by 
 the expression of the weather-beaten face, that the skipper 
 was not particularly satisfied with the condition of affairs. He 
 smiled grimly as Gerald approached him, and clung to the 
 taffrail. 
 
 " Not much of a pleasure trip, this!" he said. " I reckon 
 you didn't calculate on so much weather and hard work when 
 you came aboard sir?" 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," said Gerald, pleasantly. " It's not 
 the first bad weather I've seen, or the first hard work. One 
 must take it as it comes. Where are we?" 
 
 " Don't know exactly/' said the captain, with a composure 
 which struck Gerald as grimly humorous. " Off the coast of 
 Ireland, I fancy. We shall see when this pea-soup lifts." And 
 he nodded at that sailor's bete noir, the yellow fog. " Where 
 ever we are, I shall have to put into port for repairs." 
 
 " I am sorry, for your sake," said Gerald; " but it doesn't 
 matter so far as I am concerned. 1 am only out on a holi- 
 day." 
 
 Toward noon the fog lifted, and they made for one of the 
 small bays on the south-east coast of Ireland. The captain 
 knew the place, and informed Gerald that as the necessary 
 repairs would take some days, he was free to spend them on 
 land, remarking: " You bargained for a fair sail to France, 
 not for floundering about the Irish coast Take a week oft, 
 and if I can't get a man to take your place or if you've a 
 mind to go on with us why, join at the end of that time." 
 
 Gerald accepted the offer, but would not go ashore until the 
 vessel had been made as trim and ship-shape as possible; and 
 he and the captain parted on most satisfactory terms.
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COUKT EEGNA. 147 
 
 " Here's your pay up to date, and as you've earned it like 
 a man, I reckon you won't be too proud to take it." 
 
 Gerald accepted the money, frankly admitting that he 
 needed it, and having shaken the captain by the hand, went 
 ashore. As he walked through the little village which stood 
 on the edge of the small bay, he asked himself what he should 
 do next; whether, after all, he had acted wisely in leaving 
 Regna, and whether it would not be better for him to end his 
 engagement with the captain and go straight back to his work 
 at the Court? But, in simple truth, he shrunk, with soreness 
 of heart, from seeing Claire yet awhile. 
 
 The country behind the village was rough in the extreme, 
 but rich in that beauty which is characteristic of Irish 
 scenery. The hills that rose from the sea were thickly covered 
 with pines, which made the air fragrant with terebene, as 
 Gerald entered one of the woods. After walking for some 
 time amidst the straight stems which rose like the columns of 
 some stately cathedral, he came upon a wooden hut. Its 
 solitude and the scenery by which it was surrounded reminded 
 him of some of his backwoods experience. 
 
 " I wonder if I have forgotten how to use an ax?" he asked 
 himself, with a smile, as he went up to the door of the hut. 
 The woodman came out in answer to his summons, and Gerald 
 stated his case frankly. The woodman, a sturdy young fel- 
 low, eyed Gerald pleasantly enough. 
 
 " You might get lodgings in the village," he said; " or you 
 can stay here, if you like, shure, if it's not too tough for yer." 
 
 It was just what Gerald wanted. With true Irish hospitality, 
 the young fellow prepared a meal at once. It consisted of 
 the simplest fare, but the woodman did the honors with the 
 rough grace and courtesy characteristic of his countrymer. 
 
 Gerald felt as if he were indeed in the backwoods again as 
 he sat on a felled tree and talked with his host, while they 
 smoked their pipes and sipped their tea. He slept soundly 
 that night on a bed made of fir fiber covered with a rough 
 rug, the fragrance of the couch fully compensating for any 
 lack of softness. When he awoke in the morning his host had 
 already gone off to work, and Gerald set about getting the 
 breakfast. He felt as he was thus engaged that, if he had 
 never met Claire Sartoris, he could have spent many a happy 
 mouth in this delightful place. After breakfast he offered to 
 help the young fellow with his work, and the man looked 
 somewhat surprised. 
 
 " Shure, I thought ye were a gintleman!" he said. 
 
 Gerald laughed. "'The oldest gentleman of all was a gar-
 
 148 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 dener," he said. " I know how to use an ax if i'Ve not tor- 
 gotten it; and perhaps you'll give me a hint or two." 
 
 He worked with Terence, the woodman, as honestly as he 
 had worked on board the " Susan," and on the second day, 
 as they sat at their evening meal, Terence remarked that it 
 was a pity Gerald should ever leave the forest. 
 
 On the evening of the fourth day they were engaged in fell- 
 ing a particularly large fir. They had cut through half of the 
 trunk, when Gerald noticed that the guard rope, as it is 
 called, had slipped below the place at which they had tied it. 
 
 He pointed this out to Terence, and climbed the tree to 
 replace the rope in its proper position. He was fastening the 
 last knot, when the woodman uttered a cry of warning. Ger- 
 ald looked down to see what was the matter, and at the same 
 moment felt the tree giving under him, and, before he could 
 drop from his elevated position, the tall trunk fell with a crash 
 to the ground. He was thrown some distance by the impetus, 
 but thinking that nothing was amiss, attempted to rise. As 
 he did so, a sharp pain shot through his leg, and he fell to the 
 ground. 
 
 He knew in a moment what had happened, and when the 
 woodman sprung to his side, he said, quietly: 
 
 " I've broken my leg." 
 
 Terence said nothing, but lugged Gerald up on to his back 
 and carried him to the hut. 
 
 " It's broken, shure enough!" he said. 
 
 Gerald smiled mirthlessly. " I know a broken leg when 
 I feel it," he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. " Can 
 you set it?" 
 
 The woodman shook his head. "By good luck there's a 
 dochter in the village," he said. " You kape quiet and I'll 
 fetch him." 
 
 " I shall keep quiet enough, without a doubt," said Gerald, 
 with a rueful laugh. 
 
 The woodman made him as comfortable as possible, and 
 than started for the doctor. While he was gone, Gerald took 
 a sheet of note-paper and envelope from his pocket-book and 
 wrote a letter to Mr. Sapley, informing him of his accident, 
 and promising to return immediately he was able to do so. 
 
 Terence returned with the doctor, the limb was set, and 
 Gerald, half unconscious with pain as he was, had still intelli- 
 gence enough remaining to beg the doctor to post the letter, 
 and also to inform the captain of the " Susan " that he would 
 be unable to sail with him. 
 
 Then he quietly and unostentatiously fainted.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 149 
 
 Now, it happened that Gerald's penciled note was delivered 
 during Mr. Sapley 's absence from home. Mordaunt opened 
 it, and as he read it, a thrill of satisfaction ran through him. 
 That Fate should be playing into his hands in this extraor- 
 dinary way, seemed to him an augury of his future success. 
 He locked the door, and paced up and down for some time 
 with the note in his hand, then he tore it into frag- 
 ments, and, seating himself at the table, wrote the following 
 answer: 
 
 " DEAR SIR, I am extremely sorry to hear of the accident 
 which has befallen you, and I trust that it will have no very 
 serious consequences. Owing to unforeseen circumstances, 
 Miss Sartoris has decided to discontinue the rebuilding of the 
 wing at the Court. Lee, the builder, has been arranged with, 
 and I beg to inclose a check, which I trust you will consider 
 sufficient compensation for the work you have done/' 
 
 He signed this with his father's name, and appended his 
 father's signature to the check, and as he posted this letter 
 with his own hand, felt as grateful to Providence as if he were 
 the most upright and deserving of men. 
 
 Gerald Wayre completely out of his way, his path was clear! 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HAVING sent this letter and check, Mordaunt Sapley waited 
 for a reply, which he knew would come. He counted upon 
 Gerald's pride to play into his hands, and it is needless to say 
 that he did not rely upon it in vain. 
 
 In a few days there came a short note from Gerald, saving 
 that he regretted that Miss Sartoris had decided to discontinue 
 the rebuilding, but that he had only to acquiesce in her 
 decision. And he begged permission to return the check. 
 
 Mordaunt Sapley smiled as he burned both letter and check. 
 Gerald had indeed played into his hands, for the pride that 
 prompted the return of the draft would, Mordaunt felt sure, 
 prevent Gerald's return. 
 
 His sudden departure puzzled Mordaunt a little; for, not- 
 withstanding his explanation, he was conscious of a feeling 
 that the desire for a holiday did not altogether and satisfac- 
 torily account for Gerald's flight. And Gerald had been so 
 engrossed and evidently delighted with his work. Why had 
 he gone? 
 
 As he could not answer the question. Mordaunt put it aside. 
 
 He did not tell his father that ho had heard from Gerald,
 
 150 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 and old Sapley and the rest of Regna became fully convinced 
 that Gerald had gone off with Lucy, as the days passed into 
 weeks and the weeks into months without any tidings of the 
 absent pair reaching Regna. 
 
 Claire, as a rule, avoided the old wing, but now and again 
 she walked that way, and looked at it as a woman looks at 
 some inanimate object associated with the great and secret sor- 
 row of her life. She recalled Gerald's face, his voice, the rever- 
 ential and veiled tenderness of his eyes when they rested upon 
 her. She lived over again that day when he had stood near 
 the falling wall, and she had sprung forward to warn and res- 
 cue him. His stern words hiding his anxiety on her 
 account rang in her ears. Like a canker in the heart of the 
 rose, her love her blighted love for him was eating into her 
 life. 
 
 She grew paler and thinner; and Mrs. Lexton, who noticed 
 the alteration in her, insisted upon her taking some change. 
 
 They went up to London, and plunged into the mild course 
 of dissipation permitted to ladies. 
 
 But Claire never entered a concert-room or a theater with- 
 out looking round, half fearing, half hoping to see the stal- 
 wart form and handsome face which were rarely out of her 
 mind. Though they did not go into " society," in the 
 accepted sense of the word, some friends and connections of 
 the family made Claire's acquaintance, and made haste to wel- 
 come the young girl, who was not only lovely and charming, 
 but the mistress of Court Regna and a large fortune. 
 
 " You must come up for the next season you must, indeed, 
 my dear!" said one of these, a certain Lady Redmayne, an 
 only lady, who was generally recognized as one of that little 
 band called leaders of fashion. " You will make a great suc- 
 cess, I am certain." 
 
 Claire smiled in the pensive, preoccupied way which had 
 become habitual to her now. 
 
 " I don't know that I particularly want to be a success," 
 she said. 
 
 Lady Redmayne's eyed her shrewdly. 
 
 " Every healthy-minded man or woman wants to be a sue- 
 cess, my dear," she remarked, with good-natured cynicism. 
 " It is what we live for we women, especially. You have 
 been buried too long in that country place of yours. There is 
 nothing so bad for the nerves and spirits as a long spell of the 
 country; it is always your rustic who is melancholy and nerv- 
 ous. Too much quiet is bad for the body and the brain. You 
 laugh!"
 
 TffE MTSTEESS OF COURT REGtfA. 151 
 
 Claire had only smiled. 
 
 " Very well. But I am quite right. Take yourself, for 
 instance. Look at that woman in the peacock-blue bonnet. 
 That is Lady Mary Grantford. How old do you think she is? 
 Looks like a girl, doesn't she? Did you hear her laugh? My 
 dear, she is as old as I am; we were at school together. And 
 it isn't only the poudre de riz and beautiful wig, and her eye- 
 brow pencil, that keep her young it is the bustle and stir of 
 life. She hasn't had time to get old. And she will keep like 
 that until one day she will wake up and find it is time to die." 
 
 " What an awful picture!" said Claire, with a faint shudder. 
 
 " Awful; yes. But I doubt whether it is much worse than 
 yours," said Lady Eedmayne. " Here are you, who have 
 never had a trouble in your life" 
 
 Claire's lips came together, and she winced. 
 
 " Who are rolling in money, have one of the places in Eng- 
 land; who might become a power in the world, and and no, 
 not end, but continue by marrying a coronet; but ' instead 
 of which,' as the magistrate said, here you are, as listless and 
 uninterested, as ' outside ' things as if you were that poor girl 
 wheeling that perambulator." 
 
 " Perhaps she is happy enough content/' said Claire. 
 
 They were driving through Kensington Gardens, and the 
 warmth of the winter's sun had brought out the nurse-maids. 
 
 " Not she!" said Lady Redmayne, with the coolness of the 
 aristocrat. "How could a person of that class be content? 
 But your case is different. My dear, take the advice of a 
 woman who, having an absurd prejudice against powder and 
 paint, must consider herself old, and live. I quite tremble 
 when I think of what you are drifting into!" 
 
 ;< What is that an old maid?" said Claire. 
 
 " No, my child, you are too young for such an awful fate 
 as that to be thought of for the present; but into something 
 almost as bad and hopeless the melancholy young person 
 who wears a black merino dress, and goes round ' slumming,* 
 and visiting the poor, with a basket and a bundle of tracts." 
 
 " I sometimes go round Eegna with the basket, if not the 
 tracts/' said Claire, with a smile. 
 
 " That's all very well at Regna. It is part of your r61e, 
 my dear the Lady Bountiful, and all that but I'm thinking 
 of the professional London district visitor." 
 
 Claire laughed. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," she said. " I have neither sufficient 
 courage nor unselfishness for that." 
 
 "I am delighted to hear it," said Lady Kedmayne,
 
 152 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 devoutly. " I hope you are not offended by my candor, my 
 dear?" she added. 
 
 "No; I ain grateful," said Claire, simply. "It is very 
 good of you to take any interest in me." 
 
 " Which means, ' Thank you for your advice, which I don't 
 mean to follow '?" remarked Lady Redmayne, shrewdly. 
 
 Claire colored faintly. 
 
 " I will see/' she said, quietly. 
 
 That same evening she and Mrs. Lexton dined out, and as 
 she entered the room, Lady Redmayne, who was of the party, 
 saw that Claire had discarded black from her dress, and wore 
 a costume which, if simple for bright colors and elaborate 
 costumes were not to Claire's taste was both rich and ele- 
 gant. And the old lady nodded and smiled on her approv- 
 ingly. 
 
 Claire attracted a good deal of attention, and, in the 
 drawing-room, after dinner, the men were gathered round her 
 in that significant accord which indicates that their interest 
 and admiration have been aroused. 
 
 Though it was the " off season," Parliament was sitting, 
 and there were enough people in town to provide for Claire 
 that foretaste of success which Lady Redmayne had prophe- 
 sied. When Claire rode in the park she had no lack of 
 attendant cavaliers; and when she appeared in Lady Red- 
 mayne's box at the winter opera, men dropped in noiselessly, 
 and stood at the back of Claire's chair, eager for a word, or, 
 better still, a smile. 
 
 Claire was gracious to all of them. To the young boy 
 peer Lord Charmly who was madly in love with her, and 
 declared his love in public and private to the mature states- 
 man Sir William Grantly who paid the mistress of Court 
 Regna the grave attentions characteristic of so famous a man. 
 Claire was gracious to them all; but neither the boy's fervent 
 adoration nor the statesman's serious devotion touched her 
 heart. 
 
 Sometimes she felt as if her heart were dead; as if it had 
 been robbed of life and the capacity for love on the night she 
 had seen Lucy Hawker on Gerald Wayre's breast. And when 
 the thought struck her, a flush would rise to her face, and her 
 hands would clinch; that she, Claire Sartoris, should be so 
 poor a thing as to think of a man who had left her side with 
 his love vows warm upon his lips to fly with another 
 woman a girl from her own village, almost one of her 
 servants! 
 
 Lady Redmayne's worldly wise advice bore fruit When
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 153 
 
 Claire and Mrs. Lexton returned to the Court, the worn and 
 weary expression had almost disappeared from Claire's face, 
 and she seemed very nearly her old self. But as the carriage 
 passed by the half-demolished wing, she averted her eyes, as 
 if she were not even yet strong enough to look upon it un- 
 moved. 
 
 They had scarcely settled down, when the county families 
 began to call. Lord Chester was the first, and the others fol- 
 lowed suit. A few months ago Claire would have said, " Not 
 at home!" and contented herself by merely returning their 
 cards; but, in Lady Redmayne's words, she was now deter- 
 mined to live. The county people saw and were seen, and 
 were delighted with her. Invitations to dinner came pell- 
 mell, and Claire accepted them. Her appearance at the first 
 of these parties created as much of a sensation as was permis- 
 sible at such a solemn function as a county dinner. . She 
 looked superb, and the effect of her clear, ivory face and violet 
 eyes, with their half-sad, half-dreamy light, was heightened 
 by contrast with the brilliant color and rather florid style of 
 beauty of the other women. She looked like a Grecian statue 
 in the midst of a gayly colored flower-garden. 
 
 The women eyed her curiously and with reluctant admira- 
 tion, and the men, metaphorically, fell at her feet at once. 
 
 It was a large party. Lord Chester took Claire in to dinner, 
 and was evidently delighted at having her under his wing. 
 He had called at the Court several times since Claire's return, 
 and he treated her as if they were quite old friends. 
 
 " It is a large party," he said, raising his pince-nez; " but 
 not so large as those you are accustomed to in London, Miss 
 Sartoris. I like a large party; it is more cheerful, don't you 
 think? And people are not so likely to drift into gossip and 
 politics which I hate. By the way, isn't that Mr. Mordaunt 
 Sapley down there, at the end of the table?" 
 
 Claire looked. It was indeed that gentleman. Perhaps 
 the surprise she felt at seeing him at a county dinner-party 
 showed itself in her face, for Lord Chester smiled as he 
 balanced his soup-spoon. 
 
 "A clever young fellow!" he said. "I am very glad to 
 meet him, for I want to ask his advice about some land I 
 have on my hands. Rather calculating of me, you are think- 
 ing! An expressive face is not always an advantage to its 
 owner, Miss Sartoris," he added, with a laugh. 
 
 " I am sure Mr. Sapley will be glad to help you," said 
 Claire. 
 
 She looked down the table again at Mordaunt, and noticed
 
 154 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 a change in him. He seemed to have grown older and 
 graver, and Claire, whose eyes were like the eagle's, thought 
 that she noticed some threads of gray in the hair on his 
 temples. It seemed improbable in a man so young; but if she 
 were mistaken in the gray hairs, there could be no mistake in 
 the lines which had suddenly become graven in his face, and 
 which revealed themselves quite plainly. She noticed that he 
 wore no jewelry of any kind, and that in place of the old 
 conceited, self-satisfied expression, his face wore a look of set 
 gravity. 
 
 " Mr. Mordatmt Sapley has become quite a celebrity of late 
 but of course you know," remarked Lord Chester. 
 
 " No," said Claire. " I have been away some months." 
 
 " I thought you might have heard. Old Sapley I beg his 
 pardon!" He laughed. "He is generally called Old 
 Sapley,' has almost entirely given up business now, and his 
 son has stepped into his place, and I imagine makes a very 
 worthy successor." 
 
 " Has Mr. Sapley been ill?" Claire asked. 
 
 " I don't think so; though I fancy I have heard he has been 
 ailing lately. He is getting on in years, you know." 
 
 " He appeared quite well and strong when I left," said 
 Claire. But 1 remember that Mr. Mordaunt transacted 
 business for him." 
 
 " Perhaps he felt that it would be a good thing for the 
 young fellow to have some responsibility," remarked Lord 
 Chester, " and it appears to have worked very well, for I hear 
 that Mr. Mordaunt has very much improved; in fact, that he 
 has become quite a ' changed man. ' ' 
 
 " And in what way is he famous?" asked Claire. 
 
 Lord Chester laughed. 
 
 " Oh, I only used the phrase in a limited and local sense. 
 He has shown a great interest in politics lately, and has taken 
 rather a prominent part in local affairs. They say that ho 
 started the idea of the new hospital at Thraxton; it is certain 
 that though he did not head the subscriptions, he planked 
 down the largest check." 
 
 Claire was surprised. She knew that Mr. Sapley, the 
 father, had never erred en the side of liberality. 
 
 ' Then there was the matter of the hounds," continued 
 Lord Chester. ' You may have heard that our host, Lord 
 Wraybrough threatened to give up the mastership because of 
 the lack of subscriptions?" 
 
 ' Yes, I saw it in the papers." 
 
 "Well, we Were U. 1 in despair, and had giren up the
 
 THE mSTKESS OF COURT REGKA. 155 
 
 hounds for lost, when young Sapley came forward and offered 
 to guarantee the deficiency. Of course, it must have been 
 with his father's money, but we all know it was Mr. Mor- 
 daunt's doing." 
 
 He glanced approvingly and yet curiously at the prefcer- 
 naturally grave face at the other end of the table. " And he 
 did it very modestly, too. Most young men coming forward 
 in that way would have done so with the object of filling the 
 mastership, but Mr. Mordaunt stipulated that Lord Wray- 
 brough should retain it. Then there was another matter a 
 small matter, but one that has won golden opinions for Mr. 
 Mordaunt amongst the people but they are your people, Miss 
 Sartoris, and you will have heard of it, no doubt?" 
 
 " I don't think so. What is it?" Claire asked. 
 
 " Old Captain Hawker at Regna he has had some trouble 
 lately/' Lord Chester went on quickly and delicately, " and 
 the poor old man was broken down. They say he isn't likely 
 to live. A case of broken heart, if ever there was one.*' 
 
 The hand with which Claire raised her wine-glass trembled. 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry sorry," she murmured, almost inaudibly. 
 
 " Yes, yes!" said Lord Chester, quickly. " Poor old 
 fellow! I went to see him yesterday, and I am afraid that he 
 is breaking up." 
 
 '* I will go and see him to-morrow," said Claire, with a 
 little catch in her voice. " And what is it that Mr. Mordaunt 
 has done?" 
 
 " He has given the old man a pension, quite a liberal pen- 
 sion but I beg your pardon a thousand times! Perhaps it 
 comes from you, and Mr. Mordaunt was only your agent." 
 
 Claire looked away, her brows drawn straight. 
 
 " No," she said, her voice sounding cold and proud, as it 
 always did when she was much moved. " I did not know 
 Captain Hawker was ill." 
 
 Lord Chester saw that she was distressed or annoyed, and 
 hastened away from the subject. " It is whispered that Mr. 
 Mordaunt Sapley may probably stand for the county at the 
 general election^ and 'pon my word, I shouldn't be surprised 
 if he were returned!" 
 
 " Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, a member of Parliament!" Claire 
 exclaimed, involuntarily. She remembered the father creep- 
 ing about the Court in Lord Wharton's time, remembered 
 Mordaunt as he was, only recently, vain, affected, self-con- 
 ceited; it sounded incredible, ridiculous, to her. 
 
 Lord Chester laughed as if he enjoyed her naive astonish' 
 ment
 
 153 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Miss Sartoris, we live in democratic times! 
 Nothing nowadays surprises me; certainly not the sudden rise 
 of any man. Why, think of the kind of person we send to 
 the House! Though it's true Mr. Mordaunt would be a 
 county member, and we have always sent one of our own 
 people. " 
 
 He used the phrase quite simply, and without a suspicion of 
 vulgar pride or insolence. 
 
 " But the old order changes, you know. And, really, come 
 to consider it, I'm not sure that Mr. Mordaunt wouldn't make 
 a capital member. Anyway, he would be better than our 
 present man, poor old Barkly, who has never opened his 
 mouth in the House except to snore. At any rate, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt is here " he looked round him significantly " and," 
 he laughed again, " one ought not to be surprised at anything 
 that follows." 
 
 There was a pause for a moment, then he added, candidly: 
 
 " I am afraid you will think the last remark in rather bad 
 taste; and it loas. But what I meant was, that a short time 
 ago Mr. Mordaunt Sapley would not have had an invitation 
 from Lord Wraybrough." 
 
 " I understand," said Claire. 
 
 " But times are changing; for the better perhaps " the 
 old aristocrat and his prejudices peeped out in the pause, and 
 the doubtful accent of the " perhaps/' " We want young 
 blood. Mr. Mordaunt Sapley is young, undeniably clever and 
 rich or will be." 
 
 " Will he?" said Claire, absently. 
 
 Lord Chester smiled. 
 
 " I should say that Mr. Sapley was one of the richest men 
 in the county," he replied. " How he got it " he shrugged 
 his shoulders and wrinkled his face ruefully. " Ah, well, 
 one man's loss is another man's gain. We all know how men 
 like old Sapley amass their wealth. It is the old story of the 
 ivy and the oak. The ivy flourishes, the oak dies. But really 
 I must have bored you to death with Mr. Sapley and his 
 works. Did you go and see Irving and Miss Terry while you 
 were in town?" 
 
 The dinner dragged its slow length along, but at last came 
 to a conclusion, and the ladies left the gentlemen to their 
 claret. Mordaunt leaned back hi his chair and drew an 
 inaudible breath of relief. 
 
 ^ Every time Claire had glanced his way he had felt the calm, 
 violet eyes upon him. It seemed to him as if she had read his 
 secret; not only the awful secret of his crime, but that hidden
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGKA. 15? 
 
 ambition, which, sown in his breast by his father, had now- 
 grown into a stalwart plant under whose spreading leaves the 
 course of his life was stealthily working its way. 
 
 He was incapable of love, but, mingled with his feverish 
 craving for place and power, was that base substitute for love 
 which is all such a man can feel. Claire's beauty, her inde- 
 scribable grace and charm, made his heart beat with ambition 
 and desire; ambition to become the master of Court Regna, 
 desire to gain the loveliest woman he had ever seen. 
 
 One moment his heart quailed before the difficulties which 
 her beauty and her pride presented, the next, he rose to a 
 kind of sullen and dogged resolution. Who could say that he 
 would not win? What had he not achieved already! Here 
 he was, a guest at the table of one of the most exclusive of 
 the county families; he had gained his footing, he would take 
 care to strengthen it day by day, until there should be no 
 outcry of surprise when he took the last great step. 
 
 And he did not play his part badly. He had changed won- 
 derfully; the father's shrewdness and cleverness had cropped 
 up in him, and aided by a better education and knowledge of 
 the world, bore him along. 
 
 In the matter of the hospital and the hounds he had been 
 careful not to push himself forward, but had assumed a 
 modesty so well as to deceive everybody, even these great folk 
 who naturally regarded him with suspicion. 
 
 The invitation to the Wraybroughs' dinner-party marked a 
 step in his career, and he was careful how he behaved. 
 Though quiet and reserved, he did not make the mistake, too 
 frequently committed by the " new man," of being timid and 
 nervously deferential. He only spoke when there was occa- 
 sion, and spoke modestly, but with quiet self-possession, and 
 something like dignity, as if he wished to intimate that he was 
 quite conscious of the novelty of his position, but was not 
 overwhelmed by the honor it conferred upon him. 
 
 Lord Wraybrough was not only grateful to him for saving 
 the hounds, but was rather taken with the young fellow who 
 had come forward so quietly and taken a part in the public 
 affairs of the county. Now that he had thrown off his foolish 
 Oxford affectations, there was not so very much the matter 
 with Mordaunt's manners, and the gravity, unusual in so 
 young a man, was rather taking. 
 
 Lord Wraybrough, already prepossessed in his favor, 
 almost liked him almost; for there was something inde- 
 finable in the not bad-looking face, which, so to speak, put
 
 153 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 people on their guard and, when the ladies had left, he took 
 care to draw Mordaunt into the conversation. 
 
 An alteration in the game laws came under discussion, and 
 Mordaunt, who had luckily been " reading up " the proposed 
 bill, talked about it sensibly, and the rest of the men listened 
 with the well-bred, unaffected attention of their class. 
 
 Lord Chester perhaps remembering his conversation with 
 Claire remarked, with a smile: 
 
 " You have stated the case very clearly, Mr. Sapley " he 
 could not have omitted the " Mr." if his life had depended 
 upon it, but Mordaunt, though he winced inwardly, showed 
 no outward sign " and I quite agree with you. With you, I 
 can't see how it would benefit the workingman to throw open 
 the preserves to every man who chose to take out a game 
 license." 
 
 " Dash it all, no! I should think not!" exclaimed one of 
 the county squires. " If there were no game there would be 
 no keepers, no shooting to let, no shooting-tenant to spend 
 money. I'm getting rather tired of the ' workingman ' cry, 
 and I should like to see something done for the poor gentle- 
 men." 
 
 " That will come when we are quite ruined, Heathcote," 
 remarked Lord Wraybrough, laconically. 
 
 " The workingman has the power now," said his brother, 
 the rector, holding his glass up to the light, and sighing. 
 
 " Educate him," said Mordaunt, quietly. " Teach him to 
 see where his true interests lie, and he will use the power 
 wisely." 
 
 '* By gad, you're right, sir," said Heathcote, staring at him 
 with a kind of bovine surprise and approval. " You seem to 
 know how fche case stands." 
 
 " You ought to go into the House, Mr. Sapley," remarked 
 Lord Chester. 
 
 For the first time Mordaunt's pale face flushed, but the 
 flush did not last longer than a moment, arid his small eyes 
 wonderfully like his father's now, shot a glance round the 
 table, then sunk modestly. 
 
 " Thank you, Lord Chester; but there are others who have 
 a prior claim to that honor, to say nothing of greater ability." 
 
 The latter part of the speech jarred somehow, and was fol- 
 lowed by a silence which was broken by Lord Wraybrough. 
 
 " I don't know," he said, thoughtfully, but with a smile. 
 " Some one will have to be found to fill Barkly's place; he 
 tells me he will not stand again." 
 
 "Then Mr. Sapley had better think of it," said Lord
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT REGtfA. 159 
 
 Chester. The others looked at Mordaunt reflectively, and 
 said nothing. He understood the look, but sat unmoved; but 
 he wished that Claire were present. 
 
 " Now that we have started politics, the only way of stop- 
 ping us will be to join the ladies," said Lord Wraybrough; 
 and he led the way into the drawing-room. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MORDAUNT did not at once go to Claire, but moved about 
 the room, talking to the ladies whose acquaintance he had 
 made. Women are less exclusive toward men than to mem- 
 bers of their own sex; and Mordaunt always found that he got 
 on better with them than the masculine portion of the county 
 families. He had picked up some knowledge of art and 
 literature at Oxford at any rate, he had acquired some of 
 the jargon and compared with the county squires, whose 
 conversation was limited to sporting topics, the ladies found 
 Mr. Mordauut quite entertaining. 
 
 Some daring spirit had suggested a bazaar in aid of some of 
 the local charities, and Mordauut entered into the idea at 
 once, and promised his assistance, both pecuniary and per- 
 sonal, and, before he had left the group, had succeeded in 
 making a favorable impression. 
 
 " I think him an extremely nice young man/' remarked 
 Mrs. Heathcote. " So intelligent and well-informed." 
 
 ** And he is always so gentlemanly," said Mrs. Lexton. 
 " We see a great deal of him at the Court, of course/' 
 
 " Ah, yes; one almost forgets that he is the son of Mr. 
 Sapley, Miss Sartoris's agent," remarked Lady Wraybrough. 
 " It is quite extraordinary the difference between them. It is 
 wonderful what a university education will do." 
 
 " And he is so good-natured, too," said the lady with the 
 bazaar on the brain. " He entered into our plans at once, 
 and seemed so ready to assist." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Mordaunt Sapley is the coming man, without 
 doubt," said Lady Wraybrough, with a faint smile. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mordaunt had made his way to Claire. He did 
 not make the mistake of seating himself beside her, but stood, 
 slightly bending forward. 
 
 " This is my first opportunity of welcoming you home, Miss 
 Sartoris," he said, with a grave voice, in which deference was 
 very neatly suggested. " I thought of coming up to the Court 
 some days ago, out deemed it better not to trouble you w^th 
 business haaaediately after your return."
 
 160 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Claire glanced at him rather coldly. She was still annoyed 
 at his action in the matter of old Hawker. 
 
 " Thanks," she said. " But I should have been quite ready 
 to see to anything. " Then, in her straightforward way, she 
 said, looking at him with the direct regard of her violet eyes, 
 " I am sorry you did not write and tell me of Captain 
 Hawker's illness, Mr. Mordaunt." 
 
 He did not flush angrily, as he would have done a few 
 months ago, but he lowered his eyes, and looked at the em- 
 broidered stool upon which one of her small feet, in its dainty 
 satin shoe, rested. 
 
 " Ought I to have written to you?" he said. " I did think 
 of doing so, but it seemed to me that I should only distress 
 you without sufficient excuse/' 
 
 " I should have been glad to to have helped him," said 
 Claire, looking straight before her. 
 
 " I was so sure of that, that I ventured to act in your 
 behalf, in your name," he said, "and I have allowed the 
 poor old man a pension. I trust I have not been guilty of 
 presumption. I feel now that [ ought to have written and 
 asked your consent, but, as I have said, I was anxious to spare 
 you any distress and worry." 
 
 Claire's face flushed, and she raised her eyes to his. 
 
 " The pension comes from me, then?" she said. 
 
 " Certainly," he assented, with an air of surprise at her 
 question. " It will be paid out of the estate. Captain 
 Hawker quite understands that, I believe, and all who know 
 of it. Have I presumed too far? I acted on the spur of the 
 moment, I must confess, but 1 felt convinced that I should 
 have your approval. Perhaps I ventured intruded " 
 
 In the moment of reaction Claire felt quite penitent for 
 having misjudged him. 
 
 " No, no!" she said, quickly, and with the flush deepuing 
 on her face, " you acted quite right, and and I am very 
 much obliged to you. It is just what I would have wished 
 done." 
 
 He looked relieved, even grateful. 
 
 " I am very glad of your approval, Miss Sartoris," he said. 
 
 I must confess that I have been rather uneasy, fearing that 
 I had gone beyond my prerogative. I am afraid that poor 
 Captain Hawker will not live long to enjoy your bounty. 
 Nothing has been heard of his daughter." 
 
 He spoke the last sentence after a pause of a second or two, 
 and with his eyes fixed on the footstool. "Or of Mr. 
 Wayre," he added. Then he went on quickly: " You will
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 161 
 
 notice that Lee has cleared up the debris very carefully, and 
 that the end of the wing has been built up roughly, of 
 course, but still sufficiently to fill it in and make it sightly. 
 It will be soon overgrown by the creepers, which I ha w e 
 had trained over the new work/' 
 
 " Thank you," said Claire. As she spoke, it seemed to hei 
 that there was always something for which she had to thank 
 Mr. Mordaunt Sapley. 
 
 " Shall you be at home to-morrow morning?" he went on. 
 " I should be glad to see you about the schools. They are in 
 a very bad conditien, and I fear that they will need rebuild- 
 ing or, at any rate, considerable repairs. I learn from my 
 father that Lord Wharton always considered himself re- 
 sponsible for them " 
 
 " Yes/' she said, promptly. " Whatever is necessary must 
 be done. I will be at home to-morrow morning." 
 He inclined his head. 
 
 " I hope you had a pleasant time in London?" 
 " Yes, very," said Claire; and she found herself, for the 
 first time in her life, talking about London, the concerts, the 
 theaters, and parties, with Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, as if as if 
 he were her equal and a friend! Even at the moment it 
 struck her as extraordinary. 
 
 He was too wise to monopolize her he knew that the other 
 men were anxious to talk with her, and were eying him 
 askance and presently he moved away. 
 
 At a county dinner-party the dinner itself is the principal 
 part of the function; many of the guests have long distances 
 to drive, and the evening ends early. To the last, Claire was 
 surrounded by the men, who made no secret of their admi- 
 ration and the spell which her beauty and the singular charm 
 of her rather reserved manner cast upon them. 
 
 Mordaunt heard her carriage announced, and though he left 
 it to Lord Wraybrough to conduct her to it, he stood near, as 
 if in attendance, and ready to close the door, or receive a last 
 word from her was he not her steward, agent? He stood a 
 moment looking after the carriage, which, in its richness and 
 completeness of appointments, surpassed any other in the 
 county. The horses were a superb pair, perfectly matched; 
 the liveries were rich and always in good condition. The 
 whole equipage indicated the wealth of the mistress of Court 
 Begna. 
 
 His own dog-cart he was too cautious to start a brougnam 
 yet came up; and that, in its way, was as complete a turn- 
 oat as the Court Kegna chariot. It was just what a wealthy 
 9
 
 162 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 bachelor's should be not fine or gaudy, but costly and well- 
 appointed, from the serviceable sixteen-hand horse to th 
 neatly liveried groom. 
 
 Lord Wraybrough looked at it critically. 
 
 " Nice turn-out that of yours, Mr. Sapley," he said. 
 " Where did you get that horse? Looks like a Yorkshire- 
 man!" 
 
 " He is Irish," said Mordaunt. 
 
 " Ah, yes; now I look at him again! A hundred guineas 
 there," he added in a friendly way. 
 
 " A hundred and twenty," said Mordaunt, modestly. " It 
 is more than I intended to give, but I only keep two, and " 
 
 Lord Wraybrough laughed and nodded. 
 
 " A good horse is always cheap," he said. 
 
 Mordaunt drove homeward. It was a fine night, and he was 
 feeling that inward glow of satisfaction which your schemer 
 always experiences when his schemes are going right. He 
 was satisfied more than satisfied with the evening's work. 
 He had dined at Wraybrough Hall, had been treated as an 
 equal; and Miss Sartoris had been a fellow-guest and witness 
 of his triumph! And he had scored in the matter of old 
 Hawker's pension yes, he ought to be satisfied! What about 
 the county seat? Would it be wise or not to put himself for- 
 ward? As he pictured himself " Member for the N. W. 
 Division of Downshire," his face flushed; but a moment 
 afterward" it went pale again, paler even than usual for a 
 man had stepped from the hill to the road-side, and Mordaunt 
 recognized Jeuks, the coastguard. 
 
 He never saw the man without being reminded of Lucy of 
 that awful something lying buried at the foot of the cliff 
 without a spasm shooting through him; and the spasm filled 
 him with rage as well as fear, for he told himself that the 
 latter was groundless. 
 
 " Well, Jenks," he said, pulling up the high-spirited horse, 
 and forcing himself to speak pleasantly and carelessly, " fine 
 night?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, grand weather. Have you such a thing " 
 
 Mordaunt laughed rather discordantly, and tossed him a 
 cigar. 
 
 " I know your formula, what you want, without asking 
 now, you see, Jenks!" he said. " Good-night," and he 
 drove on. 
 
 When he reached home he entered the dining-room. It had 
 become changed for the batter, like Mordaunt, and deserved
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 163 
 
 a more dignified name than parlor. He mixed himself some 
 soda and whisky, but only a small glass, and inquired of the 
 neat waiting-maid there were proper servants in the house 
 now whether his father was in bed, and being told that he 
 was in the library for so Mr. Sapley's den, redecorated and 
 furnished, was now called Mordaunt went to him. 
 
 Old Sapley was sitting in a stiff-backed arm-chair by the 
 fire. He had altered, like the house, but in a different direc- 
 tion. He had grown thinner; the huge bones in his face stood 
 out gauntly, with dark shadows on the sallow skin; the heavy 
 brows had fallen over the cavernous eyes; his clothes hung 
 upon him loosely, accentuating the gaunt frame. He had 
 changed in a manner as well as in appearance. A kind of 
 stupor seemed to have fallen upon him, and though his brain 
 seemed as acute as ever, his voice had become lower, and his 
 manner preoccupied and absent. He had allowed the prac- 
 tice, with all its ramifications, to drop almost entirely into 
 Mord aunt's hands, and he rarely saw any clients or appeared 
 in public. But the most marked change was that displayed in 
 his manner to Mordaunt. It was as if he had grown to fear 
 his son. It is certain that he never opposed him, not even 
 when Mordaunt launched out into an expenditure which must 
 have seemed prodigal to the narrower mind of the older man. 
 
 He would sit for hours, silently staring at the fire, only 
 now and then glancing at Mordaunt. And there was some- 
 thing strange and curious in that glance. It was as if the old 
 man were perpetually asking himself a question in which 
 Mordaunt was concerned, and as if he dreaded the answer, 
 which as perpetually eluded him. He had seen with keen 
 eyes the change that had come over Mordaunt, and noted the 
 rapid the extraordinarily rapid progress he was making; 
 but it seemed that, if he had not actually lost all interest in 
 the ambitious schemes which he himself had started, he had 
 suddenly become content to step aside, to efface himself, and 
 play the part of a spectator. 
 
 He looked up now, as Mordaunt entered, with the strange 
 question in his eyes, and immediately lowered them to the fire 
 again , as he said : 
 
 " Well, Mordaunt? Got back? Had a pleasant evening?" 
 
 " Yes, yes!" said Mordaunt, with an air of subdued tri- 
 umph, " remarkably so." 
 
 He began to give a list of the guests, which embraced some 
 members of almost all the county families; and as the old 
 man listened, he nodded his huge head, and twisted his thin 
 lip into a smile.
 
 164 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 " Ay, a fine party!" he said. " And they they're civil, 
 Mordaunt, eh?" 
 
 Mordaunt flushed. 
 
 "Civil! of course. They were not likely to be anything 
 else. They were gentlefolks." 
 
 " Ah! of course, of course! And some of them had cause 
 to be civil! Heathcote!" He glanced at a tin box bearing 
 the inscription, "Heathcote Estate." "Some of them 
 remembered where their deeds were, eh, Mordy?" 
 
 Mordaunt shot an angry glance at him. 
 
 " I don't imagine they thought of anything of the kind," 
 he said, coldly. 
 
 " Perhaps not, perhaps not!" assented the father, deprecat- 
 ingly. " Why shouldn't you go among them? You're a 
 gentleman, as much almost as much as they are; though 
 your father did sweep out " 
 
 " Had you not better go to bed? It is late," interrupted 
 Mordaunt. 
 
 The old man obediently raised himself by the arms of the 
 chair, and then sunk down again. 
 
 " In a minute or two, Mordy," he said, almost meekly. 
 " Tell me some more about it. Was she there?" 
 
 " She " always stood for Miss Sartoris. 
 
 " Yes," said Mordaunt, " Miss Sartoris was there." 
 
 " And she saw you amongst them saw that you were quite 
 one of them, eh? That's good that's good! We are getting 
 on, Mordy! Lord, who'd have thought that a son of mine 
 would have ruffled it amongst the best of them? And you 
 can, Mordy, you can ! I question if any of them can show a 
 longer purse than you can." 
 
 * Money isn't everything," said Mordaunt, with a frown, 
 as he opened his dispatch-case and began to examine some 
 papers. 
 
 He worked hard now, and with a feverish eagerness which 
 indicated that incessant work brought him some relief. It 
 prevented useless brooding over the past. 
 
 " Pretty nearly," said old Sapley, with a timid kind of 
 chuckle. " Money is power ' * 
 
 " There is some talk of my standing for the county," Mor- 
 daunt broke in, slowly. 
 
 Old Sapley turned in his chair with an exclamation of aston- 
 ishment and exultation. 
 
 " Well, why not why not?" he said. " You'll find money 
 useful there, Mordy. Member for Downshire ' Mordaunt 
 Sapley, Esq., M, P. for Downshire.' Ahl" He opened his
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGtfA. 163 
 
 lips, and drew a long breath. " The best of them would have 
 to receive you then, Mordy even she ! Yes. Stand, Mordy, 
 stand! A Conservative, of course. But it's risky!" He 
 added the word suddenly, and his face fell. 
 
 Mordaunt looked at him impatiently. 
 
 " Risky what do you mean?" 
 
 The old man stared at the fire. 
 
 " A man wants clean hands and an open past," he mut- 
 tered, as if to himself. " They ask questions, rake up old 
 scandals " 
 
 The lines seemed to deepen on Mordaunt's face. 
 
 " What are you talking about?" he said. " What cause 
 have we to fear any raking up of the past? If we sprung 
 from nothing we rose honestly " 
 
 :< Yes, yes," assented old Sapley, with timid eagerness, but 
 still staring at the fire. " Yes, you've nothing to fear, Mordy, 
 eh?" And for a moment he glanced at Mordaunt with the 
 curious question in his eyes. 
 
 " Nothing!" said Mordaunt, emphatically; but as he 
 spoke, his eyes dropped, and the hand that held the pen 
 shook. " My past is clean enough. You may have had to 
 do things in the course of your profession " 
 
 Old Sapley shook his head. 
 
 " They won't trouble about that, Mordy. No one asks 
 where you got your money while you've got it still, and are 
 spending it " 
 
 " And it will have to be spent," said Mordaunt, as if glad 
 to get away from the former subject. " I shall want to 
 make a heavy draw upon the current account this week. Is 
 there enough? If not, we must pay in." 
 
 " There's enough, I think," said the old man, with a sigh, 
 which he promptly stified. Though he saw the wisdom of this 
 large expenditure, he felt it keenly. 
 
 " I have been thinking," said Mordaunt, after a pause, 
 " that it would be as well if we bought a larger house, with 
 some ground." He looked across the room. " This place is 
 small and insignificant. It did very well until lately. The 
 Grange is in the market." 
 
 " You won't want it. You won't want two large houses in 
 the county, Mordaunt?" said old Sapley. 
 
 " Two? What do you mean?" 
 
 " I mean the Court, of course," said his father. 
 
 Mordaunt flushed, and shut his lips tightly. 
 
 " You are counting your chickens before they are hatched," 
 he said. " Court Regna is not mine yet and may never be!
 
 166 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKJL. 
 
 You seem to think you have hinted once or twice that it 
 will be quite an easy matter for me to secure Miss Sartoris for 
 a wife. You are mistaken." 
 
 The old man rose heavily, and looked at Mordaunt, hia 
 mouth screwed into a strange smile. 
 
 " You haven't asked her yet?" he said. 
 
 Mordaunt smiled at the question. 
 
 " Certainly not!" he said. 
 
 "Do so do so!" exclaimed the old man. "Why should 
 you wait? Ask her, Mordaunt " 
 
 " And be refused laughed at for my pains!" said Mor- 
 daunt, with a sneer. 
 
 The old man laughed hoarsely; then his brows worked up 
 and down. 
 
 " Refused! Fm not so certain. Ask her, Mordy; and if 
 she refuses why, come to me!" 
 
 He moved to the door, his head sunk, his lips moving, and 
 Mordaunt, watching him, heard him mutter, with a threaten- 
 ing growl: 
 
 " Refuse! Refuse! She dare not!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Two days after the dinner-party at the Wraybroughs', 
 Claire was sitting over her afternoon tea. She had been for 
 a long ride and had not waited to change her habit for a tea- 
 gown. She was alone, for Mrs. Lexton had gone off to Lon- 
 don to nurse a sick friend. Whenever any of Mrs. Lexton's 
 friends broke their limbs or got very bad, they immediately 
 sent for her as a matter of course, and equally, as a mat- 
 ter of course, she hurried to the sufferer. There are 
 some women like that, women to whom we fly in time of 
 trouble, not because they are particularly strong-minded, but 
 because we are sure of their sympathy; and when trouble is 
 around, it is more often sympathy than assistance that we 
 need. Job felt this; and modern *' friends " are requested to 
 make a note of it. It is not always the full purse, or the 
 strong arm, or the wise advice that is most required, but that 
 tender sympathy that is as precious balm to the wounded 
 heart or aching head. 
 
 Claire sat with her feet on the fender and sipped her tea, 
 and felt rather lonely; the veil of sadness and melancholy 
 which had fallen on her young life, though it was often lifted 
 when she was in society or in the middle of a long gallop, 
 usually descended when she was alone. As she gazed dreamily
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 167 
 
 in the fire, she fell to musing upon Gerald Wayre and his 
 strange conduct. The strangeness, the mystery of it, had not 
 become lessened as the months had glided on, and sometimes 
 to her this afternoon, for instance there seemed something 
 so extraordinary in his behavior that she found it well-nigh 
 incredible. 
 
 She allowed her mind to dwell upon him for some minutes, 
 
 then with a faint flush of shame set down the tea-cup and rose 
 
 I suddenly, reproaching herself for thinking of a man who was 
 
 not only unworthy of her, but the husband of another woman. 
 
 As she passed the window she saw a horseman riding up the 
 avenue. It was Lord Chester, and she stood haif uncon- 
 sciously admiring his upright figure, and the refined, clear-cut 
 features. She had grown to regard Lord Chester as a friend, 
 and her spirits rose at the sight of the cheery face with its 
 bright eyes and kindly smile. 
 
 " I am in luck," he said, as he entered and bent over her 
 hand with that old-world manner which must be at once the 
 admiration and despair of the young men of the present day. 
 " It is so fine that I scarcely hoped to find you in!'* 
 
 " That sounds rather like one of those things better left 
 unsaid!" said Claire, with a smile. " Come to the fire, and 
 I will give you some tea." 
 
 She rang for fresh tea, and Lord Chester sunk into a 
 saddle-bag chair and still, wonderful to say, looked graceful 
 and distinguished. 
 
 " You are all alone?" he said, as he watched her fill his 
 cup, and noted with pleasure the delicate hands, the graceful 
 turn of the wrist. 
 
 Claire explained Mrs. Lexton's absence. 
 
 " She is the sick nurse and comforter in general, not only 
 of her own family, but all her friends," she said. " When- 
 ever anything is the matter, it is ' Send for Mary !' at once. 
 I am surprised I have been able to keep her so long." 
 
 " It sounds selfish, but I am very glad you are alone," 
 he said. 
 
 Claire raised her brows and looked at him with a smile. 
 
 " You 'are so rarely selfish that I readily forgive you, Lord 
 Chester," she said. 
 
 " And yet I am going to prove to you how selfish I can 
 be!" he said. 
 
 There was a gravity in his voice and manner as he bent 
 forward, with his arms resting on his knees, his long, white 
 hands clasped, that struck Claire as unusual, but she was still 
 unconscious, and the smile was still on her lips as she retorted;
 
 168 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 
 
 " Have you come to propose something pleasant? I notice 
 that you always apologize when you are planning an agreeablo 
 outing or impromptu party." 
 
 He looked at the fire and then back at her. Her complete 
 unconsciousness of his purpose somewhat embarrassed him. 
 Did he seem in her eyes so old as to render any thought of his 
 falling in love with her an impossibility? 
 
 " What is it?" she asked as he remained silent. " Have 
 you been doing anything particularly wicked? If so, we must 
 send for Mary Lexton, for she is the accepted confidant and 
 sympathizer with all wrong-doers. Come, you are not afraid 
 of me, Lord Chester!" and she laughed softly. 
 
 " Yes, it is because I am afraid," he said, smiling a little, 
 but very gravely. " Miss Sartoris, I have ridden over to ask 
 you a question upon the answer of which depends so much to 
 me that I almost shrink from putting the question." 
 
 The smile vanished from Claire's face, and she looked at 
 him with faint surprise. 
 
 "Tell me, first," he said, after a pause, "do you con- 
 sider me a very old man?" 
 
 Claire's surprise increased. 
 
 " No," she said, candidly. " Indeed, as you rode up just 
 now " she paused. 
 
 " Please go on!" he said, earnestly. 
 
 " Well, I was thinking how young you looked." 
 
 His face brightened, then he laughed deprecatingly. " I 
 am at my best in the saddle," he said, modestly; "out I am 
 glad, very glad, to hear that you don't regard me as an 
 antique! I must confess that I do not feel that I am an old 
 man; sometimes I forget that I am not quite a young one. 
 Miss Sartoris, I do not know whether any of our good gossips 
 have told you the story of my life if so commonplace a life 
 can be said to have a story." 
 
 " No," said Claire. She was still far from guessing 
 whither his singular words were tending. 
 
 "It is told in a sentence or two," he went on, continuing 
 to look at her with a faint smile, but with a slight compres- 
 sion of the lips. ** When I was really a young man I fell in 
 love. I was very young, and my cousin the late earl and 
 my elder brother, were alive. Young and poor, and with no 
 prospect of the title, I was bold enough to avow my love. 
 And I was accepted/' 
 
 Claire nodded sympathetically. It was almost as if she had 
 said, " I am not surprised!" aad tie looked at her gratefully 
 as he went on:
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGSTA. 169 
 
 " The course of true love never runs smoothly ours ran 
 very roughly. She was very beautiful/' he paused. " Her 
 people were ambitious for her, and considered her mad to 
 throw herself away on the younger son of a younger son. 
 She stood firm at first at first," he paused. " Then there 
 came a noble and wealthy suitor upon the scene. He was an 
 older man than I- -a man of the world in every sense of the 
 word, and notwithstanding our engagement, he wooed her 
 with every art which a man can bring to bear. And in the 
 end he won." 
 
 He paused and looked at the fire for a moment, then back 
 at Claire with a smile, as if to show her that there was now 
 neither regret nor bitterness in his heart. 
 
 " Her people brought pressure to bear pressure applied 
 day and night, week in and week out. You, a woman, can 
 perhaps understand better than a man what that means. 
 She yielded, and accepted Lord Wharton." 
 
 " Lord Wharton!" Claire exclaimed in a low voice. 
 " But but Lord Wharton was never married!'* 
 
 He inclined his head. " I did not intend to mention his 
 name, but it escaped me unawares," he said. " Yes, it was 
 Lord Wharton. I5ut you are right. He never married. He 
 was an extraordinary man you knew him better than any of 
 us can perhaps understand how, having got what he wanted, 
 he quickly wearied of it, and ceased to value it. He did not 
 marry the girl he had robbed me of. One day he sailed in his 
 yacht for Ireland, I think; on his return, after an absence of 
 a few weeks, he went to her and told her almost bluntly 
 the well, that he had changed his mind. In short, he jilted 
 her as she had jilted me. He gave no reason there was 
 another woman in the case, doubtless." 
 
 " It was poetical justice," Claire said in a low voice. " You 
 do not expect me to be sorry for her! But, Lord Wharton 
 I have never heard anything of this, Lord Chester!" 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 '* He was scarcely the man to speak of anything that did 
 not redound to his credit," he said. " He paid the penalty. 
 There was dueling in those days ah, you see, now, how old I 
 am and he stood up and received the fire of the girl's 
 brother, and was wounded in the arm. The family honor 
 was satisfied, and there was an end of it." 
 
 " And of her?" 
 
 " She died a few years later," he said, quietly. " And now 
 you are asking yourself why I have told you this, the onl? 
 eventful incident in my life. Can you not guees? When 4
 
 170 THE MISTRESS OF COURT 
 
 was jilted, Miss Sartoris, I said that I had done with your sex 
 forever. I have kept my vow for a longer period than most 
 men keep their vows, and I should keep it still if I had not 
 met you." 
 
 Claire almost started. 
 
 " It's only lately, since I have seen so much of you, that I 
 have discovered that though my hair is white my heart is 
 green, as the Irish say. I have told you my story, the reason 
 of my long bachelorhood, because I have come this morning 
 to offer you my heart and hand." 
 
 Claire tried to speak, to stop him saying any more, but ht 
 went on, quickly: 
 
 " Do not think that I forget the difference in our ages. I 
 have thought of it unceasingly, ever since I found that I loved 
 you. But, Miss Sartoris, a man's love is not to be estimated 
 by his tale of years. There is no young man whom you and 
 I know who could love you more ardently, more devotedly 
 than I do. With a young man, love is of his life a thing 
 apart, as Byron says; it is the whole existence of a man of my 
 age. It is the one great treasure which he has learned to 
 value beyond all others; you see, he has tried and tested them 
 all. And he knows !" 
 
 " Lord Chester " began Claire. 
 
 " One moment!" he said, pleadingly. " I want you to 
 keep back my sentence until I have pleaded my cause. I 
 don't ask you if you love me. I could scarcely hope for so 
 great a joy as that; but I ask you to ask yourself if you could 
 bring yourself to care for me as a wife should care for her 
 husband. If you can answer * Yes ' and I know you will 
 answer truthfully then I say that you may trust yourself 
 and the future to me without misgiving." 
 
 Claire was asking the question of herself as he spoke, and 
 was silent. She liked, respected this gallant, " perfect " 
 
 gentleman, his friendship was unspeakably sweet to her; 
 ut 
 
 " Let me say a word of other matters," he went on. " That 
 I offer you an unstained name and an old title will not weigh 
 with you, I know. The unstained name is only your due you 
 would accept no less and the title will not count. But, Miss 
 Sartoris, it has been a delight to me to feel that the woman I 
 love will, if she will accept my hand, adorn and elevate the 
 title which she will bear. If I win you I shall have won one 
 who will wear the coronet right nobly. Pride and love will 
 go hand hi hand with me. There has been no Countess of
 
 THE MISTKESS OS COURT REGtfA. 171 
 
 Chester, so gracious, so sweet, so worthy of her title as you 
 will be!" 
 
 Claire's heart beat with the mingled pride and pleasure and 
 pain his simple, dignified words caused her. 
 
 " I can not offer you wealth, but that you do not need. I 
 will not speak of money any further than to say, if you were 
 as poor as you are rich, I should still beg for your hand. In 
 a word, I love you, and respectfully and humbly ask you to 
 forget the disparity of our ages, and to be my wife." 
 
 Claire's heart beat fast, and she felt that her eyes were 
 filling with tears. It seemed so hard. Here was a good 
 man, a noble man in every sense of the word, offering her the 
 honor of his love, laying his honest and stainless heart at her 
 feet, and and there was no heart in her bosom to yield him ! 
 She longed to stretch out her hand and say to him, " Take 
 me! You do not ask for love yet. 1 will be your wife. I 
 will learn to love you!" 
 
 But she could not. It was all summed up in that. She 
 could not cheat him by seeming to promise that which she 
 could not fulfill. Her heart was dead within her bosom; 
 Gerald Wayre had slain it that moonlight night, months ago, 
 and she would not deceive this high-minded man who trusted 
 her so implicitly. 
 
 " Are you afraid to answer?" he said, after a long silence, 
 and he spoke gently, tenderly. " Do not be. I told myself 
 as I rode over here this morning that it was just possible that 
 you might laugh at me " 
 
 " Oh, no, no!" broke from her lips with a pained gesture. 
 
 " Forgive me! No, you would not do that, even if I have 
 seemed a foolish old man; you are too kind, too gentle to 
 laugh me to scorn. But I know that you must think well, 
 that I am overbold in daring to hope that a young girl, 
 dowered with beauty beyond most other women, would dream 
 of accepting a man old enough " 
 
 " Don't say it!" she broke in almost piteously. " It is not 
 that. If you knew but I can not tell you! I have been so 
 proud of your friendship; every time you have come, every 
 time I have seen you, I have been glad, glad!" 
 
 He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her face earnestly; but 
 as she went on they fell, and a faint line came across his 
 brow. 
 
 " If I could I would say ' Yes.' I should be so glad to say 
 it. I know what such such love as yours is worth I am 
 thrilling with pride that you should have thought me worthy 
 to be your wife "
 
 173 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 "My dear!" he murmured. "Why will you not trust 
 yourself to me?" 
 
 She rose and paced the room in deep agitation. Then she 
 came and stood oefore him, her hands clasped, her head bent 
 meekly. It almost seemed as if she were ashamed to refuse 
 him. 
 
 " I can not!" she said, at last. " Don't ask me why. I 
 could not tell you! You would not understand! If I were 
 to tell you you would be too proud to to ask me again. You 
 would feel contempt for me " 
 
 He started to his feet and held out his hands. 
 
 " Contempt for you! For you, whom I love and honor 
 with all my heart!" 
 
 " Yes," she said, desperately. " I am not worthy! If you 
 knew " 
 
 " I ask you to tell me nothing!" he broke in. " I have 
 no right to demand your first love to know the secret of 
 your heart. I do not ask for your past, but your present, 
 your future. Give them to me, Claire, and, trust me, I will 
 never cause you to regret it!" 
 
 She almost yielded, then drew her hands away, which he 
 had caught in his. 
 
 " I can not," she said; and there was something in her face, 
 in the tone of her voice, which made him drop her hands 
 slowly and turn away with a sigh. 
 
 " You will not forgive me!" she said in a low voice. 
 
 He proved his manhood, his nobleness instantly. He turned 
 to her with a smile a smile that smote her more keenly than 
 a sigh would have done. 
 
 " Forgive yon for not caring for me? Ah, but you know 
 me better than to think that, Claire," he said, taking her 
 hand and holding it but no longer with hope in his grasp. 
 " Though you will not be my wife, I can not help loving you, 
 and honoring you! If you will not have me for a sweet- 
 heart," he smiled again, and again she winced, "you must 
 not discard me as a friend. You will let me still be your 
 friend, Claire I beg your pardon Miss Sartoris!" 
 
 " No ' Claire!' " she said, her eyes blinded with tears, 
 "ttid she laid her other hand over his. 
 
 "Thank you!" he said, simply. "Your friendship is 
 precious to me, and I should have" grieved if you had with- 
 drawn it. Please forget as well as forgive Claire! forget an 
 old man's folly." 
 
 " Ho!" she said, as th* tears ran unchecked down her
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 173 
 
 cheek. " No, I shall always remember, always be proud and 
 grateful." 
 
 " The gratitude is for me, my dear/' he said, gently. 
 " Do not cry; I am not worth a tear. You will find that I 
 shall bear my disappointment without complaining; and that 
 I shall comfort myself with the knowledge that though I have 
 not gained the one woman in the world for my wife, I still 
 hold her for my friend." 
 
 He bent and touched her hand with his lips, and without 
 another word left her. 
 
 And Claire, as most sensible young women would have done, 
 flung herself on to a couch and wept sorely, more than half 
 tempted to run after him and call him back. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE words his father had spoken to Mordaunt on his return 
 from the dinner-party dwelt in Mord aunt's mind. It was 
 not the first time by many that the old man had hinted at 
 some power which he might exercise over Miss Sartoris on 
 Mordaunt's behalf, and Mordauut sometimes asked himself if 
 there really was anything more in the half -implied threat 
 than an old man's vaporings. 
 
 The following day, having some papers to which he needed 
 Claire's signature, he walked up to the Court. It was a dark 
 and lowering morning, and the great house stood out whitely 
 against the black clouds. Mordaunt stood for a moment 
 before he ascended to the terrace, and looked at the immense 
 building. Would it ever be his, or, rather, would he ever be 
 able to call himself the husband of its mistress? 
 
 The idea seemed preposterous, even in his altered and im- 
 proved circumstances, and he bit his lips moodily as he made 
 his way across the hall to the library. He did not fail to 
 notice that the servants treated him with a respect which they 
 had never accorded his father, showing that the fact that Mr. 
 Mordaunt Sapley was going to be a great man was recognized 
 by them as well as their betters. 
 
 He went into the library and turned over the papers and 
 magazines which littered the table, but suddenly dropped the 
 one in his hand as he caught the title of one of the articles in 
 the list of contents. It was " The Undiscovered Murders of 
 the Last Half Century." 
 
 His face was still pale when Claire entered, and he was so 
 occupied in keeping a guard on his own expression that he did 
 not notice that she looked xeary and dispirited.
 
 174 THE MISTEESS OP COURT KEGtfA. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Sartoris," he said. " I have brought 
 some papers for your signature. " 
 
 " "Yes?" said Claire, listlessly. She had been a^ake the 
 greater part of the night will the many sleepless hours 
 women pass count in their favor at the last greai reckoning, 
 think you? thinking of Lord Chester, and all she had been 
 compelled, in common honor and honesty to refuse, and Mr. 
 Mordaunt Sapley jarred on her. The old nobleman's face, 
 voice, were still with her, and Mr. Mordaunt Sapley seemed 
 to intrude upon her mental vision. 
 
 " Here are the leases of Moorcroft and Westacres," he said, 
 spreading out the papers. " You will see that we have 
 granted them on especially easy terms! 1 think you wished 
 that?" 
 
 " Yes oh, yes!" said Claire. She did not " wish " any- 
 thing particularly that day, unless it were that she had never 
 seen Gerald Wayre. 
 
 " And here are the transfers connected with Mr. Verner's 
 land. In regard to that I should like to say, on behalf of the 
 committee, that if you would not object, we should like to 
 buy a portion of the land for the hospital." 
 
 Claire leaned forward at the table, her head resting on her 
 hand. 
 
 " Take as much of it as you want, please," she said. " I 
 will give it to you, and be very glad!" 
 
 " Thank you on behalf of the committee," he said. " I 
 may say that I expected that you would do this," 
 
 " Yes? You see, you have not monopolized all the gener- 
 osity in the county, Mr. Mordaunt!" she said, with a half 
 smile of indifference. 
 
 He colored. 
 
 "You mean but it does not matter. 1 hope you are not 
 annoyed, because I have we my father has taken an inter- 
 est in local affairs?" 
 
 Claire made a gesture which just stopped short of hauteur. 
 
 " Why should I be annoyed?" she said, with a smile. 
 
 " I don't know," he said. " I thought by your manner 
 your voice." 
 
 Claire shook her head. " I think 1 am rather tired and out 
 of sorts this morning, Mr. Mordaunt," she said. 
 
 He gathered the papers together instantly. " I will not 
 worry you, then," he said. " To-morrow will do. I am 
 sorry " 
 
 " Please go on," she said. " I am quite ready; I will sign 
 Anything you want."
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 171 
 
 Hu opened the deeds for her, and as he did so, he looked at 
 her w'ith covert keenness. 
 
 " Shall I make you very angry if I ask you whether any- 
 thing ha& happened to worry annoy you?" he said, gravely. 
 
 CJaire raised her eyebrows with faintly indicated surprise. 
 Mr. Morel aunt Sapley had never ventured to use this tone to 
 her before. 
 
 ;< Thank you/' she said. " You are very kind, but it is 
 nothing that would interest you nothing in which you could 
 help me." 
 
 " I could not help you, perhaps," he said in the same low 
 yoice, but with a quick gesture, " but it could not fail to 
 interest me. Anything that concerns you must be of the most 
 vital interest to me." 
 
 Claire looked at him with open surprise this time. 
 
 ** It is nothing to do with the estate," she said. " Do I 
 sign here?" 
 
 " I see!" he said in a low voice. " You regard me as just 
 your servant." 
 
 CJaire raised her head. " I am sorry if I seem abrupt," 
 she said; " but I did not mean to offend you. You really can 
 not help me." She smiled wearily. " No one can help me." 
 
 " Are you sure?" he said. " If you would tell me!" He 
 paused and looked down at her, his face paler even than 
 usual, his small eyes fixed on her face. " Miss Sartoris, there 
 is nothing I would not do to help you, no place to which I 
 would not go, no labor too arduous." He paused again and 
 drew a long breath. 
 
 Claire laid down the pen and gazed up at him with her sur- 
 prise visible, eloquent, in her whole face. 
 
 He waited a moment; then, impelled by the thought that 
 he had said too little or too much to stop, he went on. 
 
 " You look astonished surprised. How hard it is for a 
 lady in your position to imagine, comprehend, that although 
 a man may happen to be your inferior in position, your 
 servant as you deem him he has the same capacity for feel- 
 ing as yourself, that he has a heart in his bosom which a word 
 of yours can pierce, a look can stab!" 
 
 Claire's face flushed. 
 
 " I am not aware that I have ever consciously wounded 
 your feelings, Mr. Mordaunt," she said. " If I have, please 
 accept my apologies." 
 
 He moved his hand, his face as flushed as hers. 
 
 " You do not understand," he said. " The very words yo 
 have just spoken prove that you do not. 
 
 "
 
 176 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Claire bent her level brows. " What is it I do not under- 
 stand?" she said, turning the diamond ring on her finger 
 absently. 
 
 " That that I love you," he said. 
 
 It is not too touch to say that for a full momsnt or two 
 Claire did not grasp the significance of the words. She looked 
 at him as one looks at a person who has addressed one in a 
 foreign and unknown language. Then, as his meaning 
 dawned upon her, the crimson suffused her face again, burned 
 down to her neck and arms, and she rose and moved toward 
 the door. 
 
 He slipped in front of her quickly, and held out his hand, 
 effectually barring her progress. 
 
 " Wait!" he said, hoarsely. " I would take it back if I 
 could; but it is too late I can not! Wait and hear me! You 
 can not refuse me that! Not even your pride will refuse me 
 that!" 
 
 Claire stood and looked at him with steadfast eyes. It 
 flashed through her mind that Mr. Mordaunt Sapley had 
 either been drinking to excess or had gone out of his mind. 
 
 And yet she had not thought so when Gerald Wayre had 
 declared his love! 
 
 " Let me pass or say what you have to say quickly, 
 please!" she said in a low voice, in which outraged pride 
 rang. 
 
 " Bear with me!" he said, huskily. " I only ask you to 
 listen. It is true that I love you, Miss Sartoris." 
 
 Coming after Lord Chester's declaration, the words sounded 
 like an insult, and Claire could not repress a shudder. 
 
 " Oh, let me pass, please!" she breathed. 
 
 " Not yet a moment!" he said, struggling hard for a calm 
 and self-possession. " I have to speak now. Give me a 
 hearing. Miss Sartoris, I love you. Why should you shrink 
 from me, treat me so contemptuously! It is true I am not 
 your equal in position, but," he moistened his lips, " I am a 
 gentleman; I am " 
 
 " I will not hear any more!'* said Claire. " You must 
 see Oh, I don't wish to wound you, but, Mr. Mordaunt, 
 let there be no more of this! It is it is madness I 
 Would it not be better to say no more?" 
 
 " No," he said, with a kind of dogged sullenness. " If I 
 had spoken to you as as 1 have done six months ago, you 
 might have been justified hi refusing to hear me, in treating 
 me with scorn; but but things my position, has changed 
 since then. Please hear me!" for Claire had made an impa-
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNAe 177 
 
 tient gesture. " I say things have changed. I have made 
 my wsql^.o amongst your friends I have gained a position 
 of whicUiuy man ought to be proud." 
 
 " I am very glad, but She spoke almost soothingly, aa 
 one would speak to a child or a monomaniac, but he broke in 
 with the same dogged resolution. 
 
 " It is true that my father is only your agent, but but he 
 is a wealthy man. His wealth will come to me. I am 
 ambitious. I have marked out for myself a career have 
 entered upon it I feel that I shall rise^ rise even above the 
 men in this sleepy, world-forgotten place. My wife whoever 
 she may be will share a name which I intend to make 
 famous." 
 
 Claire took another step to the door, but he would not 
 make way for her. 
 
 " I intend to enter the House I hope to gain a name 
 there I have the money, the ambition, the energy. I only 
 need you for my wife to crown my efforts, to share the posi- 
 tion I will yes, will! attain. You hear me with silent 
 contempt, but but will you stop to compare me with the 
 men you know? I do not speak with vanity. 1 know that I 
 am far beneath you, but so are they all! All, every one! If 
 you will be my wife " he passed his hand over his brow, wet 
 with perspiration " I will spend my life in giving you a 
 place which shall be as high above your present one as as 
 mine is below it!" 
 
 He stopped for lack of breath, and Claire was able to speak. 
 She knew now that he was not intoxicated, but she still 
 deemed him mad mad with morbid vanity and self-esteem. 
 So she spoke with a careful modulation of her voice, with a 
 suppression of the indignation and the indescribable loath- 
 ing which threatened to master her. 
 
 " Have you finished?" she said. " Will you let me answer 
 you? You are wrong. I have no contempt for you. No 
 woman is insulted by the offer of an honest man's hand " 
 
 He winced, and shot a glance at her. 
 
 "But, Mr. Mordaunt, what you ask I can not give. I can 
 not be your wife!" 
 
 " Wait!" he broke in, clinching his hands and pressing 
 them closely to his side. " Do not give m your answer now. 
 Don't let it be final. To-morrow " 
 
 " If I waited for an eternity of to-morrows, my answer 
 would be the same," said Claire, battling with her pride and 
 indignation. " Please accept it, and allow me to pass." 
 
 " Why do you hate me?" he said in a low Voice.
 
 178 THE MISTRESS OP COUBT BEGtfA. 
 
 " I do not " she began, then stopped; of all things she 
 desired to avoid an argument with him. " Is it an^ase our 
 talking any longer?" she said, with a smile that ww harder 
 to bear than open scorn. " I think you will see thac a gentle- 
 man accepts a lady's answer and accepts it without protest, 
 Mr. Mordaunt." 
 
 " But I can not!" he said. " I know you refuse me, 
 because because you still look upon me as a kind of servant. 
 You are wrong! You will lose nothing by marrying me. 
 Times are changing. Such men as I, rise!" 
 
 " If you rose to be prime minister " 
 
 " You would refuse me?" he said, white to the lips. 
 
 " Yes," she said in a low voice. " I should refuse an 
 emperor if I did not love him!" 
 
 She paused at the word; it sounded like sacrilege under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 He bit his lip and stood aside, and Claire was making her 
 escape, when the door was pushed open and old Sapley en- 
 tered. 
 
 He was yellow rather than pale, and his huge lips were 
 working as if with suppressed passion, while his small eyes 
 glowed angrily. 
 
 " Half a moment!" he said, waving a shaky paw. " I've 
 been outside don't speak, Mordy; leave it to me now I've 
 heard every word. Miss Sartoris " he bent his heavy brows 
 upon Claire with a threatening expression " let me advise 
 you to take that refusal back. Mind, I only advise! Take it 
 back, and promise to be his wife, and I won't say another 
 word." 
 
 " Mr. Sapley!" said Claire, crimson with anger, " are you 
 both out of your minds?" 
 
 The old man showed his teeth. 
 
 " You'll find we're sane enough," he said, with a kind of 
 snarl. " You heard my son's proposal. What is your 
 answer now that you've got my advice?" 
 
 " My answer is ' No!' " said Claire. 
 
 The old man's face grew red, then faded into its sere yel- 
 lowness. 
 
 " You refuse him! You behave as if you were a princess 
 declining a beggar! Do you know that my son will be a rich 
 man, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 Claire was almost incapable of speech by this time. " Mr. 
 Mordaunt's wealth can be of no interest to me, Mr. Sapley!" 
 she said. 
 
 He drew his lips down. " Because you've so much of your
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 179 
 
 own, eh?" he said. " You think you can afford to treat hi* 
 proposal with scorn, to laugh at his prospects? You heard 
 what he said? Mordy is going to rise. He has got his foot 
 on the ladder; he is a good way up now. I started " 
 
 "Father!" said Mordaunt, hoarsely. 
 
 " You leave me alone," snarled the old man; " she's got to 
 deal with me now. You think " glaring at Claire " that 
 you can afford to play the high and haughty; to come the 
 county family upon him, because you are Miss Sartoris, of 
 Court Regna, and he is only my son the son of your agent? 
 You make a great mistake, young lady, a very great mis- 
 take " 
 
 " Be silent, father! Let Miss Sartoris pass," said Mor- 
 daunt, huskily. " She has heard me; I have got my answer." 
 
 " But she hasn't heard me !" said old Sapley, grimly. 
 " And her answer will change presently. What fault do you 
 find with my son with Mordaunt Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 Claire asked herself whether she was dreaming. Was this 
 Mr. Sapley, who never approached her without a servile bow 
 and smile? She scarcely recognized him in this grimly stern 
 and covertly threatening old man. Surprise mingled with 
 her indignation and anger. It would be difficult to tell which 
 predominated. 
 
 " Would it not be better that this discussion should termi- 
 nate?" she said. " Your son has done me the honor of offer- 
 ing me his hand " for the life of her she could not help the 
 emphasis on the " honor " " and 1 have declined it. Surely 
 the matter may end there! You and I have been very good 
 friends, Mr. Sapley, and I should be sorry if anything were 
 permitted to interrupt the " 
 
 " You see," said Mordaunt, bitterly, " she treats us as her 
 servants. Say no more, father. We will leave the Court " 
 
 The old man's face grew purple. 
 
 " Leave the Court leave the Court!" he said, thickly. 
 " Who talks of leaving the Court? Look here, young lady! 
 Take back what you've said, and all shall go on as smoothly 
 and pleasantly as before!" and he twisted his lips into s^ 
 smile. 
 
 Claire turned to Mordaunt with a smile. 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Mordaunt, you do not combine with your 
 father in thus roughly urging your suit?" 
 
 "Never you mind him attend to me!" said old Sapley, 
 indeed, roughly. *' You think his money's no account that 
 all he's offered you doesn't signify. You're buoyed up by 
 your pride your county pride and your money"
 
 180 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Claire made a gesture almost imperial in its command; but 
 it had no effect. 
 
 " You listen to me! There's no hurry! You think you're 
 Miss Sartoris of Court Regna a kind of queen in your way. 
 But you make a great mistake, young lady! You are a 
 pauper I" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " You are a pauper!" 
 
 The words did not impress Claire in the least. She looked 
 at the old man's sallow face, distorted by passion, with blank 
 amazement. She had thought Mordaunt mad; she felt 
 certain that his father must be; and, indeed, at the moment 
 he looked like a man whom rage and malignant resentment 
 had bereft of reason. His hands were clinched, his lips apart, 
 showing his fang-like teeth, his eyes glared with a kind of 
 vindictive triumph into hers. 
 
 Mordauut was as much amazed as Claire, and he started 
 and looked at his father speechlessly for a moment; then he 
 said: 
 
 " Father! What do you mean?" 
 
 Old Sapley paid no heed to him, but still regarded Claire. 
 
 " Do you hear what I say? Do you understand?" he 
 snarled. 
 
 Claire found her voice. " I heard yes,' 7 she said. " But 
 I do not understand. I do not wish to hear anything more. 
 Let me pass, please!" 
 
 " You do not understand," he said. " You will not go til] 
 you have realized what I mean. I repeat, Miss Sartoris, you 
 are a pauper!" 
 
 Claire mechanically glanced round the room, as if to assure 
 herself that she was not dreaming, that the old man who had 
 always been so respectful, so servile, was really standing before 
 her and uttering these strange words. 
 
 " You'd better sit down," he said, pointing a shaky hand 
 at a chair. *' What I have to tell you will startle you. You 
 will want all your strength and presence of mind, Miss Sar- 
 toris. Yes, for all your pride, you will find the blow a crush- 
 ing one." 
 
 Claire, it is needless to say, did not obey him; but stood, 
 erect as a dart, and facing him with steadfast eyes and tightly 
 set lips. It was he who quailed before the direct gaze of her 
 violet eyes, and he drew a chair to the table and sunk into it. 
 
 " You think yourself mistress of Court Regna, Miss Sor-
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 181 
 
 toris," he said, more calmly, and with slow, distinct enuncia- 
 tion. " I tell you that not an acre of the laud, not a house, 
 not a farm, belongs to you!" 
 
 Mordaunt uttered a sudden exclamation and took a step 
 forward; but his father held up a hand to silence him, and 
 went on in the same dry voice: 
 
 " You do not believe me?" 
 
 " I do not believe you!" said Claire, quietly. 
 
 " I am not surprised," he said; " but wait. Do you know 
 anything of your affairs? Do you know anything of the con- 
 dition of the estate when Lord Wharton died?" 
 
 Claire was silent, but her silence answered for her. 
 
 " No," he said, with a nod of the head and a twisting of 
 the lips. " How should you, when he himself did not know 
 that he was up to his ears in debt, that the estate was 
 mortgaged to the hilt?" 
 
 Claire did not start, did not remove her eyes from his face; 
 but he saw by their expression that she had grasped the sig- 
 nificance of his statement, and he nodded and smiled again. 
 
 " He neither knew nor cared. So long as money was forth- 
 coming to supply his wants, he did not care where it came 
 from, or how it came. He never remembered that there is a 
 bottom to every purse, and that he had been sinking down to 
 it ever since he was a young man. It was no business of mine 
 to tell him; but when I hinted at the state of things, he cursed 
 me, and told me not to croak. And I obeyed him." 
 
 He twisted his mouth into a sneer. " What have such men 
 as me to do but to obey when a lord bids them! I said no 
 more, but let things take their course. When he wanted money, 
 I got it for him, and as he didn't ask what the getting of it 
 cost, I didn't tell him." 
 
 He paused, and looked before him, as if recalling the old 
 days, the long course of deception by which he had led his 
 master to ruin. 
 
 "Acre by acre was mortgaged; money was raised by 
 annuities, and by notes of hand, in every way by which money 
 can be raised, and Lord Wharton knew nothing. He made 
 his will!" he laughed discordantly, in hideous mockery, 
 " as if he were leaving Court Regna and a large fortune to 
 boot, whereas my lord died without a penny." 
 
 Mordaunt was beginning to understand. He leaned against 
 the paneled wall and folded his arms; but with his eyes on 
 the ground; and yet he could see Claire's face, and, neeing, 
 admire its unbroken calm. 
 
 Mr. Sapley drew a long breath.
 
 182 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 " When he died you came into possession into possession 
 of Court Regna, of the house and heaps of money as you 
 thought. In reality, you came into a pile of mortgages, a 
 heap of debts. You asked no questions, but carried yourself 
 as if you had been bom to it all, as if it were yours by right; 
 and I let you alone in your delusion!" 
 
 He laughed discordantly again. 
 
 " You little thought, when you treated me and my son as 
 if we were a kind of upper servants, that your pride was built 
 upon sand, that you were balancing on a rickety pedestal that 
 might give way beneath you any moment and topple you over. 
 But so it was, Miss Sartoris, so it was!" 
 
 He paused, and Claire, speaking for the first time since his 
 announcement, turned to Mordaunt. 
 
 " Is this true?" she said, with not a quaver in her voice, 
 with the calm regard of her grave eyes. 
 
 " I can not tell you," he said, huskily. " I know nothing 
 about it! I ask you to believe that, until this moment, I was 
 as ignorant as yourself." 
 
 '"That's true," said the old man, with a chuckle. " He 
 speaks the truth. Mordy's clever, very clever! He thought 
 that I had let all the business of the estate pass into his hands; 
 he never guessed that I'd kept the true state of the case to 
 myself. You can believe him. He speaks the truth. He 
 knew nothing. He never imagined, while you were queening 
 it over us all, you were a pauper a pauper, existing on my 
 bounty on his father's bounty!" Over Claire's face a wave 
 of crimson, like a stain, passed, leaving her white to the lips. 
 
 " Your bounty?" she said, almost to herself. 
 
 " Whose else?" he retorted, roughly. " Who holds all the 
 mortgages, the annuities, the notes of hand, but me? I've 
 got 'em, every one!" 
 
 He leaned back as he made the statement, and, thrusting 
 his hands into his pockets, looked up at her with a gleam of 
 triumph in his small eyes. 
 
 Claire let her hand fall on to the table, and pressed it there, 
 as if she needed its support. 
 
 " You?" she said, involuntarily. 
 
 "Yes, I, * Sapley, the agent/ Sapley, you and my lord 
 looked down upon as so much dirt; just a man, a servant to 
 be ordered about as you pleased! To be treated civilly one 
 day, and like a footman out of favor the next just as it 
 suited his whim. Yes, Miss Sartoris, 1 am the owner of 
 Regna, every acre of it, every house upon it; the Court itself, 
 those pictures, the tables aod chairs, the carpet you're stand-
 
 THE MISTEES8 OF COURT RE6WA. 183 
 
 ing upon. I've only to foreclose, and they are mine; for no 
 man will be fool enough to buy them at the price I've lent on 
 them." 
 
 Mordaunt said something it was rather an exclamation 
 than a coherent sentence, but old Sapley seemed to under- 
 stand, and turned to him. 
 
 ''Don't be afraid! Do you think I am a fool? The 
 mortgages are not in my name. There is no betrayal of 
 trust! I bought them honestly, fairly. I bought every note 
 of hand honestly and fairly. No man, let him be as clever a 
 lawyer as he may, can find a flaw in my claim. When the 
 estate is sold, I shall get back the money I've spent. You'll 
 be my debtor still, young lady!" He nodded at Claire. 
 
 Claire sunk into the chair at last. She felt surprised, 
 bewildered, by the suddenness of the blow. But though she 
 could not yet realize it, she did not doubt its genuineness, its 
 completeness. The old man's tone carried conviction with it. 
 She saw, every moment more clearlv, how the man, spider- 
 Jike, had woven his web round Lord Whartou and herself. 
 
 " Yes/' he said, " like him, you asked no questions. You 
 behaved as if you had half a million at your back. You had 
 your horses and your carriages, your house in London, your 
 dinner-parties, and you never asked where the money came 
 from. You must needs pull down the old wing and rebuild 
 it!" 
 
 Claire winced for the first time, and he laughed harshly. 
 
 " Pull down the wing of my house!" he said. " And when 
 I ventured humbly to remonstrate, you stopped me with that 
 infernal proud look of yours " 
 
 "Father!" muttered Mordaunt; but the old man turned 
 on him almost savagely. 
 
 " Hold your tongue! Isn't it true? Do you think I 
 haven't felt it that 1 haven't looked forward many a time, 
 
 when I've borne their d d insolence, to the hour when I 
 
 could pay it back? Pay it back with interest! If you've no 
 spirit, I have! Hold your tongue! This is my business!" 
 
 He turned his cavernous eyes on Claire again. 
 
 " You raised the money by a note of hand. She signed 
 that day you passed the library. How are you going to pay 
 me that money back? How, I ask? You can't tell, Miss 
 Sartoris? Well, was I right when I said that you will be a 
 pauper? Shouldn't I be right if I added that you were my 
 debtor?" 
 
 . Claire raised her head, which had sunk under this 
 humiliation, the most crushing of all.
 
 184 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 " If it bo true I can not pay you!" she said in a loff v 
 as if every word caused her a separate pang. 
 
 Mordaunt drew nearer the table. 
 
 " Father," he said, almost inaudibly, " this that you have 
 told Miss Sartoris is so sudden, so unexpected, that she does 
 not realize it. You must see that. Do not say any more. 
 Miss Sartoris has a right to demand a full and detailed state- 
 ment, in writing, of of your claim. This must be sent to 
 her she will need advice " 
 
 The olfl man stopped him with a grunt. 
 
 " She shall have it. I am prepared at all points. She will 
 find no flaw. Everything is in proper legal order. She shall 
 have the statement any time she likes; now, if she wishes it. 
 She can take it to anybody she pleases. I defy the cutest 
 lawyer to pick a hole in it. Court Regna is mine all of it!" 
 
 'Miss Sartoris would like to go now," said Mordaunt in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " Wait a bit," said the old man. " I've got something 
 else to say something more pleasant, and that she'll be 
 precious glad to hear. She's a pauper she can take my 
 word for it and will have to turn out. After all/' he 
 grinned malignantly, " it ought not to be so hard. She was a 
 nobody when she came here; she'd no right to expect Court 
 Regna and half a million, and it oughtn : t to be so hard to 
 lose what she'd no reason to expect. You'd only go back to 
 what you were before, young lady." 
 
 Claire rose, but he stretched out his hand. 
 
 " Wait a bit. There's no need for you to turn out at all. 
 That's the pleasant part I'm coming to." He smiled and 
 nodded. " You've heard what Mordy offered you? He 
 offered to make you his wife. You refused him just now 
 refused him as if he'd been your footman or your groom. 
 Perhaps it was only natural though Mordy's a gentleman, fit 
 for any girl seeing your pride and the value yon set upon 
 yourself as mistress of Court Regna. Mistress of Court 
 Kegna! But you know the truth now; you know that he's as 
 good as you and better. I've brought you to your senses, I 
 expect, young lady! Well, it's only right that pride should 
 have a fall! But we Mordy and I bear no malice. We'll 
 forget and forgive." 
 
 He nodded and showed his fangs in what he intended for a 
 conciliatory smile. " Take back that refusal, accept Mordy's 
 offer, and the day you're married I'll hand him a quittance 
 for every penny the estate owes me!" 
 
 As the old man dealt this his trump card, which he hod
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT REGtfA. 185 
 
 held in reserve for so many months he leaned back and 
 rubbed his huge hands, and emitted a self-assured chuckle. 
 Mordaunt started and flushed redly. For a moment it seemed 
 as if he were about to speak, but he checked himself, and, 
 folding his arms, stood motionless, with his eyes fixed on the 
 ground, waiting for Claire's answer. 
 
 " That's the way out of the business," said old Sapley. 
 " There's one way out of the quagmire, and as you're a 
 sensible young lady, you'll take it, I guess. Accept Mordy. 
 He's young and clever, and, come to the actual fact, he's 
 master of Court Regna." 
 
 Claire remained silent, her eyes fixed on the mean and 
 sordid face, never meaner or more sordid than now, at his 
 moment of triumph. 
 
 " There's no need to set all the gossiping tongues wagging," 
 he went on. " I've kept the secret of the condition of affairs 
 pretty tightly; we can keep it still. You can have an early 
 marriage the earlier the better; and just before you start on 
 the honey-moon I'll give Mordy a release from every mortgage 
 and lien I hold. Ay, and there'll be more money when I'm 
 dead and gone, Miss Sartoris. Even if you'd still been mis- 
 tress of Court Regna, you wouldn't have made a bad bargain 
 by marrying the son of old Sapley." 
 
 He paused a moment, then turned his head to Mordaunt. 
 
 " What do you say, Mordy? You'll repeat your offer, 
 eh?" 
 
 Mordaunt moistened his lips. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris knows that I will do so, that the great 
 desire of my life is to make her my wife," he said in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " That's all right, then," said the old man. " Well, Miss 
 Sartoris, what's your answer?" 
 
 He waited, as if he were assured of what it would be, and 
 he nodded to Mordaunt in a self-satisfied way. 
 
 Claire raised her head. 
 
 " You ask for my answer, Mr. Sapley," she said, quite 
 quietly, with a calmness which was more expressive than any 
 expression of indignation would have been. ' You shall 
 have it. I repeat my refusal. If not only Court Regna and 
 every penny I possess, but my life itself, depended upon my 
 doing so, I would not marry your son." 
 
 Mordaunt started forward, as if about to speak, but no 
 words came. Old Sapley struggled to his feet, then sunk 
 down and opened and ahut his lips, as if struggling to restrain 
 himselt
 
 186 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 
 
 "You you refuse? But come, come! You're put out a 
 bit. It's only natural. I may have been a bit rough and 
 hard on you I dare say I was. But I take back everything 
 I've said that you object to. I take it back. Don't speak in 
 a hurry. Take time. Think it over; consider your position 
 it's a devilish tight one! Remember how you stand. A 
 pauper Court Regna gone; you turned out without a penny, 
 just the clothes on your back and your trinkets and I m not 
 ure but what I could force you to give them up!" He glared 
 up at her threateningly. " Take time. Take a day; tell 
 him to-morrow; sleep upon it " 
 
 " 1 do not need any time," said Claire, as calmly as before. 
 " Nothing nothing, not the fear of death itself would 
 induce me to consent to be your son's wife. You have got 
 Court Regna but I am free!" 
 
 The old man sprung to his feet and made a grab at her 
 arm, scarcely knowing what he was doing in his rage and 
 amazement. Claire drew back beyond his reach, the color 
 flooded her face, the glorious eyes blazed their woman's 
 indignation and scorn upon him, and upon the motionless 
 figure beside him. 
 
 " Do not touch me! Do not! Let me pass!" 
 
 The old man quailed before her, and instinctively drew 
 aside, and Claire, without another word or glance at him, 
 passed out. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MORDATJNT looked at his father, and drew a long breath. 
 " All this is true, I suppose?" he said. 
 
 The old man had sunk into his chair again, and was clutch- 
 ing the arms and breathing hard, as if he had not yet recovered 
 from Claire's passionate refusal of the offer which he had felt 
 certain she would accept. 
 
 " Yes, it's true," he answered. " It's been the work of 
 my life. I have planned and toiled for .it day and night. 
 Gradually, bit by bit, I have bought the mortgages, got hold 
 of every note of hand. My name has never appeared in the 
 matter I took good care of that! When Lord Wharton died 
 he had no idea of how he stood; he thought there were some 
 debts, some incumbrances, but he imagined that she was 
 leaving enough money to clear these off and leave Miss Sar- 
 toris a wealthy woman. The interest on (he mortgages and 
 notes of hand has not been paid for years; the accumulation 
 IB enough to swamp the estate."
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. Jg? 
 
 41 You have done the thing completely!" said Mord aunt, 
 grimly. 
 
 The old man nodded and chuckled harshly. " I have!" he 
 said, as if the praise were only his due. " No one suspects 
 how matters stand; no one would have known if this girl 
 hadn't played the fool. Who is she, to set her back up and 
 oppose me? She came here without a penny! You talk of 
 servants, she had no right to expect the money; what was 
 she, a servant! What right had she to expect Lord Whartou 
 to leave her Regna? She was robbing the other relations!" 
 
 " That is nonsense!" said Mordaunt, curtly. " But she 
 has balked your plans." 
 
 The old man showed his teeth. "Not she!" he said. 
 " She was taken aback, and got riled. She's as proud as 
 Satan^-you'll have to teach her to be a little more meek when 
 you mai'ry her, Mordy." 
 
 " When! When!" exclaimed Mordaunt, bitterly. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," said Sapley; " she'll come to her 
 senses, and pretty soon. Give her till this time to-morrow to 
 realize hor position to realize that, instead of being mistress 
 of Court Eegna, she is nobody." He threw out his hands 
 with a scornful gesture. 
 
 ** And if she should not?" asked Mordaunt. 
 
 " Then let her go," said the old man, thrusting his head 
 forward. " Let her go, and we'll step into her place." 
 
 Mordauut laughed scornfully. " Yes," he said, " we 
 should look well at Court Regna, you and I; to be shunned 
 by every respectable man, woman, and child in the place! 
 We should be regarded as usurpers, scoundrels who had 
 robbed her and turned her out. What good would it be to 
 us? Of whjit use would be the position I have gained of late? 
 Not one of the men who have received me in so friendly a 
 way would look at me or touch my hand. Good-bye to all 
 my hopes of taking a place in the county, of making a name 
 for myself!" 
 
 The old Man's head sunk. " Is this your gratitude?" he 
 said. "I've done -it all for you. I might have had Court 
 Regna for myself long ago, but I only thought of you. I 
 should have been content to have gone on in the old way; it is 
 for you I planned and worked for you, my only son." 
 
 Mordaunt paced up and down. " I am only showing you 
 how things will turn out," he said. 
 
 The old man drew a long breath. "Let me think!" he 
 said. " There must be some way of working it." His head 
 sunk down, nud his hands worked nervously on the arm of
 
 188 THE MISTKESS OF COURT EEGNA. 
 
 the chair. " I have it!" he said, at last, looking up. " I'm 
 not going to be beaten, after all these years, by a chit of * 
 girl! If she won't marry you, she must go! Let it be under- 
 stood that we've bought the place; she can give out that she's 
 tired of it wants a change. I'll make her an allowance, 
 settle an annuity upon her. You shall say how much. For 
 myself, I wouldn't give her a penny; she has treated us like 
 dirt, and if I had my way she should turn out as poor as she 
 came. " 
 
 Mordaunt shook his head. " You don't know Miss Sar- 
 toris," he said. " You are right she is as proud as Satan, 
 and would rather die than accept a penny from us." 
 
 The old man's face worked, and he laughed incredulously. 
 " Try her! Try her!" he said, mockingly. " Women are all 
 alike where money's concerned. But, mark my words, it 
 won't come to that. She'll take back her refusal to-morrow, 
 and accept you with a ' Thank you, sir!' ' 
 
 Mordaunt shook his head again, but said nothing, and the 
 old man rose slowly and stiffly. " I want to go home," he 
 said, with peevish irritability. " I'm tired and upset. But, 
 mind, I'll have my way. Either she marries you, or leave the 
 Court! Give me your arm. " 
 
 They went slowly out of the house. On the terrace old 
 Sapley stopped and looked up at the house, his deep-set eyes 
 traveling from end to end of it, as if he were gloating over it. 
 
 " I came here a servant," he said in a low voice. " I will 
 see you master before I die, Mordy!" 
 
 When Claire left the library she went straight to her own 
 room. Her heart was beating fast, her eyes were burning 
 with the fever of indignation which Mr. Sapley's treatment of 
 her had aroused. For a time the fact that Mordaunt Sapley 
 had presumed to offer her marriage, and that his father had 
 dared to threaten her, absorbed all her mind; but presently, 
 as she paced up and down the room, with her hands clasped 
 in front of her, she began to remember the old man's state- 
 ment. It came upon her like a flash, and she stopped and 
 pushed the hair from her forehead and looked straight before 
 her, trying to grasp the fact in all its significance. 
 
 Most women would have been overwhelmed by the sudden- 
 ness of the blow and the completeness of the ruin which had 
 overtaken her; but Claire possessed more strength of character 
 than most women, and her experience and training had been 
 peculiar. If she had been born to the splendor of Court 
 Kegna, she might indeed have been utterly crushed by the 
 prospect of its loss; but, as Mr. Sapley hid. said, she had come
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 189 
 
 to the Court a penniless girl, and that fact softened the blow. 
 But it also enabled her more easily to realize what the change 
 would mean. Though she had never been puffed up by her 
 accession to wealth and place, she had valued both in a 
 reasonable way. 
 
 _ There is no woman alive, certainly no young and healthy 
 girl, who does not prefer a palatial country mansion and a 
 house in town to dingy lodgings; rich dresses and jewels to 
 shabby-genteel attire; horses and carriages to a seat in a penny 
 'bus; a host of well-trained servants to a smutty-faced slavey 
 or none at all titled and well-born friends to the companion- 
 ship of the vulgar and ill-bred. And it was just this differ- 
 ence, this terrible contrast between wealth and poverty, which 
 she had now to face. 
 
 It did not occur to her to doubt Mr. Sapley's statement. 
 She knew that he would not have dared to make it if it had 
 not been absolutely true. And there was no improbability in 
 it; it was just what such a man would do. She remembered 
 how entirely Lord Wharton had intrusted business matters to 
 this man; she herself had left everything in his hands, had 
 never asked how the money came which she had spent, with- 
 out the least regard to the amount; had signed papers, without 
 understanding their import. It was more than probable that 
 she had played into Mr. Sapley's hands, and had, so to speak, 
 helped to complete her own ruin. 
 
 The blow was hard to bear, but the fact that Mordaunt had 
 dared to ask her to marry him, that his father had proposed a 
 bargain which would include her acceptance of Mordaunt 
 Sapley as a husband, was still harder to endure. The thought 
 made her cheeks burn, and brought tears to her smarting eyes. 
 Only yesterday one of the noblest of men had asked her to be 
 his wife, had deemed her worthy to bear his name and title; 
 and now to-day, Mordauut Sapley had dared to insult her by 
 standing by and acquiescing in his father's vile proposal. 
 
 What should she do? There was no one to whom she could 
 go for advice. Lord Chester occurred to her, but she shrunk 
 from the mere thought of telling him of the humiliation 
 which had been inflicted upon her. Mrs. Lexton was away, 
 and even if she had been at the Court, Claire felt that she 
 could not have told her. Mrs. Lexton would have offered to 
 share her slender purse with her, but "laire's proud nature 
 recoiled from the charity even of so close a friend. She 
 bathed her hot face, and sat down, determined to face th 
 situation calmly. She must leave Court Regna. 
 
 Every moment she remained there she was, as Mr. Sapley
 
 190 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 had so brutally told her, a pensioner on his bounty. She 
 living in his house. Everything was his, the very chair in 
 which she sat. The reflection caused her to rise from it and 
 pace the room again. She must leave the Court at once. She 
 would go from it as she came, alone and friendless. 
 
 She asked herself what money she possessed. She had 
 come to the Court with a few pounds in her pocket; she 
 might lay claim to these. Lord Wharton had given her, at 
 various times, on her birthday, and when she had said or done 
 something that pleased him, or when it suited his humor, 
 various articles of jewelry. These she felt she was entitled 
 to. The Wharton diamonds, the rare and costly gems, which 
 had been left to her, were part and parcel of the estate, and 
 belonged to Mr. Sapley, and would go with the rest to pay the 
 money owing to him. She would take nothing from the 
 Court but the few pounds with which she had entered and the 
 trinkets which had been presented to her. 
 
 She went to her wardrobe and chose the plainest and least 
 expensive dress, and put the jewelry and a change of clothes 
 into a Gladstone bag. Then she stood in the middle of the 
 room, nerving herself for a last farewell of the place which 
 she suddenly discovered she loved better than she had ever 
 suspected. With all its splendor, it had been home to her. 
 She had never fully realized the importance of its possession; 
 but now it had gone from her she felt how good a thing it had 
 been to be " mistress of Court Kegna." 
 
 She went along the wide corridor slowly, and looking at 
 the pictures as she passed, step by step she descended the 
 broad stairs. The light from the stained window fell in brill- 
 iant flecks upon the white statuary, upon the gleaming men in 
 armor, upon the tattered flags suspended from the roof. The 
 grandeur of the place impressed her as it had never done 
 before; the inanimate objects seemed endowed with sentience, 
 and to be whispering to her with sad and mournful solemnity, 
 the pregnant word, " Farewell!" 
 
 She entered the drawing-room and looked round at th 
 magnificent decorations, the antique furniture, and the unique 
 bric-a-brac which Lord Wharton had collected from nearly 
 every country under the sun. The richness of the apartment 
 had almost been unnoticed by her before; she appreciated it 
 now. From the drawing-room she went into the dining-room 
 and looked at the carved panels, the painted ceilings, the 
 great bronzes on their pedestals of black marble, the massive 
 plate on the great oak sideboard. Then she went to the 
 stable. The mare whinnied at her approach, and as she put
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COUET REGNA. 191 
 
 her arms round its glossy neck, it thrust its soft nose against 
 her cheek, as if it understood what had happened, and that this 
 the tears that dropped upon its neck, Claire's broken words 
 of endearment and parting meant good-bye. She could 
 scarcely tear herself away from the horse which had been her 
 loving companion on many a long and happy ride, for it was 
 harder to part from it, this living thing that returned her love 
 with a tenfold interest, than from all the grandeur and 
 luxury, and stately magnificence of the Court. 
 
 Her eyes were still full of tears as she re-entered the hall. 
 Her maid was passing, and Claire, with a movement of her 
 hand, stopped her. 
 
 " I have packed a bag; it is in my room," she said. " Will 
 you ask one of the men to take it down to the station?" 
 
 " Yes, miss," said the maid. " Will you have the open 
 carriage?" 
 
 " No; I will walk," said Claire. 
 
 The maid was too well trained to show her surprise, but she 
 noticed Claire's pallor and her red eyes. " Have you a head- 
 ache, miss?" she said. " Shall I bathe your head with eau-de- 
 Cologne, or get you a cup of tea?" 
 
 The girl had always been kind to her for servants can be 
 kind as well as mistresses and Claire was fond of her. It 
 cost her a great effort to repress a burst of tears. 
 
 " No no, thank you," she said. " The walk will do me 
 good. I'm going up to London I do not know when I shall 
 be back." 
 
 She paused at the foot of the stairs and took a sovereign 
 from her purse. " Sophie, I saw a very pretty bonnet in the 
 milliner's window at Thraxton; I think it will suit you; will 
 you get it?" 
 
 The maid took the sovereign, and crimsoned with pleasure, 
 and Claire hurried upstairs, out of hearing of her thanks. She 
 put on her out-door things, and then knelt beside the bed in 
 which she should never sleep again. Then she rose, and 
 slowly, with bent head, left the house. On the terrace steps 
 she turned and looked back, as Mr. Sapley had done; but 
 with what a different emotion! 
 
 She had to pass the old wing, and she looked afit with a 
 curious feeling of unreality; it almost seemed that the part 
 which Gerald Wayre had played in her life was only a dream, 
 and, as she recalled his words about the difference in their 
 station, she murmured: "I am as poor as he now even 
 poorer!" She glanced flkJho cottage in which old Mrs. Bur*
 
 192 THE MISTRESS OF COUKT REGNA. 
 
 don was crooning by the fire, then entered the small avenue 
 which led to the station. 
 
 She had got half-way down it when Mordannt Sapley came 
 dut from a side path. He was walking with bent head and 
 his hands clasped behind him, and his brows were knit and his 
 lips set tightly, as if he were occupied with anything but 
 pleasant thoughts, notwithstanding his father's recent intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 As he saw Claire he started, and his face grew red. Claire 
 would have passed him without any greeting, or, at most, a 
 slight inclination of her head; but he raised his hat and 
 addressed her. 
 
 " I am glad to meet you, Miss Sartoris," he said. " I was 
 coming up to the Court in the hope that you would see me." 
 
 Claire looked straight before her, her face as impassive as a 
 statue's. 
 
 " I wanted to assure you/* he went on, " once more, and 
 with all the emphasis of which I am capable, that until my 
 father spoke in the library just now I was quite ignorant of 
 of the state of affairs. I beg you to believe this, Miss Sar- 
 toris, and to acquit me of any share in the transactions which 
 have resulted so disastrously for you." 
 
 " I believe you," she said. 
 
 you that not only 
 had no share in this business, but that I regret it regret it!" 
 
 Claire said nothing in response to this. 
 
 " I should also like to say how bitterly I regret that my 
 father should have have used such language to you. " 
 
 " Mr. Sapley only spoke as his nature prompted him," said 
 Claire. 
 
 Mordaunt bit his lips. " I know! I know!" he said. 
 '* But, Miss Sartoris, you will not punish me for his offense?" 
 
 " I have no desire, no power, to punish you, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt," she said. 
 
 " I have come to you, Miss Sartoris, to make a proposal." 
 
 Claire's eyes began to flash. 
 
 " I beg you will not misunderstand me," he said, reddening, 
 and looking down. " I have come to make a proposal of 
 a a business nature." 
 
 " What is it?" said Claire, calmly, coldly. 
 
 " I have been talking the matter over with my father have 
 endeavored to convince him that your decision your refusal 
 is irrevocable, "
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT REGJTA. 193 
 
 " It is," said Claire, as coldly as before. 
 
 He bit his lip again, and shot a glance at her. " And I 
 have pointed out to him that though we he may legally 
 claim Court Regna, it will be unjust to to deprive you of the 
 whole of your fortune." 
 
 " I have no fortune/' said Claire. " It seems that nothing 
 has ever belonged to me; that Mr. Sapley really owned it 
 all." 
 
 Mordaunt shuffled his foot on the ground. " I fear that is 
 so," he said. " Yes, I fear! For I need not say, Miss Sar- 
 toris, that if I had my own way every penny should be restored 
 to you. But you would not listen to this?" 
 
 Claire's silence was a sufficient assent. 
 
 " But though you will not consent to this, I trust that you 
 will accept an offer of an income of a thousand a year. I 
 have put it at so small a sum," he went on, quickly, " because 
 I felt that you would not accept of more." 
 
 " I can not accept even that," said Claire. " It is a large 
 sum, Mr. Mordaunt; but even if it were one represented by 
 the smallest coin of the realm, my answer would be the same. 
 Your father reminded me that I had been a pensioner on his 
 bounty, a recipient Of his charity; do you think that I am 
 one to remain in such a condition for one moment longer than 
 I can help, for one moment after my knowledge of the fact?" 
 
 " You visit my father's sins upon my head," he said, 
 huskily. " Will you not take the money from me?" 
 
 " From you !" broke from Claire; then she recovered com- 
 mand of herself. " Mr. Mordaunt, no doubt you mean well. 
 I thank you for your intention. But you do not understand 
 that, though I were starving, I could not accept even a crust 
 of bread from your hand." 
 
 " I seel" he said. " Your scorn of me is so great." 
 
 " Say, rather, my self-respect." 
 
 He looked at her from under his brows. "May I ask 
 where you are going?" he said. 
 
 " I do not acknowledge your right to ask me, but I will tell 
 you. I am leaving Court Regna forever!" 
 
 He started, and lifted his head. " You are leaving Court 
 Regna at once?" 
 
 "At once," she said, very quietly. " I have no right to 
 remain here. I have no wish to remain there under your 
 father's roof." 
 
 He winced, as if she had struck him. " Your pride carries 
 you a long way, Miss Sartorial" he c*id.
 
 /94 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " Yes; it will carry me beyond the reach of your father's 
 insults and your persecution. 
 
 His hands clinched and his lips worked ; he looked like a 
 copy of his father at that moment. 
 
 ' You are going alone? You have money?" 
 
 "Yes, I am going alone, as I came; and I take with me 
 just the money and the few trinkets which I deem belong to 
 me. I leave everything else to Mr. Sapley; you will find that 
 nothing has been disturbed, that it is all as Lord Wharton 
 left it." 
 
 " My God! it is too much!" he said, half maddened by her 
 coldness, by the stab contained in every low-spoken word. 
 " 1 say you shall not go! You shall not go until you have 
 had time to think to come to some agreement!" He took a 
 step forward, with his hand outstretched, as if to actually take 
 hold of her. 
 
 Claire's face went white as marble, but she did not move. 
 " Do not attempt to stop me! Do not dare to touch me! We 
 are within hearing of the servants. If I call to them for 
 help, Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, they will not recognize you as 
 their master yet, and will protect me." 
 
 Memory is a strange thing. There flashed across her mind 
 the scene in the plantation when Gerald had beaten this man 
 for ill-treating the dog, and she added: " I am not a helpless 
 animal, to come at your call, Mr. Sapley; you can not punish 
 me for not doing so, as you punished the dog in the planta- 
 tion!" 
 
 Mordaunt shrunk back, startled and overwhelmed by her 
 allusion. She raised her hand and pointed to the house. 
 " Go on to the house, and leave me to go my way!" 
 
 There was something in her voice, in her gesture, before 
 which Mordaunt's craven spirit perforce yielded, and he actu- 
 ally turned and walked away, with the air and gait of a beaten 
 hound. Claire did not watch him, but stood, motionless, 
 until his footsteps had died away, then she went on into tho 
 new life which awaited her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CLAIRE went on to the station, got her bag, and took ft 
 ticket for Waterloo. She had almost taken a first-class before 
 she remembered that she was no longer the mistress of Court 
 Regna; and her pale face colored slightly at the respectful air 
 of surprise with which the booking-office clerk handed her a 
 third.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 195 
 
 The train was not a crowded one, and she had the compart- 
 ment to herself. She was too tired and overstrained to sleep, 
 and almost too wornout to think; but half-way on her journey 
 it suddenly occurred to her that Mordaunt Sapley might fol- 
 low her, or instruct some one to play the spy upon her move- 
 ments; and. though she was not afraid of Mordaunt Sapley, 
 she had no desire to have anything further to do with him. 
 She had relinquished Court Eegna to him and his father, and, 
 if it were possible, she wanted to forget both the place and the 
 men into whose hands it had fallen. Whenever she thought 
 of Mordaunt's avowal of love, and his father's insolent pro- 
 posal, the blood burned in her face, and a choking sensation 
 came into her throat. Yes, she had done with the old life of 
 ease and luxury forever; she was going back to the world of 
 labor and poverty from which she had sprung, and the sooner 
 she taught herself to forget Court Kegna and the position 
 which she had .held, the better for her. She sighed as she 
 thought how difficult it would be; for had she not found it 
 impossible to forget Gerald Wayre? 
 
 Instead of waiting till the train got to Waterloo, she 
 alighted at Clapham Junction. Now, Clapham Junction, 
 though an extremely convenient place from which to start on 
 a journey to any point of the compass, is not, to put it mildly, 
 a very inviting place as seen from the station, though if Claire 
 had walked a very little way she would have found herself in 
 an extremely pleasant neighborhood, in which are some of 
 those delightful old mansions, with which the suburbs of Lon- 
 don are so rich. But she didn't like the view from the station, 
 and she took a train that was starting from another platform, 
 and got out at Streatham. 
 
 Streatham is, in its way, unique. She saw a High Street of 
 pretty, red-brick houses and shops, with a wide and pretty 
 common beyond, and trees and flowers in plenty. She could 
 scarcely believe that she was only a few miles from the great 
 noisy Babylon. 
 
 A sharp-eyed urchin offered to carry her bag, and she set 
 out to find some place in which to lay her head. She had to 
 walk some distance to a more closely built part of the town 
 before she could find a card of " apartments " in a window, 
 and when she did, her heart began to fail her. But she 
 plucked up courage and knocked at the door. A young girl 
 opened it, and, scarcely waiting for Claire's inquiry, fled down 
 the passage, calling "mother." A respectable-looking 
 woman, with anxious eyes and mouth, appeared, and asked 
 Claire in. Claire said she wanted a room, only one room,
 
 196 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 and not an expensive one. She could not say for how long 
 she would require it; it all depended upon upon circum- 
 stances. The woman eyed the beautiful face and the graceful 
 figure with timid suspicion for a moment or two, then some- 
 thing in Claire's eyes and very probably the presence of the 
 expensive bag reassured her, and she took Claire upstairs 
 and showed her a room. It was small and plainly furnished, 
 and clean. 
 
 " It's the only room I have, miss ma'am,'" she said, hesi- 
 tating, inquiringly. 
 
 " My name is Sartoris, Miss Claire Sartoris," said Claire. 
 " I have come from the country to look for employment." 
 
 The woman glanced at Claire's dress, which, though plain 
 in form, was obviously of good and fashionable material, and 
 seemed puzzled; then she sighed as if Claire's business was 
 none of hers. 
 
 " The rent will be a pound a week, miss,'* she said. " You 
 take your meals in this little sitting-room," and she opened 
 another door. 
 
 Claire had not intended to pay so much, but the cleanliness 
 of the place was inviting; and, indeed, she was too tired to 
 continue her search. 
 
 " I will take the room for a week, at least," she said. 
 
 " Very good, miss," said the landlady. " I will do my 
 best to make you comfortable. I have only one other lodger, 
 a lady, and you will find the house very quiet." 
 
 " I am sure I shall be very comfortable," said Claire. 
 
 The bag was brought up, and the landlady got her some 
 tea, and Claire sat down and tried to realize that she was Tier- 
 self, and that the little room was, at any rate for a time, her 
 home. After she had got through her tea it took her some 
 time to get through, though it was only the cup that cheers, 
 and does not inebriate, and bread and butter she got out 
 her writing-case and wrote a letter to Mrs. Lexton. 
 
 It was a difficult letter to write, for Claire could not tell 
 her the whole of the circumstances, and had to conceal from 
 her the fact that she, Claire, only possessed a few pounds in 
 the world. She dared not even send Mrs. Lexton her address, 
 for she knew that the tender-hearted woman would leave even 
 the sick-bed at which she was a ministering angel, to fly to 
 Claire's assistance. And Claire did not want even Mary Lex- 
 ton. She had resolved to fight the battle alone, and not to be 
 a burden upon any one. 
 
 So she said that circumstances had arisen which necessi- 
 tated her leaving the Court; that she had come up to London,
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 197 
 
 but did not know whether she should remain there. It was 
 very probable that she might go abroad. She wrote as 
 lovingly as she dared, and as cheerfully as if her leaving the 
 Court so suddenly had been prompted by a whim, and she 
 promised to write again as soon as she had " settled down." 
 
 Then she went to bed, and, strange to say, slept soundly. 
 
 The next morning, after breakfast, she went out and bought 
 a newspaper, and returning with it, sat down to commence 
 her search for that which is so difficult to obtain nowadays 
 work. 
 
 Like a great many young women in her situation, she asked 
 herself what she could do. She was well educated Lord 
 Wharton had engaged good masters for her when she had first 
 come to the Court she could speak French and German 
 fluently, and play the piano with a skill, and something more 
 of the feeling, which most English ladies display. It seemed to 
 her that it ought not to be difficult to get a governess's situa- 
 tion. She was fond of children, and felt sure that she could 
 learn the art of teaching. 
 
 She pored over the advertisements for half an hour, then 
 selected two and answered them, stating her qualifications. 
 
 There were other advertisements, offering situations to lady 
 clerks and typewriters; but Claire shrunk from the confine- 
 ment which a clerkship meant, and she had never so much as 
 seen a typewriter. 
 
 She went out and posted her letters, and walked round the 
 pretty common until dinner-time. As she was going along 
 the passage to her room on her return, a lady came down the 
 stairs. Claire was rather startled, for the lady wore the garb 
 of a Sister of Mercy. As she came down, she raised her bent 
 head and looked at Claire. 
 
 Claire caught a glimpse of a pale face, with patient eyes 
 shining softly beneath a deeply lined brow and snow-white 
 hair; it was only a glimpse, for the sister lowered her veil and 
 passed on with head again bent. 
 
 Claire wondered whether that was her fellow-lodger, and 
 asked the question of the landlady's daughter, who was 
 tidying Claire's room. The girl was a shy, commonplace 
 child, who was called, absurdly enough, " Queenie," though 
 anything less regal could scarcely be imagined. The absurdity 
 of the name was heightened by the fact that she was shabbily 
 dressed in old finery, and that she did not possess a single 
 
 " TT 
 
 " Yes, miss," she said, with a Cockney smile, half shy, and 
 half familiar. " That's the other lodger; she's Sister Agnes.
 
 198 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Ma's 'ad 'ei for years. She's a very quiet lady, and quite a 
 lady, ma says, though she is a sister and poor." 
 
 " Has she no other name?" asked Claire, in whom tho 
 sweet and patient face had aroused a deep interest. 
 
 " Not as we've ever 'card, miss. She's called Sister Agnes, 
 and that's all. She ain't what you'd call a regular sister, but 
 she works with our clergyman; she's orfully good to the poor, 
 and goes reading to them and nursing them when they're ill. 
 Ma says that she gives nearly all her money away, and that she 
 leaves scarcely enough to keep 'erself on. She don't pay 
 much; but she don't give no trouble, and she's that quiet and 
 gentle-like, that you'd scarcely know that she was in the 
 ouse. It's better than 'aving single gentlemen. Them 
 single gentlemen is orful! Mrs. Brown over the way 'as got 
 one. He comes home drunk every night, and carries on 
 dreadful; sometimes he opens the winder and sings comic 
 songs at the top of 'is voice. You'll 'ear 'im one night, miss. 
 Oh, ma says, please would you like a tapioca or a rice? Some 
 people likes one and some likes the other, and ma says she 
 should like to know." 
 
 Claire absently declared for the tapioca, and Queenie 
 departed. 
 
 The day wore away slowly enough. But the next morning 
 Claire saw, with a leap of her heart, two letters lying on her 
 breakfast-table. 
 
 They must be the letters in response to her answers to the 
 advertisements! She opened them with a nervous eagerness. 
 Both the letters were brief requests that she would call at 
 certain addresses. She could scarcely believe in her good 
 fortune, for she had always heard that there were so many 
 applications for every vacant situation. It struck her that 
 both notes were written in business-like hands, and that their 
 form was very much alike; but she was too excited to pay 
 much attention to this. 
 
 She could scarcely eat any breakfast, and, putting on her 
 things, hurried off to the first address, which was in Trinity 
 Street. It was a private house of good appearance, but she 
 was rather surprised at being shown into a kind of office, and 
 still more surprised when a young man, who looked like a 
 clerk, rose from a desk and asked her her business, just as an 
 ordinary clerk is in the habit of doing. Claire explained, and 
 handed him the letter. 
 
 " Oh, ah, yes!" he said in a listless way. " Indoor or out- 
 door?" And he opened the ledger and took up his pen. 
 
 " I don't understand," said Claire. " I wrote in answer
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COUKT REGtfA. 199 
 
 to an advertisement asking for a governess in the family of 
 a lady. Does she not live here? Perhaps I have mistaken 
 the ho use/' 
 
 " No, it's all right," said the young man in a tired kind of 
 way. " We put the advertisement in. It's the regular 
 thing." 
 
 ' The regular thing?" said Claire. 
 
 " Yes, this is a registry office." He checked himself sud- 
 denly, as if struck by Claire's innocence, and in a different 
 tone went on: " Oh er that lady's suited, but we've several 
 other applications. If you will give me your name and 
 address, and your qualifications, I'll enter them in our 
 register, and send you word when we hear of anything likely 
 to suit you. There's a fee of half a crown," he added, as an 
 afterthought. 
 
 Claire began to understand. She was not quite so foolish 
 as to part with her half crown, but confined herself to thank- 
 ing the young man, and went out. Stifling her disappoint- 
 ment as well as she could, she took a 'bus to the second 
 address. Again it was a private house, with a well-to-do 
 appearance, and again she found herself in an office-like apart- 
 ment, and confronted with a clerk-like youth; but he was 
 inclined to be insolent until he met one of Claire's direct 
 looks. 
 
 " Situation's gone," he said. " Put your name down, if 
 you like." 
 
 " This is a registry office, then?" said Claire. 
 
 The youth grinned, and twirled an incipient mustache. 
 
 " What did you think it was?" he asked. 
 
 Claire said, very quietly, that she thought it would have 
 been the private house of a lady advertising for a governess. 
 
 The youth laughed again, and arranged his hair with a be- 
 ringed and rather dirty hand. 
 
 " That's what they all think," he said. " But it's all right 
 enough! We do get a good many situations for our clients, 
 honor bright! You pay the fee it's half a crown and I'll 
 put your name down and keep a look-out; I will, really. 
 Look 'ere, I've got several others before you, but I'll put you 
 first on the list; I will!" 
 
 Claire looked at him as if she did not see him, pud left the 
 office. Her heart was very heavy as she went home, all the 
 heavier for the hope which had lightened it in the morning. 
 She wondered how many poor girls had been deceived, as she 
 had been, by this heartless trick! 
 
 She bought several newspapers that evening and answered
 
 200 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 several advertisements which, upon consideration, she deemed 
 genuine. But no answers came. But she would not despair, 
 and every day she wrote applications for situations of various 
 kinds. One day, the begiuning of the second week, a letter 
 came from a lady who had advertised for a govermiess, asking 
 Claire to go and see her. 
 
 Claire went, with hope once more springing within her 
 bosom. The house was in one of the fashionable squares, 
 and a handsomely appointed carriage stood at the door, which 
 a footman opened to her. He conducted her to a beautifully 
 furnished room on the first floor, and said that his mistress 
 would be disengaged in a few minutes. 
 
 The room was divided from the adjoining apartment by 
 curtains only, and Claire could hear two ladies talking. She 
 could hear quite plainly. 
 
 " So she gave me notice," said one. " Of course, if 1 had 
 thought that she would have flown into a temper, I shouldn't 
 have spoken to her. I shouldn't have dared to do so; though, 
 really, she was anything but a good cook. I'm sure I don't 
 know what I shall do!" 
 
 " It's so difficult to get a cook of any kind," said the other 
 lady. 
 
 ' Yes," assented the first. " And they ask such wages! I 
 give this one twenty -eight pounds a year. 
 
 In her advertisement for a governness she had offered 
 twenty-five. 
 
 " I'm afraid you will have to give more than that," said her 
 friend. " You won't get anything decent under thirty 
 pounds. " 
 
 Claire listened with a sad smile, that was also just a little 
 bitter. Presently the visitor took her departure, and Claire 
 was shown into the other room. 
 
 Her interview with the lady was a brief one. It appeared 
 that what she wanted was a lady who could teach English, 
 French, Latin, the piano, and the violin to three girls and two 
 boys. Claire was prepared to undertake the English, the 
 French, and even the piano, but, alas! she did not know 
 Latin or the violin; and the lady, who appeared to be quite 
 surprised by such phenomenal ignorance on the part cf ar.y 
 one applying for the position of governess, rather curtly 
 declined such insufficient services. 
 
 The tears were very near Claire's eyes as she left the house. 
 Then, suddenly she remembered the story of Gerald's struggles, 
 as he had told them to her that morning outside the chapel. 
 Surely a woman ought to possess as much courage as a man!
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COUET REGNA. 201 
 
 She would not give way to despair and own herself van- 
 quished. There must be some work for a woman to do, if 
 she could only find it. If she could only find it! She was 
 sitting over her tea, with a bad headache and a worse heart- 
 ache, and was counting over what remained of her money, 
 when Queenie came in with some more hot water. 
 
 " You're home earlier than usual, Queenie," said Claire, 
 for the sake of saying something. 
 
 " Yes, miss/' said the girl. " One of our teachers is ill, 
 and the 'ead mistress dismissed the school half an hour 
 earlier, 'cos she 'ad to do all the work. She was a'most 
 worried to death, the other teacher going so sudden like. I 
 don't know what she'll do to-morrer, I'm sure. They say 
 the other teacher is very bad indeed, and that she won't be 
 able to come back to the school even if she gets better. I'm 
 sorry; for she wasn't so 'ard as Miss Gover, the 'ead mis- 
 tress." 
 
 An idea occurred to Claire. It is wonderful how quickly 
 ideas come when necessity sharpens the wits! 
 
 " That large red building at the end of the street is your 
 school, isn't it, Queenie?" she said. 
 
 " Yes, miss," said Queenie. " Was you thinking of apply- 
 ing for the place, miss?" she added with Cockney sharpness. 
 
 " Yes, that was just what 1 was thinking of doing," said 
 Claire. 
 
 " Then I'd go at once, miss," said the girl, shrewdly. 
 " There'll be hundreds and shoals directly they know there's 
 a vacancy!" 
 
 " I'll go at once," said Claire; and she put on her hat and 
 jacket and started there and then. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL 
 
 THE school-house door was ajar, and receiving a sharp little 
 "Come in!" in answer to her knock, Claire entered the 
 large school-room. For a moment or two she could not see 
 from whom the " Come in!" had proceeded; then she saw, 
 seated at a table in a distant corner, a tiny little woman, with 
 dark and piercing eyes shining from a pale, overworked face. 
 A heap of exercise-books lay on the table before her, and it 
 was evident that she was hard at work correcting them, and 
 did not welcome the interruption. 
 
 Strangely enough, Claire felt more nervous in the presence 
 of this little creature with the sharp eyes and sallow face than 
 she had felt during all her interviews with employers of a
 
 202 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 higher station. There was something disconcerting in thJ 
 steady scrutiny, which seemed, so to speak, to take Claire to 
 pieces and examine her microscopically. 
 
 " I wish to see Miss Gover," she said, though she felt sure 
 that, notwithstanding her elfish appearance, chis must be the 
 head mistress. 
 
 " I am Miss Gover," was the response in a sharp, clear, 
 decisive voice. 
 
 " I heard that you were in want of an under-teacher," said 
 Claire. 
 
 A faint astonishment showed itself in Miss Governs face. 
 
 " Will you take a seat?" she said. " How did you hear 
 this?" 
 
 Claire felt as if she were a school-girl again, coming up for 
 punishment. 
 
 " I heard it from my landlady's Mrs. Holland's little 
 girl. I only heard it five minutes ago, and I ventured to 
 come here at once, because 1 hoped that you would allow me 
 to take the under-teacher's place until she got better." 
 
 " She will never get better," said Miss Gover in a low 
 voice. " But that's not the question. Will you tell me your 
 name?" 
 
 Claire told her. Miss Gover wrote it down on a slip of 
 paper. 
 
 " What certificates have you?" she asked. 
 
 " I have none," said Claire, her heart sinking. 
 
 " No certificate?" said Miss Gover, rising. Claire rose, 
 too. " Where have you been teaching?" 
 
 " I have never taught," said Claire. 
 
 Miss Gover looked at her curiously. 
 
 " You seem to be very ignorant of the qualifications that 
 are necessary for a school-teacher nowadays. This is not a 
 Board School, but a teacher has to hold a certificate, all the 
 same. Did you not know this?" 
 
 Claire felt that her eyes were beginning to fill with tears. 
 But she fought against them, and even smiled. 
 
 " I ought to have known it," she said. " I ought to have 
 remembered; but I didn't stop to think. I have been trying 
 to find work for so long, and it is very difficult to obtain. 
 There are so many things wanted. And when one is poor one 
 grasps at the least chance." 
 
 Miss Gover looked at Claire, and in the glance seemed to 
 take in every detail of her dress. 
 
 " You've not always been poor?" she said. " But I beg 
 your pardon!"
 
 THE MISTKESS OP COUET REG1TA. 203 
 
 '* There is no need/' said Claire, gently. " No, I've not 
 always been poor. It is only lately. You will forgive me for 
 troubling you. I see now how presumptuous it was! I must 
 not keep you from your work any longer." 
 
 Ths beautiful face, the sweet, musical and beautiful voice, 
 had their effect upon the sharp but kind-hearted little mis- 
 tress. 
 
 " Wait a moment," she said. " Please sit down;" and shfl 
 pointed to a chair, as if Claire were one of her school-girls. 
 
 "What is it you think you can teach?" 
 
 Claire said, quite humbly fancy Claire Sartoris, the mis- 
 tress of Court Regna, humble that she thought she could 
 teach English, French, German, and music. 
 
 Miss Gover nodded. 
 
 " That would be more than enough," she said; " but there 
 is still the difficulty of the certificate. I could nofc engage the 
 most capable person in the world if she had not passed the 
 necessary examination. I am very sorry, because I should 
 like to take you/' 
 
 Claire was silent for a moment, then she looked up quickly. 
 
 " You mean that I could not be a paid teacher," she said. 
 " Yes, I quite understand; but would you would you let me 
 come and help you, without receiving a salary?" 
 
 Miss Gover looked at her. 
 
 " What good would that do you?" she said, briskly. 
 
 " It would do me a very great deal of good," said Claire. 
 *' It would mean work something to do, something to keep 
 me from thinking and brooding." She stopped and pressed 
 her lips together. " And I should be gaining experience. 
 Perhaps, while I am here, trying to help you, I might endeavor 
 to pass this examination. Then, if this poor girl should not 
 recover but, indeed, I hope she may!" 
 
 Miss Gover shook her head. 
 
 " It doesn't sound fair," she said. 
 
 " Please do not refuse me," pleaded Claire. " 1 will try 
 my very hardest to be of use to you. I am very strong, and 
 not easily tired, and I am fond of children; I will do what- 
 ever you tell me, and I will promise not to be disappointed, 
 or, at any rate, not to make it hard for you to get nd of me 
 if you should find I can not help you." 
 
 The little woman leaned her head upon her hand and looked 
 at Claire strangely. The humility of this beautiful girl, 
 whose air and carriage so plainly proclaimed the lady, touched 
 her acutely. 
 
 " I don't know what to do," she said. " Of course I an
 
 304 THE MISTRESS OF COUET REGXA. 
 
 answerable to my Board of Management. But I imagine," 
 with a little smile, " they will not object to my getting an 
 assistant so cheaply. Well, I will risk it. You may come.'* 
 
 Claire's face flushed. 
 
 " How can I thank you?" she faltered. 
 
 " I will help you with your examination," continued Miss 
 Gover, " and if you should pass and it isn't very difficult for 
 an educated woman I will do my best to procure you the 
 situation. Fortunately for you, we have no pupil teachers for 
 the present, or of course I should have to give one of them 
 the chance." 
 
 Claire murmured her thanks again. 
 
 " Let me see, Mrs. Holland's is No. 29, isn't it?" said 
 Miss Gover. " Now, will you give me a couple of references, 
 please?" 
 
 Claire's face flushed, and then went pale. 
 
 " Eeferences?" she repeated in a low voice. " I am afraid 
 I can not." 
 
 The head mistress laid down her pen and looked at her with 
 surprise, and a shadow of suspicion only a shadow, which 
 passed in a moment. 
 
 " Surely you must know two persons who would who 
 would vouch for your respectability?" 
 
 Claire's lips quivered as she shook her head. 
 
 "No," she faltered; "I know no one. I have been very 
 foolish to come to you, to forget how impossible it would be 
 for any persons to employ me without references. But I for- 
 got that, as I forgot my want of certificates. I am respect- 
 able." She smiled sadly. " But I am afraid I have no one 
 who would vouch for me." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " I wish I could tell you my whole story! A week or two 
 ago I was rich, or thought myself so; but I discovered, quite 
 suddenly, that I had been under a delusion. I left my home 
 and came to London. The few friends I possess do not 
 know where I am. I am," she smiled again, " proud. I 
 could not be a burden on my friends. If they one of them, 
 at least knew that I had lost all my money she would insist 
 upon my sharing her small means. I could not do that. I 
 am young and strong, and I ought to be able to earn my own 
 living." 
 
 The little woman got up and paced np and down, with her 
 hands behind her, like a man or a school-mistress. 
 
 " What am I to do?" rhe said. " I believe every wonj 
 you've said "
 
 THE M1STKESS OF COURT REGNA. 205 
 
 " Yea, it is quite true," murmured Claire. 
 
 " I should like to have you come and help me, and I yes, 
 I would take you without references. But what would the 
 Board say? I can't do iti" 
 
 " I know!" said Claire in a low voice, which she tried to 
 keep steady. " And though you can not let me come, I am 
 very grateful to you for wishing to help me for believing and 
 trusting in me." 
 
 "Don't cry!" said the school-mistress, sharply, as if she 
 were chiding a girl. 
 
 " I am- not crying," said Claire, passing her hand quickly 
 over her eyes. " But yours are the first words of kindness, 
 yours is the first offer of help, since I came to London, and 
 I will go now. Good-bye;" she held out her hand. 
 
 Miss Gover still paced up and down, with her head bent, a 
 frown upon her face. 
 
 "It sounds impossible!" she exclaimed. "Surely you 
 have some person one person who will answer for you?" 
 
 Claire shook her head sadly. 
 
 " There is no one to whom I could apply without letting 
 them know how low I have fallen; and I will not do that 
 while I have a shilling left; I have not many. If I can not 
 get a situation as a governess or a teacher, I will find some 
 work to do for which references are not necessary." 
 
 The mistress sighed. 
 
 " I am very sorry!" she said, regretfully. " Come, think! 
 Is there no one who will answer for you?" 
 
 " No," said Claire. 
 
 " Yes, I will answer for her," said a low voice at the end 
 of the room. 
 
 Both women started, and looked round. In the darkness 
 which had gathered while they had been talking, stood the 
 figure of a Sister of Mercy. 
 
 It was Sister Agnes. She had entered the room in her 
 noiseless way, and, unseen, had heard the last part of the con- 
 versation. She stood perfectly motionless, with her hands 
 folded before her, her colorless face as placid and emotionless 
 as that of a mediaeval saint. 
 
 " Sister Agnes!" exclaimed Miss Gover. Claire looked at 
 the black-robed woman, who had come to her aid, in silent 
 (suspense. 
 
 " You know Miss Sartoris, sister?" asked the mistress. 
 
 Sister Agnes came slowly toward them. 
 
 " I will answer for her," she caid. " I know nothing of
 
 206 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 her history, but I live in the same house with her. I have 
 seen her and heard her speak." 
 
 Something in the low, patient voice touched Claire to the 
 heart, and, trembling, she sunk into a chair. The sister'? 
 eyes rested upon her with infinite pity and tenderness. 
 
 " Are you satisfied?" she asked of the mistress. 
 
 Miss Gover nodded. 
 
 " Of course, if you will act as a reference, Sister Agnes, I 
 am satisfied; and so also will the Board be." She turned to 
 Claire. " Sister Agnes is the best-known person in this dis- 
 trict, and any one she vouched for would be accepted." 
 
 Claire rose and tried to speak, but the words of gratitude 
 would not come. Sister Agnes laid her hand upon Claire's 
 arm. The touch was as soft and light as a snow-flake, but 
 there was something mesmeric in it, and it stilled Claire's 
 throbbing heart. 
 
 " You had better come to-morrow morning, at half past 
 eight," said Miss Gover, " so that we may have time to talk 
 matters over and arrange your duties. You will find the 
 work hard " she sighed, and the lines deepened on her 
 brow " but it will not be unpleasant, if you grow to like it. 
 The girls are troublesome sometimes, but they are nearly all 
 good -hearted and do their best." 
 
 " I am not afraid of hard work," said Claire. " I will try 
 my very best. Not only for my own sake, but " she looked 
 through her tears at Sister Agues " but for yours." 
 
 "Come home now, my child!" said the sister; and with 
 bent head and folded hands she led the way. 
 
 " I want to thank you," said Claire, when they got outside, 
 " but I can not; my heart is too full. I will tell you all my 
 story." 
 
 The sister raised her meek eyes, and smiled almost re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 " That would not be thanking me," she said. " I do not 
 want you to justify my trust in you. You shall tell me your 
 story some day, but not now, my dear child. Go home and 
 rest, so that you may gain strength for the work you are start- 
 ing on to-morrow. Do not be afraid. That little woman's 
 heart is bigger than her body; it is only her manner that is 
 hard. Behind it is a nature as soft and loving as that which 
 you hide behind the mask of pride." 
 
 Claire hung her head. 
 
 "Beware of pride, mv child! Friends were given us that 
 we might make use of their friendship, for their good as well 
 as our own."
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 207 
 
 " If you knew!" faltered Claire. 
 
 " I do not blame you, though I do not know all. I can see 
 that you have suffered, that you are still in trouble. There is 
 no balm for an aching heart like work. I speak from sad 
 and sweet experience. Our ways part here; I am going to 
 see a sick child for whom even work is ending." As she 
 spoke, she touched Claire's arm again and passed away like a 
 shadow. 
 
 Claire went home, but she could not rest. It seemed to 
 her as if an angel from heaven in the form of Sister Agnes 
 had come forward to help her. It seemed too wonderful to 
 be true. She went out after awhile and bought two or three 
 school-books, and studied them late into the night. She could 
 scarcely sleep for thinking of this great good fortune, of the 
 kindness of the two women; but she was at the school next 
 morning before the clock had chimed half past eight. Miss 
 Gover received her kindly, but in a business-like way. She 
 explained the school routine, and, so to speak, put Claire 
 through her paces, and Claire blushed with delight when Miss 
 Gover said, curtly: 
 
 " There will be no difficulty about your examination; you 
 will pass easily enough!" 
 
 At nine o'clock the girls came trooping in, and Claire's 
 duties commenced. She had a class of fifteen girls. They 
 were, of course, the smallest of the children, but Claire almost 
 felt afraid of them, they seemed all so preternaturally 
 sharp, and they eyed her with that peculiar acuteness which 
 London children alone possess. Claire was astonished at their 
 quickness and shrewdness, and was rather aghast at the readi- 
 ness with which they seized upon any salient fact in the les- 
 son; their intelligence was as sharp as a razor. Deeply 
 occupied as she was, she found time to observe Miss Gover. 
 The head mistress was a born mistress; and as Claire looked 
 at her, she thought of Napoleon ridiculous as the parallel 
 may seem. The little woman held all the girls some of 
 them bigger than herself as completely in hand as a general 
 holds his division. At a word from her or a stroke of her 
 bell, the whole school instantly became silent; she seemed _to 
 have eyes for everything and every one, and though Claire 
 never met her glance, she knew that Miss Gover was watching 
 her. 
 
 The room grew hot, Claire's head began to ache with that 
 peculiar ache which the school-teacher alone knows, but she 
 was not daunted. She liked the work; she was interested in 
 the girls. One little mite, a child with short, fair hair,
 
 208 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 
 
 clustering in curls about her little round head, won her 
 heart from the start. She was called Tiny, and was at the 
 bottom of the class. She grew tired after awhile, and Claire 
 took her upon her knees, where the child promptly fell asleep. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the school broke up for the dinner-time, 
 and Claire went over to Miss Gover and timidly asked how she, 
 Claire, had got on. 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Miss Gover; " but I noticed that you 
 took one of the children on your lap." 
 
 " She was a wee, little thing," said Claire, " and very 
 tired." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Miss Gover. " But you mustn't do 
 it. You've got to learn that a school-teacher is supposed to 
 have no heart. Oh, yes, I think you'll do very well. You've 
 got a headache, of course?" 
 
 Claire admitted the soft impeachment. " But it will be all 
 right when I am used to it," she said. 
 
 " Do you think so?" said Miss Gover, with a weary little 
 smile. " Well, perhaps it may. You look very strong;" and 
 she glanced at the graceful, girlish -figure with a reluctant 
 admiration not un tinged with amiaole envy. 
 
 " Oh, I'm as strong as a horse!" said Claire, with a smile. 
 
 " You need be!" rejoined the head mistress, significantly. 
 
 Day followed day, and Claire settled down into her new 
 life. Few careers are as uneventful as a school-teacher's; but 
 Claire did not find her life monotonous. She was interested 
 in her work, and, except for the headaches, which grew less 
 frequent after a time, she kept her health. In a very short 
 time she succeeded in winning the affection of her class. The 
 children went home full of the kindness of the new, pretty 
 mistress; the little Tiny regarded her as a second mother; for 
 though Claire did not repeat the mistake of nursing her, she 
 was especially gentle with the mite who ought to have been in 
 the nursery instead of a school. 
 
 Claire devoted her evenings to preparation for her examina- 
 tion, and at times she felt sure of passing. Now and again, 
 when she was poring over Enclid, or Macaulav's " History of 
 England," she would stop and ask herself if Court Regna and 
 her old life had ever been a reality. If if Gerald Wayre had 
 ever existed ? She thought of him very often of his strug- 
 gles, his cheerfulness, his self-reliance, the masterful way in 
 which he had tackled the work at the Court; and, in a singu- 
 lar way, his character influenced hers. 
 
 But she had not much time for thought; there was the ordi-
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 209 
 
 nary routine work at the school every day; her own prepara- 
 tion for the examination every night. 
 
 Of Sister Agnes she saw very little. Now and again she 
 would pass her on the stairs or meet her in the street, but the 
 sister never vouchsafed her more than a smile, the placid 
 smile of a saint, and Claire did not venture to address her, to 
 intrude upon her. For there was something in Sister Agnes, 
 with all her humility and sweetness, which kept people at 
 arm's-length. 
 
 One day Claire missed Tiny from the class. 
 
 " Where is Tiny?" she asked. 
 
 " Tiny's ill, teacher,'"' said one of the girls. After the 
 school was over, Claire obtained Tiny's address and went 
 round to see the child. She found the mother in tears. Tiny 
 was very bad! Doctor said it was some fever; mother didn't 
 know rightly which. Yes, the lady could see the child. Tiny 
 was always talking about her. Claire went up the narrow 
 staircase and into a small room, where the little mite lay toss- 
 ing on a bed almost as small as herself. Tiny did not know 
 her at first, but after a time understood that it was the pretty 
 teacher, and lisped fragments of the last lessons she had 
 learned. 
 
 Claire sat beside her for some time, and when she rose to 
 leave, gathered the child to her bosom and kissed her. The 
 next day Claire had a return of the headaches which she had 
 flattered herself she had grown out of. When she got home 
 she felt giddy and faint. She went to bed with a parching 
 throat, and a choking sensation, which was more than 
 unpleasant. Then, at last, she fell asleep, and woke to find 
 Sister Agnes beside her. 
 
 " Sister Agnes!" she said, with difficulty. :t You here?" 
 
 " Yes," said Sister Agnes. " I am here because you want 
 me. You are ill!" 
 
 " 111?" said Claire; and her voice sounded strangely in her 
 own ears. " What is the matter with me?"' 
 
 " Diphtheria, my child," said Sister Agnes. : ' You caught 
 it from Tiny!" 
 
 " Poor little Tiny! I remember!" murmured Claire. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 CLAIRE was very ill. More than once grim Death hovered 
 very near the bed on which she lay like a flower struck down 
 by a blast of some deadly wind; but there was an angel pres- 
 ent in the form of Sister Agnes, and she fought King Death
 
 210 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 as the Angel of Life in Watts' great picture fights with tho 
 Destroyer and she kept him at bay. 
 
 Providence tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and often 
 raises up friends for us in our hour of need; it raised up friends 
 for poor Claire. Not only Sister Agnes, but Mrs. Holland, 
 the landlady, and Queenie were moved to pity and tenderness. 
 Miss Gover herself came round, and, though she dared not 
 enter the sick-room for fear of carrying contagion to the 
 school, spent many a half-holiday on a chair on the little 
 landing outside the sick-room door, from which she would 
 address, in a curiously and comically softened voice, words of 
 encouragement to Clair within; and when Claire would try to 
 answer her, the sharp, little woman would struggle with a 
 lump in her throat, and dash her hand across her keen eyes. 
 
 In diphtheria the fever is seldom delirious, and Claire 
 neither raved nor rambled incoherently; so that Sister Agnes 
 learned nothing of her patient's past life; but she knew that 
 the trouble which had cast CJaire from wealth to poverty, and 
 driven her into a lonely fight with the world, was still weigh- 
 ing upon her mind, and helping the insidious disease. The 
 doctor, one of those hard-working men who are an honor to 
 their profession and the salt of the earth, more than once 
 shook his head gravely, and, outside the door, expressed to 
 Sister Agnes his doubts as to the result of the illness. 
 
 " I might fight the diphtheria/' he said; " her youth and 
 her strength for she is a splendid specimen of a young 
 woman help me, but she herself doesn't do much hi that 
 way; she doesn't appear particularly anxious to live!" 
 
 " She has known trouble," said Sister Agnes. 
 
 " Of course," said the doctor, looking at his watch he had 
 about fifty other cases to see that day " I guessed that. 
 Now, if you could cure the trouble, Sister Agnes, I think, 
 mind, I think, I could pull her through the diphtheria. It's 
 percious hard for us doctors when a sick person has something 
 wrong with his mind as well as his body. Sorrow kills more 
 often than disease. Go on with the treatment." 
 
 Sister Agnes went back to Claire and smoothed the pillow 
 and bathed the hot head, and Claire smiled up at her 
 patiently and gratefully. 
 
 " Does he say I am going to die?" she asked, one day. 
 
 " No," said Sister Agnes. " He thinks that you will live 
 if you care to." 
 
 Claire smiled again, a smile that went to Sister Agnes's 
 heart. " 1 should like to live through it for your sake, sis- 
 ter/' she said. " But for mv own ah, well, life does not
 
 THE MISTEESS OP COURT HEGNA. 211 
 
 seom BO very precious that one should fight and struggle for 
 it. How is Tiny to-day?" 
 
 " Better," said Sister Agnes. " She cried when they told 
 her that you were ill." 
 
 " Poor little mite!" said Claire. " I am sorry they told 
 her. I am glad that she is better, and hope that she will 
 live; all her life is before her, with hope and love and happi- 
 ness." 
 
 " You speak as if love and happiness were over for you, 
 dear," said Sister Agnes, gently. 
 
 " I think they are," said Claire. " That must sound very 
 wicked to you, sister; very childish and peevish. You are so 
 good, you see, and I am so wicked and impatient." 
 
 " Don't say that I am good," said Sister Agnes. 
 
 Claire smiled. " You are too good for this world, sister. 
 Some persons are born so. I am not one of them." 
 
 " Don't say that!" said Sister Agnes, again. " You speak 
 as if your trouble had left some bitterness in your heart." 
 
 " Yes," said Claire. " It has; I am no saint. My pride 
 and self-love have been wounded, and the wound rankles." 
 
 " Can yon tell me your trouble?" asked Sister Agnes, after 
 a pause. " I know that you have not always been poor; but, 
 my dear, riches are not everything in this world." 
 
 " Eiches!" said Claire. " You think that I am grieving 
 for the loss of my money? I am not." 
 
 She was silent for a time. During her fever her feelings 
 had gone through a strange phase. There were times when 
 she had forgotten Gerald's supposed treachery, when she had 
 forgotten his flight with Lucy Hawker. They came back 
 upon her now in full force. 
 
 "It is not the loss of my money that has hurt me," she 
 said. " I am almost ashamed to tell you " 
 
 " There need be no shame, dear," said Sister Agnes. 
 " Sorrow is only shameful when we have brought it upon us 
 by our own sin; and even then there is no shame in owning 
 our fault and praying for forgiveness." 
 
 Claire smiled half bitterly. " I don't know that it was all 
 my fault," she said. " If it was a sin to love him and 
 believe in him, half the sin is mine still. I did love him, and 
 that I can no longer believe in him is my great sorrow. Sister, 
 are all men liars?" 
 
 " Not all," said Sister Agnes. ' Thank God, there are 
 many, many good men and true in the rorld. The clergy- 
 man who came to see you yesterday "
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COUET JREGNA. 
 
 " The little curate with the weak eyes aiid the thin hair?" 
 said-Claire. " How kind he was, how gentle!" 
 
 " Yes/' said Sister Agnes, " and he is as noble for all his 
 weak eyes and thin hair as he is gentle. He left a home of 
 wealth and luxury sacrificed all that the world considers 
 worth living for to come here and labor for the good of his 
 fellow-men. 
 
 " He was quite different," said Claire in a low voice. " He 
 was tall and strong, and fought for his own hand. I think 
 that is one reason why I loved him. He was quite unlike 
 your pet curate, sister; and, perhaps, you would not think 
 him a hero. But he was a hero in my eyes, and I gave him 
 all my heart." 
 
 " He must have been a very foolish as well as a very wicked 
 man, my dear, if he didn't value it as one of the greatest 
 treasures on earth." 
 
 Claire laughed and struggled for breath. " He valued it so 
 little that he went off with another girl! Ah, how mean, how 
 miserable my story must seem to you, sister! But there it is. 
 He told me that he loved me, and five minutes afterward I 
 saw him It all sounds so impossible! So impossible that 
 while I have been lying here I have forgotten his treachery, 
 and at times have only remembered him as 1 once thought 
 him all that was noble, and good, and brave, and true." 
 
 Sister Agnes took the hot hand and smoothed it. " You 
 must not talk much more, dear," she said. " But one 
 word are you sure that you were not mistaken? You do not 
 seem to me a girl easily deceived." 
 
 " No," said Claire. " I prided myself on my intelligence. 
 I thought that I could not be mistaken in him; that was where 
 I was wrong. But ' men are deceivers ever,' you know, sis- 
 ter. No, there could be no mistake! I saw him with my 
 own eyes making love oh, how I hate the word! to the 
 other girl." 
 
 The hot tears welled from beneath her eyelids. " All thia 
 must seem so petty, so contemptible to you, sister; though it 
 means so much to me." 
 
 Sister Agnes was silent for a moment or two, then she drew 
 the black veil a little over her face. " Neither mean nor 
 contemptible, dear!" she said in a low voice. " You speak 
 as if ] did not know what love meant. You are wrong. Is 
 there any woman who is so ignorant? I, too, have had my 
 sorrow. It has cast a shadow over my life a shadow that 
 has taken this form;" she touched her black dress.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 213 
 
 Claire turned her head, but the pale, patient face was hid- 
 den from her. 
 
 ' You, sister?" she breathed, half fearfully. 
 
 "Yes, I!" said Sister Agnes. "It is hard for you to 
 realize that I, an old woman with white hair, was once a 
 young girl like yourself." 
 
 " No, no, sister!" murmured Claire. 
 
 " It is hard for even me to realize it," said Sister Agnes, 
 "for the past grows dim as a dream. And yet, while 
 you have been speaking, it has all come back so vividly. 
 You have told me something of your trouble: shall I tell you 
 of mine?" 
 
 " Not if it will pain you," said Claire. 
 
 " It will pain me," said Sister Agnes. " But I shall not 
 shrink from that if I can remind you that you are not the 
 only one who has suffered, if I can show you that there is 
 some consolation for those who seek it rightly. It is in the 
 hour of our direst need, when life seems a hideous mockery, 
 and death our only refuge, that God points out to us a path 
 which leads to peace. Listen, Claire. Close your eyes, 
 dearest; do not look at me, for in my sorrow there is, if not 
 actual sin, the shadow of shame." 
 
 Claire stretched out her hand and sought the sister's thin 
 one. Sister Agnes was silent for a moment or two, then the 
 gentle, patient voice went on : 
 
 " Claire, I was an only daughter, the child of God-fearing 
 people. My father was a clergyman, one of those who have 
 inherited the old Puritan spirit. I was brought up strictly 
 too strictly. Innocence is a good thing, Claire, but, like most 
 good things, if carried to extremes, it becomes an evil and a 
 danger. I was shielded in our secluded parsonage from all 
 knowledge of the great world, whose echo even never reached 
 the vicarage gates. I knew nothing of men, of their evil 
 natures, or of their good. My knowledge, or, rather, say my 
 ignorance, was bounded by the little village that ran to the 
 sea-shore. I was very happy happy and content helping my 
 father with the sick and needy in his parish with the simple 
 duties that fall to the parson's daughter." 
 
 Claire pressed her hand. "I can see you, sister," she 
 whispered. 
 
 " One day I was standing on the little quay, when a yach* 
 sailed in. I was thinking how beautiful she looked like & 
 bird spreading its wings upon the water. A gentleman came 
 on shore from her. A stranger was rare in our quiet place. 
 I stood and looked at him rclth natural curiosity and interest
 
 214 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Pernaps that attracted his attention; he raised his hat and 
 spoke to me. I remember even now the commonplace wordi 
 he said. He said that it was a fine day, and he asked me to 
 direct him to the inn. I told him the way, and thought that 
 he would leave me at once; but he lingered, and we talked 
 still further. He was young and handsome, and he spoke 
 with all the ease of a man of the world. I had never met such 
 a being before; all the men I knew were stiff and awkward; 
 this man was grace itself. He treated me as if I were an 
 uncrowned queen, with a deference and gentleness that 
 thrilled through me like a warm ray of sunlight." 
 
 " I know I know!" murmured Claire. 
 
 " When he had gone, I stood there bewildered, feeling as if 
 something had come into my life and gone out of it, leaving 
 me poorer than before. I went home half dazed. And I lay 
 awake all that night thinking of him.'* 
 
 " I know!" said Claire, again. 
 
 " The next day 1 met him again. He came down the nar- 
 row lane humming a song, which ceased as he saw me; his 
 face lighted up with a smile, which mine, I knew, reflected. 
 We walked side by side and talked. Even now I can remem- 
 ber every word he said, every look on his face. Every day for 
 a week we met; at first by chance, afterward by agreement; 
 and before the week was over he had become to me dearer 
 than father and mother than life itself." 
 
 " Oh, I understand!" breathed Claire. " It might be my 
 own story." 
 
 Sister Agnes drew a long breath. 
 
 " At last he told me that he loved me, and asked me to be 
 his wife. 1 tried to resist, but something drew me to him, 
 and I hid my face upon his breast, while he drew a confession 
 of my love from me. Bat I was not wholly forgetful of my 
 father and my home. I reminded him that I did not even 
 know his name, that he was a stranger to me and mine. He 
 laughed whenever he laughed something within my heart 
 laughed, too, and dispelled all doubt and fear." 
 
 ; ? Yes," said Claire. " When he laughed I felt like that." 
 
 " He told me his name and rank. He was a nobleman; I 
 was frightened, for I knew that between him and me, the 
 daughter of a poor clergyman, there must be a great gulf. 
 He laughed my fears away. He said he would go to my 
 father and ask for me with all proper ceremony. We went 
 home together. He saw my father. What passed between 
 them I do not know, but my father came to me and told me 
 th&t the man I loved was not fit to be my husband."
 
 THE MISTRESS Olf COUET EEGNA. 215 
 
 She was silent a moment, and Claire felt the thin, wasted 
 hand tremble. 
 
 " My father said that he was a profligate, a man of well- 
 known bad character, and that nothing but unhappiness for 
 me could result from our marriage. I pleaded hard, but my 
 father was inexorable. That my lover was a man of wealth 
 and rank weighed nothing with him. If I had fallen in love 
 with our village carpenter, a respectable member of our 
 church, my father would have consented to our union; but he 
 would not give his daughter to a man of loose life, though he 
 were the king of England. There was a stormy scene. I 
 heard my father's and my lover's voices raised in anger and 
 defiance " 
 
 There was a pause. So vividly had the sister's simple 
 narrative depicted the scene, that Claire almost saw it. 
 
 " My lover left the house/' resumed Sister Agues, " and I 
 was bidden to see him no more; but I could not obey. 
 I, whose will and wish had hitherto been those of my father's, 
 felt a force stronger than filial piety impelling me. I stole 
 out of the house that night and met my lover." 
 
 She paused, as if the memory of the past were casting a 
 spell upon her. 
 
 " He owned that my father had just cause for doubting his 
 sincerity, but he swore that he loved me, and he implored me 
 to fly with him and be his wife. I resisted for days, but a 
 woman's heart is weak when it is overbrimming with love. 
 I forgot the duty I owed my father; I forgot everything in the 
 passion which consumed me like fire, and at last I consented 
 to a clandestine marriage. You blame me, Claire?" 
 
 " No," breathed Claire. " If the man I loved had said to 
 me, ' Come with me to the end of the earth/ I must have 
 gone if 1 had not discovered his treachery." 
 
 " We are all alike," said Sister Agnes in a low voice. 
 " Sometimes, in my presumption, I have asked myself why 
 God made women so subject to man, so fully his slave. To 
 avert suspicion, he sailed away in his yacht, but he came back 
 a week or two later, and the yacht lay off the port. I had 
 agreed to steal from my home and join him on board. That 
 night I rose from my bed and dressed myself, and while the 
 father who loved me lay asleep, trusting me and suspecting 
 nothing, I stole from the house, and, going down to the quay, 
 found a boat waiting for me. Even then a presentiment of 
 coming evil smote me like a cold wind, and I would have 
 drawn back and returned to the safety of a father's love, but 
 my lover and my love were too itvoug. As I hesitated, ho
 
 216 THE MISTRESS OF COURT HEGSTA. 
 
 took me in his arms and carried me into the boat, .ind wo 
 rowed to the yacht." 
 
 " Sister!" whispered Claire. 
 
 " He had brought a woman with him a faithful and 
 devoted servant, who had been his nurse. He had thought of 
 everything that could insure my safety and soothe my con- 
 science. No man could have been more gentle, more 
 chivalrous than he was. If it had been possible, I should 
 have loved him more deeply during that voyage than I had 
 done before. Think of it, Claire! To sail on sunlit seas with 
 the man to whom one's whole heart has been given ; to lie 
 back on a chair on a snow-white deck, with snow-white sails 
 above one's head, and listen to words made musical by love! 
 We reached a foreign port, and there, quietly, privately, but 
 with all due form, we were married." 
 
 Claire unconsciously drew a breath of relief. 
 
 "Yes, married," said Sister Agnes. "He loved me well 
 enough then to make me his wife. He loved me well 
 enough then." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SHE paused in her narrative, and her head bent lower. 
 
 " We traveled on the Continent some months. My husband 
 was a singular man, and disliked society. None of his 
 relatives, and, indeed, very few of his friends, if any, were 
 aware of our marriage. He seemed to shun acquaintances, 
 and we lived for the greater part of the time in an old Swiss 
 town. I was quite content and very happy, and did not feel 
 the need of friends while he was by my side and I had his 
 love. For a time we lived an idyllic life; the life of two per- 
 sons who love each other, and are satisfied with their love. 
 If I had been a woman of the world, instead of an ignorant, 
 unsophisticated girl, I should have known that such a life 
 could not last; but I knew nothing of the world, nothing of 
 men our masters. I was living in a Fool's Paradise, and 
 did not understand that the existence which seemed so perfect 
 to me would soon begin to pall upon him. 
 
 " All his life had been spent in pleasure, every whim had 
 been gratified, and it was not likely that a life of sweet 
 monotony would satisfy him. It was wonderful that he was 
 contented for so long. For some months he scarcely left me, 
 but presently he began to go by himself to the nearest town. 
 There was a club there, and he met men, who, like himself, 
 were dsvoted to pleasure. At first I was glad that he should
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT KEGffA. 217 
 
 i - 
 
 find some amusement and change outside oar quiet existence, 
 and I encouraged him to make frequent visits to the town, 
 little thinking that I was with my own hand weakening the 
 slender links of the chain which bound him to me. After a 
 time his absences were more frequent and longer; he would 
 stay away for a night or two; at first with many excuses and 
 plausible reasons, but gradually with no excuse at all. Little 
 by little the truth began to dawn upon me that truth which 
 is the most bitter a woman can learn that the man she loves 
 is growing weary of her/' 
 
 Claire's hand closed over the sister's and pressed it. 
 
 " Don't tell me any more, sister!" she said. 
 
 " Yes," returned the low, patient voice. " I want you to 
 know why I can sympathize with you. I tried to hide the 
 awful doubt and dread which was creeping over my heart like 
 a blight. I tried to be gay and to seem as if I were still sure 
 of his affection and feared nothing; for, innocent as I was, I 
 knew, with a woman's sure instinct, that to complain were 
 fatal. In a chalet near ours lived a young Italian. He lived 
 a life almost as secluded as ,our own, for he was delicate, and 
 held his life by the slenderest of threads. He had made my 
 husband's acquaintance in an informal way, and, now and 
 again, we had exchanged visits. He was very young, very 
 handsome, with that kind of beauty which the shadow of 
 death spiritualizes. He was a musician, and spent nearly all 
 his time with his piano and violin; sometimes on still nights 
 I could hear the sweet strains wafted through the windows of 
 my room, in which I now spent so many solitary hours. One 
 day he called while my husband was out; I had been crying, 
 for my husband had been away from me three clays, and I 
 think the young fellow saw traces of my tears. He was very 
 gentle, though he affected not to have noticed that anything 
 was wrong, but after he had been talking for a little while, he 
 went to the piano and played and sung to me. It was as if 
 some friend had laid a soothing hand upon my heart; he got 
 up from the piano and went without a word; but the next day 
 he came again, and the next, and the next; indeed, there was 
 scarcely a day on which he did not cross the grounds and 
 enter by the long, open window; and if he did not come, I 
 missed him. Are you thinking ill of me, dear?" 
 
 " No, no!" murmured Claire. 
 
 " There is no need," said Sister Agnes, simply. " I meant 
 no ill, thought no ill. I still loved my husband with all my 
 heart, and the young Italian was to me like a brother or a 
 friend just that, and no more. My husband did not
 
 218 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNJL. 
 
 seem to notice the frequency of his visits. I know now that 
 he was growing indifferent to me and all that concerned me. 
 Sometimes he came home hot and flushed with drink and the 
 excitement of the gaming-table, and finding us together, 
 would vouchsafe us a nod and a few careless words, and go 
 straight to his own room. The young Italian, young as he 
 was, knew more of the world than I did; he was a man with 
 a man's knowledge of other men's lives. Rumors of my hus- 
 band's manner of amusing himself reached his ears he knew 
 that my husband's fickle fancy had been caught by a fresh 
 face, and that he spent most of his time when away from me 
 with a woman of notorious ill-fame. The young Italian pitied 
 me. Pity is akin to love, and he grew " she drew her 
 hand away from Claire's, and clasped her other one in it 
 " he grew to love me. As Heaven is my witness, I saw, 
 suspected nothing. I scarcely noticed that his manner grew 
 more gentle, more tender; that the music he played and the 
 songs he sung thrilled with the accents of passion. How 
 should I? I still loved my husband. But I suppose my hus- 
 band's eyes were keener than mine. The evil men do makes 
 them quick to discern evil in others. One day he hinted his 
 suspicion. I did not understand him at first, and when I 
 did, I was indignant to begin with, and then scornfully 
 amused; in my innocence I laughed at his half-formed accu- 
 sation; I even refused to relinquish the young Italian's friend- 
 ship. I would not by so doing assent, as it were, to my 
 husband's unfounded doubt. 1 shall never forget the way in 
 which he received my almost defiance. * We shall see/ he 
 said, with a half-mocking, half-bitter smile, which had become 
 habitual with him. * I know men pretty well; I know women 
 better. We shall see. But I warn you that if I should prove 
 to be right, there will be no mercy for him or you. Go on 
 your own sweet way, but remember I have warned you!' f 
 was so sure of my friend's innocence and my own, that I sent. 
 over to the cha'let next day to ask him to come and play to 
 me. He came; he looked paler and more delicate than usual, 
 and was very silent. After a time he went to the piano, but 
 in the middle of the song he broke down, rose, and came 
 across the room to me and knelt at my feet. He told me 
 that he loved me, that he knew I was unhappy, that my hus- 
 band was deserting me for a woman not fit to breathe the 
 same air; and he asked me, implored me, to fly with him. 
 He said that such a marriage as mine was a mockery and a 
 iesecration, that I had every right to leave the man who was 
 leceivmg me; he said that he would make me his wife the
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 219 
 
 moment the law enabled him to do so. He had not long to 
 live, but while he lived his life should be devoted to me; he 
 was rich and noble; he would leave me to friends who would 
 care for and watch over me. It was true love he offered me, 
 but I shrunk in horror and remorse remorse that my hus- 
 band should have been right and I so blind and wrong. I im- 
 plored him to leave me; I told him that what he proposed was 
 impossible, that I still loved my husband, and that even if I 
 did not, I should remain a true wife to the end. He clung to 
 my dress, and in passionate accents implored me to save 
 myself and fly with him. While he was still on his knees a 
 shadow fell across the floor, and my husband entered." 
 
 There was a pause; the ticking of the clock on the mantel- 
 shelf sounded in Claire's ears like a human voice crying in 
 sharp accents of agony. Sister Agnes drew a long breath. 
 
 " I was like one turned to stone; I could not speak, urge 
 my innocence, utter one word. The young Italian rose, white 
 and panting. My husband looked from him to me with a 
 smile of bitter amusement. ' I told you so,' he said in a 
 voice which I had learned to know so well, and to dread. 
 * Time has proved me right! May I ask whether you have 
 completed your preparations for departure with your lover, 
 and whether I can be of any assistance to you? Pray com- 
 mand me! I am quite at your service, believe me.' 
 
 " I quailed and shrunk before the insult, more deadly and 
 crushing than any outburst of fury; but it drove the young 
 Italian mad. He sprung across the room and struck my hus- 
 band on the face. My husband stood like a rock, and the 
 smile never left his lips. 
 
 " ' Thanks!' he said. ' But for this blow I would have let 
 you go unpunished; but this makes my course delightfully 
 easy. You will find my second awaiting you on your return 
 home; but, pray, do not let me hurry you. You two will still 
 have a great deal to say to each other, and, with all apologies 
 for such an impertinent intrusion, I take my leave.' I heard 
 no more, for I fell in a faint. 1 was ill for weeks, uncon- 
 scious most of the time. A child was born to me during that 
 time. When I was well enough to be told the truth, I learned 
 that my little one was dead." 
 
 Her voice broke with sob for an instant, and Claire's tears 
 rolled down her cheeks. 
 
 " Afterward they told me that the man who had loved me 
 so madly, and pitied me so tenderly, had been killed by my 
 husband. He had declared my innocence, my complete 
 ignorance of his love, my perfect blamelessness; but my hus-
 
 220 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REQNA. 
 
 band had laughed incredulously and believed me gui/ty. The 
 loss of my child, the murder my husband had committed for 
 it was no less than murder nearly killed me. I prayed to die 
 night after night, as others pray to live; but God, in His 
 mercy and in His pity, would not hear me. When I grew 
 stronger they brought me a letter from my husband. It was 
 as courteous as if it had come from a lawyer or a friend. He 
 would never see me again; I should remain his wife on one 
 condition that I should never bear his name. If I would 
 consent to this proposal he would make me a liberal allowance; 
 if not, he would sue for a divorce, and bring shame upon me 
 and my widowed mother." 
 
 " Can such men exist?" said Claire. 
 
 " Yes," responded Sister Agnes, " and women make them 
 what they are. I wrote to my husband and told him that I 
 would never bear his name again, that I would accept no help 
 from him; and I sent him my wedding-ring." 
 
 " Yes, yes!" murmured Claire. " And then?" 
 
 " Then I began my new life. I had very little money and 
 no friends. I could not go home; I knew nothing of the world 
 with which I had to fight how hard a fight that is you have 
 learned, dear. There were days when I tasted no food; there 
 have been nights when I have lain awake with the cold. I 
 have lived with the poorest of the poor, the most wretched of 
 the wretched, and I have found that there were sorrows deeper 
 than mine, anguish more keen than even I had suffered. I 
 found heroes and heroines in the gutters, martyrs in the 
 slums. I came of an old Puritan stock, Claire, and my heart, 
 which I thought had been frozen or turned to stone, melted 
 at the sight of so much misery. Ah, dear, if the rich only 
 knew! It is not because they are so unfeeling that so little is 
 done for the poor; it is because they do not knoiv. One day 
 I was taking some needle-work home to the man who kept a 
 host of slaves like myself slaves more wretched and more 
 cruelly treated than any in foreign lands, to free whom we 
 spend so many millions. I was ill and half starved, and 1 
 fainted on the way. When I came to, a Sister of Mercy was 
 bending over me. She took me to the Home. It was rightly 
 called; for it was a Home. To me it was a haven of rest and 
 peace. Some day, Claire, the world this great Babylon of 
 ours will learn to know and value the work the Sisters of 
 the Poor and Needy have done and are doing. It is too apt 
 to sneer and laugh at our black garb; it does not understand 
 that we wear it as a uniform which we have taught the 
 vretched and the miserable to respect and love. I told th0
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT RECCffA. 221 
 
 sisters my story, concealing the names, as I have concealed 
 them from you. They asked me to join them; I consented 
 willingly, gratefully. The day I put on the sister's dress I 
 left the past behind me, relinquished in very truth the name 
 my husband had given me, and became Sister Agnes." 
 
 There was silence while one could count twenty, then she 
 went on: 
 
 " I have told you this, dear, because I wanted you to know 
 that there are others who have suffered more keenly perhaps 
 than you have done; because I wanted you to know and feel 
 why I could sympathize with you." 
 
 " Oh, I am ashamed!" said Claire. " Ashamed, ashamed! 
 What is my trouble compared with yours? I know, now, how 
 wicked I have been to repine, to think that I was more cruelly 
 used than all other women. Sister, forgive me! I, too, have 
 prayed to die, have longed for death, but I will do so no 
 longer. Not now. Help me to get well, sister!" 
 
 " I have not told you my story in vain, dear?" said Sister 
 Agnes, with tears in her eyes. 
 
 "No!" said Claire. " I shall remember it as long as I 
 live. Whenever I am tempted to think of my lost money, 
 of of him, I shall remember what you have suffered, and 
 shall feel scorn and contempt for my own trouble, which is so 
 small and petty compared with yours. It was so dreadful! 
 And, of it all, the worst seems to me " she paused, and laid 
 her hand on Sister Agnes's arm. " Your little child " 
 
 She felt the sister's arm tremble. 
 
 " Did you never hear any more of it?" 
 
 " They took me to see its grave," said Sister Agnes, almost 
 inaudibly. " It was a nameless grave in a large cemetery. 
 If it had lived But it is wicked to repine. My little one 
 has gone to heaven, and I am left to help other little ones to 
 that blessed home and to Him who said, ' Suffer the little 
 ones to come unto me.' Sometimes I dream that he lives, 
 that he is a great, strong man, as brave and fearless as his 
 
 And you have never seen your husband since?" asked 
 Claire. 
 
 " Never," replied Sister Agnes. " I heard that his health 
 had broken down, that he had gone to live in seclusion at his 
 ancestral home. I told you that he was a nobleman and very 
 wealthy." 
 
 " Then you are a lady of title?" said Claire.
 
 222 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGS' A. 
 
 *' Yes," she said. " I am the wife of a man who bears 
 one of the oldest titles in England. You must not ask mo 
 what it is, dear child." 
 
 " No, no!" said Claire, quickly. 
 
 " When I took the vow of our sisterhood, I passed from the 
 world left it behind. It is dead to me. If I could, I would 
 forget that I have been anything but Sister Agnes. Indeed, 
 at times, the past seems like a dream to, me a real dream, 
 from which those few minutes in which I saw and knew my 
 child, alone stand out distinctly." 
 
 " Dear, dear sister!" said Claire. 
 
 She was silent for a moment or two, then she said: " Thia 
 sisterhood, sister, can I not join it? Would they take me?" 
 eagerly. 
 
 Sister Agnes turned her face for the first time, and smiled 
 as she shook her head. 
 
 " No, my child. Only they who have done with the world 
 who can turn their backs upon it with a sure and certain con- 
 viction that they will not even be tempted to look behind, can 
 tread the path which we walk." 
 
 i_ Ibegan Claire. 
 
 Sister Agnes smiled and shook her head again. " No, 
 dear, you can not say that. I know you better than you know 
 yourself. Your place is in the world still." 
 
 " You mean that I am stubborn and proud!" said Claire, 
 half rebelliously. 
 
 " Stubborn, no; but proud, yes," said Sister Agnes. " Your 
 hold on life and life's possibilities is still strong. Besides, 
 my child, there would be some danger " she paused, and 
 looked at Claire with tender admiration. '* You are very 
 beautiful, dear. Some day, some man God grant he may 
 be good and true will see this fair face of yours and try to 
 win your love." 
 
 Claire shrunk. 
 
 " No, no!" she said. " Not that! I have no heart left, 
 no love to give. I have done with all that, sister; I shall 
 never love again. You call me proud; I have been deceived 
 once. I am too proud yes, too proud ever to love again. 
 But if I can not join your sisterhood and you know better 
 than I do, sister I can fight my way. I want to get well 
 now. As I said, I feel ashamed. I want to get well and go 
 back to the school, and take my place in the work, and help 
 others." 
 
 Sister Agnes bent over her and kissed her, and as she did M 
 u te&r fell on Claire's face.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 223 
 
 " I will help you, dear," she said. " I don't know why it 
 is, my child, but you have grown very dear to me." 
 
 " That's because you've nursed me," said Claire, shrewdly. 
 " They say we always grow fond of those whom we help." 
 
 " I think we do," said Sister Agnes in her sweet voice. 
 " But even that will not account for it," she added, with a 
 smile, as she smoothed the silken hair from Claire's white 
 brow. " I have nursed many, have sat beside numberless 
 sick-beds, but have never felt as I have felt toward you. 
 Sometimes I have feared that I have been wrong in cherish- 
 ing my fondness for you, that I have been tempted to neglect 
 my duties to others; but you are just the one ewe lamb to 
 me." 
 
 The gentle voice lowered and the tears gathered in the sad, 
 patient eyes. 
 
 " I don't know why it is! It is not because you are so pretty 
 beware of beauty, my child, it's perils are many but as I 
 have sat beside you, while you have been lying there so help- 
 less, so lonely, somehow the thought of my child, the little 
 one who was taken from me, has come to me, and I have seen 
 my baby grown up, strong. I don't know why this is, for you 
 are a girl, and he would have been a man if he had lived. 
 But all the love which wells up in my heart for him has flown 
 toward you." 
 
 Claire stretched out her white arms and wound them round 
 the sister's neck. 
 
 " Love me still, Sister Agnes!" she said, with a sob. " Try 
 
 to think that I am your daughter. Oh, I wish I were!" 
 ******* 
 
 About this time Gerald was beginning to hobble about with 
 a stick, and wonder what was to become of him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 GERALD'S broken leg did not take very long mending, but 
 it seemed an age to him, and his language, when the doctor 
 insisted upon his keeping the injured limb in a horizontal posi- 
 tion long after Gerald considered any precaution of that kind 
 unnecessary, is scarcely fit for publication. 
 
 Terence, the woodman, behaved like an Irishman; that is 
 to say, he treated Gerald as a brother, and nursed him like a 
 woman, making light of the trouble, and declaring that he 
 was more than repaid by the pleasure of Gerald's company; 
 and he found it difficult to persuade Terence into allowing him 
 to chop wood and make fagots, which Gerald could presently
 
 224 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 
 
 manage in a sitting position, and without retarding the 
 recovery of his leg. 
 
 While thus employed, he had plenty of time to think of 
 Claire, and he thought of her almost without ceasing. Her 
 coldness almost hcartlessness amazed and bewildered him. 
 That she should, in sending him the check, barely express her 
 regret at the accident seemed so unlike her, that he could 
 scarcely believe his senses; and he used, at ever meal-time, to 
 take out Mordaunt Sapley's letter and stare at it as one stares 
 at a Chinese puzzle. And when he did so, he tried to call her 
 all the names which men bestow upon women when they have 
 proved deceitful and unkind. But it was of no use; he loved 
 her still, and actually endeavored to find excuses for her. He 
 told himself that she had done quite right, that it was like his 
 confounded impudence to fall in love with her, and that he 
 had only got what he deserved. Then he would kiss the glove 
 which he had found in the chapel, and thrust it into his 
 bosom again ai the sound of Terence's footsteps. 
 
 As his leg got well and strong again he asked himself what 
 he was going to do. There was not enough work in the wood 
 for a permanent extra hand, and he could not remain a 
 burden on Terence. He must go on the tramp, and find 
 some kind of employment. 
 
 Consequently, one morning he packed his bag, cut himself 
 a stout stick, and, after breakfast, announced his intention of 
 starting. Terence remonstrated and pleaded in vain he even 
 offered to toss whether Gerald should remain or go and at 
 last, with a sorrowful countenance, recognized that Gerald's 
 resolution was immovable, and thrusting a closely packed 
 tobacco-pouch in his hand it was the only gift he dared vent- 
 ure on wished him God-speed. 
 
 " Shure, and the days will be long widout yez, and the 
 nights longer!" he said, sorrowfully. " I niver had a mate J 
 liked better, for, barring ye're a gintleman, there's divil a bit 
 o' fault to find wid yez!'* 
 
 " I'm sorry enough to go, Terence," said Gerald, gripping 
 the man's rough hand. " You have been a brother to me; 
 but, you see well, I must go." 
 
 The two men looked into each other's eyes in silence for a 
 full minute, and then parted; and Gerald went on his way 
 with that dull little ache in his heart, and " as one that sor- 
 roweth deeply.'* 
 
 " If ever I have any luck," he muttered to himself, " I'll 
 send Terence the best axes Sheffield can turn out." 
 
 But though he grieved at parting with this true friend, he
 
 MISTRESS OF COUET REGffA. 23d 
 
 Was not very much cast down on his own account. There are 
 some men who believe in their luck, or their "star/' and 
 Gerald was one of them. He had always fallen on his feet, 
 however great and disastrous the tumble happened to be, and 
 his heart was full of courage. For, after all, how little a 
 strong man needs! For breakfast, a cup of coffee and a loaf, 
 three halfpence; for dinner, bread, a chop, and a glass of ale, 
 say, eightpence; for supper, bread, cheese, and another glass 
 of ale, fourpence. There is bed to be reckoned; but in sum- 
 mer a man can sleep like a top in the lee of a haystack or a 
 shed, and hi winter he can earn a night's lodging in a straw 
 loft. 
 
 And Gerald was not reduced even yet to his last coin, and 
 he did not despair. While he had been lying by, the season 
 had advanced, and heavy rain had fallen, so that the roads 
 were bad and traveling was slow; but, with an occasional lift, 
 he made pretty good progress, and he hoped to reach a large 
 town before the close of the week. What he should do when 
 he reached it he did not quite know, but he had several trades 
 at his finger ends, and made no doubt that he should get 
 employment of some kind or other. 
 
 One evening it was the third day of his tramp he 
 approached a picturesque village set on a hill overlooking a 
 small port. It occurred to him that it would be a good place 
 to stop the night at he was hungry and a little foot-sore 
 and he went on to the quay and asked a man who was loung- 
 ing there the name of the place, and where he could get a 
 lodging. 
 
 The man said the place was called Lartree, and directed him 
 to the inn. 
 
 The name seemed familiar to Gerald, and he mumbled it 
 over several times, as one does when trying to rouse one's 
 memory; then, suddenly, it came to him it was the place, 
 the little port, from which Lord Wharton had brought the 
 strange young lady aboard his yacht. Gerald had almost for- 
 gotten Captain Joslin's romantic story, but it came back to his 
 mind rather vividly under the singular coincidence which had 
 led his wandering and aimless footsteps to the very spot; and as 
 he strode up to the inn he wondered what her name might 
 have been, whether any of her folk were still living, whether 
 the story of her flight was still remembered, and what had 
 become of her. 
 
 The inn was as picturesque as the village itself, and Gerald 
 eat his supper with a good appetite, and beside a good wood 
 fire, which breathed comfort from every log. The landlady 
 8
 
 226 THE MISTRESS 01* COURT REGtfA. 
 
 herself waited on him, and as assiduously as if he had ordered 
 the best room and a sumptuous spread, instead of a menl of 
 bread and cheese; and Gerald, as he lighted his pipe, haying 
 still the captain's story floating through his bram, got into 
 conversation with her. She was quite ready to talk with a 
 handsome young man, who, though he carried a bundle and 
 " rode on a walking-stick," was evidently a gentleman; but 
 when Gerald began to ask questions he found that she was a 
 comparatively new-comer, and had never heard tell of any 
 nobleman's yacht at Lartree. 
 
 " They're most coal and stone vessels that put in here, 
 sir," she said, " and a rough lot the men are, though they 
 don't mean no harm, nor do any. We don't see a gentleman 
 in these parts once in a blue moon; you must let me mix 
 you "a glass of toddy, sir it's some whisky as I've had by 
 me for nigh upon ten years and wouldn't hurt a baby." 
 
 " I'm not afraid, thank you," said Gerald, with his pleas- 
 ant smile, which called up an answering one in the round red 
 face of the landlady. 
 
 He drank the toddy, and then, as the night was still young, 
 sauntered out. There was a moon shining through a watery 
 mist, but it was not raining, and Gerald, tempted by the 
 weird beauty of the night and the romantic surroundings 
 Ireland is the land of romance, " from tree- top to farrow " 
 he strolled through the tiny village, and on to the common 
 just beyond. 
 
 Across this common was a foot-bridge, which spanned what, 
 in summer, was an inoffensive brook, but which in winter too 
 often grew into a swift and ugly-looking river. The rains had 
 swollen it into quite a formidable torrent, which rushed under 
 the bridge and swirled round the rough wooden pillars with 
 an angry swish. Just below the bridge was a road, through 
 which, in summer, any one coming into or leaving Lartree 
 drove. In flood-time they went, perforce, round by a safer 
 and drier road. Gerald leaned over the bridge, and looked 
 into the water musingly. As was always the way, whenever 
 he saw anything pretty or curious, he longed to have Claire 
 by his side absurd and preposterous as the longing was to 
 share his pleasure; and to-night he longed for her rather more 
 than usual. It is hi the moonlight that " lovers' madness '" 
 always flourishes. 
 
 He was turning back to the comfort of the inn, when he 
 heard the sound of wheels, apparently coming in the direction 
 of the bridge. He had been long enough in the country to 
 recognize the rattle of an Irish carriage; this was not one; and
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT RESEAT 22? 
 
 it struck him as curious that a carriage should be making for 
 the spot, which seemed barred to the progress of anything but 
 a boat. He lighted another pipe and stopped where he was, 
 to await the development of events. 
 
 A carriage came to the edge of the torrent, and there paused. 
 
 " Going to turn back," thought Gerald; but, to his amaze- 
 ment, the driver smacked his whip and seemed to be urging 
 the horse forward. 
 
 ;< The man must be either a stranger, and ignorant of his 
 danger, or drunk, or mad!" thought Gerald; and with the 
 intention of warning him, he shouted as loudly as he could. 
 But though his voice was by no means feeble, the roar of the 
 torrent drowned it; and he started off at a sharp run across 
 the bridge and along the path toward the carnage. 
 
 He was too late, however, for the horse, unaware of the 
 depth, and trusting to the driver, had obediently plunged into 
 the water, and Gerald was horrified to see him swimming and 
 trying to stem the torrent. As he stood spellbound to the 
 spot, a window of the carriage was let down with a bang, and 
 a man's head was thrust out. Gerald thought he heard a 
 woman's voice raised in a cry of alarm at the same moment, 
 but he could not be sure. 
 
 Gerald ran into the water as far as he could, and shouted to 
 the driver: 
 
 " You confounded idiot, come back!" 
 
 It was easy to command, but impossible for the man to 
 obey. He was howling and swearing now as only a drunken 
 man in such a predicament can; and the horse was being car- 
 ried down the stream, despite its most frantic efforts to reach 
 the opposite shore. Then Gerald unmistakably heard a 
 woman's scream, and a cry of help from the man inside the 
 carriage. The vehicle was still afloat, and, if the danger had 
 been less, Gerald could have found something comical in the 
 situation, but there was too much peril for laughter to come in. 
 
 Scarcely knowing what he was doing, or what he wanted to 
 do, he tore off his boots, and plunging into the stream, let 
 himself be swept to the carriage. So swift was the current 
 that he was very nearly carried past the impromptu ark, but 
 he managed to clutch the sides, and there hung helpless and 
 incapable of help. 
 
 Suddenly a face came to the window, and so close to his 
 own that he could feel a warm breath on his brow. It was a 
 girl's face, white with terror, and the two eyes that looked 
 into his in the moonlight were fixed with fear.
 
 228 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REQN1. 
 
 " All right/' he shouted, after the manner of his kind. 
 " Don't be afraid; it's all right." 
 
 It was anything but all right, and even as he shouted the 
 assertion, the carriage struck against one of the piers, the 
 shafts parted from the vehicle, and while the horse swam off 
 under the bridge, snorting with terror, the carriage began to 
 heel over. 
 
 Gerald tore open the door, and gripped something soft and 
 warm it was the girl's arm and shouted: 
 
 " Come with me!" 
 
 Even if she had been inclined to remain, his strong grasp 
 would have compelled her; and the next instant they were in 
 the water together, Gerald's arm round her waist and she, 
 of course, clinging to him like grim death. 
 
 " Don't don't clutch me, for God's sake!" he said, as he 
 felt the arms tightening round his neck, and knew that if her 
 terrified embrace continued they must both go down. " Take 
 hold of my coat, and hold tight! I can't swim do any- 
 thing if you grip me!" 
 
 She understood, or perhaps her hold shifted by accident; 
 anyway, her small hands slipped to his coat, and Gerald was 
 free to make a fight for it. 
 
 It is not easy to save a drowning person, however good a 
 swimmer a man may be; if any one doubts this, let him try it 
 in a swimming-bath, and be convinced. Gerald could swim 
 as well as most men, and was as strong as a Grecian athlete, 
 but he saw that the only thing to do was to go with the cur- 
 rent, not endeavor to oppose it. So he struck out, cleared the 
 bridge no small danger and drifted with the current. It 
 swirled into an eddy just below the bridge, and he thought 
 they would be sucked down; but he shut his teeth tight, and 
 struck out 
 
 Right above them the moon shone down through the thin 
 veil of mist with an aggravating serenity and peacef ulness; 
 the trees fringing the meadows pierced through an exquisite 
 gauze. If they were going to die, they were going to die 
 amidst a scene of remarkable beauty, a kind of weird fairy- 
 land like unto the transformation scene at a theater. Even at 
 the moment, when life seemed to be closing forever, and death 
 unpleasantly near, Gerald could not help noticing the beauti- 
 ful frame in which the tragedy was set. 
 
 " Good-bye, Claire!" he thought. " I shall never know 
 why you have treated me so badly." 
 
 Then, even as he bid her, mentally, farewell, he felt hia 
 feet strike the ground. It is the loveliest feeling a man can
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT KEGNA. 22<* 
 
 experience, if he happens to be drowning, and Gerald eould 
 not refrain a shout. 
 
 " All right," he said again; " cling on tight! We're 
 there!" 
 
 A moment or two afterward he was standing on the 
 meadow, stretching his arms, and drawing a long breath, and 
 the girl was lying at his feet. He bent down and raised her, 
 and to his surprise she opened her eyes. She was unconscious 
 for a moment or two, then she heaved a sigh that quivered 
 through all her frame, and, still looking at him, said: 
 
 " Are we still alive?" 
 
 " Yes, yes!" responded Gerald. " And I hope you are not 
 hurt. Frightened, of course. But don't faint " she had 
 closed her eyes, and her head had sunk on his shoulder again 
 " for I must go and see there was some one else in the car- 
 riage?" 
 
 " My father," she breathed, quickly. " I shall not faint. 
 Go! oh, go!" 
 
 She sunk on to the grass, clasping her hands and peering 
 into the mist, and Gerald ran along the edge of the stream 
 shouting. He almost ran into the arms of a man who was 
 shouting also: 
 
 " Grace, Grace! My daughter!" 
 
 Gerald caught him by the arm. 
 
 *' Your daughter is quite safe!" he said. " Don't be 
 alarmed." 
 
 The father was a short, thick-set man, with a strong, 
 shrewd, weather-beaten face; and though his hair was gray, 
 the grip he laid upon Gerald's arm had little of old age or 
 weakness in it. " Safe! Grace safe!" he panted. " "Where 
 is she? Take me to her!" 
 
 " Come on," said Gerald. " Where's the man that fool 
 of a driver?" 
 
 " On shore," said the gentleman. 
 
 " Ah, Providence watches over children and drunken 
 men," said Gerald, shortly. " Here is your daughter." 
 
 The girl fell into her father's arms, and Gerald turned his 
 back, and wrung the superfluous water out of his clothes. 
 Then he heard the girl say, remindingly, " Father!" and the 
 old man turned to Gerald and held out his hand. 
 
 " My daughter owes her life to you, sir!" he said, with a 
 catch in his voice, and tears in his eyes, which were already 
 wet enough. " I can't thank you " 
 
 Gerald cut in, with the usual awkwardness of the bravi
 
 330 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 man dodging a shower of thanks, with the usual common- 
 place: 
 
 " Don't mention it. I was standing on the bridge luckily 
 and saw But she ought not to stand there any longer; 
 she must be wet through, 
 
 " Yes, yes!" said the father, anxiously. " Is there any 
 place?* ' 
 
 " The inn is only a little way. Let me show you," said 
 Gerald. 
 
 The old man took his daughter's arm within his; but the 
 excitement waning, he was trembling, and almost as much in 
 need of support as she. This Gerald saw, and held out his 
 arm without a word. She looked at her father, and then at 
 Gerald for an instant, then put her hand on his arm. 
 
 Gerald walked her along quickly; he knew the danger of 
 loitering; but presently she stopped. 
 
 " I can not go so fast," she panted, her hand on her heart. 
 
 Gerald looked toward the village; it seemed a long way off, 
 and, making no bones of the matter, he cut etiquette, and 
 lifted her in his arms. She caught her breath, but offered no 
 resistance, the father murmured meekly, " Thank you!" and 
 Gerald carried her to the inn. She was very light, too light 
 for her height, and she nestled down in his arms and on his 
 broad breast like a tired child. 
 
 As they approached the inn, men came out with lan- 
 terns, which were quite unnecessary, shouting excitedly; and 
 the landlady met them at the door all of a flutter of hospit- 
 able anxiety. The girl was taken from his arms, and whisked 
 upstairs, and Gerald stood and looked round the inn-parlor, 
 asking himself if the whole thing weren't a dream. The 
 sight of the driver steaming in front of the fire and drinking 
 neat whisky by the tumbler, convinced him of the reality. 
 
 Gerald addressed a few pointed remarks to this individual 
 which were received more with sorrow than auger and then 
 went to his room to change his clothes, leaving a stream of 
 water trickling behind him. 
 
 Opening his bag for the first time since he had left the 
 woodman s hut, he took the first suit that came to hand; it 
 chanced is there such a thing as chance in this strange 
 world of ours? to be the suit ne had worn the last time he 
 was at the Court
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT BEGtfA. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 WHEN he came down he found the gentleman clad in a suit 
 belonging to the landlady's son, much too large for the pres- 
 ent wearer, seated beside the fire. He rose as Gerald entered, 
 and held out his hand. 
 
 " Don't be afraid/' he said, with a shrewd smile. " I am 
 not going to thank you. There are some things that can't be 
 properly thanked; what you have done to-night is one of 
 them; but if jou think I don't know that you risked your life 
 to save ours, you make a great mistake. I know it, and my 
 daughter knows it." His eyes they were sharp and keen 
 the eyes of a man who has had to keep them pretty wide open 
 during his way through the world grew moist. 
 
 " I hope she is not ill!" said Gerald. 
 
 The gentleman shook his head. 
 
 " She is not strong at the best of times," he said, gravely, 
 " and this but we will hope for the best. But for you there 
 would be no hope left for me by this time." He tried to 
 repress a shudder. 
 
 " I trust she will get a good night's rest, and be all right 
 in the morning," said Gerald. "She was very brave." 
 
 " Women especially when they are delicate always are," 
 responded the father. '* A woman will face things that will 
 make a man quail. But as to a night's rest " He shook 
 his head. " She is all nerves. She is coming down directly." 
 
 " Is that wise?" said Gerald. 
 
 The old man laughed and sighed, but said nothing in 
 response. 
 
 " Let me introduce myself," he said. " My name is 
 Harling, Kobert Harling. I have just returned to England 
 from Australia will you bring this gentleman a glass of hot 
 whisky and water, if you please, ma'am? I shall be glad to 
 know the name of the man to whom I owe a debt which 
 nothing, nothing on earth can repay!" 
 
 " My name is Way re Gerald Wayre," said Gerald. 
 
 He was piling up the logs on the fire as he spoke to make 
 a blaze by the time the girl came down and did not see the 
 start which Mr. Harling gave, or the amazed expression of his 
 face at the sound of Gerald's name. 
 
 "Wayre?" he said, with a dry cough. "Did you say 
 Wayre? How do you spell it? You see, it's only natural I 
 should be curious."
 
 232 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Gerald smiled, and spelled his name. 
 
 " Thanks," said the old gentleman, " I shall not forget it. 
 Here's your whisky; oblige me oblige me! by drinking ai 
 much of it as you can at a gulp! And here, alas! is my 
 daughter. My dear Grace, if you would only go to bed!" 
 
 Gerald turned and saw a strange sight a beautiful girl, fair 
 as a lily, with flaxen hair and blue eyes dressed, swathed, 
 rather, in one of the landlady's best frocks. His smile of 
 amusement struggled with the admiration and surprise at her 
 beauty. She stood, with downcast eyes, for a moment, the 
 color coming and going in her face, then she raised her eyeg 
 and poured a glance of gratitude and womanly admiration of 
 his heroism upon him. It was so intense, so magnetic, that 
 it took Gerald's breath away, and made him well, as awk- 
 ward and embarrassed as ever a poor man can be. 
 
 " Come to the fire, Miss Harling," he said, after he had got 
 his breath back again. "I'm afraid you ought to be in bed; 
 but as you are here why why Do you feel cold fever- 
 ish? Perhaps a doctor " 
 
 " I am not cold I am not anything, but but wretched 
 with my inability to say what I want to say. Father, you 
 have thanked him? Have you told him that that we know 
 he saved my life at the risk of his own?" 
 
 " Yes, Grace, yes!" he said. " But, like all brave men, 
 Mr. Wayre " he looked at her with a compression of the lips 
 and a warning frown as he spoke the name, as if commanding 
 her not to express surprise; but, notwithstanding this signifi- 
 cant caution, she started slightly and glanced questioningly at 
 Gerald, who was doing something at the bar " Mr. Wayre 
 refuses all thanks. Nevermind. He knows." 
 
 " Have you ever tasted whisky, Miss Harling?" asked Ger- 
 ald, with rather startling abruptness. 
 
 She opened her eyes upon him. 
 
 "No! Why?" 
 
 " Then with your father's permission you are going to 
 taste it for the first time," he said; and he held out a glass, 
 mixed as strong as he dared. 
 
 She looked at him and shrunk back, then she raised her 
 eyes to his, and took the glass as meekly as a lamb. 
 
 Her father smiled. 
 
 " I might have begged and implored hi vain," he said, half 
 comically. " Thank you, Mr. 'Wayre. It's just what she 
 wants." 
 
 " It is odious," she said, with a shudder. " But," with a 
 heavenly smile oh, when will women learn the power of such
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGIU. 233 
 
 a smile! But perhaps it is better for us that they should 
 not' ' I will drink h. Not all. " 
 
 " I am afraid it must be all," said Gerald, firmly. " Don't 
 be afraid. It is good whisky, and there is not a headache in 
 a gallon of it." 
 
 " May I not have some more water?" she pleaded. 
 
 " 1 think not. You have had the water already, you 
 know," he said. 
 
 She laughed a faint, soft little laugh, like a tired child's 
 and leaned back, with half-closed eyes; but the half that was 
 open and women see so much with half an eye was fixed on 
 Gerald. 
 
 Mr. Harling signed to Gerald to draw his chair up to the 
 fire. 
 
 " What about your things?" said Gerald. 
 
 " Fortunately, we only had a Gladstone bag with us," 
 responded the old man, with the philosophical air of a man 
 who has roughed it. " The rest is lying at the hotel at Blag- 
 ford; the landlady has sent in for it. You know Blagford, of 
 course?" 
 
 " No," said Gerald. Mr. Harling looked at him with 
 veiled surprise, and Gerald explained: ** I am a stranger 
 here." 
 
 " A stranger?" echoed the old man, as if thrown off his 
 guard for a moment. 
 
 " Yes," said Gerald. " I only arrived here this evening, 
 and I am off to-morrow." 
 
 The half-open eyes opened wholly, and then closed. 
 
 " You are traveling for pleasure?" asked Mr. Harling. 
 
 Gerald stretched out his legs and smiled. 
 
 " Well, scarcely/' he replied. " I am looking for employ- 
 ment. I am making for one of the large towns; there is more 
 scope there than in the villages." 
 
 The old man looked at him with a kind of constrained 
 interest. 
 
 " What is your your business?" he asked. " Please for- 
 give me for seeming curious. The occasion almost warrants 
 it, doesn't it?" 
 
 " Oh, don't apologize," said Gerald in his frank way. 
 " I've so many" businesses that Pm troubled to answer; but 
 I'm not particular as to the kind of work. I've been chop- 
 ping wood for some weeks past," he added, simply. 
 
 The old man stared at him, stared at his clothes, at his 
 face, at his hands. Once or twice in his life Gerald had been 
 forced to wish that he was not a gentleman or, at least, did
 
 234 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 not look one. To be a gentleman and poor enough to be in 
 search of manual labor is to be suspected of all and every 
 kind of evil. Mr. Harling looked at him gravely, his keen 
 eyes reading Gerald's handsome face, as it were, then he 
 smiled, as if any doubts Gerald's speech had raised were dis- 
 pelled, and he, Mr. Harling, was satisfied, and he laughed. 
 
 " In the place I came from a gentleman down on his luck 
 is always regarded with suspicion." 
 
 " Father!" said a soft voice. 
 
 " Hold on, Grace! But, 1 am sure that in your case " 
 
 " Oh, I am passing honest, as Hamlet says/' said Gerald, 
 with a smile. " But I happen to be poor. It's a crime in 
 most countries; it's almost a capital one this. Some day, I 
 suppose, we shall reach the top height of civilization, and put 
 poor men to death; a painless death say, by electricity; at 
 present we are allowed to go about in search of work. I am 
 an architect, painter, horse-breaker, cattle-runner, sailor, and 
 one or two other things, so that there isn't much danger of 
 my starving." 
 
 " And you do not live here?" asked Mr. Harling, after a 
 pause, during which he had seemed to be digesting Gerald's 
 curt information. 
 
 " No!" said Gerald. " I live nowhere, as the phrase 
 goes." 
 
 " You may have friends here?" asked the old man, with 
 an uneasy kind of carelessness. 
 
 " No/' said Gerald. 
 
 Miss Grace opened her eyes again. 
 
 " You forget that we are sitting here," she said in a very 
 low voice. 
 
 " Thank you!" said Gerald. 
 
 " And where were you employed last, Mr. Wayre?" asked 
 Mr. Harling. 
 
 Gerald winced, but answered after a moment: " At a place 
 in Downshire; I was altering an old mansion. But the work 
 was interrupted. Since then I have been doing a little 
 amateur forestry, but I met with an accident a tree fell a 
 little too previously, and I broke my leg." 
 
 Miss Grace uttered a faint cry of sympathy, and leaned for- 
 ward. 
 
 "I am all right now," said Gerald, quickly, to reassure 
 her. " A broken leg sounds worse than it is, and doesn't 
 count, if it is well set. I'm none the worse for it." 
 
 It doesn't prevent your swimming, anyway," remarked 
 .Mr.
 
 THE'MISTRESS o* COURT REGHA. #35 
 
 Gerald laughed. 
 
 " To-morrow I am going to resume my tramp.'" 
 
 Miss Grace rose. 
 
 " Will you help me upstairs, father?" she said. 
 
 " I will say * good-bye/ Miss Harling,"' said Gerald. " I 
 shall probably have started before you are awake to-morrow." 
 
 She gave him her small, thin hand, and though he did not 
 notice the fact, it fluttered in his strong palm. 
 
 When Mr. Harling came down again he lighted his pipe, 
 and smoked in silence for a few minutes, then he said: 
 
 " I think you said you were a painter, Mr. Wayrej do you 
 paint portraits?" 
 
 " Yes, after a fashion," Gerald replied. 
 
 " Will you paint my daughter's?" asked the old gentleman, 
 as if he were asking a favor. 
 
 Gerald hesitated. He knew that Mr. Harling was not 
 dying to have Miss Grace's portrait, and that the offer was 
 prompted by paternal gratitude; he hesitated, and was 
 inclined to refuse; then he thought, " What a charming 
 picture Miss Grace would make!" and said: " Certainly; but, 
 pardon me, you have no proof of my capacity." 
 
 " I never yet found a brave man a braggart or a fraud," 
 said the old gentleman, laconically. " And I have every con- 
 fidence in your ability to carry out anything you undertake. 
 We shall stay here for a little time the place looks pretty, 
 and and interesting." He stared at the fire as he spoke. 
 " And we are not tied for time. In fact, we are just wander- 
 ing about as colonials do when they come back to the old 
 country. How soon can you get to work?" 
 
 " As soon as I can procure materials," said Gerald. " I 
 will go into Blagford to-morrow and buy them to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " Very well, then," said Mr. Harling, " that's settled. 
 As to the price " 
 
 " Oh, you'd better wait till the picture's finished," said Ger- 
 ald, with his infectious laugh. " And then I hope you won't 
 pay me only what it's worth." 
 
 The old gentleman eyed him shrewdly. 
 
 " Don't undervalue yourself," he said. " It's a waste of 
 time and labor, seeing that there's plenty of people will do it 
 for you. Good-night!" He shook Gerald's hand heartily, 
 and tramped up the stairs, but half-way up he paused, auj 
 looked round. 
 
 " 1 think you said you didn't know this place at all." 
 
 " Not at all," assented Gerald.
 
 36 ^THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 
 
 " Ah, just so. I thought, if you did, you might show ua 
 round; it looks interesting." 
 
 " How do you know?" Gerald asked, with a laugh, " You 
 haven't seen very much of it." 
 
 Mr. Harling laughed in response, and looked rather con- 
 fused. 
 
 " Just so! Just so!" he said, and went on his way. 
 
 Before the father and daughter were down the next morn- 
 ing, Gerald started for BJagford. He was fortunate enougli 
 to find a man who dealt in artists' materials, and he purchased 
 the necessary tools for the work which had so strangely and 
 romantically fallen into his hands. 
 
 When he got back to the Golden Harp, as the inn at Lar- 
 tree was called, he saw Mr. Harling standing outside the door, 
 with his pipe in his mouth, as if awaiting him. 
 
 " You don't let the grass grow under your feet, Mr. 
 "Wayre," he said, as he eyed the parcel under Gerald's arm. 
 
 " Well, you see, a man can't live on grass," said Gerald. 
 " How is Miss Harling this morning? I hope she will be well 
 enough to give me a sitting after lunch; but I must not worry 
 her ' ; 
 
 " Oh, she'll be ready," said Mr. Harling. " She likes the 
 idea." He tried to look as if he had not suggested it. " 1 have 
 been having a look around while you have been to Blagford." 
 
 " I hope you found the place as interesting as you imagined 
 it," said Gerald, arranging his materials in a cozy little 
 sitting-room, which Mr. Harling had engaged, and into which 
 he had led the way. 
 
 "Eh? Oh, yes, yes! I've been having a talk with some 
 of the old inhabitants." 
 
 " And found the old inhabitants as uncommunicative and 
 stupid as usual, I suppose," said Gerald. " It's extraordinary 
 what a heap of things the old inhabitant can manage to 
 forget." 
 
 " Well yes," assented the old gentleman, thoughtfully. 
 " He doesn't appear to remember anything excepting his 
 attack of measles at the age of seven. All between that and 
 the present time is a blank." 
 
 He spoke as if he were disappointed about something. 
 
 " Ah, well, time works changes! You'll give us the pleas- 
 ure of your company at lunch, Mr. Way re?" 
 
 But Gerald declined, explaining that he had got a crust of 
 bread and cheese at Blagford, and that he would prepare hia 
 canvas, so as to be ready when Miss Harling was ready for 
 him.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGSTA. 237 
 
 After lunch Mr. Harling gave him a call, and he went in. 
 Tt was evident that the luggage had come from Blagford, for 
 Miss Harling was attired in her own clothes; and very pretty 
 and graceful she looked, Gerald thought. She greeted him 
 with a little blush, and said yes, she was quite ready. 
 
 Gerald set up his portable easel in a good light, and placed 
 a chair for her. 
 
 " I'm only going to paint the half figure," he said. " So 
 I'll have all the light I can on your face. May I Thanks!" 
 and he posed her. 
 
 The color deepened in her singularly fair face; her eyes 
 were downcast as he turned her this way and that, until he 
 had got the required position. 
 
 " I suppose I am to look pleasant? Am I to smile?" 
 
 "Look natural," said Gerald. "That will be pleasant 
 enough, Miss Harling." 
 
 Mr. Harling chuckled. 
 
 " You've learned one half of the portrait-painter's art, any- 
 how, Mr. Wayre," he said, " the art of flattery." 
 
 " No," said Gerald, candidly. " It was only my way of 
 expressing satisfaction with my subject, and my despair of 
 doing it justice." 
 
 " You ought to be able to look pleasant after that, Grace," 
 said the old gentleman, much amused. 
 
 Gerald began the rough sketch; and Mr. Harling watched 
 with keen interest and a rather surprised approval. 
 
 " You can smoke, Mr. Wayre. Eh, Grace?" he said, as 
 he filled his own pipe. " My daughter's used to tobacco." 
 
 " Thanks; presently," said Gerald, absorbed in his work. 
 " Please look straight before you, Miss Grace." 
 
 Grace had felt her eyes heavy under his abstracted gaze, but 
 she raised them obediently, her color coming and going in 
 exquisite rose tints. 
 
 Gerald worked on quickly and firmly. He had a keen eye, 
 and that peculiar audacity which is one of the artist's most 
 valuable possessions, and the face as it grew upon the canvaa 
 interested him. Presently he was conscious of a strange feel- 
 ing. It seemed to him that he had seen the face, or one that 
 bore a resemblance to it, before, and he paused in his work 
 and stared at his sketch. 
 
 "Anything wrong?" asked Mr. Harling, who was im- 
 mensely interested in every stroke. 
 
 " No, no!" said Gerald. " Nothing excepting, of course, 
 that I am more sure every moment that I shall only per- 
 petrate a libel on Miss Harling."
 
 388 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 
 
 " Hem! doesn't look like it," remarked her father. 
 
 " You have been abroad some time?" asked Gerald, 
 thoughtfully. Surely he could not have met the girl and for- 
 gotten her! 
 
 " All my life," replied the old gentleman. " 1 went to 
 Australia a boy, and came back a few weeks ago. You look 
 as if you had been abroad a good deal, Mr. Wayre. Is that 
 so?" 
 
 " Yes," said Gerald. " I ran away to sea when I was a 
 lad, and have been wandering ever since." 
 
 Mr. Harling glanced at him quickly. " Your people are 
 English?" he said. 
 
 I believe so," said Gerald. "The fact is, I scarcely 
 know. I was brought up by some people who had adopted 
 me. They lived at a place called Worsley, near Southamp- 
 ton I suppose it was seeing so much of shipping that gave 
 me a taste for the sea. I wasn't very happy, and so I cut and 
 run." 
 
 Mr. Harling puffed at his pipe. 
 
 ;< You were an orphan, then?" he said. 
 
 Gerald nodded. " Worse, if that is possible, for I never 
 knew my mother and father," he said, very quietly. 
 
 " And these people, what did you say their name was?" 
 
 Gerald had not mentioned their name, but he gave it, 
 absently. 
 
 " Porson," he said. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Mr. Harling. *' They weren't good to 
 you?" 
 
 " Well, scarcely that. But I felt free to make a bolt of it. " 
 
 " You must have been glad to see your friends when you 
 came back," remarked Mr. Harling in a casual voice. 
 
 " I haven't any," said Gerald. " The Persons were living, 
 are alive still, and I was glad to see them; but there was no 
 one else. I haven't a relation in the world that I know of. 
 I am afraid you mustn't look quite so grave, Miss Plarling." 
 
 Grace started, and blushed; then Gerald, afraid that she 
 was getting bored and tired, began telling them some of his 
 adventures, very much as he had told them to Claire. And 
 the girl listened with rapt attention, her face responding, like 
 a musical instrument, to the touch of his mood. At times he 
 made her smHe and the fair face was rendered beautiful by 
 the smile and now and again he made her shudder; but he 
 skated rapidly over perils and privations, and dwelt on the 
 humorous side of his life's story as much as possible. It k
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT REGNA. 239 
 
 scarcely necessary to say that he said nothing of Court Regna. 
 That was a sealed page of the book. 
 
 Once or twice she was so absorbed and interested that she 
 forgot her duties as a sitter and moved her head round to him, 
 and Gerald had to go to her and put her straight again. Ho 
 did it in the most mechanical way, and as if he were adjusting 
 a lay-figure; but every time he touched her the color rose to 
 her face and her breath came and went in a fluttering way. 
 
 " You've had an eventful career for a young man, Mr. 
 Wayre," said Mr. Harling. 
 
 Gerald looked at him with some surprise. He had thought 
 that the old gentleman had scarcely been listening. 
 
 " You ought to have made your fortune." 
 
 Gerald laughed. " A rolling stone gathers no moss." 
 
 " I don't know," said Mr. Harling. " I've been on the 
 roll all my life, but I'm thankful to say that I have gathered 
 a little moss." He spoke quite modestly, and without a trace 
 of bragging. " That's why I have come home," he went on, 
 simply. " We all come home when we've made our pile, 
 don't we?" 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," he said. " I hope to make mine 
 some day," he added, but without much eagerness; for the 
 thought flashed through him that all the money in the world 
 would not bring him the only thing he wanted. Surely it was 
 not because he was poor that Claire had refused him and dis- 
 missed him! 
 
 " I think you will," said Mr. Harling, quietly. " It's 
 mostly a matter of luck, after all. I grubbed on for years, 
 until I came upon the Butterfly Mine," 
 
 Now, most people who have to do with mining have heard 
 of the wonderful Butterfly, and Gerald opened his eyes. 
 
 " The Butterfly?" he exclaimed, with much interest. " You 
 were in that?" 
 
 " I found it," said Mr. Harling, quietly. 
 
 Gerald looked at him and laughed. 
 
 " I congratulate you," he said. " There must be millions 
 in it." 
 
 " There are," assented the old gentleman, as quietly as be- 
 fore. 
 
 Miss Grace fidgeted and moved, so that Gerald had to stop t 
 
 "I do hope you are not going to talk money!" she said, 
 almost irritably. " I hate the sound of the word." 
 
 " All right, my dear," said her father, with all a father's 
 meekness. " It cropped out in a natural way." He turned
 
 240 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 to Gerald. " My daughter has a horror of being thought 
 purse-proud," he explained, apologetically. " You see, we 
 have met some of the specimens of the self-made people, 
 and well, Grace doesn't like the make, and is afraid that 
 people will think we're stamped with the same mark. So we 
 avoid the subject, Mr. Wayre." 
 
 Gerald smiled. *' I understand," he said. " And yet it is 
 the one subject most people are really fond of." 
 
 " Then we are exceptions, please, Mr. Wayre," said Miss 
 Grace, almost plaintively. 
 
 Her father nodded. " You see?" he said. 
 
 Gerald nodded in response. " We won't mention it again 
 until you pay for the portrait. " And he laughed. But both 
 father and daughter rose in his estimation. The man who 
 had discovered the wonderful Butterfly must be a millionaire, 
 or very nearly one; and yet, unlike most millionaires, he 
 avoided the topic of money, alluded to his honestly gotten 
 wealth half shamefacedly, and bore no traces of it about him 
 in the shape of fine clothes or jewelry. Both father and 
 daughter were plainly dressed, and were quite free from any 
 hint of ostentation. Gerald's interest in them increased as he 
 pondered over his work. 
 
 Presently he noticed that Miss Grace looked tired. 
 
 " That will do for to-day, Miss Hading," he said. *' I am 
 afraid I have worn you out. Artists have no feelings where 
 their sitters are concerned." 
 
 " I am not tired," she said, with a smile. " I will stay 
 like this as long as you like." 
 
 " Which is not one moment longer," he said, firmly, as he 
 laid down his brush. She looked at him gratefully, and 
 Gerald put his things aside and went out. 
 
 " That young fellow's a born gentleman, Grace," remarked 
 Mr. Harling, emphatically. She was standing by the window, 
 watching Gerald striding along the road, and she did not turn 
 her head. 
 
 " Have you only just discovered that, father?" she said, 
 rery quietly. 
 
 A born gentleman," responded the old man, " for all 
 he's poor and struggling." 
 
 " Was it because he was poor and struggling that you 
 found it necessary to tell him that we were rich disgustingly 
 rich?" she said, with dangerous sweetness. 
 
 Mr. Harling reddened. 
 
 " You're hard upon me, Grace. It slipped out unaware^
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 241 
 
 and before I knew it. You don't think I was bragging, 
 Grace?" 
 
 "No, no!" she said, more gently. "But I am sorry." 
 And she left the room. 
 
 The portrait was resumed the next day, and the next. 
 Every morning she was posed by the window, and Gerald 
 worked at the canvas. Sometimes Mr. Harling was present, 
 but very often he left them alone together Gerald was a gen- 
 tleman, and could be trusted or strolled in and out, taking 
 his pipe from his mouth to offer some criticism or express his 
 approval. For the portrait promised to be a good one, and, 
 in consequence, Gerald was quite absorbed in it so absorbed 
 that he did not know that his sitter's eyes often dwelt upon 
 him with a dreamy tenderness, to be turned away swiftly when 
 he looked up. And even if he caught her gaze he would not 
 have suspected the truth, that love was growing, springing up 
 like some tropical plant with amazing growth, within her 
 heart; for Gerald was the least vain of men. 
 
 How could she help loving him! There was a powerful 
 charm in that frank and genial manner of his, and he was 
 strong and handsome too boot. Day after day she spent hours 
 with him, was brought under the spell of his manly tender- 
 ness, the charm of his dark eyes, with the mysterious sadness 
 lurking in them, the music of his voice, which became more 
 musical when he addressed women gentle or simple. His 
 very unconsciousness of his power over her only helped to 
 increase and intensify it, and so it came to pass that she lived 
 only when he was present, and spent the weary hours of his 
 absence thinking or him. 
 
 As the picture grew under his hand, the resemblance to 
 some face he had seen and forgotten became more distinct to 
 him, and one day he said, absently: 
 
 ** I wonder who it was?" 
 
 She was looking at him, and he started as he spoke, and 
 averted her gaze 
 
 " Who what was?" she asked. " Do you talk in your sleep, 
 Mr. Wayre? I don't know whether you know it, but you 
 spoke aloud then." 
 
 " Did I?" he said, with a laugh. " I beg your pardon. It 
 is very strange, but you are like some one I have seen, Miss 
 Harling, and I can't think who it was." 
 
 " That is strange," she said; " I don't think you can have 
 met any of my relations. They are all in Australia that is, 
 on my mother's side. My father's are English, but he has 
 not found any yet, though he seems to be always looking for
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 them. I fancy he has an idea some of them may be in ths 
 part of the world, though he does not say anything about it; 
 but I know he has been making inquiries in this neighborhood. 
 Can't you remember who it was?" 
 
 Gerald shook his head thoughtfully. 
 
 " Was it a man or a woman?" 
 
 " A woman, I think." 
 
 " Was she pretty?" 
 
 " Of course," he said in a matter-of-fact way. 
 
 She blushed, and glanced at him. 
 
 " Isn't that rather too obvious?" she said. 
 
 " I beg your pardon! Oh, I see! Well, Miss Harling, you 
 have a looking-glass in your room, I expect." 
 
 The blush deepened, and her eyes were cast down. 
 
 " You are not offended, I hope?" he said, apologetically. 
 " Perhaps as I am an artist I may be allowed to remark that-- 
 I am satisfied with my subject. You are not angry?" 
 
 "No; I ought to be/' she said. 
 
 Gerald laughed. 
 
 " I don't know. Most women would be pleased, wouldn't 
 they?" 
 
 ' It depends upon who says it," she said in a low voice. 
 
 " Oh, well, I'm privileged," he responded. 
 
 She looked at him quickly, and, with a little catch in her 
 voice, said: 
 
 " Privileged you?" 
 
 " As an artist," he said, innocently. 
 
 She turned her head away, and the color faded from her 
 face. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but you have moved," he said. " One 
 moment that's not quite as you were. Allow me " all 
 unconsciously, as if she were the usual lay-figure, he, gently 
 enough, put her in the former position. His hand scarcely 
 touched her, but she fell a-trembling, her lips quivered, and 
 her eyes closed. 
 
 He thought she was going to faint, and looked at her, and 
 then round the room, with all a man's alarm and Heaven-for- 
 saken helplessness. 
 
 "What a brute I am! You are tired out! I'd forgotten 
 the time you have been sitting here. Don't faint! Yes, Fm 
 a brute!" 
 
 '* No, no!" she said; and she stretched out her arm as if to 
 etop him from ringing the bell. " I am not faint; only 
 only a little tired; I don't think I am even that! Andand
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 243 
 
 please don't call yourself names. I I don't like to hear 
 it." 
 
 Her blue eyes, ^ still moist, looked up into his with that 
 expression which is the most dangerous a woman can wear 
 the look of appealing tenderness and veiled admiration. She 
 was very beautiful at that moment woman is at her bust 
 when love is throbbing at her heart and shining through her 
 eyes but Gerald was untouched. There was no heart in his 
 bosom to be touched Claire Sartoris had taken it thence 
 months ago. 
 
 ^ " That's nonsense!" he said, as a brother might speak to a 
 sister. " You are tired, and you shaVt sit any longer! 
 Why, you are quite pale " 
 
 " I am not pale!'' she declared. "Please go on!" but 
 her hand still lingered, ah, so lovingly, on his strong arm, and 
 the blue eyes heavenly blue, with love's own azure looked 
 up into his. 
 
 Gerald thought, " How pretty she is! I shall never do her 
 justice!" and that was all. 
 
 " I sha'n't paint you any more to-day," he said. 
 ' You you are obstinate!" she murmured. 
 
 " I'm a perfect mule when I like!" he said. " Come into 
 the open air it's not so very cold. Here, put this round 
 you." He caught up one of the awful antimacassars, and 
 threw it round her. " I'll get your father to take you for a 
 drive this afternoon. I've kept you indoors all these fine 
 mornings. Yes, I'm a brute, and that just describes me!" 
 
 She let him take her out, and she leaned upon his arm. 
 And he was very tender and gentle with her. The woman 
 who reads these lines will understand how that very gentle- 
 ness and tenderness increased the pain and the wordless long- 
 ing in Grace's heart the man reader will not. 
 
 In the afternoon they went for a drive, for Gerald had 
 gained a great influence over Mr. Harling, and had only to 
 suggest a thing to insure its accomplishment. They drove 
 through the lovely Irish country, and Gerald, who accom- 
 panied them, expatiated upon the beauty of the scenery; but 
 Grace's eyes were more often on his face than on the emerald 
 green meadows and violet hills. 
 
 He dined with them that night as a rule he refused their 
 invitations and all through the dinner those blue eyes sought 
 his, instantly to be diverted when he looked their way. After 
 dinner she leaned back in an arm-chair and listened, with half- 
 closed eyes, to Gerald's and her father's talk.
 
 244 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 
 
 Gerald was speaking of some old ruins he hd seen in 
 America; and Mr. Harling was much interested. 
 
 " I've got some sketches somewhere,'* said Gerald. " Wait 
 a moment." 
 
 He went up to his room, and came down again with some 
 papers, and pulled out the sketch he had alluded to, and the 
 two men talked for a time, then went out to look at the night. 
 
 Grace rose, and moved about the room with the restlessness 
 of a girl in her condition just waiting for the man she loved 
 to come back and bring the light of his presence with him. 
 
 Her eyes fell upon the sketches, and she took them up 
 eagerly. They were his, had been drawn by his hand, were 
 instinct of him. 
 
 She turned them over one by one, admiring, though she 
 was no artist, the bold, strong drawing, the faculty which 
 made them, slight though they were, impressive; then, sud- 
 denly, she started, and her fingers closed over one sketch. 
 
 It was the picture of a girl on horseback. Only a pencil- 
 drawing, but so life-like, so eloquent, so strongly endowed 
 with reality, that it was almost as if the live girl and the live 
 horse stood before her. 
 
 A woman's instinct is a wonderfully mysterious thing. It 
 rarely fails. As she looked at the drawing, Grace's heart 
 seemed to contract under the grip of an icy hand. She 
 scanned the beautiful features, the graceful figure, with an 
 agonized scrutiny. 
 
 " Oh, she is beautiful, beautiful!" she moaned, with dry 
 lips. " It is she she who stands between us!" 
 
 The room grew indistinct, and seemed to be whirling round 
 her; she dropped the sketches in a disordered heap, and 
 clutching the table with both hands, sobbed: 
 
 "Father! Father!" 
 
 But when Mr. Harling came in a few minutes afterward, 
 they found her lying back in the chair as they had left her, 
 and, apparently, asleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 GERALD gathered up the sketches carelessly, and in doing so 
 let one fall to the ground. It was Claire's portrait. He 
 picked it up, and his face went crimson and then pale, and he 
 stood as if suddenly overwhelmed by some sharply awakened 
 memory. He did not see that G race was looking at him, her 
 face lined with pain; indeed, he seemed for the moment to 
 have forgotten the presence of the other two.
 
 TEE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 245 
 
 Recovering his composure, he thrust the sketch in the 
 breast-pocket of his coat, and resumed the conversation; but 
 he talked absently, and soon afterward said good-night. 
 When he got up to his room, he took the sketch from his 
 pocket, and with it came out the papers he had found in the 
 old bureau at Court Regna. He looked at them for a moment 
 or two, but without unfolding them, before he could remem- 
 ber from whence he had got them; then, with an exclamation 
 of annoyance at his carelessness, he folded them up, and put 
 them into an envelope, and directed it to Miss Sartoris, and, 
 that he might not forget them in the morning, he stuck the 
 envelope in the front of the looking-glass. Then he sat down 
 and looked at the portrait. 
 
 He certainly had not forgotten Claire during the last week 
 or so, and his love for her had not decreased; but his work at 
 Grace's portrait, the close companionship with the father and 
 daughter, had occupied his mind and prevented him from 
 brooding over his disappointed love, as he had brooded while 
 lying alone, for weary hours after his accident, in the hut. 
 But now the sight of the beautiful face set his heart all 
 tingling again, and woke up anew the lover's longing. He 
 wondered whether she had forgiven him yet for daring to love 
 her, whether she was still at the Court, and whether hardest 
 and bitterest thought of all! some one else had won her! 
 
 After a time he could not endure to look upon the face all 
 so perfect to him and he put it in his pocket with a sigh, 
 and went to bed to dream of her. 
 
 When he got up in the morning, the first thing that his 
 eyes fell upon was the envelope containing the papers, and he 
 remembered that he had inclosed them without a word. 
 Surely that was discourteous! He must write, at least a line 
 or two. But that " line or two " seemed very difficult and 
 almost impossible, and he put the envelope in a drawer, 
 resolving to compose the few words after breakfast. It was 
 so difficult to say anything that would not appear as if he 
 wanted to open a correspondence with her. 
 
 " Not that I need be afraid," he thought, sadly. " She 
 will, no doubt, tell Mr. Sapley to acknowledge them, just as 
 she told him to send me that confounded check." 
 
 The sitting that morning was a failure. Miss Grace seemed 
 to have lost interest in the picture, or to be out of sorts; and 
 Gerald, brooding over Claire, felt as if he could not work. 
 Grace was very docile and gentle, and sat as he told her, but 
 her face was quite colorless, and there was a dull look of pain 
 and weariness in her eyes which was quite strange to him.
 
 246 THE MISTRESS OF COURT KEG2TA. 
 
 She did not steal covert glances at him this morning, but 
 gazed straight before her like one in a dream, and a sad one; 
 and when he spoke, she did not turn her head with the quick 
 attention and the prompt smile which she had hitherto accord- 
 eJ him, but kept her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. 
 
 Her changed manner puzzled and troubled Gerald. He 
 wondered whether he had said or done anything to offend her, 
 and once he stopped in his work and looked at her with fixed 
 attention. As if she felt the intentness of his gaze, she said, 
 without turning her eyes to him: 
 
 " Is there anything the matter, Mr. Wayre?" 
 
 " I was wondering whether I might venture to ask that 
 question, Miss Grace/' he said in his outspoken fashion. " I 
 was just asking myself whether I could have done anything 
 to offend you." 
 
 The color rose to her face, but very faintly, and her eyes 
 dropped, as if to hide the tears that had risen to them. 
 
 What a question!" she said, with forced lightness, but 
 with a stifled sigh. " Let me reassure you. You have not. 
 How could you have done anything?" 
 
 " 1 don't know," he said, but hesitatingly, as if he were 
 not quite satisfied. " One never knows at least, I don't 
 I'm such a clumsy, outspoken idiot, and always blundering 
 against somebody's feelings, like a bull in a crockery shop." 
 
 ;< You have broken no crockery in my case," she said. 
 " Why why did you think you had?" 
 
 " Well," he said, " your face made me afraid and doubt- 
 ful." 
 
 " My poor face!" she said, with a laugh that rang rather 
 sad and rueful. " It must be difficult to paint fair women; 
 when they lose their color, they lose their all. I know that I 
 am as expressionless as a sheet of note-paper this morning. 
 It is because I feel tired, I suppose. 1 am sorry that I am 
 not dark, Mr. Wayre." She had pictured the unknown 
 original of the sketch as dark. 
 
 1 Gerald looked at her, all bewildered by the tinge of bitter- 
 ness in her voice, and slowly began to clean his brushes. 
 
 " What are you doing?" she asked, for she had learned to 
 know his movements. 
 
 " Putting the things away," he said, quietly. 
 
 " Please don't!" she said. " You you will make me 
 ashamed of myself and unhappy. Please go on! I will try 
 and look brighter." 
 
 Seeing that it would distress her ii lie refused, he took up 
 his brush again.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 24? 
 
 ' Were all your lady-sitters as tiresome and provoking as I 
 am?" she asked, after a pause, and with affected carelessness. 
 
 " Most of them more so," he said. " You are a model of 
 patience and amiability. No, it's not empty flattery/' he 
 went on, as she smiled. " I have never known any one so 
 gentle and long-suffering." 
 
 " And you have painted a good many?" 
 
 " Yes," he said, absently. 
 
 " In England?" she asked. The longing to know the name 
 of the girl on horseback possessed her the longing and the 
 dread. 
 
 He looked at her with some surprise. 
 
 " No, I have painted no one in England but you, Miss 
 Grace," he said; then he remembered the pencil-sketch of 
 Claire, and his brows drew together; but it was not a paint- 
 ing, and he did not correct himself. 
 
 She glanced at him wistfully, and sighed. 
 
 " I hope the picture will be a success," she said. " Will 
 you send it to the Academy?" 
 
 " No," he replied. " It will certainly not be good enough 
 for that. All I dare hope for is that it may be something like 
 you it can not be half beautiful enough but it may give an 
 idea, a suggestion of the original." 
 
 His words brought the color to her face, and her eyes 
 lighted for a moment; then the color faded away again; for a 
 woman knows that the man who loves her does not speak of 
 her beauty so calmly. 
 
 " That is nonsense!" she said, almost brusquely. " I am 
 not nearly so pretty as that picture and you know it!" 
 
 As she spoke, Mr. Harling entered. He came into the 
 room with a little bustling air, as if he were rather excited 
 about something, and he looked round in an eager, restless 
 kind of way. He had some letters in his hand, and he 
 glanced at them and then at Gerald irresolutely, as if he 
 wanted to say something; but ultimately he put the letters in 
 his pocket, as if he had decided not to speak of the matter on 
 his mind. 
 
 " Well, how are you getting on?" he asked. 
 
 " Not at all," said Grace, promptly and wearily. 
 
 " You don't look up to much this morning, Grace," ho 
 said. " A little off color, and eh, Mr. Wayre?" 
 
 " Yes/' said Gerald. " Miss Grace is tired, and I am not 
 going to do any more this morning." 
 
 "Wants a change, perhaps?" said Mr. Harling. " What 
 do you say to running away for a day or two, Grace? I've
 
 248 THE MISTRESS OF COUKT 
 
 had some letters this morning, one of 'em on business in 
 another part of the old country; and I must run over there. 
 I'll take pou with me; the change will do you good. We 
 needn't be away long. You won't mind giving the picture a 
 rest for a day or two, Mr. Wayre?" 
 
 " Oh, no," said Gerald at once. " Besides, I needn't be 
 idle. I can paint in the background, and get on generally. 
 I'm going to put a Japanese screen behind the figure an old- 
 
 Sld and bronze affair; and I can do that without troubling 
 iss Grace for a day or two." 
 
 " That's all right, then/' said Mr. Harling. " We'll start 
 to-morrow morning, and get back as soon as we can." 
 
 Grace drew a long breath. The thought of leaving Gerald, 
 even for a few days, brought a sharp little pain with it. 
 
 " And we'll go for a drive this afternoon, eh?" continued 
 the old gentleman, rubbing his hands, and fidgeting up and 
 down the room. " A drive will do you both good, for you 
 look rather down in the mouth this morning, Mr. Wayre." 
 
 Gerald flushed. 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right," he said, cheerily. " But I should 
 like the drive all the same." 
 
 It was a pleasant afternoon of course, with a shower or 
 two and Grace seemed to grow more cheerful after the first 
 mile or so. Gerald did his best to entertain her, and she had 
 him entirely to herself, for her father appeared to be in an 
 extremely thoughtful and preoccupied mind, and to be 
 scarcely aware of their presence. Every now and then he 
 would glance at Gerald in a peculiar wav, and then whistle 
 softly, after the manner of old men when they have something 
 on their minds and can not speak of it. 
 
 In the evening they were sitting round the fire; Grace was 
 leaning back and looking tired and somewhat sad, and the two 
 men were playing draughts, a game of which Mr. Harling was 
 curiously fond. Gerald could beat him easily; but he often 
 spared his opponent, and extended mercy so cleverly that Mr. 
 Harling never detected it, as, chuckling with enjoyment, he 
 scored the game. Now and again Grace would lean forward 
 and watch them, and, of course, she saw Gerald's kind 
 imposition, and she showed him that she did so by a faint 
 smile and shake of her head. Notwithstanding her pallor, 
 she looked very beautiful, with a spiritual loveliness which 
 struck Gerald more forcibly than it had ever done before. 
 She was gentleness itself, and her love for her father displayed 
 itself in her eyes when they rested on him, and in a hundred
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. J&4S 
 
 little ways by which every tender-hearted woman can reveal 
 her affection. 
 
 Gerald thought what " a nice girl " she was, and what a 
 capital wife she would make, and, involuntarily, he sighed. 
 
 If he had never met Claire! But even if he had seen Grace 
 before Claire, how could he, a penniless adventurer, have 
 asked the daughter of a millionaire to be his wife? 
 
 ^ Presently she rose to say " good-night," and, in his admira- 
 tion and liking for her, Gerald, in all innocence, held her 
 hand a little longer than usual. 
 
 "You will be glad of your holiday, Miss Grace," he said, 
 smiling at her rather pensively. " And I hope you will come 
 back quite strong and " 
 
 Her hand fluttered in his, and her eyes sunk. 
 
 " Thank you/' she said, with a slight catch in her breath. 
 " And you, too, will be glad of a holiday?" 
 
 " No," he said, curtly. " I shall not. I shall miss you 
 very much, and sha'n't 'know what to do with myself except 
 by counting the hours until your return." 
 
 She looked at him for an instant a quick, searching gaze 
 then she sighed, withdrew her hand, and left the room. 
 
 Her father looked after her we all know the look of love 
 and anxiety! 
 
 " She is not strong," he said, as if to himself, rather than 
 to Gerald. " Her mother died of consumption, and " he 
 cleared his throat "people think money brings happiness." 
 He laughed grimly. " Of all the nonsense that ever passed 
 current for truth, that's the rankest. I'd give every penny 
 I've got, and be content to take up a spade and work in the 
 fields, if I could have my poor girl hale and hearty as one of 
 the farmer's laborer's daughters. Here speaking of money 
 confound it! hadn't I better give you some on account of 
 that portrait? I don't know how you stand, my boy " he 
 often addressed Gerald in some such affectionate terms as 
 this " but I know what it is to be short; and you won't take 
 offense, I'm sure." 
 
 " Of course I won't," said Gerald, frankly. " Yes, I am 
 short. Give me five pounds, Mr. Harling. " 
 
 The old gentleman looked dissatisfied. 
 
 " Is that enough? I'm not much of an art critic, but I've 
 sense enough to know that that portrait you're painting is 
 worth a great many five-pound notes. Let me make it 
 twenty fifty." 
 
 Gerald laughed. 
 
 " We'll compromise, and say ten," he said.
 
 230 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 
 
 Mr. Hading took one from a thick bundle of notes, and put 
 it in Gerald's hand. 
 
 "I wish you'd let me well, well! I never paid money 
 more willingly," he added; " and and look here, I'm a man 
 of few words, but what I say I mean. I want you to consider 
 me your banker. I'm serious. Perhaps, some day you'll 
 understand " He stopped short. " Anyway, I can't for- 
 get you saved her life, and I want you to feel that you can. 
 draw on me for " his face grew red, and his eyes almost 
 fierce " for half a million, if you like!" 
 
 Gerald was touched, and, as usual, he covered his emotion 
 with a laugh. 
 
 " Thanks!" he said. " But I shouldn't know what to do 
 with half a million if I had it." 
 
 "I'm. sure / don't!" said Mr. Harling, ruefully. " Some- 
 times I've thought of buying a big house, and setting up as a 
 country gentleman; but I've got a touch of the Wandering 
 Jew in me, and I know that, as sure as fate, I should want to 
 up sticks and be off just about the tune I had thought Fd 
 settled down. And and there's Grace " he paused and 
 looked at the fire " I shouldn't like my girl to be the prey 
 of some fortune-hunter; and I know well enough that if we 
 lived up to our confounded money, they'd flock around. I'd 
 rather see her the wife of an honest carpenter, say, than one of 
 the sort I have in my mind." 
 
 " Miss Grace has too much sense to make a wrong choice," 
 said Gerald. " She is worthy of the best man that ever 
 lived I" He spoke warmly, and the old man glanced at him 
 rather wistfully. 
 
 " That's so! Of course I agree with you. But you've 
 known her long enough to know what she is the best and 
 most loving daughter a man ever had." 
 
 A meaner man than Gerald might have thought Mr. Har- 
 ling was flinging his daughter at his head; but Gerald had no 
 such suspicion. 
 
 " She has seemed so much better lately," said Mr. Harling, 
 after a pause; "but to-day she has fallen back to what she 
 was before we came here. I noticed the change last night 
 when she said good-night. I know her looks so well, you see." 
 
 " Depend upon it, the change will do her good," said Ger- 
 ald, encouragingly. 
 
 ' Yes, yes; I hope so!" said the old man. " I'm going on 
 business He paused a moment. " You don't take much 
 interest in the people about her^ do you?" 
 
 Gerald shook his head.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REOKTA.' 251 
 
 " No," he said. " I have scarcely spoken to any of them 
 excepting the men who come into the inn. Why?" 
 
 "Nothing nothing!" responded Mr. Hading, quickly. 
 " I only asked Well, it's time to go to bed, I suppose. 
 I'm sorry you won't take the twenty or the fifty, my boy." 
 
 But Gerald refused, with a shake of the head. 
 
 The Harlings started the next morning. As Gerald put 
 Grace into the carriage, he chose a great, soft fur traveling- 
 wrap from the multitudinous shawls and rugs, and wrapped it 
 round her. 
 
 " Stand up, please," he said in his pleasant, masterful way. 
 " The air is rather sharp this morning, and you must not 
 catch cold at starting. " 
 
 " I sha'n't catch cold," she said; but she stood up all the 
 same, and he wound her up in it " like a mummy," as she 
 declared. 
 
 " Good things are rare and precious nowadays, Miss Grace," 
 he said; " and when we find them we take care of them. 
 Now, you are not to get outside of that until you reach the 
 station, and then you are to put it on again." 
 
 " Who made you my keeper?" she said, with a smile. 
 Then, as the significance of the question smote her, she 
 crimsoned. 
 
 Gerald was all unconscious. 
 
 " Never you mind," he said, with affected sternness. 
 " You've got to do as you're told. Good-bye! Come back 
 strong and well; and, for Heaven's sake, don't be longer than 
 you can help!" 
 
 He shook the daintily gloved little hand, and the carriage 
 started, with the usual Irish fuss and noise. 
 
 Grace sunk back; but Mr. Harling looked after the stalwart 
 figure as long as it was visible. 
 
 " Splendid fellow!" he said. " It's like parting with one's 
 own son. You like him, Grace, eh?" 
 
 She could not speak as she battled with her tears. He 
 looked at her, and his weather-beaten face grew red and then 
 pale. 
 
 " Grace, my dear, my dear!" he murmured, aghast, as the 
 truth flashed upon him. 
 
 " Don't don't speak to me not yet for a little while!" 
 she said in a broken whisper. 
 
 He leaned forward, his face all lines, and took her hand and 
 pressed it. " I I didn't know oh, my dear! But " with 
 a note of hope and encouragement in the word.
 
 253 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGtfA. 
 
 " No, no!" Bhe said, with a little gasp. " He will notS 
 He will not! I know it!" 
 
 " But," he stammered, " you he said himself how how 
 pretty you are he knows how good; he " 
 
 " No, no!" she murmured, passionately. " He never will 
 care for me like me! There there is some one else!" 
 
 The father gasped. 
 
 " Yes, there is some one else! Do not speak of it again, 
 father! Never even look it! It can never be what you 
 want! There is some one else he loves with all his heart. 
 
 " How do you know?" he asked. 
 
 " Never mind. I know. But, father," leaning forward, 
 with tearful eagerness, " you won't let it make any difference 
 in your feeling toward him; remember, he saved my life, and 
 at the risk of his own." 
 
 The old man sighed. 
 
 " Yes," he said, after a pause. " I'm not likely to for- 
 get it. No, it sha'n't make any difference. But but I 
 can't give up hoping. No man with a heart in his bosom 
 could help loving you, Grace if you loved him, and he 
 knew it." 
 
 She shivered, as if with cold. " But he must never know 
 it. Do you hear, father? I should die of shame. Yes, I 
 should die! He must never know! And, father, you must 
 still be his friend. He is poor and friendless, and I am sure 
 he has had some trouble. Perhaps it is connected with her ! 
 If so, father, we must help him. Do you hear understand? 
 Why do you look so stern? It is not his fault that I love 
 him. He can not help it. He has never spoken a word 
 that that a brother might not say to his sister, a gentleman 
 to his friend. It is not his fault, but mine, all mine! And, 
 father, I want I want to make him happy. Perhaps it's 
 money, the want of money, that separates them if so, you 
 must help! Father, I I owe him so much!" 
 
 " Your life yes!" he said, gloomily. 
 
 " No! more than my life. The greatest happiness a woman 
 ever knows." 
 
 " Happiness?" he echoed, incredulously. 
 
 " Yes! It is happiness to love, dear, even even if one can 
 not get love in return." 
 
 He did not understand, poor old man. How could he? 
 But h* kept silence as if he did; which was the best thing he 
 could do. 
 
 When they had gone, Gerald began at the background of 
 the portrait. They say that an artist always falls in love with
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 253 
 
 his subject more or less and Gerald regarded the painted 
 face, with its extraordinary fairness and girlish charm, rather 
 sadly. He missed the father and daughter very much. 
 Grace especially. It seemed very dull and dreary all day 
 without the old man's bustling presence and the girl's soft, 
 gentle voice. It seemed to ring in his ears and haunt him. 
 When it grew dusk he went for a walk, and thought of Claire; 
 and when he went to bed he took the envelope from the 
 drawer and tried to compose those few words which were to 
 accompany the papers. But they wouldn't " come," and he 
 tossed the envelope into the drawer again. 
 
 That night he dreamed of her. It was a strange dream. He 
 thought he saw her walking through the London streets. It 
 was pelting with rain, and she looked cold and wet and 
 unhappy. He woke in the morning with the dream still 
 haunting him. It was absurd, of course. The idea of Miss 
 Sartoris, of Court Regna, stalking through the wet and muddy 
 streets of London, alone and unhappy! But the impression 
 of the dream clung to him, and, suddenly, there came upon 
 him a great longing to see if not Claire herself the place in 
 which she lived. It grew until it became irresistible. He 
 could not paint. He went out it rained and tried to walk 
 the feeling off; but it would not be walked off. He could 
 still see her, helpless and alone in the dreariness and ugli- 
 ness and, yes, terror of the London street. He tried 
 smoking the feeling off it is wonderful how easily chimeras 
 can be laid to rest by the pipe! But in this instance the faith- 
 ful tobacco failed. 
 
 " After all," he muttered to himself, as he undressed, 
 " there's no reason why I should not go to Regna. I want to 
 gee what they've done with that wing I want I could take 
 the boat to Bristol, and just run over there and back. And 
 I can give her these confounded papers. Why shouldn't I 
 go? She she can't eat me; she can only kill me with a cold 
 glance from those beautiful eyes of hers!" He groaned. 
 *' Ah, well, it just comes to this; I must see her once more!" 
 
 When he came down the next morning, he was dressed for 
 the journey. 
 
 " I am going away for a few days' holiday," he said to the 
 landlady " only a few days." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 WHEN Mordaunt Sapley slunk away from Claire, he went 
 on his way to the Court slowly, with bent head and writhing
 
 264 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 
 
 lips, the picture of a whipped hound; but as he neared the 
 house ho recovered something of his usual presence of mind. 
 
 If Claire had really relinquished all claim to Court Regna, 
 and was resolved to " disappear,'* the course was clear to 
 him. He would have preferred to have won her as well as 
 Regna, but if she were beyond his reach well, Regna alone 
 would do. At any rate, her absence made things easy for 
 him. But how to account for her flight? for it would seem 
 nothing less thau flight to the servants and the county. 
 Mordaunt's inherited shrewdness came to his aid, and before he 
 had crossed the threshold of the great house which his father 
 coveted, he had concocted an explanation of Claire's sudden 
 departure. 
 
 " I have just met Miss Sartoris," he said to the butler. 
 " She has heard bad news. A relative a near relative is 
 bad, very ill, indeed, in Italy, and she has gone to nurse her." 
 
 " Indeed, sir. Miss Sartoris's maid said that she had gone 
 quite sudden, and seemed upset like." 
 
 " Yes/' said Mordaunt. " Miss Sartoris is very much 
 attached to to her relative. I'm afraid Miss Sartoris will not 
 be back for some time months, perhaps. You will let things 
 go on as usual, please. Miss Sartoris said something about 
 letting the house furnished but we shall know later on. 
 Meanwhile, please say nothing about it." 
 
 " Certainly not, Mr. Mordaunt," said the butler; and, as 
 Mordaunt knew, immediately retailed the whole conversation 
 in the servants' hall, from whence it spread, with telegraphic 
 dispatch, round the neighborhood. 
 
 Mordaunt went home to his father. He found the old man 
 sitting close over the fire, glowering and muttering to him- 
 self. 
 
 " She has gone, as I expected," said Mordaunt, pulling off 
 his gloves. 
 
 The old man turned his head and showed his fangs. 
 
 " Gone? D n her, let her go! It's the best thing she 
 could do, if she wouldn't take you." 
 
 " She would never have * taken me,' as you put it." 
 
 " Then let her *go!" exclaimed old Sapley, with an oath. 
 " She was only there on sufferance my sufferance! Let her 
 go as she came! It leaves the coast clear. We'll move into 
 the Court at once, eh, Mordy?" 
 
 Mordaunt knit his brows. " Not at once," he said- 
 " Notice of foreclosure must be served on her." 
 
 " I served it months ago," said the old man, with a chuckle,
 
 THE MISTRESS OJ 1 COURT REGtfA. 355 
 
 " I handed it to her amongst other papers; but I'll bet a Lan- 
 dred pounds she never read it." 
 
 " I dare say. But, still, we must not be precipitate. We 
 must not set the whole county against us. If we go there " 
 
 " IfJ" exclaimed old Sapley, fiercely. " There is no ' if 
 about it! I say we shall! I've set my heart upon it! Court 
 Regna is mine yours ours and we'll live there!" 
 
 '* Very well; don't excite yourself/' said Mordaunt. " We 
 will go there, but only as tenants, stewards in charge." 
 
 The old man growled. 
 
 "No; as owners rightful owners! D n it, doesn't ft 
 belong to me?" 
 
 " We will go there presently, at Miss Sartoris's request," 
 said Mordaunt. " Leave it to me. The first thing we have 
 to do is to find her. I am going up to London by the morn- 
 ing train, and I'll track her. It will be well to know where 
 she is." 
 
 The old man swore again. 
 
 " I don't care where she is!" he said, with a grim chuckle. 
 " We've done with her; Court Regna is mine, Mordy mine 
 and yours." 
 
 Mordaunt took the morning train for London; but though 
 he made diligent inquiries, he failed to trace Claire. Her 
 simple plan of getting out at Clapham Junction that railway 
 labyrinth balked him, and though he spent two days in 
 hard searching in the great metropolis, he failed to get any 
 clew. 
 
 He came back to find his father triumphant and stiff-necked 
 in his resolve to take possession of the Court, and Mordaunt 
 had to yield against his wiser judgment. He gave out that 
 Claire had decided upon wintering abroad, and that she had 
 desired Mr. Sapley to occupy the house. 
 
 The county wondered and marveled. Why should Miss 
 Sartoris so suddenly abandon Court Regna? Why should she 
 so suddenly resign the place in which she had just commenced, 
 so to speak, to reign? Lord Chester drove over and had an 
 interview with Mordaunt an interview in which Mordaunt 
 scored all along the line. 
 
 It was Miss Sartoris's wish that he and his father should 
 occupy the house. What had Lord Chester to say against it? 
 Lord Chester asked Miss Sartoris's address. Mr. Mordaunt, 
 alas! could not furnish it. Any communication Lord Chester 
 might send would be forwarded to Miss Sartoris. 
 
 A nine-days' wonder is reduced in these electric times to 
 two or three at the utmost, nd the county soon grev
 
 256 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 tomed to Mr. Sapley's occupancy of the Court. And, indeed, 
 Mordaunt played his cards with a skill which few would have 
 deemed him capable of. He subscribed liberally to every 
 charity and social fund in the locality. He threw open the 
 Court grounds and they were famous for their extent and 
 ] beauty to all and every comer, and he made himself popular 
 ' with the small farmer and landowner all round the country- 
 side. 
 
 Lord Wraybrough, amongst others, was puzzled. 
 
 " I can't understand it!" he said, for the hundredth time. 
 " The girl has disappeared as if she were spirited away, and 
 those confounded Sapleys reign in her stead! There has never 
 been anything like it in the history of the county. It is inex- 
 plicable! And yet, 1 I can't say that the change hurts us 
 excepting in the absence of a charming girl. Mr. Mordaunt 
 Sapley keeps things going. He is liberal to a fault, and 
 and But, dash it, if I can understand it!'* 
 
 Mordaunt ivas liberal to a fault. He understood the power 
 of money, and he lavished it with a free hand. His father 
 often groaned in spirit over the expenditure, but he did not 
 dare to complain. He seemed to have surrendered his old, 
 strong will to his son. At times he looked at Mordaunt 
 thoughtfully, as he had looked at him on the night he, the 
 father, had asserted his power over Court Kegna; but Mor- 
 daunt always appeared so confidant, so self-assured, that the 
 old man had relaxed that peculiar questioning expression. He 
 seemed content to wander about the Court with his head 
 lowered, his arms folded behind him, muttering to himself, 
 and chuckling now and again. 
 
 Some of the servants gave notice they did not care to serve 
 under the Sapleys but their places were soon tilled. The old 
 butler found it hard to have to serve " Old Sapley and his son, 
 Mr. Mordaunt!" as he had served Lord Wharton and Miss 
 Sartoris; but he got used to it in time. The place and the 
 perquisites were worth having. 
 
 Gradually, week by week, month by month, the Sapleys 
 clipped into Claire's place. Mordaunt spent money right 
 royally. There was no stint. The county began to recognize 
 them money will do anything nowadays. It is the one all- 
 powerful factor in society. There was a vacancy on the 
 bench, and Mordaunt not his father was offered it. He 
 accepted it with becoming modesty, and became a J. P. 
 
 About this time Captain Hawker died. He had been ailing 
 ior some months, and his death caused no surprise. There 
 was almost a public funeral, and Mordaunt attended it,
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGtfA. 253 
 
 appropriately clad in black and mourning garb. The old cap- 
 tain's death awakened memories of his and Lucy's wrongs, 
 and for some weeks there was a great deal of talk in the Eegna 
 Arms; but it was soon forgotten. But Mr. Mordaunt Sapley's 
 kindness in following the old man's corpse to the grave was 
 remembered vividly enough, and counted in his favor. 
 
 At this time there was no man in the county more popular 
 than Mordaunt Sapley; and at this time the member for the 
 county shuffled off this mortal coil. Mordaunt was formally 
 asked to stand. He talked the matter over with his father. 
 The old man welcomed the idea eagerly. "Why not, 
 Mordy?" he said, his eyebrows working up and down, his 
 small eyes lighting up. " Yes, stand, my boy, and you'll get 
 in! It will cost money/' he groaned, and tried to hide the 
 groan in a cough; " but we can spend it as well as the other 
 side. A member of Parliament isn't as much as he used to 
 be, but he's something. He's looked up to in the county, 
 and there's pickings in London to be got out of it; you'll get 
 a seat on the boards of some of the new companies, and that's 
 worth having. Yes, stand, Mordy!" 
 
 Mordaunt told the deputation which waited upon him that 
 he would become their candidate, if they could not get a 
 better man. He spoke modestly, and with a pleasant friendli- 
 ness, and gave the deputation a capital lunch. In a few days 
 the hoardings in Thraxton and all the available spaces in 
 Regna were blazing with his address, and adjurations of " Vote 
 for Sapley!" And old Sapley walked about the place and 
 stopped and stared at the bills with a senile chuckle of satis- 
 faction and triumph. 
 
 Mordaunt addressed a meeting, a crowded meeting, of the 
 electors, and spoke very well; spoke so well that he surprised 
 Lord Chester, who,,' perforce, took the chair, and delighted 
 the sharp parliamentary agent from London. Only once did 
 Mordaunt falter and lose the thread of his discourse, and that 
 was at the moment when Jenks, the coastguard, pushed his 
 way into the room through the crowd at the door. Not satis- 
 fied with finding standing-room, Jenks shouldered and pushed 
 until he got close up to the platform, and, leaning against the 
 wall, he kept his eyes fixed upon Mordaunt with a glassy, 
 expressionless stare, which any young speaker would have 
 found trying. 
 
 The man was an eyesore to Mordaunt, and he sometimes 
 
 felt inclined to use what influence he possessed, and get Jenka 
 
 moved to another station; but he took no step^s to effect his 
 
 removal. After the meeting, men prominent in the district 
 
 I
 
 258 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA., 
 
 crowded round him with, if not frienclly, cordial attentions, 
 and assured him of their support, and Mordaunt drove home 
 with that peculiar hot feeling about the eyes which elation 
 causes. 
 
 He found his father sitting over the fire in the library of the 
 Court it was the smallest of the living-rooms, and the only 
 one in which the old man was at all comfortable if he could 
 be said to be comfortable in any and he greeted Mordaunt 
 with an eager exclamation. 
 
 "It is all right," said Mordaunt, quickly, but with a tone 
 of satisfaction in his voice and a gleam of triumph in his 
 eyes. " A very good meeting, and a unanimous vote of con- 
 fidence Everybody was very friendly; and even Lord Ches- 
 ter said polite things. They seem to think that I shall get 
 in." 
 
 The old man nodded and chuckled, and rubbed his hands 
 together, his cavernous eyes gleaming in a more pronounced 
 way than Mordaunt' s. 
 
 " Eight, Mordy, right! Yes, we'll show 'em that we are as 
 good as they are when brains come in! I'm sorry I wasn't 
 there, Mordy. I should have liked to hear you speak." 
 
 Mordaunt's ardor cooled down. He had persuaded his 
 father to remain at home. 
 
 " It is as well you were not," he said. " There was a great 
 deal of excitement, and you are not strong enough for that 
 kind of thing." 
 
 " !No, no," said old Sapley, moodily. " I don't know 
 what's come to me lately. I've got nervous, and and fear- 
 ful about things. And I'm here at Court Regna, too! At 
 Court Regna!" He looked round gloatingly, and rubbed his 
 hands. " At the Court, Mordy, me, the agent and steward! 
 Think of it! And my son, Mordaunt, going to be member 
 for the county division. Ah, I ought to be satisfied!" He 
 drew a long breath, and grinned; but even while his mouth 
 was twisted into a smile, his eyes, fixed on Mordaunt, grew 
 anxious and fearful. It was not the first time Mordaunt had 
 seen this peculiar expression in his father's face; indeed, he 
 had become used to it, and ceased to ask what it meant; but 
 it always annoyed him, just as Jenks' stolid stare annoyed 
 him. 
 
 After the night of the meeting, Mordaunt's canvass com- 
 menced in real earnest, and he was seen in public as often as 
 possible. He did not venture upon a dinner at the Court 
 the absence of a lady seemed a sufficient excuse but he asked 
 people to. lunch, and the butler was instructed to be liberal
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COUST REGN"A, 259 
 
 with the ale whenever a Kegna voter entered the servants' 
 hall. The game had been very much neglected during Lord 
 Wharton's time and Claire's short reign, and Mordaunt, who 
 knew the value of good preserves to a candidate, set to work 
 to improve matters. He got a good keeper, and gave him 
 carte blanche, and let it be known that the poaching would 
 Aave to cease. A few days after the first election meeting his 
 keeper came to him and said that the poaching was very bad, 
 and that one man was continually at it. He had managed to 
 elude capture, and even recognition, up to the present, but 
 the keeper was sure he could catch him if Mr. Mordaunt would 
 give him an extra hand. Mordaunt employed an extra hand, 
 and a few days later the keeper brought the mysterious 
 poacher into the library. 
 
 Mordaunt was jotting down the notes of a speech, and 
 looked up impatiently, to see Jenks, the coastguard! 
 
 " What is it? Who is this?" he demanded, almost angrily. 
 
 The keeper explained. This was the fellow who had given 
 him so much trouble, and had hitherto managed to escape; 
 but he, the keeper, had contrived a little trap, and the scoun- 
 drel had fallen into it, and been caught red-handed. The 
 keeper was grimly triumphant; but, strange to say, the 
 prisoner did not seem much cast down, or, indeed, hardly 
 disconcerted, as he stood with his hands thrust into his 
 pockets from one of which a snare at that moment pro- 
 jected and his eyes fixed on the wall just above Mordaunt'a 
 head, with a stolid stare. 
 
 Mordaunt eyed him angrily. 
 
 " What do you mean by poaching on my preserves, Jenks?" 
 he demanded. 
 
 The man lowered his eyes and looked Mordauut squarely in 
 the face, but said nothing. 
 
 " He's been at it night after night, sir!" said the keeper. 
 " I found two pheasants lying beside him when I nabbed 
 him." 
 
 Jeriks said nothing, but his eyes met with an expression- 
 less stare Mord aunt's angry gaze, changing slowly to one of 
 ordinary annoyance and vexation. 
 
 " Leave him to me for a moment, keeper," he said, much 
 to the worthy man's astonishment. 
 
 When the door had closed upon the keeper, Mordaunt 
 addressed Jenks. 
 
 " What the devil do you mean by poaching on the pre- 
 serves, Jenks?" he said, irritably. " You know that that I 
 am getting up the game, that I have shooting-parties, and
 
 260 THE MISTBESS OF COUBT 
 
 want some birds for my guests I don't care so much for my- 
 gelf and why the devil can't you leave them alone?" 
 
 A slow, stolid kind of smile too stolid and slow to be called 
 triumphant stole over Jenks' face; but he said nothing. 
 
 " You'll get into trouble if you don't take care," resumed 
 Mordaunt. " You can't expect me to let you off again, if 
 you're caught. Keep put of the preserves, my good fellow, or 
 you'll find yourself in jail." 
 
 "I ain't afraid, Mr. Mordaunt," said Jenks. "A man 
 must get the price of a pint somehow or other." 
 
 Mordaunt shut his teeth sharply. What was there about 
 the man, or his manner, that always reminded him of of 
 Lucy and that narrow slip of sand below the west cliff? 
 
 " Confound you!" he said, passionately. " You talk like 
 an idiot! I believe you are a little mad. Here, take that, 
 and leave my game alone for the future." And he actually 
 flung the man a sovereign. " Here, go out this way " he 
 opened the casement window " and keep out of the keeper's 
 way for the future, or " He paused, for Jenks turned and 
 looked at him waitingly; then, as Mordaunt did not finish the 
 sentence, he went out. Mordaunt sunk into his chair and 
 looked before him vacantly for a moment; then he called the 
 keeper in. 
 
 The man is an old coastguard sm an, and begged hard to 
 be let off, and I have let him go on the understanding that he 
 keeps away from the preserves," he said. "If he breaks his 
 word, we will prosecute." 
 
 The keeper stared in amazement. " I thought you wanted 
 the game kept up, sir," he said, as he departed, disgusted and 
 disappointed. 
 
 Mordaunt sat looking before him for some minutes after the 
 keeper had left the room. 
 
 Why had he not prosecuted Jenks? Why had he given him 
 money instead of sending him to jail? 
 
 As he asked himself the question, with a fierce kind of 
 impatience, Lucy's face rose before him, and he heard her 
 voice praying for mercy and pity, and his own face went 
 white. 
 
 " Curse the fellow!" he muttered. " The sight of him 
 always always makes a fool of me. And yet there's no 
 reason " 
 
 He took up his pen again, but he could not go on with his 
 notes his ideas were all scattered and he flung the pen into 
 the stand and went out into the hall and took his hat from the 
 stand.
 
 THE MISTBESS OP COURT REG1TA. 261 
 
 He had got almost as far as the door, when the bell rang. 
 The porter opened the door, and some one said: 
 
 " Is Miss Sartoris at home?" 
 
 Mordaunt's heart seemed to stop short at the sound of the 
 voice, the question itself. For the voice was Gerald Wayre's! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " Is Miss Sartoris at home?" 
 
 The simple, commonplace question sent the blood rushing 
 back to Mordaunt Sapley's heart like a cold flood. He stood 
 staring stupidly at the door like a man paralyzed. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris is not here, sir," said the servant, one of 
 
 the new ones who did not know Gerald, " but Mr. Sapley " 
 
 and he looked toward Mordaunt and made way for Gerald to 
 enter. 
 
 Gerald crossed the threshold and saw Mordaunt, and the 
 two men stood and looked at each other for a moment. Mor- 
 daunt was pale, but he forced a smile, a sickly smile. 
 
 " Mr. Way re!" he said. 
 
 " Good -morning," said Gerald, too moved at finding him- 
 self once more inside the Court to notice Mordaunt's agitation; 
 " I wish to see Miss Sartoris " he began; then something in 
 Mordaunt's manner struck him. " You are surprised to see 
 me, Mr. Sapley?'* 
 
 " Ye-s," said Mordaunt, fighting hard for calmness, and 
 trying to hit upon his course of action. What should he do? 
 He had known that the man might turn up some time or 
 other, but he had hoped against hope. Chance had hitherto 
 favored him so completely. Gerald might have died! 
 
 " Yes, I must confess that I am. I thought that you had 
 left this part of the country for good, Mr. Wayre." 
 
 " So I had," said Gerald, " but 1 have suddenly discovered 
 that I had something belonging to Miss Sartoris, and I 
 thought " he hesitated " that I would bring it to her." 
 
 Mordaunt shifted, so that the light was off his face, and on 
 Gerald's. He saw that Gerald looked well grave, but 
 well and as handsome as ever. The time that had elapsed 
 since their last meeting, the time and all that it had con- 
 tained, had caused lines in Mordaunt's face, and hardened it, 
 but Gerald seemed unchanged, but for the air of gravity. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris is not here," said Mordaunt, regaining his 
 composure. " She is not in England." 
 
 " Not in England?" repeated Gerald, his face flushing and 
 then growing pale. He knew at that moment how ardently
 
 268 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 he had looked forward to seeing her, just seeing her and hear- 
 ing her voice. 
 
 " No/' said Mordaunt, looking down at the tesselated floor, 
 as if he saw its pattern for the first time. " She went abroad 
 to join a relative who was ill; and to nurse her, as well." 
 
 Gerald was silent a moment, then he said: " Can you give 
 me her address?" 
 
 " I can not," said Mordaunt, with the promptness of per- 
 fect truth. " She is traveling about in the south of Europe, 
 I believe." 
 
 Gerald looked round. 
 
 " She will return soon, perhaps?" he said, interrogatively. 
 " I see the Court is not closed." 
 
 " No," said Mordaunt; he paused a moment. " My father 
 and I are living here." If he did not tell Gerald he would 
 learn it from some one else. 
 
 Gerald looked surprised. 
 
 " You are living here?" he said; then he added, quickly: 
 " I beg your pardon! It is no business of mine. Then Miss 
 Sartoris's return is uncertain ?" 
 
 "Quite," said Mordaunt. ''When did you come back, 
 Mr. Wayre?" 
 
 " Just now; only an hour ago," said Gerald. 
 
 " Do you intend to stay long?" Mordaunt could not 
 refrain from asking. 
 
 Gerald shook his head. 
 
 " No I don't know," he said, hesitatingly. " No." He 
 looked round the hall. Not a thing was altered; it seemed as 
 if he had not been absent for longer than a few days hours! 
 
 Mordaunt's heart began to beat more freely. Perhaps the 
 fellow would go away again go before he learned that he was 
 suspected to having taken Lucy Hawker away! 
 
 " If you will leave me your address, I will send you notice 
 of Miss Sartoris's return," he said. ** But won't you come 
 in, and and have some refreshment?" 
 
 Gerald shook his head. 
 
 " No, thanks," he said, still abstractedly. " I am staying 
 at " he paused. " But it is no use my giving you my 
 present address; I may be leaving there shortly any time." 
 
 " If you would like to leave anything in my charge for Miss 
 Sartoris, I will see that she has it," exclaimed Mordaunt. 
 
 Gerald took the envelope from his pocket. " There are 
 some papers I found in the old bureau, in the west wing I 
 Inn't know whether you remember it? I put them in my
 
 1HE MISTR3SS OF COURT 
 
 pocket^ and of course they have remained there until I 
 came upon them by chance the other day." 
 
 " I remember the bureau/' said Mordaunt. " I don't sup- 
 pose they are of any consequence. What are they?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Gerald. " I have not unfolded 
 them." He held put the envelope, and Mordaunt stretched 
 out his hand for it. Even as his fingers touched it, Gerald 
 drew it back. 
 
 " After all," he said, with a smile, " I think I will give it 
 to Miss Sartoris myself. I wish to speak to her, and and ifc 
 will serve as an excuse," he laughed apologetically. 
 
 Mordaunt nodded. 
 
 " As you please," he said. " Are you are you going to 
 the village, to stay?" he said. 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 " Yes/' he said. " I should like to see the old place again. 
 Though it seems that it, or, rather, the people, have forgotten 
 me already," and he laughed rather grimly. 
 
 Mordaunt's heart began to sink again. " How do you 
 mean?" he asked, with simulated carelessness. 
 
 " Oh, only that one or two persons one of the fishermen 
 and an old woman and a girl passed me and stared without 
 speaking, as if I were my own or somebody else's ghost." 
 
 The color ebbed in Mordauot's cheek. " I don't under- 
 stand," he said, steadily. " Oh, I dare say they weren't sure 
 of you. It is some time since you were here " 
 
 " A few months," put in Gerald. 
 
 " Is it not longer?" said Mordaunt, with genuine surprise. 
 It seemed years, awful years, to him. 
 
 " No," said Gerald; " and country folk, at any rate, should 
 have longer memories." 
 
 " I have no doubt they were surprised to see you under the 
 circumstances," said Mordaunt. 
 
 Gerald was inclined to ask, "Under what circum- 
 stances?" but he did not. " I will go down and look at the 
 village," he said, moving toward the door, " and I will send 
 you my address, Mr. Sapley." At the door he paused* 
 " Nothing more has been done to the west wing, I suppose?-' 
 he asked. 
 
 " Nothing," replied Mordaunt. 
 
 " I should like to see it, if I may?" 
 
 " Certainly," rejoined Mordaunt. Gerald wished him 
 " good-morning," and went out, and Mordaunt turned back 
 to the library, and sinking into a chair, stared before him, 
 breathing hard like a man who ha? been running at the top
 
 264 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 
 
 of hia speed. With Gerald's return, the past the murder of 
 
 Lucy, the strip of sand in which she lay buried, his frenzied 
 
 walk into Thraxton came rushing back upon him. What 
 
 should he do? Here he was in Court Regna as good as 
 
 owner a candidate for the county seat, a rising man, already 
 
 . respected and looked up to; the man who intended to be the 
 
 ; first man in the county; and this terrible, squalid, miserable 
 
 danger menacing him! 
 
 Gerald walked along the terrace. As he passed the win- 
 dows of one of the smaller rooms he saw old Sapley crouching 
 over the fire. The sight of the bent, plebeian figure sent a 
 kind of shock through Gerald. Old Sapley and his son Mor- 
 daunt here at the Court; and Claire, the mistress, no one 
 knew where! What did it, what could it mean? The place 
 looked threatening, ominous, as if some tragedy had taken 
 place within its walls; a sense too vague to be a suspicion 
 of something wrong, something evil, smote him. He reached 
 the end of the terrace and looked at the half -demolished wing. 
 It had been " cleared up," and made as tidy as possible, but 
 its unfinished, neglected appearance increased the impression 
 the presence of the Sapleys nad created. As he stood looking 
 at the spot from which he had dragged Claire out of reach of 
 the falling wall and recalling her face, her voice, her sudden 
 agitation and meekness under his stern reproof of her reck- 
 lessness, a young girl came up to him. 
 
 He remembered her in a moment; it was the little maid 
 who waited upon Mrs. Burdon. He raised his hat and smiled 
 at her rather sadly. " How do you do?" He had forgotten 
 her name, if he had ever heard it. " And how is Mrs. Bur- 
 don?" 
 
 The girl dropped a courtesy, and looked up at him shyly, 
 and with a smile. 
 
 " She's very weak and ailing, if you please, sir," she said. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that," said Gerald. 
 
 " She's she's often asked after you, sir, 1 " said the girl, 
 * after a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " For me?" 
 
 " Yes, if you please, sir; she has wanted to see you many a 
 time; wanted to had. " 
 
 " To see me? Well!" said Gerald. " I'll come and see 
 her, if you think she is well enough. " 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir!" said the girl, with evident satisfaction, 
 " She mayn't know you that is, she may take you for " 
 
 Gerald smiled. " I remember," he said. " Does she still 
 mistake me lor a lord?"
 
 THE MISTBESS OF COUET REG1U. 365 
 
 The girl did not reply, but looked down and smiled shyly as 
 he walked beside her. Nurse Burdon lay in her neat little 
 bedroom behind the sitting-room, and the maid led Gerald in. 
 At first he thought she was asleep, and he looked down with a 
 strong man's pity and reverence at the face which was like a 
 mask, a white mask of wrinkles, some thick, some thin as 
 cobwebs; but slowly she opened her eyes, and after looking at 
 him a full minute, said, with singular distinctness, though in 
 a voice as low as a sigh: 
 
 ' You have come, my lord!" 
 
 " Yes, I have come to see you," said Gerald. " I hope you 
 are going on all right?" 
 
 " Yes, I'm going on fast, now, my lord," she said, with a 
 smile of contentment. " I sha'n't be very long. How is her 
 ladyship? You haven't brought her?" 
 
 " I haven't brought her," assented Gerald. 
 
 " Ah, it's a rough passage in whiter!" she said. " Though 
 she was a fairly good sailor, bless her heart. How sweet she 
 looked that day! She was a beautiful bride, my lord." 
 
 Gerald listened intently, and even eagerly. He knew, now 
 that he had heard the captain of the " Susan's " story, 
 whither her mind was wandering. There had been a mar- 
 riage, then! 
 
 ' You were at the wedding, of course, nurse?" he said. 
 
 She smiled up at him. 
 
 , " Have you forgotten that I was, my lord?" she said. 
 "Ah, my memory's good, for all my years and my failing 
 health; and I can see her now, and you, too! God bless 
 her!" Then, suddenly, as the girl moved, she beckoned 
 Gerald and looked round cautiously. " I've said nothing 
 nothing all these years, my lord ! Your lordship could trust 
 me me, Nurse Burdon! I can hold my tongue, as you told 
 me, until you bring her home. But you did " she looked 
 troubled and perplexed "you did bring her home, didn't 
 you, my lord? I saw her at the Court; I saw her with you 
 outside the garden there. Surely I didn't dream it!" 
 
 Gerald hadn't the heart to undeceive her; and he took her 
 hand and pressed it. She tried to return the pressure. 
 
 " Ah, my lord, she's a loving wife, if ever there was one, 
 and you are a happy man a happy man!" 
 i Her eyes closed, and her wasted hand slipped from his. 
 Gerald thought she had fallen asleep, but suddenly she opened 
 her eyes again and looked at him, and, to his surprise, with' 
 lut any sign of recognition. 
 
 " Who is this?" she asked, turning her head to the maid*
 
 266 . THE MISTIIESS OF COURT EEGlfA* " 
 
 " It* s the gentleman Mr. Wayre, nurse.*' 
 
 The sharp look came into the mask. 
 
 " Wayre! Wayre!" she repeated. " What do you know- 
 how dare you mention that name? 1 don't know this gentle- 
 man! I " Her voice faltered into silence, and her eyes 
 closed again. 
 
 Gerald stroked her hand, but she appeared unconscious of 
 his touch, and he left her. 
 
 " Take care of her," he said to the maid. " But it isn't 
 necessary to ask you to do that, I know," he added, quickly. 
 He was about to give her some money, but it seemed an 
 insult to the child's devotion, and he let the coin slip into his 
 pocket again, and went on his way. 
 
 As he passed through the gate and was striding along the 
 road, a man came round the corner, stopped dead short at 
 sight of Gerald, and uttered an exclamation. It was Lee. 
 
 " Halloo, Lee!" said Gerald, holding out his hand. " I'm 
 glad I've met you so soon! How are you?" 
 
 Lee took his hand without hesitation, but looked confused 
 and embarrassed; but only for a moment. 
 
 " When did you come back, sir?" he asked. 
 
 " An hour or two ago. I've been to look at the wing. It 
 wasn't my fault at least, I suppose it was!" he added, 
 rapidly, under his breath. " I'm sorry, for your sake, 
 Lee. You would have made a good job of it, I know. But 
 perhaps Miss Sartoris may finish it some day. I'm going 
 down to Regna." 
 
 Lee stared at him, seemed about to speak, then said : 
 
 " I'll go with you, sir." 
 
 " Do!" said Gerald, heartily. He had always liked the 
 man, and was glad to see him, though his presence awakened 
 cruel memories of the happy times gone by. " How are all 
 our friends, the Hawkers? I suppose they can give me my 
 old room if I stay a night or two?" 
 
 Lee glanced at him. 
 
 *' Captain Hawker is dead!" he said, quietly. 
 
 "Dead!" Gerald stopped short. "Dead, did you say? 
 Oh, poor old fellow! And how is Miss Lucy?" 
 
 Lee stared at him, and then straight before him, and mut- 
 tered: 
 
 " I knew it! I knew it!" 
 '' What do you say?" asked Gerald. 
 " Nothing, nothing, sir," said Lee. 
 T/bey walked on, Gerald inquiring for some of the other
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGtfA.' 267 
 
 folks, and Lee answering almost in monosyllables. Gerald 
 thought him very taciturn. 
 
 Now and again they passed some persons on the road, and 
 Gerald nodded and smiled, but, though some nodded, they all 
 stared. 
 
 " Singular folk!" he said. " I suppose they are surprised 
 ' to see me, as Mr. Mordaunt said." 
 
 " Yes, they are surprised," said Lee, grimly. 
 
 They went down the narrow street of steps and turned on to 
 the little terrace in front of the Hawkers'. It was closed. 
 
 Gerald stared at it. 
 
 " Why it's shut up!" he said. " Poor old Hawker! 
 And Lucy's gone, I suppose? I am sorry, sorry!" 
 
 Lee looked hard at the house without speaking, Gerald 
 absently tried the handle of the door. It was unlocked, and 
 opened to him, and he went in. Lee followed him, and they 
 looked round. 
 
 " Well, this is the saddest thing!" said Gerald. " Tell me 
 all about it, Lee. What did he die of? He seemed so hale 
 and hearty too fat, perhaps, poor fellow! but a long way out 
 of Death's reach. " 
 
 " He died of a broken heart, sir," said Lee. 
 
 Gerald turned quickly. 
 
 " A broken heart?" he repeated, shocked and amazed. 
 " What about? Was it money?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Lee. " It was Lucy." 
 
 " Lucy!" exclaimed Gerald. " Why, what what hap- 
 pened to her?" 
 
 As he spoke, a peculiar murmur came through the half- 
 open door a murmur made by several voices speaking at 
 once, and with suppressed excitement. Both men turned, 
 and Gerald walked to the door. As he did so, a cry, a low, 
 threatening cry, arose from a small group collected outside. 
 
 " There he is! Yes, it's him! He's come back!" 
 
 Then, before Gerald could speak, a young fisherman thrust 
 himself forward, and with glowering eyes, exclaimed, fiercely: 
 
 " Where is she? Where is Lucy?" 
 
 " Where is Lucy?" echoed Gerald in stony astonishment. 
 " Where is" He turned to Lee. " What does he what 
 do they mean?" 
 
 " None o' that!" exclaimed the young fellow he had been 
 one of Lucy's lovers " you know what we mean well enough! 
 Where is she? You've come back, but we want her, or we 
 to know what's become of her!" 
 Ay, that's it!" cried the others in a threatening chorus.
 
 268 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGHA. 
 
 Gerald stepped outside. He was still too amazed to bt 
 angry. 
 
 " One of you not all together, please, tell me what you 
 mean," he said, quietly. 
 
 " You know what we mean, d n you for a cowardly 
 hypocrite!" snarled the young man. "You took her away; 
 ' 'ticed her away, and broke her father's heart, and now you 
 pretend Oh, let me get at him! He's played her false, or 
 he wouldn't stand there lying about it! Let me get at him, 
 I tell ye!" 
 
 They held him back, but Gerald had not flinched. 
 
 " You are speaking of Lucy Captain Hawker's daughter?" 
 he said. " And you accuse me of what is it? taking her 
 away? Be quiet, please," for the murmur of indignation had 
 risen again. " Hear me out. You accuse me of this this 
 dastardly act? Well, you are wrong! I am innocent!" 
 
 A snarl of incredulity arose. 
 
 " I repeat, I am innocent! Lee," he turned to Lee, who 
 had drawn close to his elbow, " what does this mean? For 
 God's sake, explain!" 
 
 '* It means that we know your wickedness!" shouted a 
 woman. " You come here like a snake in the grass, with 
 your fine gentleman ways, and ruin a poor girl that never did 
 you any harm; ay, and killed her father! You're a murderer 
 as well as an entrapper o' innocent girls, that's what you be!" 
 
 " Yes, and by Heaven! I'll punish you!" cried the fisher- 
 man; and he broke loose and sprung upon Gerald. 
 
 Gerald set his feet firmly, and caught the blow upon his left 
 guard, then he seized the young fellow, and, with a dexterous 
 movement, swung him round and pinned him against the wall. 
 
 " Now, stop there!" he said, sternly. " You talk of pun- 
 ishing me; well, you should do it all of you, if you liked if 
 I were guilty of this thing. But I am not! I am innocent. 
 Stand quietly! I don't want to strike you, God knows; and 
 I will not do it, if if I can keep my blood down! I want to 
 know the truth, the whole of this thing you lay at my door. 
 Speak, some one!" He looked round. Dark and threaten- 
 ing looks faced him at all points at all, excepting that at 
 which stood Jenks, who leaned against one of the bulkheads 
 on the terrace, smoking, as usual. " Lee, you tell me, and 
 and be quick!" 
 
 Lee laid his hand on the pinioned man. 
 
 " Let him go, sir. William, you stay quiet till till I've 
 spoken!" The young fellow shook himself free, and stood 
 glowering and breathing hard.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 269 
 
 " Yes, sir; Miss Lucy was taken away; she ran away from 
 home, and and nothing more's been heard of her. It's true 
 what they say; it broke her father's heart." 
 
 Gerald looked round. 
 
 " This " he could not go on for a moment, and the spec- 
 tators viewed his hesitation with increased suspicion, or, 
 rather, conviction "this is terrible! Poor Lucy! Poor 
 girl! But," his eyes flashing, " why do you dare accuse me 
 of being her betrayer? Great Heaven! I would rather have 
 died than injured her as you think! Why have you fixed upon 
 me?" 
 
 His gaze it was blazing with indignation flashed round 
 the group. They were staggered for a moment by the 
 vehemence of his denial, but only for a moment. 
 
 "We all know!" said a woman. "You were seen with 
 her times out o' number!" 
 
 " Seen with her talking walking with her? Yes! Why 
 not?" exclaimed Gerald. 
 
 "And alone!" persisted the voice. 
 
 " Alone? Yes, scores of times, for all I remember!" said 
 Gerald, with fiery scorn. " And do you think that because 
 I stopped to speak to the poor girl the daughter of the 
 house in which I lived that I was planning her ruin? 
 Shame! Yes, shame! Black must be the heart that can 
 think such evil!" 
 
 " She fled the night you left left without a word, stole 
 away like a thief a thief, as you are, curse you!" broke in 
 William. " The same night! You went together; you stole 
 her from us yes, from us all! If she didn't go with you, 
 who did she go with?" 
 
 Gerald stood at bay, his face white with his emotion. 
 
 " The same night?" he repeated, dully. 
 
 " Yes!" repeated the woman. " You were seen walking 
 with her the night before right away up at the Court, plan- 
 ning it all, I'll be bound! and the next night you both go. 
 William's right! If she didn't go with you, who did she go 
 with?" 
 
 5> Gerald swept his hand, with fierce impatience, across his 
 forehead. 
 
 " Give me time." 
 
 " To hatch more lies, d n you!" snarled William. 
 
 " The same night!" said Gerald, almost to himself, as if he 
 were trying to recall it. He began to see what good cause for 
 their suspicions these poor people had. " Let me think. 
 Yes! I see! 1 left without a word there was no one about
 
 370 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 
 
 I " He turned to Lee. " Lee, they were right to suspect 
 me. It all looks black, black as hell, against me! Wait' 
 I've admitted that; but I tell you again that I am innocent!' 
 
 The cro'>vd, thicker now, growled ominously. 
 
 " Come away inside the house, sir!" said Lee in a low 
 voice. He knew how reckless, how fierce these simple, quiet 
 fisher folk could be when they were roused. There is Spanish 
 bloo/1 in the veins of the Regna people, and it shows if self now 
 and again. " Come inside, sir." 
 
 "No!" said Gerald, aloud. "I am not afraid! I say I 
 am innocent! Until this moment I did not know that Lucy 
 had gone, that her father was dead. Do you believe me?" 
 
 They looked at him and each other. 
 
 " I have been out of England in Ireland have seen no 
 paper, heard no news." 
 
 " Tell us why you went so sudden?" 
 
 The question came from the quick brain of the woman. 
 
 The crimson rose for an instant to Gerald's face, then faded, 
 and left it white again. 
 
 "I can not." 
 
 " Ah!" came like a deep breath from the accusers. 
 
 " It is no business of yours no, I will not say that. It is 
 private to me; it concerns me alone." 
 
 " And Lucy?" said the woman. 
 
 " No, that I will swear!" said Gerald, with quiet intensity. 
 " It has nothing to do with her! I saw her for the last time 
 on the preceding night, and not since. I left the place 
 because Lee knows. Speak, Lee! I sailed in the * Susan/ 
 that lay at the quay." 
 
 A derisive laugh interrupted him. 
 
 *' He makes believe he's a sailor now!" said William. 
 " He knows the ' Susan ' went on a long voyage. You liar!" 
 He took a step nearer, the crowd closed round; two of the 
 men began handling knives with which they had been cleaning 
 fish. Lee stripped off his coat like lightning, and stood in a 
 line with Gerald. 
 
 " Stand back!" he said, firmly. " He speaks the truth; I 
 know it!" 
 
 " He lies!" roared the crowd, now hot with the lust for 
 vengeance. " Where's the girl? He's deserted her, killed 
 her, most like!" 
 
 They closed in, and one man struck Gerald; Gerald guarded 
 the blow, but only partially, and it knocked him against the 
 door jamb. He raised his fist to strike back he was not good 
 at taking blows, even under euch strenuous circumstances as
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT REGXA. 271 
 
 these when a horseman rode straight into the group and 
 scattered it. 
 
 It was Mordaunt Sapley. He was white to the lips and 
 must have been half mad with apprehension and excitement 
 to ride down the steep street and could scarcely speak for a 
 moment. 
 
 " Stand back!" he said, hoarsely. "What does this mean? 
 Stand back; give way! I'm a magistrate, and I'll Stand 
 back!" 
 
 The crowd fell back, but grudgingly, and with low growl- 
 ing, like that of a wild beast balked of its prey. 
 
 " He's come back without her!" said the woman. " He 
 won't own to it; he's left her to starve, likely enough. Ride 
 on, Mr. Mordaunt, and leave 'un to we! We're, some of us, 
 Lucy's kinsfolk, and we have a right to punish 'un!" 
 
 " No, no!" said Mordaunt, his shifty eye glancing from 
 one to the other. Suddenly they fell upon Jenks, who had 
 now seated himself on the bulkhead, and was still smoking, 
 as if he had no part nor lot in the business on hand. At 
 sight of him Mordaunt felt a peculiar shiver run through him. 
 
 " Mr. Wayre," he said, with an attempt at pomposity, 
 " what have you to say?" 
 
 Gerald broke in sternly, fiercely the blow had roused his 
 blood. " That I am innocent! I know nothing of the girl's 
 fate, nothing, nothing! I can prove that I left the place 
 alone But no matter, for the present, about my innocence. 
 I am accused of a dastardly crime, such as only a coward, a 
 beast unworthy the name of man, could perpetrate. Let that 
 pass!" His eyes flashed. " I care nothing for what they 
 think, but I do care for the girl, and 1 will find the man who 
 wronged Jier!" 
 
 There was something in his voice and manner that almost 
 awed the crowd. It was as if Justice, personified in this 
 strong man, with the white, working face, had descended from 
 the heavens to promise them vengeance. 
 
 " You say you saw me walking and talking with her. Yes; 
 I liked, I respected Lucy Hawker! I pitied_her, also; for 
 now I remember she was in trouble that night I last saw 
 her. 1 advised her to confide in her father. That's all the 
 clew I have; but, because I lived under the same roof, because 
 she was a helpless, cruelly wronged woman, I will not rest until 
 1 have found her! W'hy why have not some of you, who 
 stand here so ready with your hands and knives not done 
 as much?" 
 
 They looked at one another and then back at hinu
 
 273 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 
 
 " We did," said one. " Leastways, Mr. Mordaunt did He 
 tracked 'ee Lucy and 'ee to the junction " 
 
 Gerald turned swiftly on Mordaunt, who winced and shrunk, 
 then put a bold face on it. 
 
 " I I tried they said that some one a gentleman was 
 seen Lucy a bundle " he said, disjoiutedly. 
 
 Gerald looked at him fiercely and keenly. 
 
 " And you at once concluded that I was the villain! Thank 
 you, Mr. Sapley! And yet I have something to thank you 
 for, for you can give me a clew. Now " he turned to the 
 crowd I remain with you here on this spot, hi this 
 house! Do you think I could do that if I were guilty of her 
 father's death? Here I stay! And who shall say me nay?" 
 
 " Well, if he isn't innocent, he he's a masterpiece!" swore 
 one of the older men. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE crowd drew away after a time, and left Gerald and 
 Mordaunt standing alone. 
 
 " I presume I have your permission to remain, Mr. 
 Sapley?" said Gerald. He was still white, and his nostrils 
 were quivering, but Mordaunt was whiter still, and seemed 
 unable to lift his eyes from the ground. He stood nicking his 
 legs with his riding-whip. 
 
 " Certainly!" he replied. " Of course. Though I must 
 say that I think your offer rather quixotic; and I don't see 
 what good you can effect by remaining here and playing the 
 amateur detective." 
 
 " Do you still suspect me, Mr. Sapley?" asked Gerald, his 
 eyes fixed searchingly on Mordaunt's face. 
 
 " Of course not," said Mordaunt. " I am bound to accept 
 the word of a gentleman; but you must admit that the case 
 looks very clear against you." 
 
 " I admit it," said Gerald, shortly. " It is because the 
 evidence is so strong against me that I claim the right to prove 
 my innocence by discovering the guilty man." 
 
 " I fear you will never succeed," said Mordaunt, with a 
 shrug of the shoulders. " It is so long ago, and the girl left 
 no clew behind her/' 
 
 " You forget the man who was seen with her at the station, 
 and the bundle," said Gerald. 
 
 Mordaunt's eyelids twitched. " I should advise you not to 
 attach too much importance to that," he said. " There may 
 have been half a dozen such couples at the station that night."
 
 THE MISTEESS OP COUKT REGtfA. 2?3 
 
 " Then 1*11 find every one of the half dozen," said Gerald. 
 " The man who lured her away must have been here before, 
 must have been seen with her." 
 
 Mordaunt shrugged his shoulders again. " Some com- 
 mercial traveler, or captain of a vessel," he said, " who has 
 disappeared as mysteriously as he came. And, perhaps, after 
 all, Mr. Wayre, we may be doing him an injustice; he may 
 have married the girl." 
 
 "If he has not," said Gerald, " I'll make him if she is 
 still alive." 
 
 Mordaunt with difficulty repressed a start of fear. " Alive?" 
 he echoed, with a short laugh. " Why should she not be? 
 Don't make the tragedy blacker than it is!" 
 
 " It is black enough for me already," said Gerald. " But 
 I am thinking more of Lucy than myself of the poor girl 
 and her broken-hearted father." 
 
 " Well, I wish you every success," said Mordaunt. " I 
 need scarcely say that I have done all 1 could to trace her. 
 Is there anything I can do for you to make you comfortable 
 here?" 
 
 " Nothing, thanks," said Gerald. " I shall be glad if you 
 will send Miss Sartoris's address, when you know it," he 
 added, as Mordaunt turned away. And Mordaunt looked over 
 his shoulder, and replied: 
 
 " Certainly; immediately I learn it." 
 
 Gerald went into the house, and after a moment or two Lee 
 followed him, and, without a word, commenced lighting the 
 fire. 
 
 " You don't think me guilty, Lee?" said Gerald, as he 
 opened the window. 
 
 " No, sir," said Lee. " Not from the first." 
 
 " Who did it?" asked Gerald. 
 
 Lee shook his head, and stolidly piled on the coal, and then, 
 while Gerald paced up and down, Lee tidied the room, and 
 made it somewhat comfortable. 
 
 " You're a true friend, Lee," said Gerald, holding out his 
 hand. " I shall never forget the way you've stood by me." 
 
 Lee colored with pleasure. " A chap wouldn't be worth 
 much, sir, if h wouldn't stand by a man when he saw him 
 wronged." 
 
 " Come upstairs with me," said Gerald. " I want to see if 
 I can find any clew." 
 
 They went upstairs and found things in strange order, just 
 as they had been left after Captain Hawker's death. Gerald
 
 274 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGtfA. 
 
 went into Lucy's room, and looked round, with sad reverence^ 
 a grim foreboding smote him at sight of the narrow bed. 
 
 " The whole place has been searched for some clew, sir," 
 said Lee, " and nothing was found." 
 
 They went into Gerald's old room, and the sight of the 
 things lying about, of the drawings and plans, awakened the 
 keen memory of the few happy days all too happy he had 
 spent at Court Kegna. 
 
 " I shall sleep here," he said; " I feel as if the truth would 
 reveal itself, if ever it does, in this house." 
 
 They went down-stairs again and discussed the problem, and 
 Gerald explained his long absence. 
 
 " If you had only sent me your address, sir," said Lee, 
 regretfully. 
 
 Gerald winced and colored. " After I had received notice 
 of the discontinuance of the work, my connection with Court 
 Regna had ceased, Lee," he said, " and I wished to forget it." 
 
 Lee wanted to stay and cook for him, and share in his 
 quest; but Gerald would not permit him, and after a time, 
 Lee left him alone. Gerald lighted a pipe, and sat down 
 beside the fire to think. He had undertaken to find Lucy's 
 betrayer. How was he to begin? His mind traveled back to 
 every occasion on which he had seen her, and, during the 
 course of this retrospect, he remembered the evening he had 
 been sitting on the quay, and seen her go round the rock with 
 a young fellow whom he had failed to recognize. He remem- 
 bered that he had thought the man bore some resemblance to 
 Mordaunt Sapley. But this vague resemblance did not help 
 Gerald much. Even if it had led him to suspect Mordaunt, 
 the suspicion would not have remained in his mind; for Mor- 
 daunt had evidently not left the place, was here still. Besides, 
 Mordaunt Sapley was too ambitious a man to imperil the 
 prospects of his career by an intrigue with a girl so much 
 below his own station. The man must either have been a 
 stranger, or one of the young men in the place. 
 
 He went down to the quay and made inquiries as to who 
 had left Regna at the time of Lucy's disappearance. He 
 found a group collected there, talking eagerly and excitedly; 
 and at first they received him with coldness and covert sus- 
 picion, but his utter fearlessness and his evident sincerity soon 
 told upon them, and they answered his questions eagerly. 
 No one whom they could possibly suspect save himself had 
 left Regna at the time. Everybody had been on the alert; it 
 would have been impossible for one of the young men to havf 
 disappeared without being suspected.
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT BECHTA. 274 
 
 Gerald he did not declare his innocence again left them , 
 and returned to the cottage. As he entered, a thought struck 
 him, and made him stop short, as if he had been shot. If all 
 Regna had thought him guilty, so also must Claire have done! 
 The thought sent the blood surging through his heart. Here, 
 then, was the explanation of her refusal, of her coldness, of 
 ' his dismissal! He was so overwhelmed by the reflection, by 
 the feverish desire to find her that very instant and declare his 
 innocence that he did not remember for a minute or two that 
 her refusal of him had been given hours before Lucy's disap- 
 pearance. 
 
 The remembrance brought him relief, but still left the mys- 
 tery of her coldness as complete as that of Lucy's fate. It 
 was only natural that his thoughts should flow toward Claire; 
 he had almost forgotten her in the excitement of the last few 
 hours; but now, her disappearance began to loom upon him 
 almost as heavily as that of Lucy. Where had she gone? 
 Why had she left no address? And why were the Sapleys 
 installed at Court Regna? 
 
 He spent a greater part of the night futilely asking these 
 and similar questions he might as well have asked them of 
 the Sphinx. 
 
 Early the next morning he went down to the station and 
 commenced his inquiries. He was met by a kind of civil im- 
 patience. No one knew anything. He went on to the junc- 
 tion, and interviewed every official; but he could get no 
 information, and he could not discover the man who had told 
 Mordaunt of the young man and woman with the bundle. 
 Everybody declared that he had not seen such a couple, or that 
 if he had he had forgotten them. 
 
 This struck Gerald as strange. 
 
 He returned to Thraxton. As he was walking from tho 
 station he met Lord Chester. His lordship was riding along 
 slowly, with his head bent and an abstracted look on his face. 
 Gerald thought that he had aged very much. He and' Lord 
 Chester had exchanged a few words in the old days, and some 
 impulse prompted Gerald to stop and raise his hat. Lord 
 Chester regarded him absently for a moment as he returned 
 the salute, then said: 
 
 " Mr. Wayre, I believe? Good-morning, Mr. VYayre; J 
 have not seen you for some time." 
 
 " No, my lord," said Gerald; " I have been away.^ During 
 my absence sad changes have taken place in Regna. 
 
 Lord Chester colored slightly. 
 
 " You allude to Miss Sartoris's abgence, Mr.
 
 2?6 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGtfA. 
 
 " That was not in my thought for the moment, my lord," 
 said Gerald. " I was referring to the disappearance of Cap- 
 tain Hawker's daughter." 
 
 Lord Chester looked at him steadfastly, and with a certain 
 coldness, which brought the color to Gerald's face. 
 
 " I should like to say, my lord/' he said, " that I am inno- 
 cent of any wrong that may have been done. I can scarcely 
 ask you to believe this, but I am waiting for the return of the 
 vessel in which I left Regna on the day of the girl's flight, to 
 make my innocence clear. Until then I must be content to 
 remain under the shadow of suspicion." 
 
 Lord Chester looked steadily at him, then held out his 
 hand. 
 
 " Mr. Wayre, I can not but believe you," he said. 
 
 Gerald swallowed a lump in his throat as he took the white 
 hand. 
 
 " I ventured to stop you, my lord, to ask you a question," 
 he said. " Can you tell me Miss Sartoris's address?" 
 
 The color rose to Lord Chester's face again. 
 
 " I regret that I can not," he said. " I have tried to dis- 
 cover it. Miss Sartoris left the Court quite suddenly, without 
 bidding farewell to any of her friends. She has not written 
 to any of us. I can claim no right to her confidence, beyond 
 that which belongs to " he hesitated a moment, then, still 
 meeting Gerald's grave regard, said, with quiet dignity " a 
 most sincere and abiding affection." 
 
 Gerald inclined his head before this frank admission, and 
 the evident signs of the speaker's grief and anxiety. 
 
 " She has gone to the south of Europe, in company with a 
 relative," said Lord Chester. 
 
 " Who told you this?" asked Gerald in his curt way. 
 
 " The Sapleys," replied Lord Chester. "It is generally 
 known." 
 
 " And the Sapleys are ruling at the Court!" said Gerald. 
 " Can you explain that, Lord Chester?" 
 
 Lord Chester's brows drew together. " 1 can not!" he 
 said. " It is a mystery to me. It troubles me. Why do you 
 ask me these questions, Mr. Wayre?" he added. 
 
 Gerald felt a strange impulse to tell him the truth. " Be- 
 cause I love Miss Sartoris, Lord Chester," he said. 
 
 The blood flew to Lord Chester's face, and his hands 
 gripped the reins tightly. 
 
 ' 5Tou?" he said in a low voice. 
 
 ;< Yes, I!" said Gerald. "Do not misunderstand me, my 
 lord. My love is quite hopeless; but it is my excuse for asking
 
 ITTE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 you for tidings of her, for being dissatisfied with the explana- 
 tion given by the Sapleys." 
 
 Lord Chester regarded him in silence for a moment, then he 
 said: " I, too, am dissatisfied. But what can I do; what can 
 you do? We have no right to spy upon Miss Sartoris's move- 
 ments. She is her own mistress, and we have no authority to 
 question her actions. We can only wait until we hear from 
 her, or she returns. God grant that may be soon!" 
 
 " Amen!" said Gerald, almost fiercely. " There has been 
 foul play in one direction, and all my mind is blackened with 
 suspicion." 
 
 ' What do you suspect?" asked Lord Chester. 
 
 " I do not know, responded Gerald, curtly. " My lord, 
 you will keep my secret?" 
 
 Lord Chester inclined his head, as if it were not necessary 
 for him to give the assurance in words. 
 
 " Come to me, Mr. Wayre, if you wish to confer with me or 
 need assistance of any kind. Miss Sartoris's well-being is 
 more to me than life itself." He touched his hat and rode on. 
 
 Gerald strode along, deeply moved, for in telling his secret 
 he had learned Lord Chester's. As he neared the Court 
 lands he heard the sound of firing, and presently saw a shoot- 
 ing-party in the preserves. They were laughing and talking, 
 and in their midst was Mordaunt Sapley. He had all the air 
 of a host entertaining his guests, and it was evident that he 
 was playing the part as if it were a familiar one. The sight 
 filled Gerald with amazement and bitterness; it seemed an 
 incredible one. 
 
 Why, only a few months ago he had flogged Mordaunt 
 Sapley, not far from this very spot, for ill-treating a dog; only 
 a few months ago he, Gerald, had walked beside Claire along 
 that path, and Mordaunt Sapley, if they had met him, would 
 have saluted them almost like a servant. Had all the world 
 at Court Regna turned topsy-turvy? As he stood looking at 
 them, Mordaunt came lus way and saw him. He started 
 slightly and frowned, but recovered himself instantly and 
 nodded pleasantly at Gerald. Gerald could scarcely bring 
 himself to return his salutation, and walked away. Before he 
 had gone many yards, Mr. Mordaunt Sapley's election address 
 stared him in the face. Gerald stopped and read it, and 
 laughed bitterly. 
 
 Yes, certainly, things had come to a pretty pass at Court 
 Regna! As he reached the cottage, still fuming inwardly, he 
 saw Jenks, the coastguard, sitting on a bulkhead. He 
 touched his hat, and looked at his pipe and then at Gerald.
 
 278 THE MISTRESS OF COURT IlEGHA. 
 
 " Could you give me a pipe of 
 
 Gerald cut him short by chucking him the tobacco-pouch. 
 Jenks filled his pipe leisurely, glancing at Gerald sideways as 
 he did it. 
 
 " Been makin' inquiries, sir?" he asked. 
 
 Gerald nodded absently as he gazed out to sea. 
 
 "And ain't found anything, sir, judging by yer looks?" 
 said Jenks. " You couldn't hear o' that gent?" 
 
 Gerald did not see any reason for concealing his failure. 
 " No," he said. 
 
 " Ah!" said Jenks, lighting his pipe, " if you trace that 
 there bundle as Mr. Mordaunt heard of the bundle she took 
 with her you'd find out the truth soon enough, wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes," assented Gerald, moodily. 
 
 " That there bundle's worth something," remarked Jenks, 
 musingly. " I should say it was worth a power of money." 
 
 The man's words struck Gerald as strange, and he looked 
 at him for the first time with some attention. 
 
 " What do you mean?" he asked. " Of course it would be 
 a very strong clew. If we could trace that, we should trace 
 poor Lucy/' 
 
 " Ah, poor girl!" said Jenks. " 1 wonder somebody ain't 
 offered a reward," he added, refiectingly. " It 'pears to me 
 that's the best way of findin' things." 
 
 "Beward!" said Gerald. " I would give " He stopped 
 and sighed. " I'm sorry to say I'm a poor man, Jenks; but 
 if I. were rich I'd give a thousand pounds for anything that 
 would help me to find Lucy Hawker." 
 
 Jenks puffed at his pipe thoughtfully. " Yes, it's worth 
 that," he said in a casual way. *' Well, sir, I wish you luck 
 in your search; not as I think you'll have any," he added to 
 himself, as Gerald went into the cottage. 
 
 Jenks sat smoking his pipe on the bulkhead for half an hour 
 or so, then he got up and walked off toward the cliff. When 
 he had reached the point which overlooked the slip of sand 
 beneath which Lucy lay sleeping, he stopped, and, looking 
 down, scratched his head thoughtfully. " I reckon it's about 
 time," he said to himself. " He's a clever 'un, is this Mr. 
 W T ayre; cleverer than the other devil. If 1 wait much longer 
 I shall come in a day after the fair." 
 
 He went on his beat, but, when the dusk had fallen, he 
 turned from the cliffs and went up the Court road. He 
 Walked quite openly until he was quite close to the house, then
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 279 
 
 he hesitated, scratched his head, and turning away from the 
 entrance, went along the terrace. Lights had been lighted in 
 some of the rooms, and a lamp was burning in the library. 
 Jeuks looked in at the window, and saw Mordaunt seated at 
 the table. He was in evening dress, and a diamond shirt stud 
 flashed into Jenks' eyes. Mr. Mordaunt was neither reading 
 nor writing, but was sitting with his head resting on his hands, 
 as if he were very tired or lost in thought. 
 
 Jenks tapped at the window. 
 
 Mordaunt started, sat erect, and stared at the darkness out- 
 side. Jenks tapped again, and Mordaunt drew aside the 
 partially closed curtains and opened the window. As he saw 
 Jenks, his face went white, and he drew back half a step; 
 then, with an affectation of anger, he demanded: " What the 
 devil are you doing here?" 
 
 Jenks took off his hat and stepped into the room. 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir," he said, with the impassive stolidity 
 which had always infuriated Mordaunt. " I have stepped up 
 for a little advice," 
 
 Mordaunt bit his lips as he closed the window and turned 
 to confront the man. 
 
 " Why didn't you come by the front way?" he asked. 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir/' said Jenks, with a kind of wooden 
 respect. " Thought this 'ud be more convenient." 
 
 " Well, what is your business?" asked Mordaunt, with all 
 the hauteur he could command. 
 
 " It's about this Lucy Hawker affair, sir," said Jenks. 
 
 Mordaunt started, and, to hide the start, sunk into his 
 chair. *' Well?" he said, harshly. 
 
 " It's just this way, sir," said Jenks; " I've heerd as 
 there's going to be a reward offered for information; some 
 says as it'll be as much as a thousand pounds at any rate, 
 it's worth that." 
 
 " Who is offering a reward?" asked Mordaunt. 
 
 " Well, I reckon it'll be Mr. Wayre. Oh, yes, he's a poor 
 man," he went on, slowly, as if in answer to Mordaunt's 
 sneer. " But he can get" money from them as 'ud like to 
 know the truth Miss Sartoris or 'Lord Chester!" 
 
 " Well, supposing this," broke in Mordaunt, " what have 
 you to do with the business? What is it to you?" 
 
 " Only this," said Jenks, with the same cast-iron stolidity > 
 " seein' that I was on the cliff, and saw yon chuck her over, 
 and afterward watch you from behind the rocks, while yo a 
 buried her and very neat you did it too, air yer pee f I'm i 8
 
 280 THE MISTBESS OP COURT REGNJL. 
 
 a fair way of getting that thousand pounds, ain't I, Mr. Mot 
 daunt?"' 
 Mordaunt rose to his feet, livid with amazement and terror. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 MORDAUNT fell to trembling like a leaf. A feeling ol 
 nausea, of actual physical sickness, came over him, and ha 
 stared at Jenks with distended eyes, as if he did not see him; 
 indeed, he saw nothing but the dead body lying on the sand. 
 Then the paroxysm of terror gave place to a frenzy of rage, of 
 impotent rage; that he should be in the power of this clod, 
 this lump of common clay; he, Mordaunt Sapley, whose 
 cleverness and astuteness were becoming a by-word in the 
 neighborhood ! 
 
 He leaned back and wiped the cold sweat from his livid 
 face. He did not attempt to deny, to bluster; he knew it 
 would be of no use. The man had seen him could hang 
 him. He had to accept the fact and make the best of it. 
 
 Jenks watched him with the same stolid regard. There was 
 something terrible in the cool, matter-of-fact way in which the 
 man played his part; he might have been selling a basket of 
 herrings or an old boat, so utterly impassive and almost unin- 
 terested were his manner and expression; and he waited for 
 Mordaunt to speak, with the most perfect patience and cer- 
 tainty of the result. 
 
 Mordaunt spoke at last. The words seemed to leave his lips 
 with difficulty, and his voice sounded hoHow and weak. 
 
 '' What is it you want?" he asked, going direct to the point. 
 
 " Well, I was thinking a thousand pounds wouldn't be too 
 much, Mr. Mordaunt," said Jenks. 
 
 " That is ridiculous!" said Mordaunt, thickly. " Fifty 
 or a hundred " 
 
 Jenks shook his head. " 'Tain't near enough, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt!" he said. " The other party 'ud give me a thousand. 
 I'd better wait and see, or go to them; it don't make no odds 
 to me whether I gets it from them or you. I've only got to 
 take them the bundle and show 'em that neat little grave " 
 
 " The bundle?" said Mordaunt. 
 
 Jenks nodded. ;< Yes, I've got that. I picked it up where 
 she dropped it; funny, your forgetting that bundle, Mr. 
 Mordaunt, wasn't it?" ' 
 
 " And if I give you this thousand pounds," said Mordaimt* 
 " what will you dor"
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 281 
 
 " I should buy a little farm/ 5 said Jenks, " somewhere m 
 this neighborhood.*' 
 
 " And lose the money and come down upon me for more!" 
 said Mordaunt, with something like a snarl. " I think not! 
 Listen to me, Jenks! You think yourself very clever; you 
 think that you have got me in your power, and that you can 
 bleed me to the last penny. Don't be too sure. You are an 
 ignorant man, Jenks, and know nothing of the law; you 
 imagine that no harm can come to you over this affair; you 
 fancy that you have only to carry your story to the police, 
 take your reward your blood-money and go in peace. You 
 are mistaken. If any trouble comes to me, you will share it!" 
 
 " Me, sir?" said Jenks, with an incredulous smile. " How 
 can that be? I didn't have no hand in it!" 
 
 " Ah," said Mordaunt, " that's where you are so ignorant, 
 my good Jenks! Did you never hear of an accessory after the 
 fact? I imagine not. And yet that is what you are. The 
 man who conceals his knowledge of a crime, and so assists the 
 criminal, is, in the eyes of the law, only less guilty than he. 
 You say that you saw me that you saw certain things on a 
 certain night, months ago; you have concealed the knowledge, 
 have suppressed the evidence; you would be tried as an 
 accessory after the fact with the actual criminal, and, if he 
 were hung, you would be sentenced to penal servitude." 
 
 Jenks looked quite unmoved, but he scratched his head 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Lor' bless me! Is that so, Mr. Mordaunt?" he said. 
 " No wonder common sort of folk like me get into trouble. 
 How can they be expected to know the law? Penal servitude 
 and all, for not splitting on you right away at first! Seems 
 kind o' hard on you, Mr. Mordaunt, don't it?" 
 
 " Hard or not," said Mordaunt, "it is the law. I can 
 show it you plainly written hi one of these books." 
 
 6< Don't you trouble, Mr. Mordaunt," said Jenks. " You're 
 a lawyer, and ought to know; and I'll take your word for it; 
 and, that being so, the best thing I can do is to make myself 
 scarce." 
 
 Mordaunt drew a long breath. A gleam of light streaked 
 the awful gloom of the prospect. 
 
 " You're a sensible man, Jenks, I see," he said. "HI 
 give you this thousand pounds you will have to leave England 
 at once. You can do better with your money abroad than you 
 can here; and I'm not afraid that you will come back, Shall 
 1 tell you why?"
 
 288 THE MISTRESS 01? COURT REGlSTA. 
 
 "Just speak what's on yer mrnd, Mr. Mordaunt,*' said 
 Jenks, cheerfully. 
 
 " Because the moment I know of your return, I should 
 denounce you." He leaned forward, his small eyes, very like 
 his father's at this moment, fixed with malignant hate upon 
 Jenks' face. " I should denounce you as the murderer!" 
 
 " Me?" exclaimed Jenks, astonished for the first time. 
 
 " Yes, you!" said Mordaunt, deliberately. " You have 
 had this bundle in your possession all these months, you know 
 where the body lies; that looks suspicious! Why should you 
 not have committed the murder?" 
 
 Jenks laughed. " That sounds very clever, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt," he said. " But, come to that, why should I?" 
 
 An idea struck Mordaunt, an idea which sent the blood to 
 his white face. 
 
 " Wait a moment, Jenks," he said, quivering with excite- 
 ment. " How do you know that it was me you saw on the 
 cliff? Think! Think again! Wasn't it Mr.'Wayre ?" 
 
 Jenks' stolid face displayed something like admiration. 
 " That sounds better, Mr. Mordaunt," he said. " But Mr. 
 Wayre says he went aboard the l Susan ' long before you 
 chucked her over the cliff." 
 
 Mordaunt shuddered at the man's callous way of referring 
 to the awful deed. 
 
 " It is only a question of an hour or two," he said. " Put 
 the time back. At any rate, you see, Jenks, that I am not so 
 completely under your thumb as you imagined." 
 
 " Oh, you're clever enough, Mr. Mordaunt!" said Jenks. 
 " And I'm only an iggerant kind of man. Seems to me, 
 you'd better give me the money and let me sheer off. I 
 sha'n't come back, trust me. A man don't go bathing where 
 he knows sharks are swimming. I ain't no match for you, 
 Mr. Mordaunt, and I'll clear out of your way as soon as pos- 
 sible to-morrow, if you like." 
 
 Mordaunt got up and paced the room. His knees trembled; 
 he felt hot one moment, cold the next, and the brain upon 
 which he was relying burned like a coal. 
 
 " No, that would be too sudden," he said. " It would 
 attract notice and arouse suspicion. You might go in two or 
 three days." He knit his brows with a painful effort of 
 thought. "You could say that a relative had died out in 
 Australia, and that you were going out to look after some 
 noney he had left you. You could say you were coming 
 back. 1 can help you to obtain leave of absence Tell the
 
 MISTRESS OF COI7P.T REGWA. 283 
 
 story of the uncle in Australia at the inn to-morrow. Bring 
 me the bundle to-morrow night." 
 
 Jenks shook his head placidly. " Not me, Mr. Mordaunt," 
 he said. " I ain't going to walk about with that bundle, if I 
 know it; there's too many eyes about. If you want it, you 
 must come and fetch it, that's flat! I've got it hid away 
 snug and comfortable in my hut; you bring me the thousand 
 pounds and you shall have it, and I'll clear off." 
 
 There was silence for a moment or two, then Mordaunt 
 raised his head, but looked above Jenks as he said: "Very 
 well. I will think the matter over and let you know. You 
 shall have the money on the conditions I have named. You 
 can go now!" 
 
 " Good-night, Mr. Mordaunt," said Jenks; and, as habit is 
 strong as death, he added, in the sweet, old way: " Have you 
 such a thing as a pipe o' tobacco about you, Mr. Mordaunt?" 
 
 Mordaunt stifled a curse, and taking some cigars from a box, 
 threw them on the table. Jenks picked them up carefully, 
 one by one, and as carefully, one by one, stowed them away; 
 then, with the same wooden and utterly stolid countenance, 
 nodded and went out by the window, as he had come. He 
 lighted a cigar before he reached the lodge, and as he smoked, 
 he stared at the ground thoughtfully. 
 
 " He's most too clever, he is," he said. " He's like a 
 conger eel; you don't know whether you've got him, or you 
 ain't; slippery's what I should call you, Mr. Mordaunt. I'm 
 ac ac ess'ry after the fack, am I? Well, I'm blowed!" 
 
 After he had gone, Mordaunt drew tbe curtain, and, sink- 
 ing into the chair, hid his face in his hands. At such moments 
 as these, the criminal suffers more agony than that which is 
 contained in the brief minutes when the rope is actually round 
 his neck; and, indeed, Mordaunt could almost fancy that he 
 felt the hangman's hand upon him. His nerves were strained 
 to their utmost tension, and when the door suddenly opened 
 he sprung up with a sharp cry, clutching the arms of the 
 chair. It was old Sapley who had entered, and he stood 
 regarding Mordaunt's livid, terror-stricken face with conster- 
 nation and alarm. 
 
 " Mordy! Mordy!" he gasped. !< What is it? Are you ill, 
 Mordy?" 
 
 "No, no!" said Mordaunt, quickly. ;< Yes, yes! I am 
 no t W ell a little faint. Get me get me some brandy!' 
 
 The old man hurried from the room and came back with a 
 of brandy shaking in his hand. Mordaunt seized it and
 
 384 THE MISTKESS OF COUKT REGNA. 
 
 drank it off. His father watched him with anxious eyes and 
 quivering lips. 
 
 " What is it, Mordy; what is it?" he asked. What's hap- 
 pened? Something's gone wrong, I know! You frighten 
 me, Mordy. And it isn't the first time. You look like you 
 did the night you came home late from Thraxton. What is 
 it, Mordy? You're not hiding anything from me, are you? 
 Don't do it; don't do it, for God's sake! If you're in trouble, 
 I can help you! I'm not in my dotage yet. Best confide in 
 me, Moray! I'm the best friend you've got. It's my brains 
 as has built it all up. If you've done anything rash men 
 will, when they're driven hard and think they're going to be 
 thwarted confide in me." 
 
 " Confide!" A wild laugh burst from his tightly strained 
 lips, an hysterical laugh, which increased the old man's terror. 
 " What do you think I've done? Robbed a church, or or 
 what? You talk nonsense! I'm ill, I tell you! I shall be 
 better directly. For Heaven's sake, go, and leave me alone!" 
 
 The father had grown so accustomed to obedience that he 
 left the room, looking back over his shoulder with an agony 
 of apprehension in his sunken eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 SISTER AGNES had awakened the desire to live in Claire's 
 heart, and her recovery was rapid enough to please even the 
 doctor and the sister herself. As she regained her strength, 
 she was eager to get back to her work at the school; and one 
 dav, when the sun was shining with the warmth which called 
 up memories of the departed summer, she coaxed a reluctant 
 permission from the doctor, and went into the school. 
 
 Her appearance was greeted with that murmur which takes 
 the place of a cheer with 'girls; and Miss Gover was so de- 
 lighted at seeing her that she was tempted only tempted to 
 give the girls a half-holiday; but no one was more moved 
 than little Tiny, who, disregarding all discipline, ran into 
 Claire's arms, and hugged her with childish cries of love and 
 joy. For quite half an hour the school was disorganized, but 
 presently Miss Gover's sharp tap with the ruler was heard 
 above the babel of voices, and the Goddess of Work resumed 
 her normal sway. 
 
 Claire felt rather tired the first day, but before the week 
 had passed she had regained her old strength, and entered into 
 her daily labor with a zest which delighted Miss Gover, and 
 brought its own reward to Claire. She and Sister Agnes now
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COUKT EEGlfAo JJ8& 
 
 shared the same sitting-room, and, when possible, took their 
 meals together. 
 
 The sister never alluded to the story of her life nor to 
 Claire's troubles, but in a thousand little ways she showed her 
 love for the solitary girl whom Providence had placed under 
 her care; and Claire returned that love with interest. 
 
 At the end of the street in which the school stood was a- 
 house much larger than those in the street; but like many of 
 the others, it was let in apartments. One day when Claire 
 was returning to the school, after dinner, she saw a fly stand- 
 ing at the door of Arundel House. An extremely fair and 
 pretty girl, wrapped in furs, was lying back in the carriage. 
 
 She looked very delicate and very listless, and the old gen- 
 tleman who was with her regarded her, as he helped her to 
 alight, with that anxious and watchful expression which a 
 father wears when he is tending his sick child. As Claire 
 passed, her eyes and the girl's met for a moment, and, so to 
 speak, lingered with a mutual admiration. The father and 
 daughter stood aside to let Claire pass, and she went on her 
 way. Several times during afternoon school she thought of 
 the pretty girl, and it was only natural that, as she went by 
 the house on her way home, she should look up at the win- 
 dows. 
 
 The girl was standing there, and evidently saw and remem- 
 bered Claire, for she turned and said something quickly to 
 some one in the room, and the old gentleman appeared at the 
 window. The next morning, returning to dinner, Claire saw 
 the girl going out; they looked at each other again, this time 
 more attentively, and Claire fancied that there was a wistful 
 expression in the blue eyes. Either at the window or in the 
 street she saw her every day; and at last she asked Mrs. Hol- 
 land who they were. The landlady, of course, knew some- 
 thing about them. There is a kind of freemasonry amongst 
 landladies which induces an exchange of information about 
 their respective lodgers. 
 
 " Their name is Harling," said Mrs. Holland. Father 
 and daughter, miss. She do seem very delicate, don't she? 
 Sweetly pretty, too. Her father seems very fond of her, and 
 Mrs. Simpkins, their landlady, says as she thinks that they're 
 vary well off." 
 
 That afternoon Claire missed her pocket-handkerchief. As 
 she was passing Arundel House some one tapped at the win- 
 dow, and, looking up, she saw Miss Harling holding up a 
 handkerchief. She disappeared from the window, and Claire 
 waited. A moment or two afterward the door opened, and
 
 28(5 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 Miss Harling appearecL She was a little flushed, as if with 
 excitement, as she said, with wistful eagerness: 
 
 " This is your handkerchief. I saw you drop it." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Claire, smiling; and she held out 
 her hand, but Grace whipped the handkerchief behind her 
 back. 
 
 " Do you want it very much?" she asked 
 
 Claire stared at her, then laughed softly. 
 
 "Because if you do, perhaps you won't mind coming 
 upstairs for it," said Grace. " Do you mind?" 
 
 " I shall be very pleased," said Claire; and she followed the 
 singular girl up to the drawing-room floor. 
 
 " Won't you sit down?" said Grace. " You ought to give 
 me in charge, for I as good as stole this handkerchief; I saw 
 you drop it, and I didn't call after you, and father says that 
 is as bad as stealing, Miss Sartoris." 
 
 " I don't think I will give you in charge," said Claire. 
 " You know my name?" 
 
 Grace nodded, and leaned forward in her chair, with a faint 
 smile, and the same eager, wistful air. 
 
 " Oh, yes; I know all abont you." Claire started slightly. 
 " You lodge at Mrs. Holland's, up the street, and you teach 
 at the school. 1 have seen you go by every day, and I I 
 have often wanted to speak to you. Do you think that rude 
 and forward of me? I'm afraid it's what you call ' bad form ' 
 in England." 
 
 " On the contrary, I think it was very kind of you," said 
 Claire. " If it was wrong, I must plead guilty to the same 
 feeling, Miss Harling." 
 
 " You know my name?" said Grace, archly. 
 
 Claire colored and laughed. 
 
 " Curiosity is the failing of our sex," she said. 
 
 "No, it's one of our virtues," said Grace in her shrewd 
 little way. " I'm glad we know each other's names, because 
 it does away with the necessity of an introduction. I'll tell 
 you all the rest about myself, if you like. I'm staying here 
 with my father; he has a great deal of business to do with 
 lawyers in London, and I can't live in London, because of the 
 fogs, so we've taken rooms here." 
 
 "And do you like it?" asked Claire. " Streatham, I 
 mean?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Grace, listlessly. " It's a pretty little 
 place enough; the shops are rather nice. Oh, yes, I like it!" 
 she sighed, and leaned brak. " And now won't you tell me 
 something about yourself?"
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COUET REGtfAo J8? 
 
 Claiie winced for a second, then she said; quietly: 
 
 " There is very little I can tell you, You know where I 
 live; I teach at the school and that is all." 
 
 "Forgive me!" said Grace. "law* rude and inquisitive. 
 But I didn' f -*sk from idle curiosity, but by way of saying 
 that I wanted to know you. I have seen you so often as you 
 passed by, that I have felt as if we were old friends. And, it 
 is very strange, the first time I ever saw you 1 thought I must 
 have met you before; there is something in your face that 
 awakened some recollections; but, of course, I know that I've 
 not met you I mean, to speak to until now." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Harling entered the room, and looked 
 from one girl to the other with natural surprise. Grace rose 
 and took his arm coaxingly. 
 
 "Father, 'this is Miss Sartoris. I have netted her at last; 
 it was with a handkerchief. I played a mean trick upon her; 
 but I think she will forgive me, for I've been telling ner how 
 much I wanted to know her. Speak up for me, father, and 
 tell her that I am a very lonely, solitary girl, a stranger in the 
 land, and that I am just dying for one girl friend." 
 
 Mr. Harling patted her hand and looked at Claire plead- 
 ingly. " I'm afraid this is all very irregular, Miss Sartoris," 
 he said, " and that you will think us very peculiar folks; but 
 my girl here is is not overstrong, and she's been spoiled." 
 
 " Thank you, father," said Grace. " I couldn't have done 
 it better myself. After that, I am sure you can't refuse to 
 stay to tea," she added to Claire. 
 
 Claire was sorry to refuse, but she was obliged to do so. 
 
 " I can not stay this afternoon," she said, " because my 
 friend, the lady with whom I live, would be anxious about 
 me. I always reach home at a certain time, and she would 
 not know what had become of me." 
 
 " You mean the Sister of Mercy?" said Grace, 
 
 " Yes, Sister Agnes. " 
 
 " What a pretty name!" said Grace. " We have often 
 seen her, and wondered what she was like, for her face is 
 always hidden by her veil; but she looks as nice and sweet as 
 her name." 
 
 "Yes," said Claire, simply, but with deep significance. 
 " She is everything that is good and gentle. But for her -I 
 should not be alive now to sing her praises." 
 
 " Father, couldn't you go round presently to Sister Agnes, 
 and explain that we have kept Miss Sartoris prisoner?" said 
 Grace. 
 
 But Claire, knowing how carefully Sister Agnes avoided
 
 988 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REG1TA. 
 
 meeting strangers of her own class, rose and said that she 
 would run home and come back presently. She found the 
 sister awaiting her. 
 
 " I am glad you have found new friends, dear," she said. 
 "Go by all means." She seemed a little agitated as she 
 asked: " What did you say the name was?" 
 
 " Harling," replied Claire. "They are very nice people, 
 and the girl seems overflowing with kindness. I am afraid 
 she is very delicate. It is touching to see the affecb v >_x 
 between her and her father; his anxiety is so obvious. I 
 won't stay long, sister." 
 
 " Stay as long as you like, dear," said Sister Agnes, very 
 quietly. 
 
 Claire was just a wee bit excited by the novelty of the cir- 
 cumstances, and did not notice the peculiar constraint of 
 Sister Agnes's manner. She went back to Arundel House, 
 and had tea with the father and daughter. Grace treated her 
 almost like an old friend, and Mr. Harling was extremely 
 kind; but he was very thoughtful, and once or twice Claire 
 found him looking at her with a singular intentness. 
 
 He asked her one or two questions, as to how long she'd 
 been living in London, and so on, and presently left the girls 
 alone. 
 
 " Now we will have a nice chat!" said Grace, and she pro- 
 ceeded to give Claire a sketch of her life; but she did not tell 
 her that her father was a principal shareholder in the Butterfly 
 mine. 
 
 As she listened to Grace, Claire felt half ashamed of her 
 own reticence. She could tell her nothing of herself in 
 return. 
 
 " I hope we shall be great friends," said Grace. " I'm 
 inclined to think there is a special providence about our meet- 
 ing, and I'm also inclined to believe that friendships, as well 
 as marriages, are made in heaven. You'll come for a drive 
 with me sometimes, won't you? I can't walk very far; I've 
 often watched you admiringly as you came down the street; 
 you look so strong, and you walk so gracefully." 
 
 Claire laughed. 
 
 " Don't be offended," said Grace. " I couldn't help tell- 
 ing you how much I admired you, if I tried. I'd often 
 heard of the beauty of the English girls, but I've never seen 
 one half so pretty as you; but pretty isn't the word. Now, I 
 suppose I am what people would call pretty, in the sixpenny 
 doll style, but vou are oh, I can't find the exact word/' 
 
 " Don't try/' said Claire, laughing, but blushing a little,
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COUP.T BEG2O.. 289 
 
 "P?e got it! Distinguished! That's the word. You 
 wear things like the great ladies one sees driving in the park. 
 Now, that dress fills me with admiration and despair., T'-e 
 never succeeded in getting one to look anything like it Where 
 did you have it made? Anywhere about here?" 
 
 "It is one of Redf era's," said Claire, makr/r, the admis- 
 sion absently. 
 
 Grace stared and laughed, " You extravagant giil!" she 
 saido " Fancy wearing a Redfern to teach in a school! I'm 
 afraid it's thrown away upon tin girls; or, perhaps, you use 
 it as an object lesson a lesson on Form? 5 ' 
 
 Claire colored slightly. " 1 have had it a long while/' she 
 said. " It is one of my old dresses- " 
 
 Grace looked at her shrewdly " You were not always a 
 school-mistress in Streatham?" she sairL 
 
 Claire looked at the fire, How could she Tenture to tell 
 this warm-hearted girl? 
 
 " Not always," she said. 
 
 " 1 knew it!" broke in Grace. " Tha first time I saw you 
 I said to father, ' That girl is a lady ' I mean, what the 
 English people call a lady, meaning a ' swell, ' It's a horrid 
 word, dear, but it's the only one that expresses the meaning 
 You carried your head and walked like the pictures of the 
 marchionesses and countesses one sees in the illustrated papers. 
 And so you were rich once, and didn't always teach m a 
 school? Did you lose your money? You don't mind my 
 asking you?" 
 
 " Yes, I lost my money," said Claire, " or, rather, it never 
 was mine. I can't tell you the whole story; and, indeed, it 
 does not matter. I am quite happy " she checked a sigh 
 even as she spoke " and I do not think that money matters 
 very much. [ don't want you to think that I am posing as a 
 high-minded kind of person; what I mean is, that one can be, 
 if not very happy, at least content, teaching in a school in 
 Streatham." 
 
 Grace looked at her admiringly, and touched her hand with 
 girlish sympathy. 
 
 " I should like father to hear you say that!" she said, 
 is just what he admires. All the world has gone mad about 
 money lately, and I am delighted to find some one who thinks 
 lightly of it, and who cares as little for the loss of it as you 
 do." 
 
 " I lost something else besides money," said Claire, with an 
 impulse that, was new to her. " But I'm getting over it. One 
 has an idea that all the misery in thtf world h?s fallen to one's
 
 JJ90 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 iot; but I have learned otherwise. Sister Agnes has taught 
 me that, however much one has suffered, there are others who 
 have suffered more deeply." Her face seemed transfigured 
 as she spoke, and Grace looked at her with a kind of awe. 
 
 " Now you look noble!" she said, under her breath. 
 
 " Please don't stick me on an imaginary pedestal!" said 
 Olaire, with a laugh. " You would find that I should tumble 
 off so very, very quickly." 
 
 " Too late!" said Grace. " I have stuck you up there 
 already, and I know you'll never come down." 
 
 So they sat over the fire and talked until the striking of ten 
 toy the clock on the mantel-piece startled Claire to her feet; 
 and this was the strange beginning of an acquaintance which 
 ripened with an extraordinary rapidity into a warm friend- 
 ship. Grace seemed to have given her heart wholly and unre- 
 servedly to Claire, and confided to her everything except 
 her knowledge of a gentleman named Gerald Wayre. She 
 coaxed Claire into taking a drive with her nearly every day, 
 and the drive did them both good, and brought back the glow 
 of health to Claire's face. Grace even paid a visit to the 
 school, but, as she put it, was very quickly " chucked;" for 
 her appearance created too much excitement in that region of 
 decorum and strict discipline. 
 
 Claire, of course, talked a great deal about her friends to 
 Sister Agnes; but, though she was glad that Claire had made 
 the acquaintance of the Harlings, the sister could not be per- 
 suaded to meet them. 
 
 " They lie outside my world, dear," she said. " I dread 
 strange faces, excepting those of the poor and wretched. 
 There is no room in my heart for any one but them and you 
 and my dead child." 
 
 One day Mr. Harling came into the room where the two 
 girls were sitting talking over a new dress for Grace, and 
 announced that he would be obliged to take a journey into the 
 country. Grace looked aghast. 
 
 '* I couldn't possibly go further," she said, with an air of 
 mock sternness. " For one thing, I've got to see about this 
 dress; and for another, I couldn't possibly leave Claire. Now, 
 if Claire would come with us ' * 
 
 Claire laughingly shook her head. 
 
 " Very well," said Mr. Harling. " I will leave you behind 
 to the care of the landlady, and, if I may venture to say so, 
 to Miss Sartoris." 
 
 Grace put on the airs of a little child. "Do! I'll promise 
 to be good, and do every tb ing she tells me. Oh, Claire,
 
 THE MI8TBE8S OP COIJBT BEG1TA. 291 
 
 couldn't you conie here and live altogether while father la 
 away? Now, that's a splendid idea; in fact, I won't consent 
 to his leaving me unless you promise to come. Indeed, it 
 wouldn't be safe. I'm not to be trusted; I should get a 
 latch-key and go to one of your music-halls every night, and 
 behave generally like one of the new women." 
 
 Claire said she would come if Sister Agnes approved. 
 
 '' You treat her as it she were your mother," said Grace, 
 with a little pout. 
 
 " She has been more than a mother to me," said Claire. 
 
 Sister Agnes gave her permission, and Mr. Harling started 
 on his journey. 
 
 " I will wire my address," were almost his last words. 
 * * ' * * * * * 
 
 The following day Gerald was walking into Thraxton to sea 
 the inspector of police there, for he had at last decided to 
 place Lucy's case in the hands of a good detective; for he 
 himself had failed to find the slightest clew, although he had 
 made inquiries in every direction, and had devoted all his 
 time and energy to the search. As he strode along, in deep 
 thought, he saw a fly approaching, and glanced at it absently; 
 then he started and stopped dead short, for the occupant was 
 no other than Mr. Harling. 
 
 Gerald shouted and stopped the carriage, and Mr. Harling 
 and he stared at each other in mutual astonishment. 
 
 " Why, lad!" said Mr. Harling, with a certain warmth of 
 affection in his tone more marked even than of old. " You 
 here?" 
 
 " Yes," said Gerald. " Haven't you had my letter? I 
 wrote to Lartree." 
 
 " I've not been back there," said Mr. Harling. " I've 
 been traveling about on business. You here, of all places in 
 the world!" he added in a lower tone. 
 
 " How strange that you should come to this place!" said 
 Gerald, on his side. 
 
 " Oh, I told you I was a kind of Wandering Jew," said Mr. 
 Harling in rather a confused manner. " And this is one of 
 your show places, isn't it?" 
 
 Gerald nodded. " How is Miss Grace?" he asked. ' You 
 haven't brought her with you; I hope she is not unwell?" 
 There was a friendly anxiety in his tone, but nothing warmer, 
 
 " Grace is all right," said Mr. Harling. " I left her ir 
 
 " And so you've come to see Court Eegna?" said Gterakl 
 Mr. Harling started and looked at him curiously.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT B 
 
 " That's the great show place," explained Gerald. 
 
 " Oh, ah yes, I've come to see Court Regna," said Mr. 
 Harling. " Jump in, my boy." 
 
 Gerald hesitated a moment, then, reflecting that he could 
 go back to Thraxton with the fly, got in. 
 
 " It's very extraordinary, you're being here," said Mr 
 Harling. 
 
 " Well, it isn't really," said Gerald. " I was employed 
 some months ago to renew a wing at the Court." 
 
 Mr. Harling stared at him. 
 
 " I'm afraid you will think I've been very close and 
 secretive, Mr. Harling," said Gerald, his tanned face flushing. 
 " But I had reasons for not mentioning the matter. It is a 
 sore subject with me." Mr. Harling watched him closely. 
 " The work was suddenly discontinued, and I left the place 
 under a cloud yes, under a cloud in many senses of the word, 
 for I was suspected of having enticed one of the village girla 
 to accompany me. I hope I need not say that I am quite 
 innocent of the villainy?" 
 
 " No, my boy," said Mr. Harling. 
 
 " Thank you," said Gerald, glancing away. " But thinga 
 looked very black against me, and still look. I only heard 
 of the poor girl's disappearance when I returned here the 
 other day, and I have decided to remain here until I ha\ e 
 found her and proved my innocence." 
 
 "Good, very good!" said Mr. Harling. "That's just 
 what I should expect you to do, my lad." 
 
 " I came back by the merest chance," said Gerald, " to see 
 Miss Sartoris " his tone softened at the name " to give her 
 some papers belonging to her, that I had by accident." 
 
 " Miss Sartoris, the owner of the Court?" said Mr. Harling. 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 Mr. Harling was silent for a moment or two, and then he 
 said: " Lord Wharton left it to her, didn't he?" 
 
 " He did," said Gerald. 
 
 " Rather strange, that," remarked Mr. Harling. 
 
 "No," said Gerald, up in arms for Claire at once. "He 
 adopted her when she was a little girl; he had no near 
 relatives; it was only right that he should make her his heir- 
 ess." 
 
 Mr. Harling looked at him fixedly. ^o near relatives?" 
 he said. 
 
 " No," said Gerald. 
 
 " Has Miss Sartoris a sister?" asked Mr. Harling, after a 
 pf.use.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGHA. 203 
 
 Gerald replied in the negative, " Why do you ask?" 
 
 Mr. Harling mumbled something in response and turned to 
 look at the view. They were nearing the Court by this time, 
 and the exquisite beauty of its surroundings seemed to impress 
 the old gentleman very much. Presently a portion of the 
 great house came in sight,, 
 
 "It is a magnificent place, magnificent!" he exclaimec 
 under his breath. " Surely it must be one of the finest places 
 in England?" 
 
 " It is," assented Gerald. 
 
 " And it all belongs to this Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 " Everything," said Gerald. " The house, all the land as 
 far as you can see, and farther, the village down there in the 
 hollow isn't it quaint? Even the fishing-smacks in the bay 
 there." 
 
 " She must be a kind of queen!" remarked Mr. Harling. 
 
 " She is," said Gerald, with a deeper note in his voice. 
 
 They went past the lodge gates and down toward the village. 
 At the head of the steep street they got out, and Gerald con- 
 ducted Mr. Harling down the steps. He looked about him 
 with the deepest interest. 
 
 " Where are you staying?" he asked. 
 
 Gerald pointed to the cottage. Mr. Harling looked at him 
 with the same curiously intent gaze. 
 
 " That is where the poor girl and her father lived," said 
 Gerald. 
 
 " I shall stay at the inn for a night or two," said Mr. 
 Harling. 
 
 Gerald promptly went in and ordered a meal and a comfort- 
 able room. They returned to the fly to drive round the cele- 
 brated avenue which wound in serpentine fashion round the 
 Court grounds, Mr. Harling exclaiming at the beauty of the 
 scene at every point. As they came up to one of the lodges, 
 he said: " Could I see the Court?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Gerald. " Miss Sartoris is always very 
 glad for visitors to go round the place. In a sense, it almost 
 belongs to the public." 
 
 " Oh, does it?" said Mr. Harling, quaintly, and he mut- 
 tered to himself as they came suddenly upon the front of the 
 house, stretching in a long line against the sky. 
 
 They drove up to the door, and Mr= Harling got out The 
 hall-porter came to meet them. 
 
 " Is Miss Sartoris within?" asked Mr. Harling. He turned 
 to Gerald quickly, " I should like to thank the young ladv 
 for permitting me to see this beautiful place* "
 
 294 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA, 
 
 " Miss Sartoris is not at home, sir," said the hall-porter. 
 
 ei Miss Sartoris is away," said Gerald at the same moment. 
 " I would have told yon that, if I had known " 
 
 " I beg pardon," said Mr. Harling. " I saw that the 
 house looked occupied " 
 
 " Mr. Sapley is living here,'' explained Gerald, quickly. 
 The hall-porter stood looking from one to the other. 
 
 11 Would the gentleman like to come in, sir?" he suggested. 
 
 Mr. Harling said he should like very much; and they 
 entered the hall. The old gentleman looked round him with 
 a sort of admiring awe. He had often read of such a place, 
 but had never seen one; the magnificent hall, suffused with 
 the winter light filtered through the richly stained windows, 
 impressed him to a remarkable extent. 
 
 The butler came forward and bowing to Gerald, threw open 
 the drawing-room door and invited them to enter. In a 
 similar way Mr. Harling was shown all the principal rooms 
 " state " rooms, as?the servants were fond of calling them; and 
 he gazed about him in silent admiration. The butler was 
 gratified by the effect produced. 
 
 " Perhaps the gentleman would like to see the pictures, 
 sir?" he said. And he led them up the broad stairs to the 
 corridor, and, with a gracious dignity, pointed out the more 
 famous of the masterpieces. 
 
 " Family portraits, sir," he said, and he rolled off some of 
 the historic names. Mr. Harling walked along in the usual 
 fashion, nodding now and again, and evidently greatly inter- 
 ested. As they came to the last, Lord Wharton's portrait, he 
 stopped, and looked at it with an intense and indescribable 
 expression on his weather-beaten face. 
 
 4< The Right Honorable Algernon Edward Vincent Gerald 
 Wharton, Earl of Wharton," reeled off the butler, with 
 solemn pride. 
 
 Mr. Harling seemed scarcely able to withdraw his eyes from 
 she picture. At last he said in a constrained voice: " Is that 
 the last of the portraits?" 
 
 " It is, sir/' said the butler. " Lord Wharton was the 
 last earl. He was never married, and the title is now ex- 
 tinct." 
 
 " In deed!" said Mr. Harling. He looked round him, as 
 if searching for something, and the butler politely paused on 
 the way down. 
 
 "Is there a portrait of Miss Sartoris here?" asked Mr 
 Harling. 
 
 " I regret t say that there is not, sir,'* said the butler.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COUET EEGNA. 295 
 
 " Miss Sartoris is a very beautiful young lady, if I may make 
 so bold to say so as Mr. Wayre knows and her portrait 
 would be a great ornament amongst the others." 
 
 Gerald colored and averted his face, and said nothing. As 
 they descended the stairs, old Sapley catno out of the library 
 and shuffled across the hall. He glanced up at them, then 
 disappeared by the outer door at the back of the hall. 
 
 " Who is that?" asked Mr. Harling in an undertone. 
 
 " Mr. Sapley, the agent," replied Gerald in as low a voice. 
 
 Mr. Harling rubbed his chin and said nothing. They 
 reached the door, and he turned to than.k the butler, when 
 Mordaunt Sapley came up the step. His head was bent, and 
 he did not see them for a moment, and he looked up with a 
 start; and Gerald almost started also, for the man's face seen 
 for the instant without its mask was white and haggard, as 
 if he had just heard bad news. It was the day after Jenks' 
 visit. 
 
 " My friend Mr. Harling has been looking at the rooms 
 and the pictures," explained Gerald. " This is Mr. Mor- 
 daunt Sapley," he added to Mr. Harling. 
 
 Mordaunt h a d slipped the mask on by that time, and he 
 smiled amiably. " My father will be very pleased," he said. 
 " Pray take your friend over the grounds or wherever you 
 like to go." 
 
 " Thanks 1" said Gerald. Mordaunt Sapley bowed and 
 passed into the hall. 
 
 " Very polite gentleman," said Mr. Harling, when he and 
 Gerald had got out of hearing. " He and his father 1 sup- 
 pose the old man we saw in the hall was his father? seem to 
 be very much at home. He spoke as if the place belonged to 
 them." 
 
 " Yes," said Gerald, with a frown. " I don't under- 
 stand " He didn't finish the sentence. 
 
 Mr. Harling dismissed the fly Gerald deciding to walk 
 into Thraxton, and they went toward the west wing. 
 
 " That's the wing I was at work on," said Gerald, rather 
 grimly. " Let us come away, if you've seen enough of it I 
 have some unpleasant associations connected with it." 
 
 " Let us go back to the inn," said Mr. Harling. He was 
 singularly silent on their way, and seemed extremely thought- 
 ful. When they sat down to the meal which had been pre- 
 pared for them, he said, suddenly: 
 
 " When is Miss Sartoris coming back?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Gerald. ' No one seems to know. 
 I was going to say that there was a kind of mystery ibout her
 
 896 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 absence, but the expression would be scarcely justified, 
 excepting by the fact that no one knows her address, not evou 
 the Sapleys." 
 
 Mr. Harling poured himself out a glass of ale. " It'e 
 rather singular," he said. " By the way, isn't it rather odd, 
 too, that there's no portrait of her up at the Court? I'm 
 rather disappointed; it's only natural that one should want tc 
 see what the mistress of such a grand place is like." 
 
 " Are you so very curious?" said Gerald, rather hesitat* 
 ingly, and putting his hand into his breast-pocket. 
 
 " Yes, I am," responded Mr. Harling, decisively. 
 
 "There you are, then!" said Gerald; and he pushed the 
 pencil sketch of Claire across the table. " It's a sketch I 
 took of her, without her knowing it, some months ago* It's 
 an awful libel on her, Heaven knows, and yet it's like her 
 like her enough to give you an idea Good Lord, look out!" 
 he broke off, snatching up the sketch. For Mr. Harling had, 
 with unusual awkwardness, let his glass of ale slip out of his 
 hand. 
 
 '* I beg your pardon," he said. " Tut, tut! how clumsy of 
 me! I hope it hasn't gone on the picture," he added, as he 
 mopped up the spilled beer. " Let me look at it again, will 
 you?" 
 
 " There you are!" said Gerald. " It's all right I set a 
 value on it far beyond the worth of the miserable sketch. 
 Well, what do you think of it?" 
 
 Mr. Harling, aided by his knowledge of the circumstances, 
 had recognized the school-mistress of Streatham. He was lost 
 in amazement and bewilderment, and absently exclaimed: 
 " It's the image of her!" 
 
 " What!" said Gerald. " You've never seen her?" 
 
 Mr. Harling colored, and got up to ring for more ale. " I 
 mean, that I dare say it's the image of her, only you're toe 
 modest to say so, my boy," he said, laughinc curiously,, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 GERALD took back the sketch and gazed at it, with a lover's 
 look in his eyes, for a moment or two in silence; then he said, 
 as if he had suddenly made up his mind: 
 
 " Look here, sir, I feel as if I'd got to tell you you have 
 been so kind to me, and I feel, somehow, as if you were the 
 best friend I have in the world and, indeed, I've no one else 
 to tell, and the thing is like a burden upon me. This lady r
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffJL 297 
 
 Miss Sartoris, the mistress of Court Regna well, I've been 
 mad enough to fall in love with her.'* 
 
 Mr. Harling had half suspected this, and he sighed, for he 
 thought of Grace and her hopeless love, and, father-like, 
 suffered a pang on her account; but he was a generous-hearted 
 man, and he liked Gerald indeed, had grown very fond of 
 him for more reasons than the all-sufficient one that he had 
 saved Grace's life. 
 
 " Go on, my boy," he said, encouragingly. 
 
 "I'm half ashamed to," said Gerald, " for it must sound 
 so preposterous to you. You have seen Court Regna; you 
 know how rich she is; how lofty the position she occupies 
 there; and you know what I am." 
 
 " Yes, I know what you are," said Mr. Harling, quietly. 
 Gerald lighted his pipe. 
 
 " A penniless adventurer," he went " a mere nobody; it 
 was madness, of course, but I can no more help it than I can 
 help breathing. You have no idea what she is like." 
 
 " Haven't I? No; I suppose not." 
 
 " This ridiculous sketch doesn't give the least idea of her. 
 She is one of the loveliest of God's creatures, and as good as 
 she is beautiful. I met her by chance, and was thrown into 
 daily communication with her while I was renewing that west 
 wing; why, no man could help loving her if he had seen her 
 as often as I did! There is a nameless charm about her 
 which only those could understand who came under its spell. 
 She is very proud, but not in a vulgar way; she is humble 
 enough in some things, and, like yourself and Miss Grace, 
 thinks very little of wealth; and I suppose because of that, 
 and and because she was gracious enough to be friendly and 
 kind to me, I ' up and told her of my love/ as the song says." 
 
 " And what, did she say?" asked Mr. Harling, deeply inter- 
 ested. 
 
 " She said, * No!'" said Gerald, stifling a sigh, and smok- 
 ing hard. " The night before I had ventured to call her by 
 her name, and I had gone away from her, hoping Ah! 
 well, the next morning, all my hopes were slain. She said 
 <No!' and I left her." 
 
 " She didn't care for you?" said Mr. Harling. 
 
 " I suppose not," assented Gerald, with a grim smile. 
 
 " You don't speak with certainty?" 
 
 Gerald colored. 
 
 " Don't think me a coxcomb," he said. " Frankly, I have 
 always had a vague kind of hope that she she didn't dislike 
 me."
 
 298 THE MISTRESS Off COUBT BEGffA, 
 
 " Then why" asked Mr. Harling. 
 
 Gerald shook his head. 
 
 " I can't tell you. I thought for a moment or two, tha 
 other day, that it was because of this scanadal about this poor 
 girl, Lucy Hawker. But I remembered that Miss Sartoris 
 could have heard nothing of that when she refused me." 
 
 " Why didn't you ask her again, lad?" said Mr. Harling. 
 
 " I've not seen her," said Gerald. " 1 left the place at 
 once." He told the story of the broken leg. " When I 
 came back she was gone, as you know; and if I had asked her 
 again, I feel that she would have given me the same answer. 
 1 know there's no hope for me; she's the only woman I shall 
 ever love; there's not a day that I don't think of her; in fact, 
 I carry her about with me in my heart just as I carry her 
 sketch in my pocket." 
 
 Mr. Harlmg seemed about to speak, and then checked him- 
 self, and after a pause, said : 
 
 " Nobody knows where she is?" 
 
 Gerald shook his head. 
 
 " As you say, that seems to me rather extraordinary. And 
 it's very extraordinary that the Sapleys should be living in 
 that big house of hers. My boy, I don't like the look of those 
 two men; I'm not given to fancies, but I've taken a red-hot 
 dislike to both of 'em. The old man, with that hawk-like 
 face of his, looks capable of anything; and the son, though 
 he's not a bad-looking chap, had a hang-dog countenance 
 when we first saw him to-day. You you don t suspect any 
 foul play, Gerald?" 
 
 Gerald frowned, and smoked furiously. 
 
 " What foul play could there be?" he said. " You don't 
 suppose they've put Miss Sartoris out of the way?" And he 
 laughed at the grotesqueness of the idea. 
 
 " No, I don't," replied Mr. Harling; " though, upon my 
 aoul, both father and son look capable of it" 
 
 Gerald laughed again. 
 
 "Scarcely that I" he said. "But I wish I knew where 
 she is." 
 
 Mr. Harling again seemed about to blurt out something, 
 and again checked himself. 
 
 " She may come back soon," said Gerald. " I may be 
 here for I shall not go a\vay, excepting for a day or two, for 
 the purposes of my search until this mystery of Lucy's dis- 
 appearance is solved. I shall see her once more, and give her 
 some papers I have of hers, and then then I shall go back to
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT EEGNA, 290 
 
 Lartree, and finish Miss Grace's portrait, and set off on the 
 tramp again." 
 
 Mr. Harling looked at him curiously. 
 
 ;< You will make your fortune yet, my boy/' he said. 
 ;< Your sort always does in the end. Keep up your Irart!" 
 He leaned across the table, and patted Gerald on the shoulder, 
 * Things may come all right, after all; who knows!" 
 
 Gerald shook his head. 
 
 " A fortune wouldn't be much use to me without her!" h 
 said. The talk had upset him, and he paced up and down 
 the room restlessly. 
 
 " I have to go into Thraxton about this business of Lucy 
 Hawker's. You won't mind me leaving you? You'll find 
 plenty to interest and amuse you if you stroll about this 
 place." 
 
 " Off with you, lad!" said Mr. Harling. " I ahall find 
 plenty to amuse me. " 
 
 After Gerald had gone, the old man sat staring at the fire, 
 and rubbing his chin; then, with an air of resolution, he sud- 
 denly jumped up, put on his hat and coat, and walked out 
 toward the Court. He stopped now and again on his way, 
 and looked hard at the ground, as if he were thinking deeply 
 and was not quite clear as to his course of action. When he 
 reached the Court he asked for Mr. Sapley, " The old gentle- 
 man, please." 
 
 A footman took him into the library. Old Sapley was 
 sitting at the table, with his head sunk between his shoulders, 
 very like a hawk, indeed. Mordaunt's " illness," and his 
 extraordinary behavior on the preceding night, had affected 
 the old man very much indeed, and he was still brooding over 
 it when his visitor was announced. He gazed up at Mr. 
 Harling morosely, and repeated the name several times^ as if 
 trying to remember it, then he shook his head. 
 
 " I don't know you," he said. " It's my son Mordaunt 
 you want to see, I expect?" 
 
 "No; it's you, Mr. Sapley," said Mr. Harling, taking the 
 chair which old Sapley motioned him to. " I am a atranger 
 to you, and I will state my business at once. I am a friend 
 of Miss Sartoris's." 
 
 Old Sapley started slightly, and a sharp look came into his 
 cunning eyes. 
 
 " I'm glad to see any friend of Miss Sartoris's," he said, 
 " though I never heard your name. Harling Harling!" he 
 repeated. " But my memory's bad lately. What can I do 
 for you?"
 
 BOO THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " As a friend of Miss Sartoris's " began Mr. Harling. 
 
 Old Sapley, watching him intently, broke in, his eyes grow- 
 ing shifty, as he rubbed his hands one over the other: 
 
 " If you've come here on her behalf, Mr. Harling, FIH 
 af-;aid you've come too late." 
 
 ' Too late?" echoed Mr. Harling. 
 
 " Yes," said old Sapley, showing his fangs in a senile sign 
 of triumph. " When we offered Miss Sartoris terms, she 
 would have been wise to have taken them; circumstances 
 have altered since then. I don't say that my son, Mordy 1 
 mean, Mr. Mordaunt Sapley " he corrected himself promptly 
 " wouldn't marry her even now; but there's no need for it. 
 You may have heard of my son, Mr. Harling? He's one of 
 the principal men in the place; he's standing for the county; 
 you may have read his address? My son is a clever man; he's 
 trying to be a great one. He could do better than marry 
 Claire Sartoris!" 
 
 .To say that Mr. Harling was filled with surprise would be 
 but to inadequately describe his amazement. Mr. Sapley saw 
 it, but, ascribing it to a different cause, chuckled with 
 malicious enjoyment. 
 
 " She should have taken him when she could have got 
 him!" he said. " I made her the offer myself, though I was 
 dead against it. But Mordy had a fancy for the girl, and I 
 didn't want to balk him I never refused him anything; I've 
 been a good father to Mordy, a good father a good father!" 
 he maundered off, almost childishly. 
 
 Mr. Harling sat speechless, and Mr^ Sapley pulled himself 
 together again, and went on: 
 
 " So, as I say, it's too late. My son can look higher. I 
 shouldn't be surprised if he married a title. There's a good 
 many daughters of poor peers about; lots of 'em would jump 
 at my son with his money and his position!" 
 
 Mr. Harling wiped his forehead. Was the old man mad? 
 " I don't understand, Mr. Sapley I" he said. 
 
 " Oh, I see!" said old Sapley. " You've come about 
 money the allowance he offered her?" 
 
 "You offered Miss Sartoris money?" said Mr. Harling. 
 Yes, certainly, the old man must be mad! 
 
 Mr. Sapley nodded, then looked up sideways with a grin. 
 
 " She's come down a peg or two, has she?" he said. " I 
 thought she would. Nothing like poverty for bringing down 
 high stomachs; we've humbled her pride, have we? Lord 
 knows we suffered enough from it, Mordy and I! Well, 
 you're oome on a poor errand, Mr, Harling. Th offer was
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGJTA. 801 
 
 made without prejudice, as we lawyers say, and it's with- 
 drawn. She treated it with scorn, and she's humbled herself 
 too late. You tell her, from me, that she won't get any 
 allowance out of us; she'll have to work for her living, as 
 many a better woman has done." He chuckled, and looked 
 at Mr. Harling cunningly. " Perhaps she thinks that there'll 
 be something left after the mortgage and the bonds are satis- 
 fied. If so, tell her not to count on that, for there won't be 
 a penny left when our claims are satisfied!'* 
 
 " Your claims?'* began Mr. Harling; but dd Bapley inter- 
 rupted him: 
 
 She has told you all about it, I suppose. You're a 
 lawyer, eh?" 
 
 Mr. Harling did not contradict him. Indeed, old Sapley, 
 in his triumph, did not wait. 
 
 " Well, I'm not afraid. Everything's straightforward. 
 You won't find a flaw, a screw loose. We've given her formal 
 notice of foreclosure, and shall sell off when the notice termi- 
 nates." He laughed, and rubbed his hands. " Of course we 
 shall take over the place ourselves. " 
 
 " I see!" said Mr. Harling, and, indeed, he did see the 
 whole of the cunningly planned business. " I will tell Miss 
 Sartoris what you say. " 
 
 " Ah, do!" said old Sapley, insolently. 
 
 Mr. Harling rose. " Will you tell me the total of Miss 
 Sartoris's indebtedness to you, Mr. Sapley?" 
 
 Old Sapley took out a' pocket-book and consulted it, and 
 gave the amount. " Pretty large, eh?" he said, with a grin. 
 
 " It is, it is very large!" assented Mr. Harling. " I am 
 much obliged to you, Mr. Sapley, for the information you 
 have given me. " 
 
 " You're welcome!" said Mr. Sapley. 
 
 " And I will only trouble you further to give me the date 
 <rf the foreclosure." 
 
 Old Sapley gave it to him. ' Very close, ain't it? M 
 said. 
 
 " Very!" assented Mr. Harling. " I will wish yon good- 
 day now, Mr. Sapley." 
 
 Old Sapley nodded curtly. " Good-day. I'm afraid jou 
 haven't done much good, eh?" And he leered up at him. 
 should recommend you to throw up the case; you'll make 
 nothing out of it. I give you that advice as a brother prpfes- 
 Bional. Needy clients bring no wool, eh? Throw it up! 
 
 "Thank you for your advice, Mr. Sapley!' 1 ' said Mr 
 Harling. "I will consider it. Good-day. ' He was eh
 
 303 -J*. MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA, 
 
 struggling with his amazement when he got outside, and 
 though he stood and looked at the house, it is scarcely too 
 much to say that he did not see it. " The old scoundrel*"' 
 he murmured to himself, as he walked along. " The 
 in-fer-nal scoundrel! That poor girl! To think that sin's 
 teaching school while that ola carrion-crow is perching in that 
 
 Eretty nest of hers! It's desecration, that's what it is! Anc 
 e'd got it all so cut and dried, and be-eauti-fully ar 
 ranged! Why, it's like a romance! Yes, you must come 
 over to ' ae old country if you want romance. The bald- 
 headed old vulture!" 
 
 But presently his anger and indignation gave place to 
 anticipatory satisfaction, and he smiled to himself as he 
 trotted along the road toward the inn. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 GEBALD came back from Tbraxton late in the evening. He 
 looked somewhat disappointed and discouraged. 
 
 " Well, lad,'" said Mr. Harling. " Come and sit down and 
 have a glass of toddy. What news?" 
 
 Gerald drew his chair up to the fire, and pushed the hair 
 from his forehead, " Oh, not satisfactory!" he said. " The 
 inspector can't help me. He said it's not a matter for the 
 police at alL No offense against the law has been committed, 
 and, therefore, the police can not take the affair up. He 
 pointed out that if they were to undertake to find every girl 
 who ran off with her lover, they would have their hands pretty 
 full. If she'd taken any of her father's goods they would 
 have been justified in trying to find her. Or if there was anj 
 reason to suspect foul play, it would, of course, be their busi- 
 ness to follow the matter up." 
 
 " And you don't suspect foul play?" said Mr. Harling. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Gerald. " Why should I? The inspector 
 suggested that I should employ a private detect.''; and get a 
 good man down from London." 
 
 " Well, why not?" said Mr. Harling. 
 
 Gerald colored, and looked hard at the fire. " Well, for 
 one thing," he said, " I haven't the means; and for another, 
 I have a repugnance to bringing a strange detective into 
 Regna and making the poor girl's story public." 
 
 " As regards the money," said Mr. Harling, " I should 
 take it as a favor if you'll let me find that. When I say a 
 favor, I mean it; I'm very much interested in anything thai 
 concerns you, my boy, and this ocncerns you very deeply-
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT BEGUTA. 308 
 
 Besides, I like to do a little good with my money, if I can; 
 it's a luxury. You run up to London, and see a first-rate 
 detective. You needn't bring him down; but just lay the 
 case before him; he may be able to give you a hint" 
 
 "Very well, I will, sir," said Gerald. " And thank you. 
 And while I am in London, I should like to go and see Misi 
 Grace, if you'll give me her address." 
 
 Mr. Marling hadn't thought of this, and he rubbed his chin 
 and looked rather confused; but there was no help for it. 
 
 " She'll be very glad to see you, my lad," he said- 
 " Arundel House, Streatham just outside London." 
 
 They sat and talked until a late hour but Mr. Harling 
 said nothing of his second visit to the Court and then Gerald 
 went off to the cottage. He saw Jenks just ouside. 
 
 " I am going up to London to-morrow, Jenks," he said. 
 He was just about to add, " to see a detective," but pulled 
 himself up in time. 
 
 " Are you indeed, sir?" said Jenks. " Ain't heard o' 
 nothing fresh, sir, I suppose?" 
 
 Gerald shook his head, and Jenks, with a " good-night," 
 sauntered on. 
 
 Mr. Harling went to see Gerald off by the train the next 
 morning, and at the last moment put a letter into Gerald'* 
 hand. 
 
 " 1 wish you'd run into my bankers London and West- 
 minster with that, Gerald," he said. " You'll get ther* 
 before they close." 
 
 Gerald promised. Mr. Harling wrung his hand affection- 
 ately, and the train started. Gerald took a cab straight to 
 the bank, and handed in the note. It was received with the 
 respect which is generally accorded to communications from 
 a millionaire, and the manager came out to say: 
 
 " Certainly, certainly! We will do what Mr. Harling asks, 
 :o any amount; I will write him to that effect." 
 
 As Streatham was so near London, Gerald thought that he 
 would go down there after he had seen the detective, and put 
 up at a hotel in the place, so that he might call upon Miss 
 Grace the next morning. He went down to the office of a 
 well-known detective, and had an interview with the famous 
 man, who listened to him without interrupting, and remarked, 
 quietly, at the finish of Gerald's statement: 
 
 " I'm afraid there has been foul play, Mr. Wayre." 
 
 Gerald was startled. " Good heavens! why?" he said. 
 
 " I will tell you," said the detective. " When a girl rum 
 away, she invariably communicateg with her peopje; sooner 01
 
 304 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNX 
 
 later ehe writes a few lines, or else she comes back to ohem 
 If the man marries her she goes back as proud as Punch; if 
 he deserts her, she writes, as I say. Now, this girl was not 
 one of the hard and vicious sort?" 
 
 " No, no!" said Gerald. 
 
 "Just so; and she wouldn't leave her father without a 
 word. I speak from experience; I've had hundreds of similar 
 cases through my hands, and I've always found that they've 
 worked out as I say." 
 
 " But but/' said Gerald, " what is it you suspect?" 
 
 "That the girl has been made away with," said the 
 detective in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 Gerald went pale. " I can scarcely imagine that," he said. 
 " What am I to do? Where am I to look?" 
 
 " Well, of course, I should say ' send me down there/ ' 
 replied the detective, with a smile. " But I can easily under- 
 stand your reluctance to do so. If you want a hint, I say 
 look for your man at Court Regna!" 
 
 Gerald shook his head. " I have looked for him there; I 
 know every man in the place; there is no man there capable 
 of such a deed." 
 
 The detective smiled and glanced at his watch. " All the 
 same, I think you'll find I'm right, Mr. Wayre," he said. 
 " You go back there and keep your eyes open. If you want 
 me, send me a wire, and I'll come down by the next train 
 and find a clew." 
 
 " There doesn't seem to be any clew," said Gerald, despair- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, there is always a clew," said the de- 
 tective, cheerfully, " and it's just in spotting them that we 
 detectives have the pull over you amateurs. Good-afternoon. 
 And thank you." 
 
 Gerald took the train for Streatham. He would see Miss 
 Grace and go back to Regna at once; the least he could do 
 would be to follow the detective's advice. As he was inquir- 
 ing his way to the hotel, outside the station he saw a small 
 crowd collected at the corner of a street. He had to pass it 
 on his way to the hotel, and he stopped to see what was the 
 matter. In the center of the crowd a small boy was lying in 
 the road; a Sister of Mercy was kneeling beside him, quite 
 regardless of the mud, with his head upon her arm; and a 
 brewer's dray standing beside the pavement, its driver staring 
 helplessly and despondently at the boy, made the accident plain 
 to Gerald. 
 
 He pushed his way through the gaping crowd, and addressed
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 305 
 
 tKe Sister of Mercy. " Is he very much hurt?" he asked. 
 " Can I help you?" 
 
 She raised her head and looked at him, and Gerald wai 
 struck by the sweetness of the pale, deeply lined face so 
 greatly impressed that, for a second, he forgot the object of 
 his inquiries. 
 
 The sister, too, seemed startled, either by his sudden pres 
 ence, or the question, and her sad, placid eyes rested on his 
 face with a half -frightened, half -inquiring gaze; but she recov- 
 ered herself in an instant or two, and said in a low voice: 
 
 " He has been run over, and has fainted; I am waiting 
 until he has sufficiently recovered to remove him. There is a 
 village hospital in the next street, and I will have him taken 
 there." 
 
 Gerald bent down on the other side of the boy, and gently 
 moved his arms and legs. 
 
 " I don't think there are any bones broken," he said. 
 
 " I think we might move him now," said the sister, after a 
 little time. " If you will get a cab " 
 
 Gerald picked the boy up in his arms very tenderly and 
 carefully. 
 
 " I think he'll travel better this way," he said. " I shaVt 
 jolt him so much." 
 
 The sister walked a little in front of him to show him the 
 way, the crowd, of course, followed them open-mouthed. 
 Gerald carried the child into the neat little room of the village 
 hospital, and the doctor came in. 
 
 " I will wait outside, and hear what is amiss with him," said 
 Gerald. 
 
 Presently the sister came out to him. 
 
 " He is not very much hurt," she said. " He was half 
 stunned by strikinghis head when he was knocked down, and 
 very frightened. Would you like to see him?" 
 
 Gerald said he should, and he followed her hi. The boy, 
 very large-eyed and pale, looked inclined to whimper; but 
 Gerald addressed him in just the proper tone, and so arrested 
 the tears. 
 
 " Well, my little man?" he said. " I'm glad to see you 
 are not very much hurt after all." He sat down beside him 
 and took his hand. " I suppose his people are coming?" he 
 said to the sister in an u ode r tone. 
 
 " He's an orphan," said Sister Agnes. " But I will teke 
 charge of him." 
 
 "Then he will do very well," said Gerald. 
 
 Sister Agnes, from the other side of the bed, raised her eyei
 
 306 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGHA. 
 
 and looked at Gerald's handsome, sun-tanned face with 
 nervousness that was quite foreign to her; and Gerald, as he 
 met her gaze, felt the same strange sensation of which he had 
 been conscious when he first saw her face. There was a 
 troubled and preoccupied expression in her eyes, and her hand 
 trembled as it smoothed the counterpane. 
 
 " You have been very kind," she said. " I have not 
 thanked you yet!" 
 
 Gerald smiled. 
 
 " I've done very little," he said. " He will need all hia 
 thanks for you, mother." 
 
 He had addressed her by the maternal title often accorded 
 to the sisters of the poor; but it seemed to have a strange 
 effect upon her. She grew deathly pale, her lips quivered, 
 and Gerald fancied that the sad, patient eyes had grown sud- 
 denly moist. 
 
 " I am called sister," she said. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, reverently. " But I expect 
 you are mother as well as sister to many of these poor folk. 
 May I know your name?*' 
 
 " I am called Sister Agnes," she said in a low voice. 
 
 *' Sister Agnes!" he repeated, as reverently as before. 
 " May I come in to see the little fellow again?" he asked. 
 " I am staying here for a day or two. I am a stranger here, 
 and putting up at the hotel." 
 
 She seemed to listen as if she were listening to something 
 more than his words, and it was evident that she was battling 
 with an agitation quite unusual with her. 
 
 " Yes," she said in a low voice. " He will be glad to see 
 you. I shall keep him here until he has quite recovered." 
 
 Gerald rose, but was conscious of a strange reluctance to 
 go. Something about this sad-faced, white-haired Sister of 
 Mercy cast a kind of spell over him. He knew that he had 
 never seen her before, and yet it seemed to him as if he had 
 not only seen her, but known her very well. He attributed 
 this peculiar feeling to the influence, subtle and not to be 
 described, exercised by her sacred calling, and the patient sad- 
 ness and gentleness of her voice and manner. For the sake of 
 saying something, an excuse for lingering, he said: 
 
 " Can you tell me the way to Arundel House?" 
 
 She raised her eyes to his, with a half-startled questioning, 
 and her lips moved for a moment or two without speech. 
 She told him. 
 
 " Are you going there?" she asked. " You have friends 
 there?"
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 30? 
 
 '' Yes," said Gerald. ' I am going to see a young lady 
 named Harling." 
 
 She repeated the name, then sunk into the chair beside the 
 couch, with her head bent and her hands clasped together. 
 Gerald was alarmed, and thought that she was ill. 
 
 He went round to her and bent over her. 
 
 " Are you ill?" he asked. " This has upset you. Can I 
 get you a glass of water?" 
 
 She rose, but looked so fragile, so tremulous, and likely to 
 fall, that Gerald ventured to put his hand upon her arm sup- 
 portingly. She trembled still more, and looked into his face 
 with a half-fearful, half-yearning expression in her eyes. 
 
 " It's all right," said Gerald in his cheery way, and yet 
 with a tenderness and gentleness which brought the tears to 
 her eyes. " There's no need to be troubled about him; the 
 little fellow is all right. Sit down and rest; I'll send the 
 nurse to you." 
 
 She had, perhaps unconsciously, put her hand upon his. 
 She drew it away now, and turned her head aside so that the 
 veil hid her face. 
 
 " No, no!" she said. " I am all right. Do not send for 
 her; I would rather be alone." 
 
 Gerald's hand lingered on her arm for a moment or two. 
 He also was agitated. 
 
 " I will come again," he said, and slowly left the room. 
 
 When he had gone, Sister Agnes covered her white face 
 with her hand. 
 
 " What is it?" she moaned to herself. " The voice, the 
 face, seemed to go to my heart! Why did I not ask him his 
 name? And he is going to see some people of the name of 
 Harling. Oh, I am in deep waters, deep waters!" Her lips 
 moved in silent prayer for a moment or two, but when the 
 nurse re-entered, Sister Agues was as calm and placid 
 though paler than usual perhaps as was her wont. 
 
 Gerald went to the hotel and got some dinner. All 
 through the meal his meeting with Sister Agnes haunted and 
 troubled him; and when he went to sleep, he dreamed that 
 she was standing beside the bed, and was bending over him 
 with a look on her face which one sees in the pictured faces 
 of the saintp. 
 
 After breakfast, the next morning, ne made his way to 
 Arundel House. The street was full of children, for it was 
 Saturday, and a holiday, and Gerald, who was fond of chil- 
 dren, looked at them as he threaded his way through the
 
 308 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 groups, with a pleasant smile. He was told that Miss Har- 
 liug was in. 
 
 " At least, I think she is, sir," said the servant. " If you'll 
 come upstairs." She opened the drawing-room door, and Ger- 
 ald entered. A lady was sitting with her back to the light. 
 She was reading, and did not look np for the moment, and 
 Gerald went toward her with " Miss Grace!" on his lips, then 
 he stopped dead short, as if he had been shot. 
 
 The lady looked up, uttered an exclamation, and so the;. 
 stared at each other for the space of a second, in breathless 
 silence. Gerald was the first to speak. 
 
 " Claire Miss Sartoris!" he exclaimed, as if he could not 
 believe that she was really there, within a few paces of him; 
 and, indeed, he could not. 
 
 The book dropped from Claire's lap as she rose. All the 
 color had fled from her face, and her lips were tightly com- 
 pressed, as if her heart were throbbing painfully. 
 
 " Mr. Wayre!" she said. The sight of her agitation 
 increased his. 
 
 " You here, Miss Sartoris!" he said. " How is this?" 
 
 Claire was making a tremendous effort to regain her self- 
 possession. The sight of him set every nerve in her body 
 thrilling, as the strings of a harp thrill to the touch of a 
 familiar hand. 
 
 " Why should I not be here, Mr. Wayre?" she said, trying 
 to speak coldly. Her manner aroused Gerald's spirit. After 
 all, he had endured a great deal at her hands, and even a worm 
 will turn if you tread on it too hard. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris," he said, " you speak to me, you look at 
 me even at this moment of surprise, when we meet, to our 
 mutual astonishment as if I had committed some capital 
 crime, or offended you beyond hope of pardon!" 
 
 Claire bit her lip. " You did not come to see me?" she 
 
 " No," he said, almost sternly; " I came to see Miss Har- 
 ling." 
 
 " She is a friend of mine; I am staying with her. I will 
 go and fetch her." 
 
 " One moment, if you please, Miss Sartoris!" said Gerald, 
 rather gravely. " I am aware that I have no right to ask 
 the question, hut well, I flattered myself that you once hon- 
 ored me with your friendship, and I will, therefore, venture to 
 ask you why you have left the Court, concealed your address, 
 and caused your friends I am thinking of others besides 
 myself great anxiety?"
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 80S 
 
 Claire looked down, bat made no reply. 
 
 " Very well," he said, " I take your silence as an intima- 
 tion that it is no business of mine; but, Miss Sartoris, I have 
 now to ask you a question which I deem I have a right to 
 
 Claire began to tremble. And yet how sweet to her was 
 the voice, stern, and almost angry, as it was! 
 
 ' The last time I saw you I had the audacity to tell you 
 that I loved you." 
 
 The color rose to Claire's face, and her eyes began to glow 
 under her lids. 
 
 "It was an audacity, I admit, and very likely you only 
 treated me as I deserved to be treated." 
 
 Claire's lips parted, as if she were about to speak, but she 
 remained silent. 
 
 " You dismissed me very promptly, very haughtily. As I 
 said, I have no right to complain of that, but I do complain 
 of your after treatment of me, and 1 am so loath to believe 
 that it was inspired by a pride quite unworthy of you that 1 
 feel that it is only just to you to give you an opportunity of 
 telling me why you have treated me so cruelly. What have I 
 done beyond daring to love you that merits such treat- 
 ment?" 
 
 He had poured all this out in a kind of " stand and 
 deliver " way, but it was evident that he was deeply agitated 
 by her presence, by the sight of the lovely face which was 
 never out of his dreams. 
 
 Claire went very pale. " I do not deny that right, Mr. 
 Way re," she said, " and if you insist upon an answer, I will 
 tell you why my our friendship should cease." 
 
 " Tell me, please!" said Gerald, curtly. 
 
 " In one word, then," said Claire, almost inaudibly: 
 " What has become of Lucy Hawker?" 
 
 Though he had half expected this, Gerald was staggered. 
 You you believed it, then?" he said. He was silent for a 
 moment, fighting with his indignation; then he said, with a 
 forced calm: "You believed that I was guilty? Well!" he 
 laughed bitterly, "after all, it's not so wonderful! The 
 evidence was very strong; I left the place the same day and 
 yet surely there must have been some doubt in your mind! 
 Couldn't you, in common charity, have given me the benefit 
 of that doubt?" 
 
 The appeal went straight to Claire's heart, but she tned to 
 steel herself. " I saw you with her in the park the night 
 you you left me!" she said, slowly, painfully.
 
 310 THE MISTBESS OF COT7RT REGtfA. 
 
 Gerald stared at her. " Well! I do not care! The girl 
 came up to me, mistaking me for some one else; she was in 
 trouble. I comforted her, as I would comfort and console 
 any helpless woman, child, dog what you will!" Then his 
 eyes flashed and his face grew crimson. " Good heavensl 
 Did you think me capable of uttering words of love to you ons 
 moment, and and intriguing with a village girl the very 
 next? Why, no one in this wide world could be such a 
 monster of treachery and deceit!" 
 
 Claire had believed it; but now she believed it no longer. 
 There was truth in his voice, in his flashing eyes. A hot 
 wave of shame, remorse, self-loathing, swept over her. Oh, 
 if she had but seen him before! Why had she not sent for 
 him? Why had she not But what was the use of asking 
 foolish questions now? There he stood, a strong man, filled 
 with just wrath and indignation, and she was a cowering, 
 remorseful woman, aching with love, and the desire of for- 
 giveness. She longed to throw herself into his arms, to sink 
 at his feet, to plead for one look, one word of the old love she 
 had cast away for pride's sake; but she felt powerless to move, 
 and no word would pass her lips. 
 
 And Gerald, half blinded by his anger and misery, did not 
 understand what was passing through her heart. " Very 
 well!" he said. " You have answered me, Miss Sartoris. It 
 only remains for me to tell you that you have still some 
 justification for your suspicions, but " At this moment the 
 door opened, and Grace ran in. 
 
 " Whatever is the matter?'' she began; and then, at sight 
 of Gerald, she stopped and looked from one to the other with 
 an intense questioning. Then she said; "You know him? 
 You are friends?" 
 
 " No, Miss Grace!" broke out Gerald. " We were friends, 
 but Miss Sartoris has withdrawn her friendship. My meeting 
 with her here is quite unexpected. I came to see you. I will 
 come again. Miss Sartoris y> he turned to Claire " I will 
 only add one word to what 1 have already said. I left Eegna 
 on that day in one of the coasting vessels the ' Susan. ' She 
 is on a voyage now, but she may return any day. The hour 
 she sails into Regna harbor my innocence of the dastardly 
 crime of which you have deemed me guilty, will be clearly 
 proved. Good-day!" 
 
 He strode from the room, leaving the two girlo standing 
 there like two leaves round which a storm has been sweeping, 
 There was silence for a minute or two, then Grace crept up to
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 311 
 
 Claim and putting her hands on Claire's shoulders, looked up 
 into her face. 
 
 " Claire!" she whispered. " It is you you he loves!" 
 There was a pause as her eyes dwelt on Claire's searchingly; 
 then she added: " And you love Mm!" 
 
 "Yes," said Claire, wofully. " I I love him and I 
 have lost him!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 GERALD went away from Arundel House fuming. At sight 
 of Claire his love for her rose flame-like, and devoured him. 
 That she should have thought him guilty of such hideous 
 treachery and deceit that she should have doubted the sin- 
 cerity of his love for her, and deemed him capable of bestow- 
 ing a thought upon another woman, drove him mad. 
 
 " I've seen her for the last time!" he said to himself; and 
 then he groaned; for, oh, how he loved her! How beautiful, 
 how queenly* and yet how sweet she was! 
 
 He loved' her better, more passionately than ever. Well, 
 he'd go away. Directly he had solved the mystery of Lucy's 
 disappearance he would leave England, and never come back 
 to it. 
 
 He was so agitated and bewildered that he did not ask him- 
 self why Claire was living in London, and why she had con- 
 cealed her address; and he walked about the pretty streets and 
 commons of Streatham like a man half demented. 
 
 After awhile he remembered the injured lad and his promise 
 to go and see him. He went round to the village hospital, 
 and found the boy very much better. While he was sitting 
 beside him and talking to him in that way that children love, 
 Sister Agnes came in. She looked very pale, and even sadder 
 than she had done the day before, and she stopped short when 
 she saw him, as if his presence startled her. Gerald felt again 
 the peculiar sensation the indefinable interest which had 
 been aroused when first he saw her. 
 
 " You have come," she said. " He is very much better; 
 he has been talking of you, and been wishing to thank you." 
 
 She bent over the child and kissed him, then sunk into the 
 chair on the opposite side of the bed to Gerald. They talked 
 for some few minutes, as much to the boy as to each other, 
 and presently the lad fell asleep, lulled, perhaps, by the 
 sister's softly placid voice. Suddenly, yet gently, Sister 
 Agnes said: 
 
 " You are looking ill this morning; are you ulr
 
 312 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGNA. 
 
 Gerald was rather startled by the question, gently as it 
 put 
 
 " No," he said; then an impulse, a man's craving for i 
 woman's sympathy, took possession of him. " No, I'm not 
 ill; bat I am in trouble." 
 
 <: I am sorry!" she murmured in a low voice. " I wish I 
 wih that I could help you. Do not deem me presumptuous. 
 The weakest and most insignificant of us can help some- 
 limes the strongest and most self-reliant." 
 
 " Well," he said, with a miserable little laugh, " I've just 
 quarreled with the woman I love. I'm afraid that you will 
 think that a trifling kind of trouble; but it's a very big one to 
 me, and is almost unendurable. What is it the poet says? 
 * To be wroth with those we love doth work like madness in 
 the brain.' I don't know whether I've got it quite correctly, 
 but it just expresses what I feel." 
 
 " Perhaps you will make it up and * be friends ' again," 
 she said, softly, and with a deep interest in her voice and eyes. 
 
 Gerald shook his head and sighed. 
 
 " I'm afraid not," he said. " I'm afraid I've seen her for 
 the last time. I shall leave England very soon, and I don't 
 know why I tell you this, Sister Agues, but somehow I feel aa 
 if as if we were not strangers, as if we had known each other 
 for a long time. 
 
 She bent her head. 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say that," she said, almost 
 inaudibly. " I wish I could help you." 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 " Thank you thank you! But no one can help me, I'm 
 afraid. It's just a piece of bad luck." 
 
 " There is no such thing as luck, chance," she murmured. 
 " * There is a Divinity doth shape our ends, rough-hew them 
 how we will.' We are all in the hands of a ruling Providence 
 who guides our weak and blundering steps to the appointed 
 end." 
 
 " Mine have been weak and blundering enough," he said. 
 e< I'm a kind of waif and stray one of those straws that get 
 blown about the world by every puff of wind." 
 
 " You speak as if you were alone in the world," she said, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " I am," said Gerald, rather sadly. " I haven't a relation 
 that I know of " 
 
 " Your father mother?" she asked, with head still bent, 
 and face hidden from him by her veil. 
 
 ** Both lead. I never knew them. I should havf been a
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 813 
 
 better man and a happier if my mother had been left to 
 me. I've never heard a chum speak of his mother without 
 feeling a pang of envy. But I'm boring you, sister. This 
 little chap sleeps soundly, doesn't he?" 
 
 As he spoke, he smoothed the sheet under the pointed little 
 chin. In doing so he let his hand linger on the bed; it hap- 
 pened to be the left, and the ring he wore the ring Claire 
 had found for him in the room of the west wing shone con- 
 spicuously against the whiteness of the counterpane. The sis- 
 ter's eyes rested on it absently enough for a moment; then 
 suddenly she bent forward, gazing at the ring as if spell- 
 bound. 
 
 " That that is a handsome ring you wear," she said. 
 " Will will you let me look at it?" 
 
 "Certainly!" said Gerald; and he took it off and held it 
 out to her. She took it after a moment, and examined it. 
 He could not see her face, or its pallor would have alarmed 
 him. 
 
 " Have you had where did you get it? Forgive me; 
 but " she broke off, as if she could not frame the question. 
 
 " The ring? I've had it ever since I was a boy," he said, 
 easily. 
 
 " To whom did it belong?" she asked in a subdued voice. 
 
 " To my father or mother; I don't know which. The 
 people who took charge of me gave it to me, and, strange to 
 say, I have kept it through all my wanderings and vicissitudes. 
 I have been hard up times out of number, but I never could 
 bring myself to part with it. It was a kind of link with the 
 pastthe only link, for the rest of the chain has disap- 
 peared." 
 
 She laid the ring on the bed, her face still averted. 
 
 " You speak as if as if there were some mystery about 
 about your birth," she said, with calm, almost monotonous 
 voice. 
 
 " There is," he said. " I'm afraid it is a very common- 
 place one," he added, as he slipped the ring on his finger and 
 turned it over thoughtfully. 
 
 " Will you tell me your name? I do Dot know it yet the 
 boy asked me I could not tell him." 
 
 " Gerald Wayre," he said. 
 
 She neither moved nor spoke, and yet Gerald felt as iJ 
 answer had in some way affected her; perhaps because of her 
 
 " Well, I must be going," he said. " I am glad the little 
 fellow is all right, and and 1 am glad to have met you,
 
 314 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 sister. Perhaps " his voice grew softer and full of a certain 
 reverence " perhaps we shall meet again." 
 
 " Yes," she said in a strangely unemotional voice. " Will 
 you tell me where you are going?" 
 
 " I am going back into the country to a place called 
 Regna." She rose, then sunk down again, and her hands 
 clasped each other spasmodically. 
 
 " I shall go to-morrow night, I think. But I am not 
 going to remain there. I shall leave England presently. I've 
 nothing to stay for now. Good-bye, Sister Agnes." 
 
 She did not rise, but stretched out her thin hand, and he 
 took it and held it. He could not see her face, but he fancied 
 that her hand trembled, and he felt vaguely troubled and 
 moved, and he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it 
 reverently. Her lips parted with a deep sigh; she raised her 
 eyes for a moment and looked at him; then, with a faint 
 " Good-bye," bent her head, and so hid her face under the veil. 
 
 " The ring his ring!" she murmured, hoarsely, as he left 
 the room. "The name, my name! and Regna! Oh, God! 
 deal mercifully with me! If the hope that has arisen within 
 my heart is more than a baseless dream, give me strength to 
 bear my great joy!" she prayed. 
 
 Gerald felt all the better for his interview with Sister Agnes, 
 and in a calmer state of mind went round to Arundel House 
 the next morning. He asked for Miss Harling, but, in his 
 innermost heart, he hoped to see Claire, of course, and he was 
 considerably staggered when the maid said: 
 
 " Miss Harling's out of town, sir." 
 
 " Out of town?" echoed Gerald, almost incredulously. Was 
 it possible that she declined to see him? he asked himself 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Yes, sir; she'd a letter from her father directly after you 
 were here yesterday, and went off early this mornm*. Is 
 there any message?" 
 
 Gerald shook his head, and went back to the hotel in a state 
 of mind more easily imagined than described. Then he went 
 up to London to catch the night mail for Downshire. 
 
 The letter that had arrived for Grace had surprised her, 
 accustomed as she was to her father's erratic movements. In 
 effect it said: 
 
 " Come down by the eleven o'clock train from Waterloo to 
 Yeoford, and bring Miss Sartoris with you. I have a special 
 and important reason for wishing her to accompany you. I 
 will meet you at Yeoford,"
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 31fl 
 
 Claire was at Arundel House when this rather peremptory 
 epistle arrived, and she had at first said that it was impossible 
 she should go; but Grace had declared that she could not, and 
 would not, go without her, and had herself gone round to 
 Miss Gover, and begged for a holiday for Claire. It was not 
 difficult to get, for Miss Gover knew that the change would do 
 Claire good, and was able to fill her place with a pupil teacher. 
 Sister Agnes, too, helped to persuade Claire. 
 
 " You will not be gone long, my child," she said, " and 
 you will come back strengthened for your work." 
 
 So, at last, Claire yielded, and the two girls started. Grace 
 was not in the best of spirits, and Claire was very quiet and 
 thoughtful. She was running away from London perhaps 
 from her only chance of seeing Gerald again. She and Grace 
 had said very little about him beyond those few words which 
 Grace had uttered after Gerald had left the room, but she had 
 told Claire of the way in which Gerald had saved her life, and 
 Claire had listened with downcast eyes and rather tremulous 
 lips. 
 
 She was thinking of him when the train reached Yeoford, 
 and almost started when Grace said: 
 
 " Claire, I wonder why my father has sent for us where 
 we are going, and why he so specially wanted you?" 
 
 " From sheer kindness," said Claire. 
 
 Grace shook her head. 
 
 " Of course; 1 know that he would be glad to have you 
 come with us. But don't you remember what he said in his 
 note about a special and important reason?" 
 
 Claire smiled. 
 
 " His special and important reason lies in his desire to give 
 me a pleasant change, Grace," she said. " What other 
 reason coald he have?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Grace, thoughtfully. "But I soon 
 shall," she added. 
 
 Claire looked out of the window dreamily. How long ago 
 it seemed since she had fled from the Court, homeless and 
 well-nigh penniless! How often she had traveled on the same 
 line, the heiress of Court Regna. And now she was just Miss 
 Sartoris, a teacher, on probation, at a national school! 
 
 At Yeoford, Grace, who was looking out eagerly, exclaimed: 
 
 " Here is father!" 
 
 Mr. Harling opened the carriage door. 
 
 " There are two portmanteaus, father," she began, as she 
 got her things together in preparation for alighting. But Mr. 
 Harling smiled, and pushed her gently back into her seat.
 
 316 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " We don't get out here, Grace. How do you do, Miss 
 Sartoris? It was very good of you to come. I have had the 
 portmanteaus relabeled " 
 
 " Not get out here? Why, where are we going, then?" 
 demanded Grace, opening her blue eyes to their widest. 
 
 Mr. Harling smiled, and looked at Claire curiously. 
 
 " Are you very anxious to know, Miss Sartoris?" 
 
 " Of course she is!" broke in Grace. " Why, ever since we 
 got your letter we have spent the time asking each other why 
 you sent for us, and where we were going. Tell us, father!" 
 
 "We are going to Thraxton if Miss Sartoris has no objec- 
 tion." 
 
 Claire colored painfully. 
 
 " To Thraxton?" she echoed. 
 
 Then she looked at him questioningly; but the old gentle- 
 man shook his head slightly, as if withholding the explana- 
 tion. 
 
 " And why Thraxton, father?" said Grace. 
 
 " Why not that as well as any other place, my dear?" he 
 retorted, quietly. 
 
 And Grace, shrugging her shoulders, subsided, remarking: 
 
 " Few girls have such a trying father as mine, Claire; 
 especially when he has any mysterious business on hand. I 
 suppose we shall have to wait until he wishes to explain. " 
 
 54 There is a nice old ruined castle at Thraxton," he said, 
 mildly, but with a twitch at the corners of his mouth. 
 
 Claire said nothing. But she felt rather mean and secretive, 
 and her embarrassment increased as they neared Thraxton. 
 
 Ought she to tell these good friends that she had been the 
 owner of the well-known Court Regna that lay just beyond the 
 place they were going to? Once or twice she almost made up 
 her mind to lean forward and tell Mr. Harling; but her reso- 
 lution could not be brought to the sticking point. 
 
 When they reached the station, Mr. Harling helped them 
 out, and offered his arm to Claire. 
 
 " I have a carriage waiting," he said, quietly; and he led 
 them to a pair-horse barouche, the best the best hotel could 
 turn out. 
 
 " Where are yon going, father?" demanded Grace, rather 
 pettishly. " We seem to be driving right through the town." 
 
 " We are," said Mr. Harling. " Lean back, and let me 
 cover you up with the rug. We are going to a place called 
 Regna " 
 
 Claire could not repress a startled exclamation.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 817 
 
 " To Regna?" she said. " Mr. Harling, I Oh! why 
 did I come?" And her face flushed, and grew pale by turns'. 
 
 " Because you were kind enough to trust one who desires 
 with all his heart to be a friend, my dear," he said, impres- 
 sively. " I knew that if I wrote that we were going to Regna, 
 you well, that you would not come." 
 
 1 No!" sail Claire. " I I Oh! if you knew!" 
 
 " Perhaps I do know/' he said, soothiugly. " Perhaps I 
 know more about it than even you do, my dear." 
 
 'That that I once lived at the Court?" said Claire, 
 amazed. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " And why you left it. " 
 
 They had been speaking in tones too low to reach Grace. 
 But Claire's exclamation as she heard his words attracted 
 Grace's attention, and he touched Claire's hand warningly. 
 
 " Will you trust me a little longer, Miss Sartoris?" he said. 
 " I will promise that, though you may see cause for surprise 
 and even doubt, that I will do nothing indiscreet or prejudicial 
 to your interests. I have a reason for asking you to accom- 
 pany me to the Court " 
 
 " The Court? Oh, I can not go there! Indeed, I can not 
 go there!" 
 
 " It is too late," said Mr. Harling, with kindly decision. 
 " We are passing in at the gates now. Be calm, my dear; you 
 have, I hope, I may say, a friend with you who will protect, 
 and, please God, right you." 
 
 Claire sunk back, very pale now, and trying hard to be 
 calm and self-possessed. The whole business was at present 
 a mystery to her. Her mind was confused by her unexpected 
 presence at the Court the Court of which she was no longer 
 mistress and Mr. Harling's evident acquaintance with her 
 loss. And what memories not only her lost wealth and 
 station but of Gerald the familiar drive awakened! 
 
 She trembled so much as the carriage drew up and Mr. 
 Harling helped her out, that he stopped for a moment and 
 patted her hand encouragingly. 
 
 " What! Where are we, father?" exclaimed Grace, staring 
 at the house, and then at them. 
 
 " At Court Regna Miss Sartoris's house, my dear," he 
 replied. 
 
 " No, no!" exclaimed Claire, breathlessly. " Let me 
 explain. Oh, I can not go in!" 
 
 For Mr. Harling had led her into the hall, and the butler 
 was coming forward with surprise and pleasure fighting for 
 mastery in his face.
 
 318 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 " Oh, I we didn't know you were coming home, miss!" 
 he gaid. " I'm afraid the rooms But I'll send for the 
 housekeeper!" 
 
 " I am not going to stay," began Claire, almost too con- 
 fused to speak, and not a little moved by the man's evident 
 joy at her return. But Mr. Harling pressed her arm. 
 
 " I think you will stay," he said in a low tone. 
 
 Meanwhile, Grace had looked about her with mingled aston- 
 ishment and admiration. In the course of the talk which had 
 naturally followed on Grace's discovery that Gerald was 
 Claire's lover, Grace had learned something of Claire's story; 
 but she had not imagined that the house which Claire had lost 
 was so large and imposing. 
 
 " And this was yours, dear?" she exclaimed, under her 
 breath. "Oh! how could you bear to lose it? And why has 
 father brought us here? I wish he would tell us. But that 
 is the worst of him; he can be as secretive as a jackdaw when 
 he likes! I am simply burning with curiosity and trembling 
 with excitement." 
 
 She whispered this as the butler led them to the small 
 drawing-room, and quickly lighted the candles. " I will have 
 the fire lighted immediately, miss, and send a maid to you " 
 
 " No, no!" said Claire, quickly and decisively. " I am not 
 going to remain!" 
 
 As she spoke, they heard a step shuffle across the hall, and 
 old Sapley entered. 
 
 " Who is this?" he demanded in his harsh voice, and peer- 
 ing across the dimly lighted room. " Who is it?" 
 
 Mr. Harling stepped forward. 
 
 "It is Miss Sartoris, Mr. Sapley. Miss Sartoris and her 
 friend, my daughter." 
 
 Old Sapley stopped dead short and stared, and his sharp 
 eyes turned from one to the other with a surprised gleam in 
 them. 
 
 "Mr. Mordaunt!" he said to the butler. "Mr. Mor- 
 daunt; he is in the library." Then he turned to Claire. 
 " Glad to see you, Miss Sartoris. You have come back to 
 make some proposal, I suppose? Or just come to look at the 
 old place, eh? Very pleased to see you. And your young 
 lady friend. Take a chair." 
 
 But Claire still stood, looking straight before her, her face 
 pale, her brows knit. Why, she was asking herself, had these 
 kind friends subjected her to this humiliation? 
 
 The door opened, and Mordaunt entered. Even at that 
 moment Claire was startled by the look of his face; it had the
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 319 
 
 expression which was like the shadow of despair, as if he had 
 a presentiment that his luck was changing. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris!" he exclaimed, with a forced smile of wel- 
 come. " This is a pleasant surprise! When did you arrive? 
 Why did you not let us know? Your rooms are" being pre- 
 pared for you and your friends/' He glanced irom one to 
 the other with a simulation of pleasant welcome. 
 
 Claire raised her eyes. 
 
 " I came unexpectedly, unwillingly, Mr. Mordaunt/' she 
 said. " I shall not stay " 
 
 " Oh! but, indeed " he murmured. 
 
 But his father interrupted him with a harsh laugh. 
 
 " What's all this mean?" he exclaimed, sardonically. 
 " There's some meaning in it some trick or other! What- 
 ever it is, out with it! Miss Sartoris might have been wel- 
 come enough a little while ago, when we offered to make 
 terms. But things have altered. Court Regna is hers no 
 longer " 
 
 " Pardon me,'* said Mr. Harling, smoothly. " That is a 
 strange mistake for you a lawyer to make, Mr. Sapley. 
 Let me remind you that the notice of foreclosure has not ex- 
 pired yet, and that Miss Sartoris is in her own house, is sole 
 mistress of Court Regna!" 
 
 " No, no!" murmured Claire, painfully. " Let us go. 
 Please let us go! I surrendered it long ago to Mr. Sapley.'* 
 
 " I beg of you to be silent to leave this to me, my dear!" 
 said Mr. Harling, quickly, but gently. Then he turned to the 
 old man. 
 
 " I am right, am I not?" 
 
 Old Sapley glared at him. 
 
 " Strictly speaking, yes," he said, with a snarl. " But 
 Miss Sartoris gave up " 
 
 " Have you any deed of surrender? No? Miss Sartoris is 
 a woman, and was helpless and friendless. She is friendless 
 no longer. I have I admit, without her knowledge taken, 
 upon myself the honor of acting as her friend and adviser. 
 And I say she has a perfect right to occupy her own house." 
 
 " Certainly!" exclaimed Mordaunt. " And my father and 
 I are delighted that she elects to do so. We have been living 
 here because we thought it better that the place should not be 
 left to care-takers " 
 
 " Silence!" said old Sapley. " All this is flummery and 
 nonsense! What is the use of her coming here and playing 
 the mistress, when she knows that she will have to turn out 
 in a few weeks?"
 
 S20 THE MISTRESS OF COURT EEGNA. 
 
 " Why?" demanded Mr. Harling, smoothly. 
 
 " Why?" croaked old Sapley. " Why? You know well 
 enough, Mr. Mr. Harling! She can't pay off the mortgage, 
 and she is bound to go!'* 
 
 " Pardon me!" said Mr. Harling. " Miss Sartoris is pre- 
 pared to pay off the mortgage!" 
 
 " What!" old Sapley gasped, and his eyes started. Then 
 he laughed scornfully. " Tell that to the marines!" he said. 
 " Pay off!" he laughed derisively. 
 
 But Mordaunt had been watching Mr. Harling closely, and 
 began to suspect the truth. 
 
 It would be better to tell it to your solicitor, unless you 
 are acting for yourself which is unusual, isn't it, Mr. Sapley? 
 However, I beg to give you notice that Miss Sartoris is ready 
 to meet your claims at any moment you are prepared to 
 establish them. There is the formal notice " he placed a 
 paper on the table near him " and there is a letter from the 
 London and Westminster Bank, stating that they will honor 
 her check to the amount demanded, or a much larger one!" 
 and he laid the letter beside the paper. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 OLD Sapley darted at them. But when he had got them in 
 his claws, he looked at them as if he had lost the power of 
 reading. His sallow face went livid, and his mouth opened 
 and shut. Then he uttered a cry a cry so full of the agony 
 of disappointment and dismay that Claire could almost have 
 found it possible to pity him. 
 
 As he staggered and clutched at the table, Mordaunt went 
 up to him, and took the letters from his hand, read them 
 carefully, and then, addressing Mr. Hading, caid : 
 
 " I understand!" his voice was scarcely audible, and hib 
 words came with a labored slowness " I understand!" 
 
 He turned to Claire, who stood regarding Mr. Harling with 
 blank astonishment. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris, you have won you have beaten us!" He 
 shrugged his shoulders, and a smile twisted his thin lips. 
 '* Well, it is the fortune of war. We were the victors when 
 last we met; we are now the vanquished. Mr. Harling is 
 right you are still mistress of Court Eegna, and we " his 
 face reddened with humiliation and rage " we are inter- 
 lopers! We will leave the house at once. Come, father!" 
 He laid his hand on the old man's shoulder. 
 
 Old Sapley raised his head slowly, and looked up at him
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT RECrtfA. 321 
 
 vrith a dazed, uncomprehending stare. Then an expression 
 of cunning self-satisfaction stole over his livid face, and he 
 chuckled. 
 
 " Master of the Court eh, Mordy?" he mumbled. " Mine 
 at last at last! This is a proud day for us, Mordy. Mor- 
 daunt Sapley, Esquire, M. P., member for West Downshire. 
 Mordaunt Sapley, Esquire, of Court Regna!" 
 
 They listened to and looked at him with a slowly growing 
 apprehension and horror. Did he fail to realize it, or liad the 
 shock of the disappointment driven him mad? 
 
 " What's she waiting for, Mordy?" he demanded, croak- 
 ingly, and pointing a shaking finger at Claire. " Why don't 
 you tell her to go! Let her go, Mordy! She's a nobody, and 
 not fit for you! You'll marry a title now, Mordy " 
 
 Mordaunt took the old man's arm, and almost raised him 
 by force. 
 
 " Come away!" he said, harshly. 
 
 Claire moved forward a step or two. 
 
 " No, no!" she said, pitifully. " Let him stay" 
 
 But Mordaunt swung round on her like a wolf driven to bay. 
 
 " What!" he said, showing his teeth, and glaring at her. 
 " Accept your hospitality! We have not sunk so low as that, 
 Miss Sartoris! I would rather die than remain beneath this 
 roo f now that it is yours! Reserve your pity for those that 
 need it! We are no longer your servants your servants!" 
 He laughed defiantly. " We treat with you as equals. We 
 leave the place at once. Come, father!" And, putting his 
 father's arm within his own, he almost dragged him from the 
 room. 
 
 As they went into the hall a further humiliation awaited 
 them. Servants know everything that happens to their mas- 
 ters and mistresses almost as soon as they themselves. Per- 
 haps some one had been listening outside the door old Sapley 
 had spoken loud enough to be overheard anyway, the hall 
 was full of servants, and they stood and stared superciliously 
 at the father and son as they came out of the drawing-room. 
 
 Mordaunt glared at them. 
 
 " My father's coat and hat!" he said, fiercely. " Order a 
 carriage! D n you! why do you stand and stare and 
 
 0' ' 
 
 *' Oh we'll be quick, Mr. Mordaunt," said the butler, 
 etung into retaliation. " It's the first order of yours we've 
 executed willingly. Mr. Sapley's tog?.. James, and look 
 sharp!" 
 
 n
 
 322 THE MISTRESS OF COUKT REGNA. 
 
 Mordaunt snatched them from the footman, and put them 
 on the shaking, shrunken figure. 
 
 " Where are we going, Mordy? I don't want to goF 
 whimpered old Sapley. 
 
 " Hold your tongue!" snarled Mordaunt. 
 
 The servants melted away from the hall, and presently, in 
 an incredibly short time, indeed, the carriage came up to the 
 door, and Mordaunt almost carried his father to it. As the 
 porter closed the door he heard a sharp cry a wail of disap- 
 pointment and despair from the old man. 
 
 The three left in the drawing-room looked at each other in 
 silence for a moment or two; then Claire went up to Mr. 
 Harling. 
 
 " Ob, I can't understand it realize it all yet!" she said, 
 her voice trembling with emotion. "Is it true? Have you 
 paid all this money for me? But I can not take it! You 
 must know that I am very, very grateful! It seems wonder- 
 ful, incredible, that any one could be so generous! But, oh, I 
 could not take it! You must not ask me!" 
 
 Mr. Harling took both her hands and led her to a chair. 
 
 " My dear," he said, gently, as a father speaks to his 
 daughter, " you shall tell me all this to-morrow, after you 
 have rested and realized the change that has come over your 
 fortunes. And let me assure you that you will pain me very 
 much, very much indeed, if you allow your pride to rob me 
 of the greatest satisfaction my money has hitherto afforded 
 me. You are too kind-hearted to do that isn't she, Grace?" 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed Grace; " and too sensible. My dear 
 Claire, you don't know my father yet, or you'd know that 
 when he has made up his mind to do a thing, not all the 
 women in the world would prevent him. Besides father, I 
 must say it! he is so disgustingly rich that I suppose this 
 money is a mere nothing " 
 
 "Hush, hush! my dear," pleaded the old man, as if h 
 were ashamed. " It won't quite ruin us, my dear Miss Sar- 
 toris. And, to tell you the plain truth, and to make a clean 
 breast of it, I've done what I've done to further my own ends; 
 and you'd better wait to learn what they are before you utter 
 a word of gratitude. Gratitude! It's I who ought to be grateful, 
 as you'll discover presently. And now we won't say a word 
 more about it to-night, at any rate. Just forget that you 
 ever left the Court, and try and persuade yourself that we are 
 your guests for a day or two as we will be, if you will have 
 us. Oh, dear! It sounds very rude, but I am tremendously 
 hungry!"
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGUTA. 383 
 
 Almost as he spoke, the butler appeared. 
 
 " Dinner will be served in an hour, miss," he said, as 
 gravely and in as matter-of-fact a tone as if Claire had never 
 been absent. " Your rooms are ready, sir." 
 
 It was a strange meal, that dinner. They were almost too 
 excited to eat; and yet the servants, by their manner, were 
 evidently trying to carry out Mr. Harling's idea, and persuade 
 Claire that she had never for an hour ceased to be the mis- 
 tress of the Court. That there were rejoicings in the servants' 
 hall at the sudden change of affairs was demonstrated by the 
 buzz of excitement which now and again rose from that 
 locality; and at intervals the staid butler permitted his 
 unbounded satisfaction with Claire's return to display itself 
 in his countenance. 
 
 The three sat and talked late into the night, but Mr. Har- 
 ling would not permit his coup de thedtre, his beautiful little 
 plot for the destruction of the Sapleys, to be discussed. He 
 would talk of anything but that and Gerald. It is scarcely 
 necessary to say that he was carefully avoided. 
 
 At last Mr. Harling insisted upon their going to bed; but 
 even when they went upstairs, the two girls found themselves 
 in one room and still eager to talk. 
 
 " Oh, Claire, I don't know whether I am on my head or 
 my heels!" said Grace, sinking at Claire's feet on the thick, 
 fleecy rug before the fire, and leaning her arms upon Claire's 
 knees. " And yet it seems so perfectly right and fitting that 
 you should be queening it here. You look the mistress of this 
 place, vast and grand as it is. And to-morrow you are going 
 to show me how much vaster and grander it is than even I 
 imagine it, aren't you? Well, it makes me happy to think 
 of it. And you, Claire, dear; 1 should like to know exactly 
 how you feel." 
 
 Claire laid her hand on the golden head. 
 
 " I am too bewildered to feel anything but gratitude " 
 
 " You are not to s|)eak of that!" broke in Grace, quickly. 
 
 ' Are you happy, quite? No!" she looked up at Claire 
 
 aearchingly, "not quite! Ah! I know, dearr' and she 
 
 sighed. " You are thinking of Mm !" The color rose to her 
 
 face, and she looked aside. " Claire, what will you do?" 
 
 " What can I do?" murmured Claire. " Ah, what can 
 I do?" 
 
 " You have been very wicked," said Grace. ' You have 
 wronged the noblest, truest, best of men." Her breath came 
 fast, too fast for her words. Claire looked down at her, 
 
 " Grace 1" she whispered.
 
 334 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REG1U. 
 
 Grace flushed to her white neck. 
 
 " Yes, dear!" she said, answering the question put in that 
 one word. " Yes, it is true. I I loved him. Wait! 
 Listen! Do not misunderstand! I said ' loved.' I loved 
 him with all my heart; I would have given all the world if he 
 could have loved me, but but I knew he could not, even 
 before I knew that his heart was given to you, and and I 
 have fought with my love for him until I have torn it out of 
 my heart. And yet there is love for him there still a sister's 
 love, Claire. There is nothing I would not do for Gerald 
 Wayre. I could die for him as he was ready to die for me I 
 would go to the end of the earth, just to win an hour's hap- 
 piness with him. Oh, how am I to make you understand?" 
 
 Claire bent down and kissed her. 
 
 " You are more worthy of him than I am, Grace!" she 
 said, almost with a moan. " You have never wronged him, 
 misjudged him. While I! Oh, I ache and burn with shame 
 when I think of the way I have treated him. No wonder that 
 he paid me back with scorn and contempt." 
 
 *' Not that, dear," said Grace, quietly. 
 
 "Yes, yes, and a hundred times yes!" said Claire, scorn- 
 fully; " and it was only what I deserved. I I could almost 
 wish that he had struck me the other day I could have 
 borne a blow better than the look in his eyes, the words which 
 keep ringing in my ears and torturing me!" 
 
 Would you do anything to win his forgiveness?" 
 
 " Anything!*' echoed Claire, passionately. " Is there any- 
 thing I would not do? Think of the extent of the wrong I 
 did him! And and he was poor and I was rich then! And 
 he must have thought that I treated him that I was proud 
 of my money. Oh, Grace, Grace, when I think of it all, I 
 feel as if I should go mad!" 
 
 "You are rich still; he is poor still," whispered Grace. 
 " Go to him, Claire." 
 
 Claire started, and the blood rose to her face with maidenly 
 shame; then she grew pale again and a light glowed in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Yes! I could go to him. But I shall never see him again. 
 I feel that. He looked it when he left me the other day." 
 
 " You must go to him before it is too late !" said Grace, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Before it is too late?" 
 
 " Yes. Oh, my dear, don't you see? He is still considered 
 guilty by some will be considered guilty until he can prove 
 his innocence. And he will be able to do that when thsi
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT IlEGNA. 3x!5 
 
 ship, the 'Polly,' the * Susan,' or whatever is its ridiculous 
 name, comes back. If you wait till then Ah, well!" 
 
 Claire held her breath. 
 
 " Oh, Grace, how I love you for thinking of that! Oh, 
 where is he?" And she began to pace the room. 
 
 Grace got a little frightened. 
 
 "In bed, where you and I ought to be!" she said; "and 
 you shall go now. I shall stay. Oh, yes, I will, for I know 
 what you will do; you will walk up and down like a tiger all 
 night, Claire. I won't leave you to-night. Let me stay with 
 you." And she put her arms lovingly around her. " Why, 
 your heart is beating like a sledge-hammer, and you are 
 shaking! Oh, dear! no wonder he loves you when you love 
 him like this!" 
 
 ******* 
 
 Gerald got down to Thraxton the next morning and walked 
 to the cottage at Regua. Although the news of Miss Sar- 
 toris's return had passed round Eegna like a flash of light- 
 ning, there was no one about to tell him, and, as he was cook- 
 ing his breakfast, he was thinking of her sadly. After 
 breakfast he would run over to the inn and ask for tidings of 
 Mr. Harling for it is scarcely necessary to say that Gerald 
 had no suspicion that Grace and Claire were in the neighbor- 
 hood. 
 
 He had made his breakfast, and was toasting a piece of 
 bread on the end of a fork, when he saw some one pass the 
 window. It was a woman's figure, but he had not time to 
 recognize it, and was turning the slice of bread, when there 
 came a knock at the door. 
 
 He got up and opened it, with the toast in his hand, and 
 almost dropped the latter in his amazement. For there stood 
 Claire. Claire, herself! 
 
 " Can you tell me if Mr. Wayre " she had begun, but 
 there she stopped, crimson and white by turns, and stood with 
 downcast eyes, speechless. 
 
 " Claire Miss Sartoris!" he said gasped, rather. " You 
 you want to see me?" 
 
 " Yes," she said, painfully catching her breath. 
 They told me that you had stayed here I I wanted to 
 know " Then her courage crept back to her. ' Yes; I 
 wanted to see you." 
 
 He held the door open wider, and driw back. 
 
 " Won't you come in?" he said. How commonplace, how 
 grotesque the familiar phrase sounded ! 
 
 She walked in, and he put a chair for her, but she did not
 
 326 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 take it, and stood before him with downcast eyes, the loveliest 
 picture he had ever gazed on. At last she raised her eyes and 
 looked at him, and the look made his heart leap within his 
 bosom and the fork to shake in his hand. 
 
 " Mr. Way re," she said, and her voice was scarcely above a 
 whisper, and, oh, so humble, so meek, " I I have come to 
 ask you to forgive me!" 
 
 Gerald stared at her, and repeated the words slowly. 
 
 " To to forgive you?" 
 
 " Yes, ab, yes! I have wronged you cruelly. No one has 
 ever been so so wickedly mistrusted and cruelly wronged. 
 J I know it now. I know how vile and baseless was my sus- 
 picion 1" She could not go on for a moment, and Gerald said, 
 stammered: 
 
 " You have heard " 
 
 " I have heard nothing but what you told me!" she said, 
 eagerly, passionately. " I knew when you spoke, at the first 
 word you uttered, that that that you were innocent. And 
 1 let you go, thinking thinking that I still suspected you!" 
 
 " You believe 1 am innocent?" he stammered. " Without 
 proof? Thank God for that! Miss Sartoris, this makes me 
 very happy!" 
 
 Claire's heart sunk at the " Miss Sartoris." 
 
 " And and you forgive me?" she faltered. 
 
 " Forgive you?" he said, earnestly. " There is nothing to 
 forgive. Rather, I ought to ask your pardon for for behav- 
 ing like a brute the other day. Yes; and I do ask your 
 pardon, Miss Sartoris, most humbly!" 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no!" she cried and yet in a whisper. " It 
 is I who behaved like like a brute!" 
 
 " No, no!" he said, eagerly. " You were right to suspect 
 me. After all, it it was only natural!" 
 
 " Natural?" she said, with a little pant. " It was un- 
 natural, and and wicked." 
 
 " Never mind," he said. " It is all over now. And you 
 came to tell me this before the ' Susan ' returned! Ah, that 
 was like you, Miss Sartoris. Thank you, thank you! I can't 
 tell you how grateful I am. I am almost a happy man 
 now. Poor Lucy! I ought to tell you that I am trying to 
 find out what became of her. But I won't bother you with 
 that. What can I say to show you how grateful I am to you 
 for condescending to come to me like this? Such goodness!" 
 
 He floundered on, his face Hushed, his hand pushing his 
 hair from his forehead in the way she loved and he did not 
 see oh, how blind is poor man where woman is concerned!
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 387 
 
 that he had only to take her in his arms, without a word just 
 take her in his arms. 
 
 " I I will go now!" she said. " I I hope that we shall 
 be friends again Mr. Wayre?" 
 
 So humble still! So full of pleading, the sweet voice! And 
 yet he did not see! 
 
 "Friends. Ah, yes, if you will let me be one!" he said, 
 gratefully. " I shall not be here long; but while I am 
 here I am glad you have come back to the Court. How 
 funny it is that you should know the Harlings! Did they tell 
 you how we met? I am painting Miss Grace's picture; when 
 I've finished that, and got to the bottom of poor Lucy 
 Hawker's case, I shall be off. You know my old love of ad- 
 venture?" 
 
 " I know," she said, almost inaudibly. " I hope you 
 will be happy I will go now. " She turned to the door. 
 He followed her, and opened it. 
 
 " To come to me like this!" he murmured, almost to him- 
 self. " It is the sweetest, the noblest thing! Oh, I can't 
 realize it!" 
 
 " Yes," said poor Claire in a whisper; " and and to 
 come for nothing!" 
 
 He looked at her her face went almost white, then flamed. 
 Down went the fork which he had unconsciously held all the 
 time, and out went his hand upon her arm. 
 
 " Miss Sartoris! Claire! Stop! You you shall not go!" 
 For, of course, she made to fly now; a woman always wants 
 to fly at the first intimation of pursuit. "No! you shall not! 
 Claire, look at me! Speak to me!" 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 GERALD'S hand tightened on Claire's arm so much so that 
 he almost hurt her; but she did not mind; indeed, it would 
 have given her a subtle kind of joy to suffer pain at his hand, 
 she had wronged him so! 
 
 " Claire," he said, and his voice was hurried and broken, 
 " why did you look at me like like that? Is oh, can it be 
 possible that Claire, forgive me. I must be mad! I 
 must be deceiving myself as I did before." 
 
 She did not offer to withdraw her arm, but stood, her heart 
 beating wildly, her eyes downcast. But suddenly she lifted 
 them and looked at him again, and again her look half 
 pleading, half tender and, ah! so wistful! shot through kirn 
 *' like a warm dart," as Owen Meredith says.
 
 328 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " Claire," he said, after he had caught his breath, " I love 
 you! I can't help it! I must tell you! I have tried to for- 
 
 fet you, to harden my heart against you, but it is of no use. 
 love you, and I shall always love you till I die. I told you 
 all this before, and and you gave me your answer; but I tell 
 it you again, for the last time." 
 
 She turned her face to him pityingly, wistfully. 
 
 " Not the last time Gerald!" she whispered in a voice 
 that thrilled through him. " You must tell it to me again 
 and again; because because I shall never be tired of hearing 
 it!" 
 
 It was almost too much for him, the suddenness of his joy, 
 the infinite witchery of the tender smile that stole over her 
 lovely face. 
 
 " Claire! Oh, my love, my love!" he breathed, and he 
 caught her in his arms and pressed her to him, so that 
 indeed she could scarcely whisper his name. 
 
 " Tell me once more, once more, dearest!" he said. " I 
 I can scarcely believe it. Just say, ' Gerald, I love you!' ' 
 
 "Gerald, I love you!" 
 
 " ' And I will be your wife!' ' 
 
 She hid her face on his breast. " And I will be your wife!" 
 
 " Claire!" after a pause, after he had kissed her lips, her 
 hair " this isn't isn t what do you call it reparation? 
 Ah, no, 1 know you wouldn't deceive me. You love me, 
 dearest, really and truly? Good heavens, it seems so wonder- 
 ful; why should you?" 
 
 *' Because you are Gerald! That is all!" she murmured. 
 " Gerald let me hide my face for shame; don't don't look 
 at me just yet. There, turn your face away, dearest." She 
 put her hands to his face caressingly, and averted it. " I T 
 Oh, how can 1 say it I came to tell you! I came to ask 
 you to ask you to take me! I could not have gone away; I 
 could not! I should have fallen at your feet and prayed you 
 to have pity on me!" 
 
 "Claire!" he gasped. 
 
 " Yes! Think, dearest! I had wronged you so cruelly, 
 and T loved you all the time! And my pride and jealousy had 
 nearly wrecked my life, and there was no pride left in me, and 
 no no ah, no self-respect. Gerald, shall I kneel to you 
 now? Shall I? Shall I say what I meant to say, if you had 
 not not guessed and asked me? I should have clung to you 
 and cried, ' Gerald, I love you I have wronged you. I have 
 been a poor, miserable little fool, with my pride and my sus- 
 picion. But I loved you all the time. Have pity on me*
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGKA.. 328 
 
 Take me for your wife. You shall do what you like with me, 
 bully me beat me anything! Only let me live with you 
 and try and show you what a woman's love means!' ' 
 
 She was sobbing now, half hysterically; and, he half fright- 
 ened, and trembling almost as much as she, soothed her with 
 a lover's whispered word, the lover's touch. 
 
 " Hush, hush, dearest! These are not words for you for 
 you, my queen it is I who should kneel." He sunk on his 
 knees and drew her hand to his face. She stooped and raised 
 him. 
 
 " No, no! Here, on my heart, Gerald!" she panted. 
 ******* 
 
 " And you haven't had your breakfast!" she exclaimed, a 
 moment or two later. 
 
 " Breakfast? No, not yet. Have you?" 
 
 She shook her head, and tried to smooth the hair hia 
 caresses had ruffled. 
 
 " No; I came out the house seemed stifling, and I was 
 restless to to inquire after you." 
 
 " Have some with me!" he said, joyously. 
 
 " Shall I?" she said, wistfully, shyly. 
 
 " Why not?" he responded. " See, I'll make some more 
 tea it's got cold." 
 
 " And I'll do the toast; let me, Gerald!' 3 
 
 " There's some eggs somewhere," he exclaimed, rushing 
 about, laughing without knowing it. " Where's the butter? 
 Am I awake or dreaming? Stand still a moment and let me 
 look at you." 
 
 She drew herself up and let his eyes wander over her. 
 " Yes, it is you!" he said, with a long breath. " Now, don't 
 r,orne near me, or or we shall never get any breakfast. 
 There's the bread and oh, here are the eggs, I remember. 
 Oh, yes, after all I must be_ dreaming, don't you know?^ J 
 
 fiiVJAAI-lC, MU.V*. v*" t2 J A m 
 
 x ^ w UU vi give you something more substantial to eat, and 
 quickly," she said, with a laugh. And the laugh was like 
 sweet, wholesome music in the little room. 
 
 They got breakfast after several interruptions and inter- 
 ludesand both discovered that they were hungry. t was 
 scarcely proper, perhaps, for these two, alone, to be seated 
 opposite each other like man and wife. But they had no 
 thought, and very little care, for the proprieties at 
 moment. He had got his love, his life's angel at last, and all 
 the rest didn't matter. And she-well, if all the world cried
 
 330 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 shame, she would not have cared. He was hers hers her 
 very own, and nothing should come between them again. 
 
 They talked after awhile, and Claire told him of the Sap- 
 leys' nice little plot, and Mr. Harling's goodness. Gerald was 
 amazed, but understood in a moment. 
 
 " Good heavens!" he exclaimed. " The villains! Well, 1 
 might have suspected it. And that dear old fellow! But- 
 but, Claire " his brows knitted perplexedly " can you can 
 you accept?" 
 
 Claire leaned her head on her hand. " All night I have 
 been asking myself that question," she said. " It was hard 
 to answer. At one moment I felt that I could not, at 
 another that perhaps I ought, that I could, perhaps, take it 
 as a loan. But now I haven't to decide, thank Heaven!" 
 
 " You haven't? Why not?" he asked. 
 
 She blushed and lowered her eyes, then raised them and 
 looked at him with a woman's complete surrender. 
 
 " Because there is some one else who decides everything 
 everything for me now, and I leave it to him. It is delight- 
 ful!" 
 
 Interruption and interlude. 
 
 ******* 
 
 " Well, 1 don't know what to say. For one thing, of 
 course, I should be glad if you hadn't a penny in the world, 
 because then I should have to work for you. Think of it, 
 dearest! But that's selfish, 1 know." 
 
 " You couldn't be selfish, if you tried," she remarked, with 
 solemn decision. 
 
 "Oh, couldn't I?" he retorted. "You wait and see! 
 Well, we'll talk it over with him. They are the nicest, most 
 warm-hearted people in all the world. I am fond of him as 
 if he were my father, and of Grace as if she were " 
 
 He caught a sudden expression in her faca 
 
 " What's the matter now?" he asked. 
 
 " Say, ' sister,' Gerald!" she said. 
 
 " I was going to say sister," he said, innocently. 
 
 She nodded. " I don't mind your loving her as a sister,'* 
 she said, very quietly. 
 
 " Why, of course not!" he exclaimed. " You like her, too, 
 don't you?" 
 
 " Yes like a sister also," she said. " Gerald, you you 
 must come up to the Court and tell them." 
 
 " After breakfast," he nodded. " Some more tea, please!" 
 
 Then suddenly, in the midst of their wonderful happiness,
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 131 
 
 Claire remembered where they were. She put her cup down 
 and looked at him pitif ully. 
 
 " Oh, Gerald ! That poor girl Lucy !' ' 
 
 His face grew grave. Yes/' he said. " I've got to carry 
 that business through. You must help me, dearest." 
 
 " It seems so heartless to be so so happy hi this house!" 
 she said in a low voice. 
 
 He got up and comforted her, of course. 
 
 ;< We are doing her no wrong, dearest," he said. "Our 
 joy can not injure or insult her. But, come, we will go at 
 once. Let me put your hat on for you. Which is the right 
 side, or doesn't it matter? There! Oh, Claire, how lovely 
 you are! Would to God I were more worthy of you!" 
 
 " Don't say that, Gerald," she almost implored. " Never 
 say that again. It it makes me think of the way I have 
 treated you, and and that hurts me!" and she clung to him 
 with a little shudder. 
 
 They went out and walked demurely enough up the street, 
 for the Regna folk were about and eager to welcome her; but 
 when they got into the lonely lanes, their hands stole together 
 and clasped, and they went along like two children sweet- 
 hearting. 
 
 Mr. Harling and Grace were on the steps looking for them, 
 and Grace turned rather pale for a moment as she saw them 
 coming along together; but it was only for a moment, and it 
 was her last time of showing any emotion at sight of Gerald. 
 
 "Oh, here you are!" exclaimed Mr. Harling. "Grace 
 declared that you had bolted back to London and the school; 
 but I knew you were too sensible to do that. How are you, 
 lad?" and he wrung Gerald's hand. " You two have found 
 each other, then, eh?" he asked, looking at them shrewdly. 
 
 " Yes," said Gerald, drawing Claire's arm within his. " I 
 have found her never to lose her again, I hope." 
 
 " That's all right, then," cried the old gentleman, chuck- 
 ling and rubbing his hands. " Come into breakfast." 
 
 " We've we've had our breakfast!" faltered poor Claire* 
 going rosy-red. 
 
 Mr. Harling laughed with keen enjoyment 
 
 " Of course you have! Nice behavior of one's hostess, I 
 must say! To run away, and leave her guests to breakfast by 
 themselves!" 
 
 " No, you are the host here," said Claire in a low voice. 
 
 " Don't you make such a ridiculous mistake, my dear 
 young lady I" he retorted. "Court Regna is yours, and no 
 one else's. I hope Gerald has persuaded you to look at the
 
 332 THE MISTRESS oF COURT REGNA. 
 
 matter in a sensible way. I'm not so sure that you are so 
 much indebted to me as you think. My lawyer has got to 
 examine the Sapleys' claims, and I shouldn't be at all sur- 
 prised when he does so, if he finds that roguery has been at 
 work, and that a good slice will have to be deducted. That 
 will leave you something of an income; and the estate, prop- 
 erly managed, will clear itself in time. That is, of course, if 
 you insist upon repaying me. But I'm not so sure that you 
 will presently.** He nodded and smiled rather mysteriously. 
 " But don't let us worry about money on such a day as this! 
 Let us be happy " 
 
 " We certainly sha'n't, if we talk about money," inter- 
 rupted Grace, who, with her arm round Claire's waist, was 
 going round the hall, looking at the portraits and curios. 
 
 "No. I propose if I may venture to do so that Miss 
 Sartoris takes us all for a drive and shows us, something at 
 least, of her ' kingdom by the sea.' ' 
 
 " The dog-cart; and you shall drive. Claire is a splendid 
 whip, sir," said Gerald. 
 
 Claire blushed and laughed. 
 
 "Very well," she said. " We will take a holiday to-day; 
 but to-morrow I I must go back to London. I mustn't run 
 away from them without a word, must I? Miss Gover oh! 
 you don't know how kind she has been to me! And Sister 
 Agnes I must go and tell her everything!" 
 
 " Sister Agnes?" echoed Gerald, with astonishment. " Do 
 you know her?" 
 
 " I live with her did live with her," said Claire in a low 
 voice. " She has been ah! I can not tell you what she has 
 been to me. No mother could have been more loving- 
 more " Her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Gerald stared at her. 
 
 "Why Sister Agnes! A white-haired lady, with sad- 
 looking eyes? But, of course, it must be the same! Why, I 
 know her! I met her oh! I must tell you all about it!" 
 
 He did so, leaning over the back of the dog-cart, as Claire 
 drove them through the familiar lanes, and across the downs, 
 from whence they could look down on the sea stretching away 
 to Labrador. 
 
 " I don't wonder at your loving her!" he said in a low 
 voice. " I can't tell you the impression she made on mo. I 
 can't explain it to myself. It was as if oh ! I can't explain? 
 Claire, dearest, do you think she would " 
 
 " I know what you are going to say," she murmured. " I
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COUET REGNA. 33? 
 
 think I know your thoughts before you utter them, dear. 
 You think she might come down here!'"' 
 
 '* Yes. How would it be if I ran up to town, and per- 
 suaded her to come back with me?" 
 
 " You might," said Claire, " if you told her 1 wanted her 
 very much." 
 
 " I'll try it," he said. " I'll go up to-morrow. And I'll 
 go and see that Miss Gover. Fancy your teaching in a school, 
 Claire! Doesn't it sound like a dream?" 
 
 " And you must make her promise to come down in the 
 holidays. Ob, Gerald!" And she swung round with an eager 
 Hush on her face, " if we could get her down here to the 
 school, you know! The mistress has talked of retiring for 
 ever so long. Miss Gover would be so happy in the country, 
 and ah! it would be so delightful to have her near us!" 
 
 They made a long drive of it, and Mr. Harling was duly 
 impressed by the extent and wealth of the estate. 
 
 " Yes," he said to Claire, rubbing his chin, " you ought to 
 be able to repay me if you want to." 
 
 After lunch Mr. Harling and Grace disappeared, and Gerald 
 and Claire went out alone. As if they were drawn there by a 
 common impulse, they went to the chapel, and stood beside 
 the tomb, looking down at it, hand in hand, with love hover- 
 ing over them. 
 
 " Do you remember?" he whispered as if sh. had for- 
 
 S)tten! " I fell in love with you that first morning, Claire! 
 o you remember the sketch?" 
 
 'Yes," she said; " where is it? Oh! I hope you have 
 kept it, Gerald!" 
 
 " Yes; here it is!" he said. And he drew the pencil 
 portrait from his pocket and gave it her. 
 
 Her face crimsoned, and she uttered a little cry of surprise 
 and delight. 
 
 "Oh! how wicked of you! And and how sweet of yon! 
 But it isn't like me it's too flattering. Gerald, I must 
 have it!" 
 
 " I think not!" he said, decisively. " Ask me for the half 
 of my kingdom, and it is yours; but not this! Stay! I'll 
 make a bargain with you. I'll give it you when when you 
 
 five me the original. It shall be my wedding present, Claire, 
 sha'n't be able to buy you gold or gems; but this is the 
 most precious thing I've got, and I'll give it you to show yon 
 how much I love you." 
 Interlude and pause. 
 It was the only allusion he mad* to his poverty, his mien-
 
 334 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGffA. 
 
 ority in the matter of wealth and position, but Claire 
 noticed it. 
 
 " Gerald," she said, creeping very close to him, and taking 
 the edge of his coat timidly, " if if you'd rather, I I 
 should give up the Court and go back to the school, or or " 
 
 " Let me work for you!" he said, eagerly. Then he shook 
 his head. " Dearest, it is like you to propose it, but I've no 
 right to demand such a sacrifice. Besides, I am not ashamed 
 of your wealth or my poverty. If I were rich and you were 
 poor, you would not let that come between us?" 
 
 " No, no, no!" she said. 4< I would marry you if you 
 were King Cophetua, and I were the Beggar Maid! How 
 clever you are to put it that way, Gerald!" 
 
 They sat long over dinner, and Gerald, of course, found it 
 hard to tear himself away. Saying " good -night," in the 
 semi-darkness of one of the recesses in the hall, was a pro- 
 longed business; but at last he whispered the last words, 
 coaxed for his last kiss, and went homeward suffused with love 
 and happiness. 
 
 It was a beautiful night, with the moon at the full, and 
 Gerald, naturally enough, considering his condition, was loath 
 to go in. He thought he would climb up to the cliff before 
 doing so, and turning off from the road, just outside the vil- 
 lage, took the narrow footpath. 
 
 As he stopped for a moment to light his pipe, he saw a man 
 coming along the downs at right angles with the path. The 
 moon was partially obscured, and for a moment or two Ger- 
 ald did not recognize him; but presently, when the light was 
 clearer, he saw that it was Mordaunt Sapley. 
 
 He wore a thick pea-jacket, and its collar was turned up so 
 that it nearly hid the wearer's face; and yet it was by no 
 means a cold night. He was walking quickly, and yet 
 cautiously, and he glanced round now and again watchfully. 
 
 Gerald thought the dress and manner curious, and, being 
 now naturally suspicious of Mordaunt, drew back under the 
 shadow of the cliff, and waited until Mordaunt had gone on 
 ahead. Then cautiously and noiselessly he followed him. 
 
 OHAPTEE XML 
 
 MORDATTNT had taken his father to their did house, which, 
 perhaps, with a vague presentiment of some such reverse as 
 this which had befallen' him, he had left in the hands of a 
 care-taker. Before they had reached the house, Mordaunt 
 realized the grewsome fact that his father's mind had given
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGKA. 335 
 
 way under the shock. He was almost mad himself; for he 
 knew that his career in Downshire, at any rate was over; 
 his ambitious projects blighted and destroyed. Even if Claire, 
 and Mr. Harling, and Gerald were silent, the servants would 
 not hold their tongues. In a few hours the story of the Sap- 
 leys' discomfiture would be spread far and wide. He would 
 not dare to show his face in public; if he ventured to address 
 a meeting he would be hooted from the platform. 
 
 His career was ended, and he recognized the fact at once. 
 The shock was hard to bear, but another sentiment besides 
 disappointment lessened and deadened it. He had been beaten 
 in the matter of Court Regna his luck was changing; how 
 about his dread secret buried beneath the sand below the cliff? 
 He paced his room the room adjoining his father's, where 
 the old man lay chuckling and muttering under the delusion 
 that he had still got the Court within his clutches paced it 
 like a tiger newly caught and trapped, and faced the situation. 
 There was only one thing to be done. To buy that accursed 
 bundle and Jenks' silence; to get together the money he 
 and his father possessed, and leave England. He would be 
 very rich the Court mortgage sum alone was very large in 
 another t country he could begin to climb the social ladder 
 again. 
 
 But the first thing was to get Jenks out of the way. He 
 had put off the meeting, night after night, for reasons which 
 can easily be understood. He dreaded, loathed, having to look 
 at, touch the bundle, to have to speak of the dead girl. But 
 he could put it off no longer. It was too late that night, but 
 he would go to-morrow. 
 
 He threw himself on his bed as the dawn crept into the win- 
 dow, but he could not sleep. Court Regna gone, his life's 
 ambition wrecked; and all in a few hours! As he tossed from 
 side to side, he cursed Claire, Gerald, even his father, with 
 the impotent, unreasoning fury of a thwarted villain. The 
 next day he looked into his affairs, and took steps to realize 
 all the property he and his father possessed, and bitterest 
 task of all sent in his resignation of the candidature to the 
 local committee. He gave for an excuse for his withdrawal 
 the fact of his father's sudden and dangerous illness. 
 
 He was occupied the whole day; and eat nothing; keeping 
 himself going by occasional drinks of stiff brandy and water; 
 and at night, with burning head and whirling brain, he stole 
 out of the house, and stealthily made his way to the cliff. As 
 he stole along the familiar path he paused now and again, and 
 caught his breath and shuddered. He could almost fancy
 
 336 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 that the wraith of the murdered girl was gliding along by his 
 side; and once, as a sea-gull flew over his head, shrieking, he 
 had hard work to suppress a scream, for it seemed to him as 
 if it were Lucy's voice as it had risen in its piteous cry at the 
 moment he thrust her over. 
 
 A light was burning in Jenks' hut, and he crept up to the 
 window and peered in. The man was sitting by the fire 
 ^moking, and a devilish longing jumped into Mordaunt's heart. 
 'How if he stole in behind the man and But he put it away 
 from him with a shudder, and tapped at the window. 
 
 Jenks rose and opened the door, and did not show the least 
 surprise at the visit. 
 
 " Oh, here you are, Mr. Mordaunt," he said, stolidly. " I 
 thought as how you'd turn up one o' these nights. Come in 
 and sit down, Mr. Mordaunt. Sorry I haven't anything to 
 offer you." 
 
 Mordaunt stood and looked at him, and then round the hut 
 furtively. 
 
 " I have no time to waste. Have you done as I told you?" 
 
 " Yes; and had to stand no end o' drinks on the strength of 
 that old rich uncle o' mine. I could leave here to-morrow 
 to-night for that matter and they wouldn't think it queer." 
 
 " Good!" said Mordaunt. " I have brought the money. 
 Give me," he moistened his lips and looked round with a 
 shiver, " give me the the bundle." 
 
 " Eight you are, sir," said Jenks, cheerfully. " Where's 
 the money, sir? Notes or shiners?" 
 
 " Notes, notes!" replied Mordaunt, impatiently. " Did 
 you think I could get so large a sum in gold, man?" 
 
 " Notes," said Jenks, doubtfully. " Hem, don't fancy 
 them, somehow. Easy to trace, ain't they?" 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, don't wear out my patience!" Mor- 
 daunt interrupted. " Give me the cursed thing, and let me 
 go. I will meet you at Liverpool to-morrow and see you 
 off not that I am afraid." 
 
 " Oh, no; only just in the way of kindness, o' course!" said 
 Jenks, placidly. " I'll get the bundle." 
 
 He dragged a sea-chest from the wall, and, with an old 
 wood chopper, lifted the flooring boards, and slung flung 
 the bundle on the table. 
 
 Mordaunt started back with" a low cry and an oath, and 
 stood looking at the things as if they were alive and were cry- 
 ing, " Murderer! Murderer!" 
 
 Jenks stared at him. " You look bad, Mr. Mordaunt," he 
 said. " Blest if you don't look wnss than you did when you
 
 THE MISTRESS OP COURT REGffA. 33? 
 
 chucked her over the cliff, or when you were piling the sand 
 atop of her down there on the sand slip!" 
 
 Mordaunt shuddered. 
 
 " Curse you! hold your tongue!" he said, hoarsely, aud 
 looking round fearfully. " Do you want any one to hear you 
 shout " 
 
 "Oh, I ain't afraid," said Jenks. "But I begs your 
 pardin; I ain't given to whispering, you see. Howsumever, 
 there's the bundle, and I'm off to-morrow the first train. 
 Now for them notes, Mr. Mordaunt. Lord, to think of my 
 happenin' to be in that part o' the beat that night, and chanc- 
 ing to see you chuck Lucy over she cried out awful, didn't 
 she? should make a rich man o' me! Wonderful, the ways 
 o' Providence, ain't they, Mr. Mordaunt?" 
 
 Mordaunt took some notes from his pocket-book and some 
 gold from his purse. 
 
 "You understand!" he said, thickly. "You will keep 
 your promise? But you dare not come back! Remember 
 what I told you! You are an accessory after the fact, and 
 run the same risk as I do!" 
 
 *' Eight you are, Mr. Mordaunt. I've been thinking that 
 over, and I've been tempted more than once especially since 
 Mr. Wayre came back to turn what do you call it? 
 Queen's evidence, and I'm not sure that it wouldn't be my 
 best plan." 
 
 Mordaunt waved his hand impatiently; then stretched it 
 out toward the bundle. 
 
 " What are you going to do with it?" he asked Jenks, as 
 serenely as if he were referring to a piece of old sail-cloth. 
 
 Mordaunt wiped the sweat from his white and haggard face. 
 
 " Throw it in the Black Pool," he said. There was a pool 
 near the jetty, formed by a circle of rocks, which held the tide 
 for a depth of ten or twelve feet. 
 
 Jenks shook his head. 
 
 " Better burn it," he said. " Burn it here; I'll make up 
 the fire." 
 
 Mordaunt paused, irresolute. He would have to stand by 
 and see the bundle untied, to watch while it was gradually 
 consumed; it was beyond his power of endurance. 
 
 "No!" he said. " I I can not! It will sink, with stones, 
 to the bottom of the pool." 
 
 He took up the bundle; it shook in his hand. 
 
 " Open the door!" he said, hoarsely. Jenks lurched round 
 the table, but before he could reach the door it opened, and 
 Gerald stood on the threshold.
 
 338 THE MISTRESS OF COURT 3EGNA. 
 
 Mordaunt dropped the bundle, and uttered a shriek. Jenki 
 started back, looked from one to the other, and with stolid 
 sang-froid, said: 
 
 "Too late. I'm blest if it ain't Mr. Wayre! No, Mr. 
 Mordaunt, I shouldn't take your money." He wagged his 
 head toward the notes and gold. " I t-old you just now that 
 I should turn Queen's evidence, that it wasn't no use asking 
 me to destroy that there bundle." 
 
 ^ .Mordaunt, mad with rage at the man's duplicity and 
 change of front, caught up the ax and dashed at him. 
 
 Gerald flung himself between them and caught Mordaunt'a 
 arm just in time to avert the blow from Jenks, and gripped 
 Mordaunt tightly. Despair, near akin to madness, will endow 
 a man with the strength of a fiend. Though he was not 
 nearly so strong as Gerald, Mordaunt wrestled with him with 
 desperate persistence, and once Gerald was underneath. A 
 pair of pistols hung over the fire-place, and Jenks snatched 
 one down and fired it outside the door, then he came in and 
 stood philosophically looking on at the fight. 
 
 At last Gerald mastered the frenzied man, and, pinning 
 him to the ground with his knee, looked over his shoulder at 
 Jenks. 
 
 " Give me a rope, anything, to tie his hands!" 
 
 " No, no!" gasped Mordaunt. " I I surrender!" 
 
 " Get up!" said Gerald, sternly. 
 
 Mordaunt shuffled to his feet, and leaned against the man- 
 tel-piece, panting and shaking, and eying the two men like a 
 trapped wolf. 
 
 " That that man is a liar!" he gasped. '* A liar and 
 and a vulgar, common scoundrel. He enticed me here with 
 with a cock-and-bull story about Lucy Hawker." 
 
 "Silence!" said Gerald. " I was outside. I heard every 
 word; I followed you here. My God, and it was you who 
 killed Lucy! Silence! Remember that every word you say 
 must be repeated. You killed Lucy." 
 
 Mordaunt glared at him sideways. " Keep your threats 
 for those who fear them," he said, thickly. " I am in your 
 power; what do you intend to do?" 
 
 " Hand you over to the police," said Gerald, grimly. He 
 turned to Jenks. " Jenks, go down and bring up a constable. 
 I will wait here. " 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir!" said Jenks, cheerfully, and he went out. 
 
 " He will escape," said Mordaunt, between his teeth: but 
 almost as he spoke, Jenks came back, accompanied by a 
 couple of coastguards who bad heard the pistol-shot.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 339 
 
 " I charge this man, Mordauut Sapley, with the murder of 
 Lucy Hawker," said Gerald, sternly. "You will take him 
 to the police station at Thraxton. "We will go down to the 
 village and get a vehicle." 
 
 The coastguards stationed themselves on either side of Mor- 
 daunt. He leaned against the mantel-shelf and pointed to his 
 cap, and one of the men picked it up for him and threw it to 
 him. He put it on, and turned to the glass, and in doing so 
 stealthily whipped the remaining pistol from its place and 
 thrust it in his breast. The action was so rapidly, so smoothly 
 done that no one noticed it, for they were all talking together 
 in an excited undertone. 
 
 " Go on," said Gerald; and with Mordaunt between them, 
 the two coastguards led the way. 
 
 " Glad you came up, Mr. Wayre," began Jenks; but Gerald 
 stopped him. 
 
 You had better hold your tongue until you appear before 
 the magistrates," he said, significantly. 
 
 " Eight you are, sir!" assented Jenks, and then followed 
 the prisoner in silence. 
 
 As they drew near the village, lights began to flash about 
 the houses, and they heard the murmur of voices; and at the 
 head of the street they were met by a crowd of fishermen and 
 
 women. 
 
 
 What's up?" demanded one, raising his lantern, and the 
 others gathered round. " Why, it's Mr. Mordaunt! What- 
 ever 's happened to 'un?" 
 
 " It's a bad business, mates!" said one of the coastguards. 
 
 " Yes," said Jenks. " We've found the man as run off 
 with Lucy Hawker. It was Mr. Mordaunt here." 
 
 A cry of astonishment ran round the crowd. 
 
 " Mr. Mordauut! What's he done with her? Mr. Mor- 
 daunt! Why, it ain't possible!" They pressed forward; 
 their eager faces shining in the light of the lanterns. 
 
 " You'll know presently, so I may as well tell you," said 
 Jenks. " He pitched her over the cliff the night she was 
 thought to have run away. Pitched her over the west cliff 
 and buried her afterward in the sand slip just below." 
 
 A cry of horror rose from the group, followed by a groan 
 and a yell of rage. 
 
 Mordaunt shrunk nearer the coastguards and clutched one 
 
 of their arms. 
 
 " It's it's a lie!" he gasped. 
 
 " He says it's a lie," said a man. Answer, Jenksl 
 truth the truthl"
 
 340 THE M1STKESS OF COURT KEGNA. 
 
 " It's true enough/' said Jenks, stolidly. " I see him. 
 He came up to-night and offered me money " 
 
 " A lie!" shrieked Mordaunt. 
 
 The men talked together excitedly, and swayed to and fra 
 for a moment in wild confusion; then one cried out: 
 
 " Mates, it's easily proved. Let's go and see. Bring him 
 along, you chaps!" 
 
 "No, no!" said Gerald. "He is my prisoner! 1 order 
 him to be taken to Thraxton!" 
 
 But he felt that he was powerless to oppose them. 
 
 "Don't you interfere with we, Mr. Way re!" growled one 
 of the men. " We'll prove the truth of it. Bring him along, 
 or we'll tear him from 'ee!" 
 
 Eesistance was useless, and Gerald signed his consent. Mor- 
 daunt clung to the nearest coastguard. " No, no!" lie. 
 shrieked. " I will not go! I I demand protection! Take 
 me to the police 
 
 A sullen roar arose, and a fisherman sprung forward. 
 
 " Bring him along, or we will!" he said, with an oath. 
 
 Surrounded by the excited mob, which increased at every 
 step, Mordatiut was led down the street and round the rocks 
 to the strip of sand. By the time it was reached, he was 
 almost incapable of standing, arid one of the guards grabbed 
 him by the arm, and so supported him. 
 
 Jenks measured the slip with his eye. 
 
 " There's the spot!" he said. 
 
 A man had gone into a cottage and snatched up a spade, 
 and he began to dig. But the crowd could not wait, and 
 some of them went down on their knees and tore at the sand 
 with their knives. Presently one of them uttered a low cry; 
 he had discovered a portion of a woman's dress. The spec- 
 tators echoed the cry with a moan a moan of terrible sus- 
 pense and excitement and the man with the spade worked 
 more carefully. 
 
 As each shovelful of sand was thrown up, Mordaunt shud- 
 dered, and clung more tightly to the coastguard, and pres- 
 ently, as a deep'sob rose from the crowd, followed by a yell, 
 and then an awful silence, he sunk on to the ground. 
 
 " It's her! It's Lucy! Oh, my God!" shouted a woman, 
 throwing her arms above her head. 
 
 Screams and oaths rent the air; and Gerald, fearing that 
 Mordaunt would be lynched, torn from limb to limb, flung 
 himself in front of him. 
 
 " Stand back!" he said. " He is in the hands of the law! 
 Justice will be done! Stand backl"
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 34; 
 
 As he spoke, half a dozen men threw themselves upon him 
 and pinioned him, and one man it was the young fisherman, 
 William sprung upon Mordaunt, and dragged him to the 
 open grave. 
 
 "Look at your work, you devil!" he cried, hoarsely. 
 " Look at it!" 
 
 And he forced Mordaunt's face down. The wretched man 
 screamed with terror, and wound himself round the legs of 
 his captor. 
 
 "Spare me! Spare me! Don't kill me!" he shouted. 
 "I'll confess! I'll Don't kill me!" And he writhed 
 upon the sand like a wounded snake. 
 
 The man spurned him with his foot. 
 
 "Get up, you you murdering dog!" he said, hoarsely. 
 " We won't kill 'ee! We'll leave that to the hangman. Stand 
 back, mates! Let no one touch him! Leave him to Mr. 
 Wayre; he'll see that justice is done by 'un! Oh, Lucy! Oh, 
 my God!" And he covered his face with his hands. 
 
 Gerald sprung forward and stood right across Mordaunt. 
 
 " You hear?" he said, for the crowd, with white, wolSsh 
 faces, still threatened. " William's right! Leave him to 
 the law! It will avenge poor Lucy!" 
 
 The crowd groaned sullenly. 
 
 " Let's bury him with her!" said one in a hoarse whisper; 
 but Mordaunt heard, and a scream of agony rose from his 
 white lips. They saw him turn over writhingly, and thrust 
 his hand in his breast; then a sharp report rang out, and a 
 tongue of flame shot forth, and, with another shriek, he 
 rolled over on his face. 
 
 There was an intense silence for an instant a silence that 
 seemed more hideous than the din which had preceded it. 
 Gerald sprung aside; then bent over the prostrate tigure. The 
 crowd gathered round, and one of the coastguards knelt and 
 placed his hand on Mordaunt's heart. 
 
 " He's dead!" he said, solemnly. " He's shot himself!" 
 
 The line of white faces and staring eyes, above which the 
 moonlight fell placidly, started back, and a cry of disappoint- 
 ment rose. 
 
 " Curse him he's done us, after all!" said a voice. " He'a 
 give us the slip!" 
 
 Gerald held up his hand. 
 
 "No!" he said, solemnly. "He stands before the Grenf 
 Judge, my men, and He will do justice!"
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT KEGUA. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 THE scene at the double inquest was a terrible one. 
 Women wept and shrieked, and men groaned and clinched 
 their hands tightly as Jenks told his story. It all seemed s<. 
 clear now, and they were amazed that their suspicions hac' 
 never been directed toward Mordaunt. Many of them 
 remembered having seen him and Lucy together, but his 
 duplicity had been so fiendishly perfect that he had deceived 
 them all. 
 
 The jury wanted to bring in a verdict of murder against 
 Mordaunt, and consign him to a suicide's grave, and it was 
 with difficulty that the coroner could persuade the twelve 
 stern, white-faced men to return the usual verdict. The only 
 unmoved person in the court was Jenks. He gave his 
 evidence in his usual stolid fashion, every now and then 
 fingering and looking down at his empty pipe, and he was not 
 even surprised when the coroner had him arrested as an 
 accessory after the fact. It may be added, in parenthesis, 
 that he was equally unmoved when, later on, the judge sen- 
 tenced him to seven years' penal servitude for his passive 
 share in Mord aunt's dastardly crime. 
 
 When the painful scene was over, and Gerald made his way 
 from the stuffy room in which the inquest had been held, sur- 
 rounded by a crowd eager now to congratulate and make a 
 hero of him, he became suddenly faint and queer. Gerald was 
 an exceedingly strong man, as we know; but he had gone 
 through a great deal lately, and the scene of the inquest, fol- 
 lowing upon the still more terrible one on the sands, had, in 
 common parlance, got upon his nerves. 
 
 He got away from the crowd at last, and went home feelinr 
 sick, and, to his surprise, was actually sick. Mr. Harling ana 
 Claire, coming in search of him, found him white and shaning, 
 and in a state of collapse; and though Gerald tried to make 
 light of his condition, Mr. Harling insisted upon his going to 
 bed and sending for the doctor. 
 
 " It's alt nonsense," said Gerald. *' I'm just a little upset, 
 and shall be all right presently. I want to go back to the 
 Court with you and Claire; I don't want to go to bed." 
 
 But, of course, he had to go; and the doctor, when he came, 
 blandly but firmly insisted upon his remaining there. 
 
 Claire, of course, wanted to stay and nurse him; but Gerald 
 would nok hear of this, and a woman volunteered to act in
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. :U3 
 
 that capacity strange to say, the woman who had been most 
 violent against him when he had first come back to Regna 
 and had been surrounded by an accusing mob. But Claire 
 spent a great deal of the day beside him, holding his hand in 
 that silence which, to persons in their happy condition, speaks 
 so much and so sweetly. 
 
 Perhaps Gerald's sudden illness was a blessing in disguise, 
 for it kept all our friends from dwelling upon the terrible 
 events of the last few days. The whole place was in excite- 
 ment, not only on account of the murder, but over the return 
 of Miss Sartoris, and the destruction of the cunning plot by 
 which the Sapleys had sought to obtain Court Regna and the 
 estates. 
 
 Old Sapley was mercifully unconscious of his son's crime 
 and its dramatic punishment, and would remain ignorant to 
 the end of his life. The doctors pronounced him incurably 
 insane, and he had been removed to a private asylum, where, 
 surrounded by comfort, he spent the time in going over 
 imaginary accounts, and informing the doctors and nurses, 
 and any one who would listen to him, that he was the master 
 of Court Regna, and that Mr. Mordaunt Sapley, who was the 
 member for the county, was his son. 
 
 Claire and Mr. Harling went, at Grace V request, to see 
 him. The visit was a painful one to them, but not to him, 
 for he had no recollection of them; and told them the story of 
 his triumph with imbecile chuckles and gloating enjoyment. 
 
 " My son's a clever man," he said. " There's no 'knowing 
 what he'll rise to. He's in the House, you know, and they'll 
 be sure to give him office. He'll be in the Cabinet some day, 
 and he'll marry a noblewoman. Shouldn't be surprised if 
 they made him a peer. He'll be Lord Sapley no, that ain't 
 good enough why shouldn't he take the old title, the title 
 that went with the place that's his now? Yes, he shall be 
 Earl Wharton Lord Wharton, of Court Regna." 
 
 Claire went away weeping, for the sight of the old man in 
 his insane triumph wiped out any feeling of resentment she 
 might have harbored against the man who had caused her and 
 Gerald so much unhappiness. 
 
 One afternoon Gerald, waking fcom an ur*/asy sleep, saw a 
 dark-robed figure sitting beside the bed. It reminded him of 
 Sister Agnes; but he thought he must be dreaming, and hf 
 stretched out his hand and laid it on her arm. 
 
 It was Sister Agnes, and she turned her pale, sad face on 
 him with a gentle smile. 
 
 l< You are awake?" she said in her soft, placid voice.
 
 344 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 " I suppose so," he assented, rather doubtfully. " But Ji 
 it really you, sister?" 
 
 "Yes, it is I." 
 
 " That's funny," he said. " I've thought of you a great 
 deal, and I dreamed of you last night. Why did. you come?" 
 
 " Because you had need of me," she said. 
 
 " How did you know?" he asked. 
 
 " Claire wrote and told me you were ill. Something bid 
 me I felt that I must come." 
 
 " It's very good of you," he said, " and I am very glad! 
 Are you going to stay?" he asked, wistfully. 
 
 " Yes," she replied. "I have sent the woman away. I 
 am going to nurse you." 
 
 " You won't have to nurse me very long," he said. " I'm 
 quite well, only a little shaky about the pins, and I'm longing 
 to get up." 
 
 " You shall get up when you're well enough," she said. 
 
 "Ah!" he said, "I see by the tone that I've got a real 
 nurse now. There's no one so tyrannical and overbearing. 
 But don't you think I'm a poor and unprotected male! 
 There's Claire, she'll take my part. I suppose she has told 
 you that I'm her sweetheart, and that we're going to be mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 " Yes, she has told me," said Sister Agnes, gently forcing 
 him to lie down again, for in his eagerness he had got up on 
 his elbow, " and I am very glad. You will have the sweetest 
 wife, the best and truest woman " 
 
 " Now, that's unfair!" said Gerald. " You're speaking 
 my part. Sister, there isn't another woman like her in the 
 wide world, and if you'll kindly help me to get out of this 
 foolish bed and marry her out of hand, I shall owe you a life- 
 long debt of gratitude." 
 
 As he spoke, Claire entered and exclaimed with joy and 
 astonishment at the sight of the black-robed figure standing 
 beside him. 
 
 " Sister Agnes!" she cried; and the sister's arms were 
 round her in a loving embrace, and they were so engrossed 
 in the joy of their meeting, that they almost seemed to forget 
 Gerald, until he reminded them of his unworthy existence by 
 remarking confidentially to the ceiling: 
 
 " I don't appear to be on in this scene." 
 
 Then Claire turned to him, and with a blushing " May I?" 
 to the sister, knelt and kissed him. 
 
 " I wanted you to come," she said to Sister Agnes, " but I 
 did not like to say so in my letter. Gerald was coming ujj
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REOtfA. 34J 
 
 to fetch you. I have so much to tell you, and I want to hear 
 all about the school," 
 Sister Agnes smiled. 
 
 " I am loaded with messages," she said. " Tiny and all 
 your class send their love. Miss Gover does not send hers." 
 She smiled again, with the first touch of archness in her face 
 that Claire had seen. "She says that if you do not return 
 within four days she will report you to the Board, who will 
 doubtless proceed against you for breach of contract. She 
 says that if it's true you have recovered your wealth, it's one 
 of the most unfortunate things she has ever heard of; because 
 you would have made a first-rate teacher, and in time must 
 have risen to the position of head mistress, which, Miss Gover 
 says, is one of the proudest on earth." 
 
 " As she will find," said Claire, " when she becomes head 
 mistress of the Court Regna schools, with the schools rebuilt 
 and the prettiest of school-houses planned by Gerald Wayre, 
 Esq., architect made ready for her." 
 
 " Isn't she an angel?" demanded Gerald of Sister Agnes. 
 
 " Miss Gover?" said Claire. " Have you only just found 
 that out? Ah, I forgot! You do not know her. But you 
 will indeed say so when you make her acquaintance an 
 angel with the sharpest little eyes, and the sternest little voice, 
 and the tenderest big heart that ever beat in a woman's 
 bosom." 
 
 " In-deed!" remarked Gerald. " I was thinking of another 
 angel." 
 
 '* Meaning me?" said Claire, with delicious frankness. 
 " I'm not a bit of an angel. You both know that. I'm only 
 a commonplace young person, dominated by one idea yes, a 
 one-idead person, and Miss Gover says there is nothing more 
 contemptible." 
 
 "I think I rather like contemptible people, then," said 
 Gerald. " And may one ask what that idea is?" 
 
 Claire grew rosy red, and shook her head. 
 
 " Not before Sister Agnes," she said. 
 
 And Sister Agnes, who might have been expected to chide 
 their levity, sat and regarded them with a tender smile upon 
 her placid lips and a deep light of protecting love in her gray 
 ejes. 
 
 " You must make him quite well very soon, sister," said 
 Claire, " and bring him to the Court. Mr. Harling and 
 Grace whom you know are with me and I can do nothing 
 until he comes, and there is so much to be done!" 
 
 " To the Court I" said Sister Agnes in a low voice, the
 
 346 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 smile fading from her face. She bent her head under the 
 concealing veil, then she looked up steadily, and said: " Very 
 well; I will bring him. Go now, my child/' and she glanced 
 at Gerald's flushed face. 
 
 Gerald recovered his strength very quickly under Sister 
 Agnes's care. After the first day one might almost say the 
 first few minutes he accepted her devotion, for it was no less, 
 as a matter of course. This way of taking it surprised him 
 himself; but without any volition on his part, he had grown to 
 regard her as if she belonged to him as if he had some special 
 property in her. He could scarcely bear to have her out of 
 his sight, and when he was strong enough to get up, he leaned 
 upon her, not as a man leans upon a nurse, but as a husband 
 leans upon a wife, a son upon his mother. Once or twice, in 
 fact, he addressed her as " mother," as he had done on his 
 first meeting with her; and, as then, she trembled at the word, 
 and her eyes grew moist. 
 
 Sitting together by the fire, he gradually told her in full the 
 story of his life. It was a wonderful story, and she listened 
 with a sympathy of which he was conscious, though she 
 seldom said a word, contenting herself with now and then 
 laying her thin and wasted hand on his strong one. 
 
 But of herself and her own life's story she said nothing, and 
 Gerald revered her too much to ask a word, though he often 
 regarded he'r with a silent and almost painful curiosity. 
 
 One day, after he had been chafing at his enforced inaction 
 and imprisonment, she said, quietly, but with a little shake in 
 her voice: 
 
 " You are well enough to go to the Court to-day." 
 
 " Bravo!" he shouted. 
 
 " But you must be quiet," she said, tenderly. " It is all 
 arranged. A carriage will be at the top of the steps in a 
 quarter of an hour. You can walk thus far?" 
 
 " I could walk fifty miles if Claire were at the end of 
 them!" he said, joyously; and he would not let her help him 
 to put on his overcoat. " I am going to escape from your 
 clutches from to-day," he said. 
 
 It was only an affectation of triumph, and he did not mean 
 it, for his heart was full of gratitude; but she winced a little, 
 looking up at him piteously, and he was aghast at the effect 
 of his bantering speech. 
 
 " Why, I didn't mean it," he said; " you know 1 didn't! 
 If you could look into my heart, you would see how grateful, 
 how " 
 
 He put both hands reverently upon her shoulders-
 
 THE MISTKESS OF COURT EEGNA. 847 
 
 " I know/' she said. " It was foolish of me. Perhaps I 
 can look into your heart. Lean on me as you go up the 
 steps, though you may not need to." 
 
 As they climbed up the quaint and unique village street, the 
 people came out and thronged round them to greet Gerald 
 with affectionate congratulations, and the sister with respect 
 and gratitude. No one looking at the people, as they stood 
 round, bareheaded and smiling, would have recognized in 
 them the furious, blood-thirsty mob which, a few nights 
 before, had threatened to tear Mordaunt Sapley limb from 
 limb. But this is the way with Eegna folk. They are as 
 gentle as lambs, and as responsive to affection as women; but 
 rouse their wrath and indignation, and the lamb becomes a 
 tiger, and the woman a fury. 
 
 Claire and Grace were waiting in the carriage, and it is 
 difficult to say which of the girls, in their respective ways, 
 made more fuss over Gerald and his nurse. 
 
 As they drove to the Court, along the cliff road down which 
 Claire had ridden on her way to the chapel that morning long 
 ago, and through the lanes now bare of leaves, but still beau- 
 tiful with the promise of another spring, and up the wide 
 avenue with its lines of towering elms, Sister Agnes was very 
 silent. She leaned back with her arms folded arcoss her 
 bosom, her face concealed behind the veil, so that the others 
 could not see that her lips were moving in that silent prayer 
 which reaches Heaven more quickly than any flood of elo- 
 quence. 
 
 Her face was pale, and it quivered with some emotion when 
 Mr. Harling met them on tne steps and was made known to 
 her. Grace fell in love with her at once; and indeed it 
 seemed as if this sad-faced woman, in her black robe of mercy 
 and self-renunciation, were the central figure, for that day at 
 least. 
 
 She stood in the hall, with Claire on one side of her and 
 Gerald on the other, and looked round with a sad and thought- 
 ful gaze, as if the sight of the place aroused a sentiment more 
 profound than curiosity and admiration. 
 
 They went into lunch, and the young people were very 
 bright and almost merry; for Gerald was throbbing with the 
 excitement of newly regained health, and the delight of being 
 near his beloved; and Grace, upon whom the famous air of 
 Downshire had wrought a marked improvement, was in pos- 
 session of all her natural esprit. 
 
 The shadow of the Sapleys and their evil doings was already
 
 348 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 passing away from the ancient house, upon which the sun of 
 happiness and youthful love was again rising. 
 
 They talked and laughed, but were not forgetful of their 
 two elders, who sat and spoke together in graver tones; and 
 Gerald would now and again turn, with a word and a smile of 
 tender regard, to the white, patient woman beside him. 
 
 " We want to show you all over the Court after lunch, 
 sister," said Claire. " Gerald, who knows it all by this time, 
 shall act as cicerone and point out its lions.'-' As she 
 spoke, she bent and kissed her. It was delightful to have 
 her at Court Regna and to know that she was resting from 
 her life of toil amongst the poor, of whom none had suffered 
 more keenly than she herself. 
 
 After lunch Gerald led them into the hall, and assuming 
 the air of a guide, rapidly indicated the various objects of 
 interest, and epitomized their history. 
 
 " But the pictures," he said, " are, perhaps, Miss Sar- 
 toris's " with a mock bow to Claire " most valuable and 
 priceless possessions. If you will step this way, we will pro- 
 ceed to view the family portraits of the Wharton family." 
 
 He changed his slightly burlesque tone to a more serious one 
 as he ran over the portraits, and, naturally enough, drew the 
 sister's arm within his. 
 
 " This," he said, gravely, " is the portrait of the last Lord 
 Wharton." 
 
 As he spoke he felt the arm tremble and the frail body 
 sway. Mr. Harling, who had been standing near, with his 
 observant eye upon her, stepped forward quickly and took her 
 other hand. Before any one could speak, she had recovered 
 herself and stood looking at the portrait with a mask-like face 
 and unfathomable eyes. She looked^ that moment like one 
 of the pictures stepped from its frame. . 
 
 " You are tired," said Gerald. " We will rest." 
 
 " No," she said in a low voice, but quite firmly. " Let ua 
 go on, please!" 
 
 Gerald drew her arm through his still more closely, and they 
 went along the corridor and to the end of the body of the 
 building. 
 
 " There is an old wing here," said Gerald, " which Claire 
 would like to show you. It is the wing I was at work upon; 
 but we will see it some other day." 
 
 " I would like to see it now," she said. 
 
 Mr. Harling signed to him to withhold any further remon- 
 strance, and Claire, unlocking the dividing door, they passed 
 into the room which had just escaped demolition.
 
 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 349 
 
 "Is it not a fine old room?" said Gerald. " It was here 
 that I was at work. Oh, by the way, do you know, Claire, I 
 had quite forgotten the portrait?" 
 
 " What portrait?" asked Claire. 
 
 " The portrait of the lady we found behind the panel," he 
 said. " Don't you remember? I stuck it back there the day I 
 left, and it must be there still, of course. I should like to 
 show it to the sister and Mr. Harling. May I?" 
 
 "Why, certainly!" whispered Claire. "Why do you ask 
 me? It is all yours;" then aloud: " I'll send for a chisel or 
 something." 
 
 " No need/' he said. " I can get at it with this;" and he 
 took out the old knife with which he had hunted, carved, and 
 cut fagots and other things too numerous and too varied to 
 mention, and getting on a chair, removed the panel with ease 
 and took out the picture. 
 
 " It's none the worse," he said. " Wait till I've dusted it, 
 and you will see how beautiful it is." 
 
 They all gazed at it, then Mr. Harling uttered an exclama- 
 tion and glanced at Sister Agnes. She had sunk on one ef the 
 ancient chairs, and was looking at the picture with the same 
 set face and unfathomable eyes. They all followed his gaze, 
 and Claire, after a moment or two of silence, said in an awed 
 voice: 
 
 " Sister, it is like you!" 
 
 Sister Agnes smiled a strange smile. 
 
 ** The portrait is that of a young girl, Claire. I am an old 
 woman." 
 
 " Still there is a likeness," said Gerald in a hushed voice. 
 " I see it now. Why did I not notice it when I first saw you? 
 Do you detect it, sir.-"'' 
 
 Mr. Harling rubbed his chin and looked hard at the floor. 
 
 " Likenesses are very deceptive, my lad," he said. " Put 
 toe picture down; the sister would like to rest here for a 
 little while. Miss Sartoris, if I might take the liberty" 
 
 " In your own house?" said Claire, with a smile. 
 
 For once he did not contradict her, but went on quietly. 
 
 " I would suggest that we have our tea here." 
 
 " 1 will go and see to it," said Claire. " Come with me, 
 Grace!" and linking her arm in Grace's, she ran out of the 
 room, more like a school-girl than so important a person as 
 the mistress of Court Regna. 
 
 Mr. Harling closed the door after them, and going up to 
 Sister Agnes, laid his hand gently and protectingly on hers. 
 
 " My dear/' he said, " shall I tell him the story of that
 
 350 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGNA. 
 
 picture? You know that I have guessed discovered it? But 
 you yourself do not know all. It has only come to my 
 knowledge very recently. Are you strong enough to hear it?" 
 
 " Yes," she said in the same tone. 
 
 Mr. Harliug looked at Gerald. 
 
 " My boy," he said, " be prepared for a surprise, and try to 
 take it as calmly as she, God helping her, will do." 
 
 Gerald said nothing, but bent his head and stood erect with 
 folded arms. 
 
 " It was not a whim, Gerald, that took me to that place 
 Lartree," said Mr. Harling. " I went there to find a sister 
 from whom I had parted when I was a child. She was older 
 than I, and had been a mother to me, and when I came back 
 to England my first thought was of her. I did not find her. 
 I shall not do so till 1 have crossed the last river. She had 
 married the vicar of the place, and she had died of a broken 
 heart. His heart had broken also, for they had lost their 
 only child, the treasure of their lives. She had not died, but 
 had left them with her lover, and had passed out of their lives 
 as completely as if snatched from them by the hand of death 
 itself. I wanted to find where this daughter my niece, re- 
 member had gone. And 1 have." 
 
 His hand closed .on the sister's. The black-robed figure was 
 bowed and motionless. 
 
 " If you are thinking ill of her, cease to do so. The man 
 she fled with married Tier. He took her away with him to 
 Italy, and there, deeming her guilty of betraying him, he left 
 her. A child was born. She thought that it had died" 
 his hand closed more firmly on the one he held " but she was 
 deceived. The boy lived. It was taken from her and placed 
 under the cafe of a couple in England. He grew up with 
 them to boyhood, and then he ran away from them to sea." 
 
 Gerald moved slightly and looked from one to the other, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 " Mother and son were completely ignorant of each other's 
 existence. She came to England at last and devoted herself 
 to a life of charity. The saints are not all dead yet; she is 
 one of them." His voice broke slightly. "He wandered 
 about the world until it chanced that he came to a place called 
 Regna." 
 
 Gerald uttered an exclamation under his breath. 
 
 " Be silent and be calm, my lad," said Mr. Harling, with a 
 warning glance at the figure beside him. " I chanced to 
 meet him at the very place at which his mother was born. 
 Can you wonder that I started when you told me your name,
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 351 
 
 Gerald? For it was the maiden name of your mother 
 Wayre." 
 
 Gerald could not repress a cry now. 
 
 " You," said Mr. Barling, " were her son and my kins- 
 man. The man she married was Lord Wharton. This lady, 
 whom God protect, is Lady Wharton, and your mother!" 
 
 There was a profound silence in the room; then how, he 
 knew not Gerald was on his knees before her, with his arras 
 straining around her, and his head upon her bosom, while sobs 
 of " Mother!" " My son!" broke the solemn silence. 
 
 Lady Wharton's severe training in the sternest and most 
 severe of schools had endowed her with a marvelous power of 
 self-restraint; and though her whole being was thrilling with 
 that most sacred of all emotions, maternal love, she exerted 
 that power on behalf of the still more shaken and agitated 
 Gerald. She soothed him with word and caress, and in a very 
 few minutes they were sitting, hand in hand, with tears on 
 their cheeks, 'tis true, but outwardly calm. 
 
 " Mother! whispered Gerald, as if the word were the 
 sweetest his lips could frame, and "Gerald, my son!" she 
 murmured in response, while Mr. Harling stood at a little dis- 
 tance, with his back turned to them, and his face hidden in 
 his handkerchief. 
 
 " And you are Lady Wharton," said Gerald. " Think of 
 it, mother mother!" 
 
 " And you are Lord Wharton," said Mr. Harling, coming 
 up to them. " Think of that!" 
 
 Gerald started. He had, in fact, not thought of it yet. 
 
 " Now, you see," remarked Mr. Harling, dryly, " that you 
 and Claire need make no fuss about my paying the Sapleys* 
 mortgage. I'm your uncle, my boy, or something like -it. 
 Shake hands! God bless you, my boy! You little thought, 
 when you fought for Grace's life, that you were risking yours 
 to save your cousin. Fin your kinsman, as I say; ancfl sup- 
 
 buying something for Grace, and it makes me feel quite glad 
 that I found the Butterfly." 
 
 Gerald wrung his hand. 
 
 " But they're Claire's estates, you know," he said, with ft 
 laugh. " They were not entailed, and Lord Wharton " 
 
 " Your father!" murmured Ludy Wharton.
 
 352 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGtfA. 
 
 "Yes, my father," said Gerald in a low voice, and still 
 wonderingly, " left everything to her; aud it was the very 
 best thing he could have done/' Then he looked at them 
 gravely. " By the way, sir, I " he stopped and bit his lip, 
 and looked a little troubled " couldn't we keep our secret a 
 little longer? I've got my mother, and I don't care a fig for 
 the title. Couldn't we keep it until Claire and I are married? 
 She's well, it will be no news to you if I tell you that she's 
 proud. You know that. She wouldn't be my own dear 
 Claire if she were not. If she knows who I am she will want 
 to hand over the estates, and Mother, I don't want her to 
 do that. I would rather marry her as we are; she, the mis- 
 tress of Court Eegna, and I, just Gerald Wayre quite a 
 nobody, without a title and without a penny." 
 
 Of course the mother understood instantly. 
 
 " Yes, keep the secret," she said, looking up at Mr. Har- 
 ling. 
 
 He hesitatec*. 
 
 " Well, I don't know," he said. " You two will find ifc 
 precious difficult to hide it. You won't be able to look at 
 each other without having ' mother ' and ' son ' in your eyes." 
 
 "We have called each other 'mother' and 'son,'" said 
 Lady Wharton, tremulously. 
 
 "Well well!" said Mr. Harling, resignedly. "Let the 
 boy have his way. But, mark me, Gerald, only till after the 
 wedding. You must take your proper place then. I'm going 
 to take that as my reward for hunting out the truth. I want 
 to ^ee my sister's grandchild in his proper place the Earl of 
 Wharton! I want to see my niece recognized and righted!" 
 
 Lady Wharton trembled. 
 
 " I am Sister Agnes," she said. 
 
 " You are that boy's mother, my dear," he said, warmly, 
 " and you owe it to him, to your dead parents' memory, to 
 your family, to take your right place and position." 
 
 " It shall be as Gerald wishes," she said. 
 
 " Hush! Here they come," he said. " After the wedding. 
 We must be married at once. You must help me to persuade 
 her, mother. Hush!" 
 
 He had just time to kiss her and move away from her before 
 Olaire and Grace came in. They were laughing about some- 
 ching, and were flushed with running up the stairs. Claire 
 went up to Lady Wharton and put her arm round her. 
 
 " Are you rested, dear?" she said. " Tea's just coming. 
 How happy you look!" 
 
 " J am very happy," said Sister Agne?, and her eyes filled
 
 THE MISTEESS OF COURT REGNA. 363 
 
 with tears. Gerald went to the window. The footman 
 brought in the tea, and Claire at once began to pour it out. 
 
 " It was a happy idea of yours, Mr. Harling," she said, 
 " and we'll often have tea here when it's rebuilt, 1 mean/' 
 she went on, glancing at Gerald. " The architect has 
 returned after a long holiday, and is going to resume opera- 
 tions. On the south side he intends building two suites of 
 rooms; one of them for some friends of mine Mr. Hading 
 and his daughter and the other for a lady who will be kept 
 a close prisoner here. I say a prisoner, because it will only be 
 by chaining her to some article of furniture that we shall be 
 able to keep her from escaping to her dearly beloved slums. 
 However, perhaps we shall be able to find her some poor and 
 dirty people in Regna. Let us hope so." 
 
 She looked at Sister Agnes bewitchingly, as if she defied her 
 to refuse, and then went on, turning to Gerald: 
 
 " Oughtn't we to keep this antique furniture, Gerald, just 
 as it is? We want Mary Lexton here, and she is coming in a 
 week or two. I heard from her this morning. She knows all 
 about furniture, and can * spot ' the genuine antique. Is that 
 right, Gerald? I'm trying to learn all his slang, Mr. Harling, 
 because I find it so much more expressive than ordinary 
 English." 
 
 " Some of it's very expressive," said Mr. Harling, with a 
 twinkle in his eye. 
 
 Claire blushed. 
 
 " Well, I have to make a selection, of course; it's so diffi- 
 cult to tell whether a word's wicked or not. I tried one on 
 Lord Chester yesterday, and he didn't even wince, and it 
 would be so easy to shock him." 
 
 Gerald looked down at her with a fine smile. 
 
 " Easy for most people, 1 dare say," he said. " But some 
 of us are privileged." 
 
 The color rose (igain to Claire's face. She had told Gerald 
 of Lord Chester's offer, and, strange to say, it had not roused 
 his jealousy, but only increased the warmth of his liking for 
 that true nobleman. 
 
 " Yes," said Claire, musingly, " we will let Mary loose on 
 the furniture, as Gerald would say, and she shall arrange it 
 just as she pleases. It will be delightful to see her trying to 
 drag that old bureau about, for instance," and she nodded 
 at it. 
 
 Gerald started. 
 
 " By Jove!" he said, " that reminds me!" and he began 
 Humbling in his pocket It was full of papers and sketches, 
 
 18
 
 354 THE MISTRESS OF COURT REGSTA. 
 
 and they all watched him with the faint amusement and 
 enjoyment with which we all watch a man hunting for some- 
 thing. " Oh, here it is!" he said, at last, and he held up an 
 envelope. " Do you remember my finding some papers that 
 had been left in that old bureau, Claire?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Oh, but you must!" 
 
 " If you say so, I do," she said, with so meek a smile on her 
 lovely face that Grace laughed. 
 
 " I gave them to you, and you gave them back to me to 
 take care of, or give to Mr. Sapley, 1 forget which." 
 
 " And you have taken care of them in a man's usual way," 
 said Mr. Harling. " If you want to forget anything if you 
 want to lose a letter, for instance, give it to a man to post. 
 I've carried one about in my pocket, already stamped, for 
 months." 
 
 " I've carried these about for months," said Gerald. " I 
 put them into this envelope, meaning to post them, then I 
 thought I'd bring it myself. That's what brought me back 
 to Court Kegna," he added, with a simplicity that made Lady 
 Wharton smile and the rest laugh. " It is fearfully dirty; the 
 envelope, I mean; but there it is at last." 
 
 Claire took it. 
 
 " It looks as if it had been carried about by the Wandering 
 Jew," she said, lightly. " I suppose they'll turn out to be 
 nothing more interesting than old bills or receipts." She 
 looked at her name written by his hand with the look which 
 only a woman hi love can wear, then she daintily opened the 
 envelope. 
 
 Gerald had beckoned Lady Wharton to the window, and 
 was talking to her in a low voice, when Claire rose with a 
 faint exclamation. They turned and saw her standing with 
 two faded papers in her hand. Her face was white, and there 
 was a startled expression in her eyes. She looked round the 
 group, then holding out the papers a little, she said in a low 
 voice; 
 
 " You have not read these? But of course not. Can you 
 guess what they are? No, you can not. This is Lord 
 Wharton's will!" 
 
 '* Lord Wharton's will?" Mr. Harling said, quickly. 
 
 " Yes," said Claire, looking at him with a strange light in 
 her eyes. Women are quick to grasp a great truth, quicker 
 even than men, when the fact closely touches those they love. 
 *' This is hie will, his last will. I know the date of that
 
 THE MI8TEES6 OF COURT KEGlfA. 355 
 
 which he made in my favor. This is " she glanced at the 
 paper " two years later." 
 
 They held their breath. 
 
 " And ?" asked Mr. Harling, comprehensively. 
 
 " No, it does not leave Court Eegna to me," said Claire. 
 " I knew it. He told me almost with his last breath that he 
 had not done so. This will see, it is all in a few lines 
 leaves everything, excepting a provision for me, to his son." 
 
 Gerald and Mr. Harling exchanged glances. Lady Wharton 
 stood with her arms folded across her bosom, patient and 
 calm. 
 
 " To his son," continued Claire in a hushed voice, " Ger- 
 ald Way re ! Gerald, is it you?" 
 
 He went and put his arms round her. She put both her 
 hands, with the papers in them, on his breast, and looked at 
 him, her breath coming fast. Something like dread mingled 
 with the amazement in her eyes. 
 
 " I am Lord Wharton's son, dear!" he said. 
 
 She laughed; it was a little hysterical. 
 
 " You are Lord Wharton, the Earl of Wharton?" she 
 breathed. 
 
 " I am Lord Wharton, Claire," he said. " But it is not 
 proven yet." 
 
 " Yes," she said, and the hand that held the smaller paper 
 fluttered on his breast. " This is the certificate of your birth. 
 He m ust have put it with the will, that there might be no 
 doubt, no difficulty. Take them, Gerald. Everything is 
 yours." She laughed still a little hysterically, and her hand 
 seemed to close on him clingingly. " Oh, 1 am so glad, so 
 glad! You are Lord Wharton! Think of it, Gerald! I am 
 so glad and so proud. And I have been robbing you all this 
 time. But I give it all back to you now, dear everything." 
 
 She seemed to divine by the silence that her surprise was 
 not shared wholly by the others, and she looked over her 
 shoulder at them. 
 
 " Why, you knew it, sister!" 
 
 Gerald drew Lady Wharton forward. 
 
 " You have given me Court Regna, dearest," he said, and 
 the tears that shone in his eyes were no shame to his man- 
 hood. "Shall I give you something in exchange? Claire, 
 this is my mother and yours." 
 
 As Lady Wharton took the now sobbing girl in her arms, 
 Gerald turned aside, tore the will in two, and dropped it on 
 the fire which the servants had lighted. But Mr. Harling
 
 356 THE MISTRESS OP COURT 
 
 sprung forward and snatched the half-burned document from 
 the grate. 
 
 " Excuse me, young man," he said, dryly; " you forget 
 that I've an interest in the property;" and he carefully 
 extinguished the paper, folded it as carefully, and, with a 
 
 nod, placed it in his pocket. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The wedding was to have been A quiet one quite quiet 
 but perhaps no one was very much surprised to find, when the 
 bridal party made its way to the 'church, that the time-beaten 
 little edifice was crammed; that not only the church-yard, but 
 a large space in front of it, was filled with an eager, excited 
 and delighted crowd. Carriages, lined the roal?, gay with 
 bunting and laurel, for some distance; for though the invita- 
 tions had been few, the guests were many. The county 
 simply declined to be left out of an affair which so intimately 
 concerned it, and everybody who could be present came to 
 look on at the most romantic wedding which had ever taken 
 place in Regna; or, in fact, hi the county itself. Claire had 
 always been popular, and Gerald had won a place for himself 
 in the hearts of the poor; and the fact that the sweet face of 
 Sister Agnes was Lady Wharton, and his mother, added a zest 
 to the situation which heightened the interest and excitement. 
 
 As the bride appeared, a murmur of admiration and affec- 
 tion, which soon grew into ajoud cheer, greeted her and sent 
 the blood to her face. 
 
 Mr. Harling, who gave her away, was perhaps the proudest 
 man in what was afterward described as a popular demonstra- 
 tion; and he shook hands with Lord Chester three separate 
 times, as the two men, warm friends already, made their way 
 with difficulty through the crowd. But indeed his pride 
 seemed to be shared by the whole throng, who felt as if the 
 mistress of Court Eegna belonged to every one of them, as 
 indeed, in the best of all senses, she did, and continued to 
 belong. 
 
 As for Gerald, his pride in the lovely creature who was that 
 day made his own was overwhelmed by a joy so great as to 
 fill him with a wondering amazement. 
 
 It seemed to him, even as they drove back to the Court, 
 ade by side and hand in hand, as if even now he doubted the 
 reality of his overwhelming happiness; and his hand closed, on 
 ners in a grip so tight that she could feel the impress of her 
 wedding-ring her wedding-ring! on the fingers next it. 
 
 " Claire! Clairel Is it all a dream?" he said. 
 
 She was silent a moment, then she whispered;
 
 THE MISTBESS OP COUKT REGtfA. 35? 
 
 " Yes, it is all a dream, Gerald; but you and I will go on 
 dreaming it.'* 
 
 They were still in dream-land as they passed up the steps 
 lined by a cheering crowd, for the Court was open to all who 
 chose to enter its grounds that day a crowd that shouted 
 with all the power of its lungs: " God bless you, my lord) 
 God bless you, Mr. Gerald! God bless you, my lady! Heaven 
 keep you and send you happiness, Miss Claire! Long life to 
 our lord and lady!". 'They were still in dream-land when they 
 stood in the hall, surrounded by their true and tried friends, 
 and they did not .wake to the full sense of the happiness God 
 had showered uopn them until Claire was lying upon Sister 
 Agnes's tender 'Bosom, and they heard her murmur, with a 
 little sob: 
 
 " God bless you, my son and daughter!*' 
 
 Of that wedding-breakfast Downshire in general, and Regna 
 in particular, still talks. Lord and Lady Wharton are 
 famous for their hospitality, but none of the splendid enter- 
 tainments which have since been given by them within the 
 stately walls of Court Eegna have effaced the memory of the 
 never-to-be-forgotten marriage-feast; and men still quote, 
 with admiration and despair, the speeches made by Mr. 
 Harling and Lord Chester, and talk of the bride and her 
 beauty. 
 
 There is always a little pause after the excitement of such a 
 tremendous function, and perhaps few noticed that the bride 
 and bridegroom, attired for traveling, had stolen away, or that 
 the Dowager Lady Wharton was also missing. These three 
 had left the crowd of rejoicing guests and had gone down, side 
 by side, to the little cottage in the shrubbery. It was not 
 Lady Wharton's first visit there. 
 
 As they stood by the bed, the old woman who had accom- 
 panied her in her girlish flight looked up at her with dim but 
 smiling and loving eyes; but it was to Claire she spoke. To 
 her, Gerald and Claire were Lord Wharton and the girl with 
 whom she had sailed in the yacht; and as Claire bent down 
 rvnd kissed her, she said, with placid satisfaction: 
 
 " You're looking as well and bonny, my lady, as ever; and 
 my lord, too, is just as he always was. Ah, well; you deserve 
 a good and handsome husband, my lady; and my lord is that, 
 let people say what they will. " 
 
 '* Say ' God bless you,' nurse," whispered Claire. 
 
 " God bless you, my dear," said the old woman, as if she 
 a little surprised at the request and Claire's emotion;
 
 358 THE MISTKESS OF COUBT BEGffA. 
 
 " and God bless my lord, too. Does the yacht sail to-day? 
 Is the weather fine?" 
 
 " Yes, nurse," said Gerald's deep voice; " and, please God, 
 we shall have a long and prosperous voyage." 
 
 Just before the happy pair entered the ribbon-bedecked car- 
 riage which was to convey them to the station, Gerald handed 
 i long-shaped parcel to Mr. Harling. It looked as if it con* 
 tained an ax; and, in fact, it did, and a very fine and useful 
 ax it would have been if Terence could ever have brought 
 himself to use it, instead of hanging it over his fire-place, and 
 pointing it out to every one who entered the hut, and insisting 
 upon telling them the wonderful story of its donor. 
 
 It may be mentioned that Gerald and Claire themselves 
 found it there when they paid Terence a visit later on. 
 
 With shouts of " Come back soon come back soon!" ring- 
 ing in their ears, they were whirled to the station; and at last, 
 in the reserved carriage of the London express, realized that 
 they were alone. 
 
 It is a strange feeling, that isolation in the midst of a great 
 joy and absorbing happiness. These two could only look into 
 each other's eyes in silence for a time; then Gerald said, as he 
 drew the costly furs more closely round the woman whose 
 small hands had opened the gates of the earthly paradise for 
 him: 
 
 " Claire, that cry of theirs echoes in my ear. We must go 
 back soon. We shall be happy over there in the warmth and 
 sunshine; but Court Regna lies very near my heart almost 
 as near as its queen." She nestled a little closer. " I first 
 learned what love meant when I met its mistress* there, and 
 somehow it seems mean and cruel to rob it of her, even in this 
 moment of our joy, and even though it be only for a time." 
 
 " You have not robbed it, Gerald," she whispered, her lips 
 close to his. " Think. You have given it a master as well. 
 You are Court Regna's lord and master, and mine. Be good 
 to as both, dear my lord, for we love you passing well!" 
 
 TEE E3TD.
 
 The Letters ol Alphonse 
 
 " MEMBER OF THE FRENCH yOURNALISM" 
 BY ALEX. KENEALY 
 
 Alphonse is an accredited correspondent of a Parisian 
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 published in a decade, and the fun is in an entirely new 
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 or occasional traveler. 
 
 Cloth bound, small 12 mo. with illustrations and 
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 PRICE, SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS 
 
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