CEOROE CISSING
 
 i. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE PAYING GUEST
 
 THE 
 
 PAYING GUEST 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GISSING 
 
 ♦=^«f'fer*> 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 1895
 
 Copyright, tSgs, bv 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 THE GUARANTEE PRESS 
 NEW YORK
 
 P19 
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was Mumford who saw the ad- 
 vertisement, and made the sugges- 
 tion. His wife gave him a startled 
 look, 
 
 ' 'But — you don't mean that it's nec- 
 essary ? Have we been extra " 
 
 "No, no! Nothing of the kind. 
 It just occurred to me that some 
 such arrangement might be pleasant 
 for you. You must feel lonely, now 
 and then, darling, during the day. 
 And as we have plenty of room " 
 
 Emmeline took the matter serious- 
 ly, but, being a young woman of 
 some discretion, did not voice all 
 
 £NaiSii
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 her thoughts. The rent was heavy ; 
 so was the cost of Clarence's season 
 ticket. Against this they had set 
 the advantage of the fine air of Sut- 
 ton, so good for the child and for 
 the mother, both vastly better in 
 health since they quitted London. 
 Moreover, the remoteness of their 
 friends favoured economy ; they could 
 easily decline invitations, and need 
 not often issue them. They had a 
 valid excuse for avoiding public en- 
 tertainments — an expense so often 
 imposed by mere fashion. The 
 house was roomy, the garden delight- 
 ful. Clarence, good fellow, might 
 be sincere in his wish for her to have 
 companionship; at the same time, 
 this advertisement had probably 
 appealed to him in another way. 
 
 "A YOUNG LADY desircs to find a 
 home with respectable, well-con- 
 nected family, in a suburb of Lon- 
 don, or not more than 15 miles from 
 Charing X. Can give excellent ref- 
 erences. Terms not so much a con-
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 sideration as comfort and pleasant 
 society. No boarding house. Ad- 
 dress, Louise, Messrs. Higgins& Co., 
 Fenchurch St., E. C." 
 
 She read it again and again. 
 
 "It wouldn't be nice if people said 
 that we were taking lodgers. " 
 
 "No fear of that. This is evi- 
 dently some well-to-do person. It's 
 a very common arrangement nowa- 
 days, you know; they are called 
 'paying guests.' Of course I 
 shouldn't dream of having any one 
 you didn't thoroughly like the look 
 of." 
 
 "Do you think," asked Emmeline, 
 doubtfully, "that we should quite do? 
 'Well-connected family ' " 
 
 "My dear girl! Surely we have 
 nothing to be ashamed of. " 
 
 "Of course not, Clarence. But — 
 and pleasant society ? What of that ? ' ' 
 
 "Your society is pleasant enough, 
 I hope," answered Mumford, grace- 
 fully. "And the Fentimans " 
 
 This was the only family with
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 whom they were intimate at Sutton ; 
 a trifle sober, perhaps, and not in 
 conspicuously flourishing circum- 
 stances; but perfectly presentable. 
 
 "I'm afraid," murmured Emme- 
 line, and stopped short. "As you 
 say," she added presently, "this is 
 some one very well off. 'Terms not 
 so much a consideration ' " 
 
 "Well, I tell you what. There 
 can be no harm in dropping a note. 
 The kind of note that commits one 
 to nothing, you know. Shall I write 
 it? Or would you?" 
 
 They concocted it together, and 
 the rough draught was copied by 
 Emmeline. She wrote a very pretty 
 hand, and had no difficulty whatever 
 about punctuation. A careful letter, 
 calculated for the eye of refinement; 
 it supplied only the indispensable 
 details of the writer's position, and 
 left terms for future adjustment. 
 
 " It's so easy to explain to people, ' ' 
 said Mumford, with an air of satis- 
 faction, when he came back from the 
 
 lO
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 post, "that you wanted a companion, 
 as I'm quite sure you do. A friend 
 coming to stay with you for a time 
 — that's how I should put it." 
 
 A week passed, and there came no 
 reply. Mumford pretended not to 
 care much, but Emmeline imagined 
 a new anxiety in his look. 
 
 "Do be frank with me, dear," she 
 urged one evening. "Are we living 
 too " 
 
 He answered her with entire truth- 
 fulness. Ground for serious uneasi- 
 ness there was none whatever; he 
 could more than make ends meet, 
 and had every reason to hope it 
 would always be so; but it would re- 
 lieve his mind if the end of the year 
 saw a rather larger surplus. He 
 was now five and thirty — getting on 
 in life. A man ought to make pro- 
 vision, beyond the mere life assur- 
 ance — and so on. 
 
 "Shall I look out for other adver- 
 tisements?" asked Emmeline. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no. It was just 
 
 11
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 that particular one that caught my 
 eye." 
 
 Next morning arrived a letter, 
 signed "Louise Derrick." The 
 writer said she had been waiting to 
 compare and think over some two 
 hundred answers to her advertise- 
 ment. "It'sreally too absurd. How 
 can I remember them all? But I 
 liked yours as soon as I read it, and 
 I am writing to you first of all. Will 
 you let me come and see you? I 
 can tell you about myself much better 
 than writing. Would to-morrow do, 
 in the afternoon ? Please telegraph 
 yes or no to Coburg Lodge, Emilia 
 Road, Tulse Hill." 
 
 To think over this letter, Mumford 
 missed his ordinary train. It was 
 not exactly the kind of letter he had 
 expected, and Emmeline shared his 
 doubts. The handwriting seemed 
 just passable; there was no ortho- 
 graphic error; but — refinement? 
 This young person wrote, too, with 
 such singular nonchalance. And she 
 
 12
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 said absolutely nothing about her 
 domestic circumstances. Coburg 
 Lodge, Tulse Hill. A decent enough 
 locality, doubtless; but 
 
 "There's no harm in seeing her," 
 said Emmeline, at length. "Send a 
 telegram, Clarence. Do you know, 
 I think she may be the right kind of 
 girl. I was thinking of some one 
 awfully grand. It's rather a relief. 
 After all, you see, you — you are in 
 business " 
 
 "To be sure. And this girl seems 
 to belong to a business family. I 
 only wish she wrote in a more lady- 
 like way." 
 
 Emmeline set her house in order; 
 filled the drawing-room with flowers; 
 made the spare bedroom as inviting 
 as possible; after luncheon, spent a 
 good deal of time in adorning her 
 person. She was a slight, pretty 
 woman of something less than thirty; 
 with a good, but pale, complexion, 
 hair tending to auburn, sincere eyes. 
 Her little vanities had no root of ill- 
 
 ^?
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 nature; she could admire without 
 envy, and loved an orderly, domestic 
 life. Her husband's desire to in- 
 crease his income had rather unset- 
 tled her; she exaggerated the im- 
 portance of to-day's interview, and 
 resolved with nervous energy to 
 bring it to a successful issue, if Miss 
 Derrick should prove a possible com- 
 panion. 
 
 About four o'clock sounded the 
 visitor's ring. From her bedroom 
 window Emmeline had seen Miss 
 Derrick's approach; as the distance 
 from the station was only five min- 
 utes' walk, the stranger naturally 
 came on foot. A dark girl, and of 
 tolerably good features; rather 
 dressy; with a carriage correspond- 
 ing to the tone of her letter — an easy 
 swing, head well up and shoulders 
 squared. 
 
 "Oh, how I hope she isn't vulgar!" 
 said Emmeline, to herself. "I don't 
 like the hat — I don't. And that sun- 
 shade with the immense handle," 
 
 ' 14
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 From the top of the stairs she 
 heard a clear, hard voice: 
 
 "Mrs. Mumford at home?" 
 
 Yes, the aspirate was sounded — 
 thank goodness! 
 
 It surprised her, on entering the 
 room, to find that Miss Derrick looked 
 no less nervous than she was herself. 
 The girl's cheeks were flushed, and 
 she half choked over her "How do 
 you do?" 
 
 "I hope you had no difficulty in 
 finding the house. I would have 
 met you at the station if you had 
 mentioned the train. Oh, but — how 
 silly! I shouldn't have known you." 
 
 Miss Derrick laughed, and seemed 
 of a sudden much more at ease. 
 
 "Oh, I like you for that," she ex- 
 claimed, mirthfully. "It's just the 
 kind of thing I say myself some- 
 times. And I'm so glad to see that 
 you are — you mustn't be oiTended — 
 I mean you're not the kind of person 
 to be afraid of." 
 They laughed together. Emme- 
 
 15
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 line could not subdue her delight 
 when she found that the girl really 
 might be accepted as a lady. There 
 were faults of costume, undeniably ; 
 money had been misspent in several 
 directions; but no glaring vulgarity 
 hurt the eye. And her speech, 
 though not strictly speaking refined, 
 was free from the faults that betray 
 low origin. Then, she seemed good- 
 natured; though something about her 
 mouth was not altogether charming. 
 
 "Do you know Sutton at all?" 
 Emmeline inquired. 
 
 "Never was here before. But I 
 like the look of it. I like this house, 
 too. I suppose you know a lot of 
 people here, Mrs. Mumford?" 
 
 "Well, no. There's only one 
 family we know at all well. Our 
 friends live in London. Of course 
 they often come out here. I don't 
 know whether you are acquainted 
 with any of them. The Kirby-Simp- 
 sons, of West Kensington; and Mrs. 
 Hollings, of Highgate " 
 
 l6
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Miss Derrick cast down her eyes, 
 and seemed to reflect. Then she 
 spoke abruptly. 
 
 "I don't know any people to speak 
 of — I ought to tell you that my 
 mother has come down with me. 
 She's waiting at the station, till I go 
 back; then she'll come and see you. 
 You're surprised? Well, I had 
 better tell you that I'm leaving home 
 because I can't get on with my 
 people. Mother and I have always 
 quarrelled, but it has been worse 
 than ever lately, I must explain 
 that she has married a second time, 
 and Mr. Higgins— I'm glad to say 
 that isn't my name — has a daughter 
 of his own, by a first marriage; and 
 we can't bear each other — Miss Hig- 
 gins, I mean. Some day, if I come 
 to live here, I dare say I shall tell 
 you more. Mr. Higgins is rich, and 
 I can't say he's unkind to me; he'll 
 give me as much as I want; but I'm 
 sure he'll be very glad to get me out 
 of the house. I have no money of 
 
 17
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 my own — worse luck. Well, we 
 thought it best for me to come alone, 
 first, and see — just to see, you know, 
 whether we were likely to suit each 
 other. Then mother will come, and 
 tell you all she has to say about me. 
 Of course, I know what it'll be. 
 They all say I've a horrible temper. 
 I don't think so myself, and I'm sure 
 I don't think I should quarrel with 
 you, you look so nice. But I can't 
 get on at home, it's better for all 
 that we should part. I'm just two 
 and twenty — do I look older? I 
 haven't learnt to do anything, and I 
 suppose I shall never need to." 
 
 "Do you wish to see much so- 
 ciety?" inquired Mrs. Mumford, who 
 was thinking rapidly. "Or should 
 you prefer a few really nice people? 
 I'm afraid I don't quite understand 
 yet whether you want society of the 
 pleasure-seeking kind, or " 
 
 She left the alternative vague. 
 Miss Derrick again reflected for a 
 moment, before declaring herself. 
 
 i8
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "I feel sure that your friends are 
 the kind I want to know. At all 
 events, I should like to try. The 
 great thing is, to get away from 
 home, and see how things look." 
 
 They laughed together. Emme- 
 line, after a little more talk, offered 
 to take her visitor over the house, 
 and Miss Derrick had loud praise for 
 everything she saw. 
 
 "What I like about you," she ex- 
 claimed of a sudden, as they stood 
 looking from a bedroom window 
 over the garden, "is that you don't 
 put on any — you know what I mean. 
 People seem to me to be generally 
 either low and ignorant, or so high 
 and mighty there's no getting on 
 with them at all. You're just what 
 I wanted to find. Now I must go 
 and send mother to see you." 
 
 Emmeline protested against this 
 awkward proceeding. Why should 
 not both come together, and have a 
 cup of tea? If it were desired, Miss 
 Derrick could step into the garden 
 
 19
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 whilst her mother said whatever she 
 wished to say. The girl assented, 
 and in excellent spirits betook her- 
 self to the railway station. Emme- 
 line waited something less than a 
 quarter of an hour; then a hansom 
 drove up, and Mrs. Higgins, after a 
 deliberate surveyal of the house- 
 front, followed her daughter up the 
 pathway. 
 
 The first sight of the portly lady 
 made the situation clearer to Mrs. 
 Mumford. Louise Derrick repre- 
 sented a certain stage of civilization, 
 a degree of conscious striving for 
 better things; Mrs. Higgins was 
 prosperous and self-satisfied vulgar- 
 ity. Of a complexion much lighter 
 than the girl's, she still possessed a 
 coarse comeliness, which pointed 
 back to the dairymaid type of dam- 
 sel; her features revealed at the 
 same time a kindly nature and an 
 irascible tendency. 
 
 Monstrously over-dressed, weighted 
 with costly gewgaws, she came for- 
 
 20
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ward panting and perspiring, and, 
 before paying any heed to her host- 
 ess, closely surveyed the room. 
 
 "Mrs. Mum ford," said the girl, 
 "this is my mother. Mother, this is 
 Mrs. Mumford. And now, please 
 let me go somewhere whilst you have 
 your talk. " 
 
 "Yes, that'll be best, that'll be 
 best," exclaimed Mrs. Higgins. 
 "Dear, how 'ot it is! Run out into 
 the garden, Louise. Nice little 
 'ouse, Mrs. Mumford. And Louise 
 seems quite taken with you. She 
 doesn't take to people very easy, 
 either. Of course, you can give 
 satisfactory references ? I like to do 
 things in a business-like way. I 
 understand your 'usband is in the 
 city; shouldn't wonder if he knows 
 some of Mr. 'Iggins' friends. Yes, 
 I will take a cup, if you please, I've 
 just had one at the station, but it's 
 such thirsty weather. And what do 
 you think of Louise? Because 
 I'd very much rather you said 
 
 21
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 plainly if you don't think you could 
 get on. ' 
 
 "But, indeed, I fancy we could, 
 Mrs. Higgins. " 
 
 "Well, I'm sure I'm very glad of 
 it. It isn't everybody can get on 
 with Louise. I dassay she's told 
 you a good deal about me and her 
 step-father. I don't think she's any 
 reason to complain of the treatment. 
 
 "She said you were both very kind 
 to her," interposed the hostess. 
 
 "I'm sure we try to be, and Mr. 
 'Iggins, he doesn't mind what he 
 gives her. A five-pound note, if 
 you'll believe me, is no more than a 
 sixpence to him when he gives her 
 presents. You see, Mrs. Rumford — 
 no, Mumford, isn't it? — I was first 
 married very young; scarcely eight- 
 een, I was; and Mr. Derrick died 
 on our wedding day, two years after. 
 Then came Mr. 'Iggins. Of course, 
 1 waited a proper time. And one 
 thing I can say, that no woman was 
 ever 'appier with two 'usbands than
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 I've been. I've two sons growing 
 up; hearty boys as ever you saw. If 
 it wasn't for this trouble with 
 
 Louise " She stopped to wipe her 
 
 face. "I dessay she's told you that 
 Mr. 'Iggins, who was a widower 
 when I met him, has a daughter of 
 his first marriage — her poor mother 
 died at the birth. And she's older 
 than Louise; I don't mind telling 
 you, Mrs. Mumford, she's close upon 
 six and twenty, and nothing like so 
 good looking as Louise, neither, 
 Mr. 'Iggins, he's kindness itself, but 
 when it comes to differences be- 
 tween his daughter and my daughter, 
 well, it isn't nature he shouldn't 
 favour his own. There's more 
 be'ind, but I dessay you can guess, 
 and I won't trouble you with things 
 that don't concern you. And that's 
 how it stands, you see. ' ' 
 
 By a rapid calculation, Emmeline 
 discovered, with surprise, that ]\Irs. 
 Higgins could not be much more 
 than forty years of age. It must 
 
 33
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 have been a life of gross self-indul- 
 gence that had made the woman look 
 at least ten years older. This very 
 undesirable parentage naturally 
 affected Emmeline's opinion of 
 Louise, whose faults began to show 
 in a more pronounced light. One 
 thing was clear; but for the fact that 
 Louise aimed at a separation from 
 her relatives, it would be barely pos- 
 sible to think of receiving her. 
 If Mrs. Higgins thought of com- 
 ing down to Sutton at unexpected 
 moments — no, that was too dread- 
 ful. 
 
 "Should you wish, Mrs. Higgins, 
 to entrust your daughter to me en- 
 tirely ?" 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Mumford, it's very 
 little that my wishes has to do with 
 it. She's made up her mind to leave 
 'ome, and all I can do is to see she 
 gets with respectable people, which 
 I feel sure you are, and of course I 
 shall have your references." 
 
 Emmeline turned pale at the sug- 
 
 24
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 gestion. She all but decided that 
 the matter must go no further. 
 
 "And what might your terms be, 
 — inclusive?" Mrs. Higgins pro- 
 ceeded to inquire. 
 
 At this moment a servant entered 
 with tea, and Emmeline, sorely 
 flurried, talked rapidly of the advan- 
 tages of Sutton as a residence. She 
 did not allow her visitor to put in a 
 word till the door closed again. 
 Then, with an air of decision, she 
 announced her terms; they would be 
 three guineas a week. It was half a 
 guinea more than she and Clarence 
 had decided to ask. She expected, 
 she hoped, Mrs. Higgins would look 
 grave. But nothing of the kind; 
 Louise's mother seemed to think the 
 suggestion very reasonable. There- 
 upon Emmeline added that, of 
 course, the young lady would dis- 
 charge her own laundress' bill. To 
 this also Mrs. Higgins readily as- 
 sented. 
 
 "A hundred and sixty pounds per 
 
 35
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 annum!" Emmeline kept repeating 
 :o herself. And, alas, it looked as if 
 she might have asked much more. 
 The reference difBculty might be 
 minimized by naming her own 
 married sister, who lived at Black- 
 heath, and Clarence's most intimate 
 friend, Mr. Tarling, who held a 
 good position in a city house, and 
 had a most respectable address at 
 West Kensington. But her heart 
 misgave her. She dreaded her hus- 
 band's return home. 
 
 The conversation was prolonged 
 for half an hour. Emmeline gave 
 her references, and in return re- 
 quested the like from Mrs. Higgins. 
 This astonished the good woman. 
 Why, her husband was Messrs. 
 'Iggins of Fenchurch Street! Oh, a 
 mere formality, Emmeline hastened 
 to add — for Mr. Mumford's satisfac- 
 tion. So Mrs. Higgins very pom- 
 pously named two city firms, and 
 negotiations for the present were at 
 an end. 
 
 26
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Louise, summoned to the drawing- 
 room, looked rather tired of waiting. 
 
 "When can you have me, Mrs. 
 Mumford?" she asked. "I've quite 
 made up my mind to come." 
 
 "I'm afraid a day or two must 
 pass, Miss Derrick." 
 
 "The references, my dear " 
 
 began Mrs. Higgins. 
 
 "Oh, nonsense! It's all right, 
 any one can see." 
 
 "There you go! Always cutting 
 short the words in my mouth. I 
 can't endure such behaviour, and I 
 wonder what Mrs. Rumford thinks 
 of it. I've given Mrs. Rumford fair 
 warning." 
 
 They wrangled for a few minutes, 
 Emmeline feeling too depressed and 
 anxious to interfere with polite com- 
 monplaces. When at length they 
 took their leave, .'^he saw the last of 
 them with a sigh of thanksgiving. 
 It had happened most fortunately 
 that no one called this afternoon. 
 
 "Clarence, it's quite out of the 
 
 27
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 question." Thus she greeted her 
 husband. "The girl herself I could 
 endure, but, oh! her odious mother! 
 Three guineas a week! I could cry 
 over the thought." 
 
 By the first post in the morning 
 came a letter from Louise. She 
 wrote appealingly, touchingly. "I 
 know you couldn't stand my mother, 
 but do please have me. I like Sut- 
 ton, and I like your house, and I like 
 you. I promise faithfully nobody 
 from home shall ever come to see 
 me, so don't be afraid. Of course, 
 if you won't have me, somebody else 
 will; I've got two hundred to choose 
 from. But I'd rather come to you. 
 Do write and say I may come. I'm 
 so sorry I quarrelled with mother 
 before you. I promise never to 
 quarrel with you. I'm very good- 
 tempered when I get what I want." 
 With much more to the same 
 effect. 
 
 "We will have her," declared 
 Mumford. "Why not, if the old 
 
 ' 28
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 people keep away? You are quite 
 sure she sounds her /t's?" 
 
 "Oh, quite. She has been to 
 pretty good schools, I think. And 
 I dare say I could persuade her to get 
 other dresses and hats." 
 
 "Of course you could. Really, 
 it seems almost a duty to take her — 
 doesn't it?" 
 
 So the matter was settled, and 
 Mumford ran off gaily to catch hi? 
 train. 
 
 Three days later Miss Derrick ar- 
 rived, bringing with her something 
 like half a ton of luggage. She 
 bounded up the door-steps, and, 
 meeting Mrs. Mumford in the hall, 
 kissed her fervently. 
 
 "I've got such heaps to tell you I 
 Mr. Higgins has given me twenty 
 pounds to go on; for myself, I mean ; 
 of course, he'll pay everything else. 
 How delighted I am to be here! 
 Please pay the cabman; I've got no 
 change." 
 
 A few hours before this there had 
 
 39
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 come a letter from Mrs. Higgins; 
 better written and spelt than would 
 have seemed likely. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Mumford," it ran, 
 "L. is coming to-morrow morning, 
 and I hope you won't repent. 
 There's just one thing I meant to 
 have said to you, but forgot, so I'll 
 say it now. If it should happen that 
 any gentleman of your acquaintance 
 takes a fancy to L., and if it should 
 come to anything, I'm sure both Mr. 
 H. and me would be most thankful, 
 and Mr. H. would behave handsome 
 to her. And what's more, I'm sure 
 he would be only too glad to show in 
 a handsome zvay the thanks he would 
 owe to you and Mr. M. 
 
 "Very truly yours, 
 
 "Susan H. Higgins." 
 
 30
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 "Runnymede" (so the Mumfords' 
 house was named) stood on its own 
 little plot ot ground in one of the 
 tree-shadowed roads which persuade 
 the inhabitants of Sutton that they 
 live in the country. It was of red 
 brick, and double-fronted, with a 
 porch of wood and stucco; bay win- 
 dows on one side of the entrance, and 
 flat on the other, made the contrast 
 pleasing to the suburban eye. The 
 little front garden had a close fence 
 of unpainted lath, a characteristic of 
 the neighbourhood. At the back of 
 the house lay a long, narrow lawn, 
 bordered with flower beds, and 
 shaded at the far end by a fine horse- 
 chestnut. 
 
 Emmeline talked much of the de- 
 lightful proximity of the downs; one 
 would have imagined her taking
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 long walks over the breezy uplands, 
 to Banstead, or Epsom, or yet further 
 afield. The fact was she saw no 
 more of the country than if she had 
 lived at Brixton. Her windows 
 looked only upon the surrounding 
 houses and their garden foliage. 
 Occasionally she walked along the 
 asphalt pavement of the Brighton 
 Road, a nursemaid's promenade, as 
 far as the stone which marks twelve 
 miles from Westminster Bridge; 
 here indeed she breathed the air of 
 the hills, but villas on either hand 
 obstructed the view and brought 
 London much nearer than the meas- 
 ured distance. Like her friends and 
 neighbours, Emmeline enjoyed Sut- 
 ton because it was a most respect- 
 able little portion of the great town, 
 set in a purer atmosphere. The 
 country would have depressed her. 
 
 In this respect Miss Derrick proved 
 a congenial companion. Louise 
 made no pretence of rural inclina- 
 tions, but had a great liking for 
 
 32
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 tree-shadowed asphalt, for the re- 
 sults of elaborate horticulture, for 
 the repose and the graces of villa- 
 dom. 
 
 "I should like to have a house just 
 like this," she declared, on her first 
 evening at "Runnymede," talking 
 with her host and hostess out in the 
 garden. "It's quite big enough — 
 unless, of course, you have a very 
 large family — which must be rather 
 a bore." She laughed ingenuously. 
 "And one gets to town so easily. 
 What do you pay for your season 
 ticket, Mr. Mumford? Eh; well, 
 that isn't much. I almost think I 
 shall get one." 
 
 "Do you wish to go up very 
 often?" asked Emmeline, reflecting 
 on her new responsibilities. 
 
 "Oh, not every day, of course. 
 But a season ticket saves the bother 
 each time, and you've a sort of feel- 
 ing, you know, that you can be in 
 town w^ienever you like. " 
 
 It had not hitherto been the Mum- 
 
 33
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 fords' wont to dress for dinner, but 
 this evening they did so, and ob- 
 viously to Miss Derrick's gratifica- 
 tion. She herself appeared in a 
 dress which altogether outshone that 
 of her hostess. Afterwards, in pri- 
 vate, she drew Emmeline's attention 
 to this garb, and frankly asked her 
 opinion of it. 
 
 "Very nice, indeed," murmured 
 the married lady, with a good-na- 
 tured smile. "Perhaps — just a 
 little " 
 
 "There, I know what you're going 
 to say. You think it's too showy. 
 Now I want you to tell me just what 
 you think about everything — every- 
 thing. I shan't be offended; I'm 
 not so silly. You know I've come 
 here to learn all sorts of things. 
 To-morrow you shall go over all my 
 dresses with me, and those you don't 
 like I'll get rid of. I've never had 
 any one to tell me what's nice and 
 what isn't. I want to be — oh, well, 
 you know what I mean. " 
 
 34
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "But, my dear," said Erameline, 
 "there's something I don't quite 
 understand. You say I'm to speak 
 plainly, and so I will. How is it 
 that you haven't made friends long 
 ago with the sort of people you wish 
 to know? It isn't as if you were in 
 poor circumstances." 
 
 "How could I make friends with 
 nice people, when I was ashamed to 
 have them at home? The best I 
 know are quite poor — girls I went 
 to school with. They're much better 
 educated than I am, but they make 
 their own living, and so I can't see 
 very much of them; and I'm not 
 sure they want to see much of me. 
 I wish I knew what people think of 
 me; they call me vulgar, I believe — 
 the kind I'm speaking of. Now, do 
 tell me, Mrs. Mumford; am I 
 vulgar?" 
 
 "My dear Miss Derrick!" Emme- 
 line began in protest; but was at 
 once interrupted. 
 
 "Oh, that isn't what I want. You 
 
 35
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 must call me Louise, or Lou, if you 
 like; and just say what you really 
 think. Yes, I see, I am rather vul- 
 gar; and what can you expect? 
 Look at mother; and if you saw Mr. 
 Higgins, oh! The mistake I made 
 was to leave school so soon. I got 
 sick of it, and left at sixteen, and of 
 course the idiots at home — I mean, 
 the foolish people — let me have my 
 own way. I'm not clever, you 
 know, and I didn't get on well at 
 school. They used to say I could do 
 much better if I liked, and perhaps 
 it was more laziness than stupidity; 
 though I don't care for books — I 
 wish I did. I've had lots of friends, 
 but I never keep them for very long. 
 I don't know whether it's their fault 
 or mine. My oldest friends are Amy 
 Baker and Muriel Featherstone; they 
 were both at the school at Clapham, 
 and now Amy does typewriting in 
 the city, and Muriel is at a pho- 
 tographer's. They're awfully nice 
 girls, and I like them so much, but 
 
 36
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 then, you see, they haven't got 
 enough money to live in what / 
 should call a nice way. And, you 
 know, I should never think of asking 
 them to advise me about my dresses, 
 or anything of that kind. A friend 
 of mine once began to say some- 
 thing, and I didn't like it; after that 
 we had nothing to do with each 
 other." 
 
 Emmeline could not hide her 
 amusement. 
 
 "Well, that's just it," went on the 
 other, frankly. "I have rather a 
 sharp temper, and I suppose I don't 
 get on very well with most people. 
 I used to quarrel dreadfully with 
 some of the girls at school — the up- 
 pish sort. And yet all the time I 
 wanted to be friends with them. 
 But, of course, I could never have 
 taken them home." 
 
 Mrs. Mumford began to read the 
 girl's character, and to understand 
 how its complexity had shaped her 
 life. She was still uneasy as to the 
 
 37
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 impression this guest would make 
 upon their friends, but on the whole 
 it seemed probable that Louise would 
 conscientiously submit herself to in- 
 struction, and do her very best to be 
 "nice. " Clarence's opinion was still 
 favourable; he pronounced Miss 
 Derrick "very amusing," and less of 
 a savage than his wife's description 
 had led him to expect. 
 
 Having the assistance of two ser- 
 vants and a nursegirl, Emmeline 
 was not over-burdened with domes- 
 tic work. She soon found it fortu- 
 nate that her child, a boy of two 
 years old, needed no great share of 
 her attention; for Miss Derrick, 
 though at first she affected an ex- 
 travagant interest in the baby, very 
 soon had enough of that plaything, 
 and showed a decided preference for 
 Emmeline's society out of sight and 
 hearing of nursery affairs. On the 
 afternoon of the second day, they 
 went together to call upon Mrs. 
 Fentiman, who lived at a distance of 
 
 38
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 a quarter of an hour's walk, in a 
 house called "Hazeldene," a semi- 
 detached house, considerably smaller 
 than "Runnymede," and neither 
 without nor within so pleasant to 
 look upon. Mrs. Fentiman, a tall, 
 hard-featured, but amiable lady, had 
 two young children who occupied 
 most of her time; at present, one of 
 them was ailing, and the mother 
 could talk of nothing else but this 
 distressing circumstance. The call 
 lasted only for ten minutes, and 
 Emmeline felt that her companion 
 was disappointed. 
 
 "Children are a great trouble," 
 Louise remarked, when they had 
 left the house. ' ' People ought never 
 to marry unless they can keep a lot 
 of servants. Not long ago, I was 
 rather fond of somebody, but I 
 shouldn't have been, because he had 
 no money. Don't you think I was 
 quite right?" 
 
 "I have no doubt you were." 
 "And now," pursued the girl, pok- 
 
 39
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ing the ground with her sunshade as 
 she walked, "there's somebody else. 
 And that is one of the things I want 
 to tell you about. He has about 
 three hundred a year. It isn't much, 
 of course; but I suppose Mr. Hig- 
 gins would give me something. And 
 yet I'm sure it won't come to any- 
 thing. Let's go home, and have a 
 good talk, shall we?" 
 
 Mrs. Higgins' letter had caused 
 Emmeline and her husband no little 
 amusement; but at the same time it 
 led them to reflect. Certainly they 
 numbered among their acquaintances 
 one or twomariiageable young men, 
 who might perchance be attracted 
 by Miss Derrick, especially if they 
 learnt that Mr. Higgins was disposed 
 to "behave handsomely" to his step- 
 daughter; but the Mumfords had no 
 desire to see Louise speedily married. 
 To the bribe with which the letter 
 ended they could give no serious 
 thought. Having secured their 
 "paying guest," they hoped she 
 
 40
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 would remain with them for a year 
 or two at least. But already Louise 
 had dropped hints such as Emmeline 
 could not fail to understand, and her 
 avowal of serious interest in a lover 
 came rather as an annoyance than a 
 surprise to Mrs. Mumford. 
 
 It was a hot afternoon, and they 
 had tea brought out into the garden, 
 under the rustling leaves of the 
 chestnut. 
 
 "You don't know any one else in 
 Sutton except Mrs. Fentiman?" 
 Louise remarked as she leaned back 
 in the wicker chair. 
 
 "Not intimately. But some of 
 our friends from London will be 
 coming on Sunday. I've asked four 
 people to lunch." 
 
 "How jolly! Of course, you'll 
 tell me all about them before then. 
 But I want to talk about Mr. Cobb. 
 Please, tivo lumps of sugar. I've 
 known him for about a year and a 
 half. We seem quite old friends, 
 and he writes to me. I don't answer 
 
 41
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 the letters unless there's something 
 to say. To tell the truth, I don't 
 like him." 
 
 ''How can that be, if you seem old 
 friends?" 
 
 "Well, he likes me, and there's no 
 harm in that, so long as he under- 
 stands. I'm sure jwic wouldn't like 
 him. He's a rough, coarse sort of 
 man, and has a dreadful temper." 
 
 "Good gracious! What is his 
 position?" 
 
 "Oh, he's connected with the what- 
 d'ye-call-it Electric Lighting Com- 
 pany. He travels about a great 
 deal. I shouldn't mind that; it 
 must be rather nice not to have one's 
 husband always at home. Just now, 
 I believe he's in Ireland. I shall be 
 having a letter from him very soon, 
 no doubt. He doesn't know I've left 
 home, and it'll make him wild. Yes, 
 that's the kind of man he is. Fear- 
 fully jealous, and such a temper! If 
 I married him, I'm quite sure he 
 would beat me some day." 
 
 * 
 
 42
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Oh!" Emmeline exclaimed. 
 "How can you have anything to do 
 with such a man^" 
 
 "He"s very nice sometimes," 
 answered Louise, thoughtfully. 
 
 "But do you really mean that he 
 is 'rough and coarse?' " 
 
 "Yes, I do. You couldn't call 
 him a gentleman. I've never seen 
 his people; they live somewhere 
 a long way off, and I shouldn't 
 wonder if they are a horrid lot. 
 His last letter was quite insulting. 
 He said — let me see, what was it? 
 Yes — 'You have neither heart nor 
 brains, and I shall do my best not to 
 waste another thought on you.' 
 What do you think of that?" 
 
 "It seems very extraordinary, my 
 dear. How can he write to you in 
 that way, if you never gave him any 
 encouragement?" 
 
 "Well, but I suppose I have. 
 We've met on the Common now and 
 then, and — and that kind of thino-. 
 I'm afraid you're shocked, Mrs. 
 
 43
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Mumford. I know it isn't the way 
 that nice peoTjle behave, and I'm 
 going to give it up. 
 
 "Does your mother know him?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; there's no secret about 
 it. Mother rather likes him. Of 
 course he behaves himself when he's 
 at the house. I've a good mind to 
 ask him to call here, so that you 
 could see him. Yes, I should like 
 you to see him. You wouldn't 
 mind?" 
 
 "Not if you really wish it, Louise. 
 But — I can't help thinking you ex- 
 aggerate his faults. " 
 
 "Not a bit. He's a regular brute 
 when he gets angry. " 
 
 " My dear, " Emmeline interposed, 
 softly. "That isn't quite a ladylike 
 expression." 
 
 "No, it isn't. Thank you, Mrs. 
 Mumford. I meant to say he is 
 horrid, very disagreeable. Then 
 there's something else I want to tell 
 you about. Cissy Higgins, that's 
 Mr. Higgins' daughter, you know, 
 
 44
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 is half engaged to a man called 
 Bowling; an awful idiot. " 
 
 "I don't think I would use that 
 word, dear." 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Mumford. I 
 mean to say he's a regular silly. But 
 he's in a very good position; a part- 
 ner in Jannaway Brothers, of Wool- 
 wich, though he isn't thirty yet. 
 Well, now; what do you think? Mr. 
 Bowling doesn't seem to know his 
 own mind, and just lately he's been 
 paying so much attention to me 
 that Cissy has got quite frantic about 
 it. This was really and truly the 
 reason why I left home." 
 
 "I see," murmured the listener, 
 with a look of genuine interest. 
 
 "Yes. They wanted to get me 
 out of the way. There isn't the 
 slightest fear that I should try to cut 
 Cissy Higgins out; but it was get- 
 ting very awkward for her, I admit. 
 Now that's the kind of thing that 
 doesn't go on among nice people, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 45
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "But what do you mean, Louise, 
 when you say that Miss Higgins and 
 Mr. — Mr. Bowling are half en- 
 gaged?" 
 
 "Oh,- 1 mean she has refused him 
 once, just for form's sake; but he 
 knows very well she means to have 
 him. People of your kind don't do 
 that sort of thing, do they?" 
 
 "I hardly know," Emmeline re- 
 plied, colouring a little at certain 
 private reminiscences. "And am I 
 to understand that you wouldn't on 
 any account listen to Mr. Bowling?" 
 
 Louise laughed. 
 
 "Oh, there's no knowing what I 
 might do, to spite Cissy. We hate 
 each other, of course. But I can't 
 fancy myself marrying him. He 
 has along nose, and talks through it. 
 And he says 'Think you' for 'Thank 
 you. ' And he sings — oh ! to hear 
 him sing! I can't bear the man." 
 
 The matter of this conversation 
 Emmeline reported to her husband 
 at night, and they agreed in a hope 
 
 46 4
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 that neither Mr. Cobb nor Mr. Bowl- 
 ing would make an appearance at 
 "Runnymede. " Mumford opined 
 that these individuals were "cads. " 
 Small wonder, he said, that the girl 
 wished to enter a new social sphere. 
 His wife, on the other hand, had a 
 suspicion that Miss Derrick would 
 not be content to see the last of Mr. 
 Cobb. He, the electrical engineer 
 or whatever he was, could hardly be 
 such a ruffian as the girl depicted. 
 His words, "You have neither heart 
 nor brains," seemed to indicate any- 
 thing but a coarse mind. 
 
 "But what a bad-tempered lot they 
 are!" Mumford observed. "I sup- 
 pose people of that sort quarrel and 
 abuse each other merely to pass the 
 time. They seem to be just one de- 
 gree above the roughs who come to 
 blows, and get into the Police Court. 
 You must really do your best to get 
 the girl out of it; I'm sure she is 
 worthy of better things. " 
 
 "She is — in one way," answered 
 
 47
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 his wife, judicially. "But her edu- 
 cation stopped too soon. I doubt if 
 it's possible to change her very much. 
 And — I really should like, after all, 
 to see this Mr. Cobb." 
 
 Mumford broke into a laugh. 
 
 "There yougo! The eternal fem- 
 inine. You'll have her married in 
 six months." 
 
 "Don't be vulgar, Clarence. And 
 we've talked enough of Louise for 
 the present." 
 
 Miss Derrick's presentiment that 
 a letter from Mr. Cobb would soon 
 reach her was justified the next day; 
 it arrived in the afternoon, re-ad- 
 dressed from Battersea Rise. Em- 
 meline observed the eagerness with 
 which this epistle was pounced upon 
 and carried off for private perusal. 
 She saw, too, that in half an hour's 
 time Louise left the house — doubtless 
 to post a reply. But, to her sur- 
 prise, not a word of the matter es- 
 caped Miss Derrick during the whole 
 evening. 
 
 4S
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 In her school days, Louise had 
 learnt to "play the piano," but, car- 
 ing little or nothing- for music, she 
 had hardly touched a key for several 
 years. Now, the idea possessed her 
 that she must resume her practising, 
 and to-day she had spent hours at 
 the piano, with painful effect upon 
 Mrs. Mumford's nerves. After 
 dinner, she offered to play to Mum- 
 ford, and he, good-natured fellow, 
 stood by her to turn over the leaves. 
 Emmeline, with fancy work in her 
 hands, watched the two. She was 
 not one of the most foolish of her 
 sex, but it relieved her when Clar- 
 ence moved away. 
 
 The next morning, Louise was an 
 hour late for breakfast. She came 
 down when Mumford had left the 
 house, and Emmeline saw with sur- 
 prise she was dressed for going out. 
 
 "Just a cup of coffee, please. I've 
 no appetite this morning, and I want 
 to catch a train for Victoria as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 40
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "When will you be back?" 
 "Oh, I don't quite know. To tea, 
 I think." 
 
 The girl had all at once grown ret- 
 icent, and her lips showed the less 
 amiable possibilities of their contour. 
 
 . 50 
 
 nOil.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At dinner time she had not re- 
 turned. It being Saturday, Mum- 
 ford was back early in the afternoon, 
 and MivSS Derrick's absence caused 
 no grief; Emmeline could play with 
 baby in the garden, whilst her hus- 
 band smoked his pipe and looked on 
 in the old comfortable way. They 
 already felt that domestic life was 
 not quite the same with a stranger 
 to share it. Doubtless they would 
 get used to the new restraints; but 
 Miss Derrick must not expect them 
 to disorganize their meal times on 
 her account. Promptly at half-past 
 seven they sat down to dine, and had 
 just risen from the table when 
 Louise appeared. 
 
 She was in excellent spirits, with- 
 out a trace of the morning's ill- 
 
 51
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 humour. No apologies! If she 
 didn't feel quite free to come and go, 
 without putting people out, there 
 would be no comfort in life. A slice 
 of the joint, that was all she wanted, 
 and she would have done in a few 
 minutes. 
 
 "I've taken tickets for Toole's 
 Theatre on Monday night. You 
 must both come. You can, can't 
 you?" 
 
 Mum ford and his wife glanced at 
 each other. Yes, they could go; 
 it was very kind of Miss Derrick; 
 but 
 
 "That's all right; it'll be jolly. 
 The idea struck me in the train, as I 
 was going up; so I took a cab from 
 Victoria, and booked the places first 
 thing. Third row from the front, 
 dress circle; the best I could do. 
 Please let me have my dinner alone. 
 Mrs. Mumford, I want to tell you 
 something afterwards." 
 
 Clarence went round to see his 
 friend Fentiman, with whom he usu- 
 
 52 
 
 i
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ally bad a chat on Saturday evening. 
 Emmeline was soon joined by her 
 guest in the drawing-room. 
 
 "There, you may read that," said 
 Louise, holding out a letter. "It's 
 from Mr. Cobb; came yesterday, but 
 I didn't care to talk about it then. 
 Yes, please read it; I want you to." 
 
 Reluctantly, but with curiosity, 
 Emmeline glanced over the sheet. 
 Mr. Cobb wrote in ignorance of Miss 
 Derrick's having left home. It was 
 a plain, formal letter, giving a brief 
 account of his doings in Ireland, and 
 making a request that Louise would 
 meet him, if possible, on Clapham 
 Common, at three o'clock of Satur- 
 day afternoon. And he signed him- 
 self, "Very sincerely, yours." 
 
 "I made up my mind at once," 
 said the girl, "that I wouldn't meet 
 him. That kind of thing will have 
 to stop. I'm not going to think any 
 more of him, and it's better to make 
 him understand it at once, isn't it?" 
 
 Emmeline heartily concurred. 
 
 53
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Still," pursued the other, with an 
 air of great satisfaction, "I thought 
 I had better go home for this after- 
 noon. Because, when he didn't see 
 me on the Common, he was pretty 
 sure to call at the house, and I didn't 
 want mother or Cissy to be talking 
 about me to him before he had heard 
 my own explanation." 
 
 "Didn't you answer the letter?" 
 asked Emmeline. 
 
 "No. I just sent a line to mother, 
 to let her know I was coming over 
 to-day, so that she might stay at 
 home. Well, and it happened just 
 as I thought. Mr. Cobb came to the 
 house at half-past three. But before 
 that, I'd had a terrible row with 
 Cissy — that isn't a nice expression, 
 I know, but it really was one of our 
 worst quarrels. Mr. Bowling hasn't 
 been near since I left, and Cissy is 
 furious. She said such things that 
 I had to tell her very plainly what I 
 thougl^t of her; and she positively 
 foamed at the mouth! 'Now, look 
 
 54
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 here, she said, 'if I find out that he 
 goes to Sutton, you'll see what will 
 happen.' ' W/iat will happen?' I 
 asked. 'Father will stop your 
 allowance, and you'll have to get on 
 as best you can.' 'Oh, very well,' 
 I said, 'in that case, I shall marry 
 Mr. Bowling. ' You should have seen 
 her rage! 'You said you wouldn't 
 marry him if he had ten thousand a 
 year!' she screamed. 'I dare say I 
 did; but if I've nothing to live 
 
 upon ' ' You can marry your Mr. 
 
 Cobb, can't you?' And she almost 
 cried; and I should have felt sorry 
 for her, if she hadn't made me so 
 angry. 'No,' I said, 'I can't marry 
 Mr. Cobb. And I never dreamt 
 of marrying Mr. Cobb. And '" 
 
 Emmeline interposed. 
 
 "Really, Louise, that kind of talk 
 isn't at all ladylike. What a pity 
 you went home at all." 
 
 "Yes, I was sorry for it afterwards. 
 I shan't go again for a long time ; 
 I promise you I won't. However, 
 
 55
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Mr. Cobb came, and I saw him 
 alone. He was astonished when he 
 heard what had been going on ; and 
 he was astonished at ine^ too — I 
 mean, the way I spoke. I wanted 
 him to understand at once that there 
 was nothing between us; I talked in 
 rather a — you know the sort of way." 
 She raised her chin slightly, and 
 looked down from under her eyelids. 
 "Oh, I assure you I behaved quite 
 nicely. But he got into a rage, as 
 he always does, and began to call me 
 names. And I wouldn't stand it. 
 'Mr. Cobb,' I said, very severely, 
 'either you will conduct yourself 
 properly, or you will leave the house. ' 
 Then he tried another tone, and said 
 very different things. The kind of 
 things one likes to hear, you know ; 
 but I pretended that I didn't care for 
 it a bit. 'It's all over between us, 
 then?' he shouted, at last; yes, really 
 shouted, and I'm sure people must 
 have heard. 'AH over?' I said. 
 'But there never was anything — 
 
 56
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 nothing serious.' *0h, all right. 
 Good-bye, then.' And off he rushed. 
 And I dare say I've seen the last of 
 him — for a time." 
 
 "Now do try to live quietly, my 
 dear," said Emmelme. "Go on with 
 your music, and read a little each 
 day." 
 
 "Yes, that's just what I'm going 
 to do, dear Mrs, Mumford. And 
 your friends will be here to-morrow; 
 it'll be so quiet and nice. And on 
 Monday we shall go to the theatre, 
 just for a change. And I'm not 
 going to think of those people. It's 
 all settled. I shall live very quietly 
 indeed." 
 
 She banged on the piano till nearly 
 eleven o'clock, and went off to bed 
 with a smile of virtuous contentment. 
 
 The guests who arrived on Sunday 
 morning were Mr. and Mrs. Grove, 
 Mr. Bilton and Mr. Dunnill. Mrs. 
 Grove was Emmeline's elder sister, 
 a merry, talkative, kindly woman; 
 aware of the circumstances, she at 
 
 57
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 once made friends with Miss Derrick, 
 and greatly pleased that young lady 
 by a skilful blending of "superior" 
 talk with easy homeliness. Mr. 
 Bilton, a stock-broker's clerk, repre- 
 sented the better kind of City young 
 man; athletic, yet intelligent, 
 spirited without vulgarity; a 
 breezy, good-humoured, wholesome 
 fellow. He came down on his 
 bicycle, and would return in the 
 same way. Louise at once made a 
 resolve to learn cycling. 
 
 "I wish you lived at Sutton, Mr. 
 Bilton. I should ask you to teach 
 me. 
 
 "I'm reall)^ very sorry that I 
 don't," replied the young man, dis- 
 creetly. 
 
 "Oh, never mind. I'll find some- 
 body." 
 
 The fourth arrival, Mr. Dunnill, 
 was older and less affable. He 
 talked chiefly with Mr. Grove, a 
 very qiHet, somewhat care-worn 
 man; neither of them seemed able 
 
 ' 58
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 to shake off business, but they did 
 not obtrude it on the company in 
 general. The day passed pleasantly, 
 but, in Miss Derrick's opinion, 
 rather soberly; doing her best to 
 fascinate Mr. Bilton, she felt a slight 
 disappointment at her inability to 
 engross his attention, and at the 
 civil friendship which he thought a 
 sufficient reply to her gay sallies. 
 For so good-looking and well-dressed 
 a man, he struck her as singularly 
 reserved. But perhaps he was 
 "engaged;" yes, that must be the 
 explanation. When the guests had 
 left, she put a plain question to Mrs. 
 Mumford. 
 
 "I don't think he is engaged," 
 answered Emmeline, who on the 
 whole was satisfied with Miss Der- 
 rick's demeanour throughout the 
 day, 
 
 "Oh? But of course he may be, 
 without your knowing it. Or is it 
 always made known?" 
 
 "There's no rule about it, my dear." 
 
 59
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "And they're very nice people," 
 said Louise, with a little sigh. 
 "And I like your sister so much. 
 I'm glad she asked me to go and see 
 her. Is Mr. Bilton often at her 
 house? Don't misunderstand me 
 Mrs. Mumford. It's only that I do 
 like men's society; there's no harm, 
 is there? And people like Mr. Bil- 
 ton are very different to those I've 
 known; and I want to see more of 
 them, you know." 
 
 "There's no harm in saying that 
 to me, Louise," replied Mrs. Mum- 
 ford. "But pray be careful not to 
 seem 'forward.' People think — and 
 say — such disagreeable things." 
 
 Miss Derrick was grateful, and 
 again gave an assurance that repose 
 and modesty should be the rule of 
 her life. 
 
 At the theatre on Monday evening' 
 she exhibited a childlike enjoyment 
 which her companions could not but 
 envy. The freshness of her sensibil 
 ities was indeed remarkable, and 
 
 , 60
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Emmeline observed with pleasure 
 that her mind seemed to have a very 
 wholesome tone; Louise might com- 
 mit follies, and be guilty of bad taste 
 to any extent, but nothing in her 
 savoured of depravity. 
 
 Tuesday she spent at home, pre- 
 tending to read a little, and obviously 
 thinking a great deal. On Wednes- 
 day morning, she proposed of a 
 sudden that Emmeline should go up 
 to town with her on a shopping ex- 
 pedition. They had already turned 
 over her wardrobe, numerous articles 
 whereof were condemned by Mrs. 
 Mumford's taste, and by Louise 
 cheerfully sacrificed; she could not 
 rest till new purchases had been 
 made. So, after early luncheon, 
 they took train to Victoria, Louise 
 insisting that all the expenses should 
 be hers. By five o'clock she had 
 laid out some fifteen pounds, vastly 
 to her satisfaction. They took tea 
 at a restaurant, and reached Sutton 
 not long before Mumford's return.
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 On Friday they went to London 
 again, to call upon Mrs. Grove. 
 Louise promised that this should be 
 her last "outing" for a whole week. 
 She admitted a feeling of restless- 
 ness, but after to-day she would 
 overcome it. And that night she 
 apologized formally to Mumford 
 for taking his wife so much from 
 home. 
 
 "Please don't think I shall always 
 be running about like this. I feel 
 that I'm settling down. We are 
 going to be very comfortable and 
 quiet." 
 
 And, to the surprise of her friends, 
 more than a week went by before 
 she declared that a day in town was 
 absolutely necessary. Mr. Higgins 
 had sent her a fresh supply of 
 money, and there were still a few 
 things she needed to purchase. But 
 this time Emmeline begged her to 
 go alone, and Louise seemed quite 
 satisfied with the arrangement. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, as Mrs. 
 
 62
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Mum ford was making ready to go 
 out, the servant announced to her 
 that a gentleman had called to see 
 Miss Derrick; on learning that Miss 
 Derrick was away, he had asked sun- 
 dry questions, and ended by request- 
 ing an interview with Mrs. Mum- 
 ford, His name was Cobb. 
 
 "Show him into the drawing- 
 room," said Emmeline, a trifle agi- 
 tated. "I will be down in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 Beset by anxious anticipations, 
 she entered the room, and saw be- 
 fore her a figure not wholly unlike 
 what she had imagined: a wiry, re- 
 solute-looking man, with knitted 
 brows, lips close set, and heavy feet 
 firmly planted on the carpet. He 
 was respectably dressed, but nothing 
 more, and in his large bare hands 
 held a brown hat marked with grease 
 spots. One would have judged him 
 a skilled mechanic. When he began 
 to speak, his blunt but civil phrases 
 were in keeping with this impres- 
 
 63
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 sion. He had not the tone of an 
 educated man, yet committedl no 
 vulgar errors. 
 
 "My name is Cobb. I must beg 
 your pardon for troubling you. Per- 
 haps you have heard of me from 
 Miss Derrick?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Cobb, )^our name has 
 been mentioned, ' ' Emmeline replied, 
 nervously. "Will you take a seat?" 
 
 "Thank you, I will." 
 
 He twisted his hat about, and 
 seemed to prepare with difficulty the 
 next remark, which at length burst, 
 rather than fell, from his lips. 
 
 "I wanted to see Miss Derrick. I 
 suppose she is still living with you? 
 They told me so." 
 
 A terrible man, thought Emme- 
 line, when roused to anger; his 
 words must descend like sledge- 
 hammers. And it would not take 
 much to anger him. For all that, he 
 had by no means a truculent coun- 
 tenance. He was trying to smile, 
 and his features softened agreeably 
 
 > 64
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 enough. The more closely she ob- 
 served him, the less grew Emme- 
 line's wonder that Louise felt an in- 
 terest in the man. 
 
 "Miss Derrick is likely to stay 
 with us for some time, I believe. 
 She has only gone to town to do some 
 shopping." 
 
 "I see. When I met her last, 
 she talked a great deal about you, 
 Mrs. Mumford, and that's why I 
 thought I would ask to see you. 
 You have a good deal of influence 
 over her. ' ' 
 
 "Do you think so?" returned 
 Emmeline, not displeased. "I hope 
 I may use it for her good. " 
 
 "So do I. But — well, it comes to 
 this, Mrs. Mumford. She seemed to 
 hint — though she didn't exactly say 
 so — that you were advising her to 
 have nothing more to do with me. 
 Of course you don't know me, and 
 I've no doubt you do what you think 
 the best for her. I should find it a 
 kindness if you would just tell me 
 
 ^5
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 whether you are really persuading 
 her to think no more about me." 
 It was an alarming challenge. 
 Emmeline's fears returned; she half 
 expected an outbreak of violence. 
 The man was growing very nervous, 
 and his muscles showed the working 
 of strong emotion. 
 
 "I have given her no such advice, 
 Mr. Cobb," she answered, with an 
 attempt at calm dignity. "Miss 
 Derrick's private affairs don't at all 
 concern me. In such matters as this, 
 she is really quite old enough to 
 judge for herself. ' ' 
 
 "That's what /should have said," 
 remarked Mr. Cobb, sturdily. "I 
 hope you'll excuse me; I don't wish 
 to make myself offensive. After 
 what she said to me when we met 
 last, I suppose most men would just 
 let her go her own way. But — but 
 somehow I can't do that. The thing 
 is, I can't trust what she says; I 
 don't believe she knows her own 
 mind. And so long as you tell me 
 
 66
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 that you're not interfering — I mean, 
 that you don't think it right to set 
 her against me " 
 
 "I assure you, nothing of the 
 kind." 
 
 There was a brief silence, then 
 Cobb's voice again sounded with 
 blunt emphasis. 
 
 "We're neither of us very good- 
 tempered. We've known each other 
 about a year, and we must have 
 quarrelled about fifty times." 
 
 "Do you think, then," ventured 
 the hostess, "that it would ever be 
 possible for you to live peacefully 
 together?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," was the robust an- 
 swer. "It would be a fight for the 
 upper hand, but I know who'd get 
 it, and after that things would be all 
 right." 
 
 Emmeline could not restrain a 
 laugh, and her visitor joined in it 
 with a heartiness which spoke in hi.« 
 favour. 
 
 "I promise you, Mr. Cobb, that 1 
 
 67
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 will do nothing whatever against 
 your interests." 
 
 "That's very kind of you, and it's 
 all I wanted to know." 
 
 He stood up. Emmeline, still 
 doubtful how to behave, asked him 
 if he would call on another day, when 
 Miss Derrick might be at home. 
 
 "It's only by chance I was able to 
 get here this afternoon," he replied. 
 "I haven't much time to go running 
 about after her, and that's where 
 I'm at a disadvantage. I don't 
 know whether there's any one else, 
 and I'm not asking you to tell me, if 
 you know. Of course, I have to take 
 my chance; but so long as you don't 
 speak against me — and she thinks 
 a great deal of your advice " 
 
 "I'm very glad to be assured of 
 that. All I shall do, Mr. Cobb, is 
 to keep before her mind the duty of 
 behaving straightforwardly." 
 
 "That's the thing! Nobody can 
 ask more than that." 
 
 Emmeline hesitated, but could not 
 
 68
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 dismiss him without shaking hands. 
 That he did not offer to do so until 
 invited, though he betrayed no sense 
 of social inferiority, seemed another 
 point in his favour. 
 
 69
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Not half an hour after Cobb's de- 
 parture, Louise returned. Emme- 
 line was surprised to see her back so 
 soon ; they met near the railway sta- 
 tion, as Mrs. Mumford was on her 
 way to a shop in High Street. 
 
 "Isn't it good of me? If I had 
 stayed longer, I should have gone 
 home, to quarrel with Cissy; but I 
 struggled against the temptation. 
 Going to the grocer's? Oh, do let 
 me go with you, and see how you do 
 that kind of thing. I never gave 
 an order at the grocer's in my life — 
 no, indeed I never did. Mother and 
 Cissy have always looked after that. 
 And I want to learn about house- 
 keeping; you promised to teach 
 me." .. 
 
 Emmelirie mnde no mention of Mr.
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Cobb's call, until they reached the 
 house. 
 
 "He came here!" Louise ex- 
 claimed, reddening. "What impu- 
 dence! I shall at once write and tell 
 him that his behaviour is outrageous. 
 Am I to be hunted like this?" 
 
 Her wrath seemed genuine enough ; 
 but she was vehemently eager to 
 learn all that had passed. Emme- 
 line made a truthful report. 
 
 "You're quite sure that was all? 
 Oh, his impertinence ! Well, and now 
 that you've seen him, don't you un- 
 derstand how — how impossible it is?" 
 
 "I shall say nothing more about it, 
 Louise. It isn't my business to " 
 
 The girl's face threatened a tem- 
 pest. As Emmeline was moving 
 away she rudely obstructed her. 
 
 "I insist on you telling me what 
 you think. It was abominable of 
 him to come when I wasn't at home; 
 and I don't think you ought to have 
 seen him. You've no right to keep 
 your thoughts to yourself!" 
 
 71
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Mrs. Mum ford was offended, and 
 showed it. 
 
 "I have a perfect right, and I shall 
 do so. Please don't let us quarrel. 
 You may be fond of it, but I am 
 not." 
 
 Louise went from the room, and 
 remained invisible till just before 
 dinner, when she came down with a 
 grave and rather haughty counte- 
 nance. To Mumford's remarks she 
 replied with curt formality; he, pre- 
 pared for this state of things, began 
 conversing cheerfully with his wife, 
 and Miss Derrick kept silence. After 
 dinner, she passed out into the 
 garden. 
 
 "It won't do," said Mumford. 
 "The house is upset. I'm afraid 
 we shall have to get rid of her. " 
 
 "If she can't behave herself, I'm 
 afraid we must. It's my fault. I 
 ought to have known that it would 
 never do. " 
 
 At half past ten, Louise was still 
 sitting out of doors, in the dark. 
 
 72
 
 THE PAYING GUEST. 
 
 Emmeline, wishing to lock up for the 
 night, went to summon her trouble- 
 some guest. 
 
 "Hadn't you better come in?" 
 
 "Yes. But I think you are very 
 unkind, Mrs. Mumford." 
 
 "Miss Derrick, I really can't do 
 anything but leave you alone, when 
 you are in such an unpleasant 
 humour." 
 
 "But that's just what you oughtn't 
 to do. When I'm left alone, I sulk, 
 and that's bad for all of us. If you 
 would just get angry and give me 
 what I deserve, it would all be over 
 very soon. " 
 
 "You are always talking about 
 'nice' people. Nice people don't 
 have scenes of that kind. " 
 
 "No, I suppose not. And I'm very 
 sorry, and if you'll let me beg your 
 pardon — — There, and we might 
 have made it up hours ago. I won't 
 ask you to tell me what you think of 
 Mr. Cobb. I've written him the kind 
 of letter his impudence deserves." 
 
 73
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Very well. We won't talk of it 
 any more. And if you could be a 
 little quieter in your manners, 
 Louise." 
 
 "I will, I promise I will! Let me 
 say good-night to Mr. Mumford. " 
 
 For a day or two there was halcyon 
 weather. On Saturday afternoon, 
 Louise hired a carriage, and took 
 her friends for a drive into the coun- 
 try; at her special request the child 
 accompanied them. Nothing could 
 have been more delightful. »She had 
 quite made up her mind to have a 
 house, some day, at Sutton. She 
 hoped theMumfords would "always" 
 live there, that they might perpetu- 
 ally enjoy each other's society. 
 What were the rents? she inquired. 
 Well, to begin with, she would be 
 content with one of the smaller 
 houses; a modest, semi-detached 
 little place, like those at the far end 
 of Cedar Road. They were perfectly 
 respectable, were they not? How 
 this change in her station was to 
 
 • 74
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 come about, Louise offered no hint, 
 and did not seem to think of the 
 matter. 
 
 Then restlessness again came upon 
 her. One day she all but declared 
 her disappointment that the Mum- 
 fords saw so few people. Emmeline, 
 reporting this to her husband, 
 aroused a certain compunction. 
 
 "I almost feel that I deliberately 
 misled her. You know, Clarence, 
 in our first conversation I mentioned 
 the Kirby-Simpsons and Mrs. Rol- 
 lings, and I feel sure she remembers. 
 It wouldn't be nice to be taking her 
 money on false pretences, would it?" 
 
 "Oh, don't trouble. It's quite cer- 
 tain she has some one in mind whom 
 she means to marry before long." 
 
 "I can't help thinking that. But 
 I don't know who it can be. She 
 had a letter this morning in a man's 
 writing, and didn't speak of it. It 
 wasn't Mr. Cobb." 
 
 Louise next day put a point-blank 
 question. 
 
 75
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Didn't you say that you knew 
 some people at West Kensington?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered Einmeline, 
 carelessly. "The Kirby-Simpsons. 
 They're away from home." 
 
 "I'm sorry for that. Isn't there 
 any one else we could go and see, or 
 ask over here?" 
 
 "I think it very likely that Mr. 
 Bilton will come down in a few 
 days." 
 
 Louise received Mr. Bilton 's name 
 with moderate interest. But she 
 dropped the subject, and seemed to 
 reconcile herself to domestic pleas- 
 ures. 
 
 It was on the evening of this day 
 that Emmeline received a letter 
 which gave her much annoyance. 
 Her sister, Mrs. Grove, wrote thus: 
 
 "How news does get about! And 
 what ridiculous forms it takes! 
 Here's Mrs. Powell writing to me 
 from Birmingham, and she says that 
 she has heard that you have taken in 
 the daughter of some wealthy par- 
 
 . 76
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 vemi^ for a consideration, to train 
 her in the ways of decent society! 
 Just the kind of thing that Mrs. 
 Powell would delight in talking 
 about — she is so verv malicious. 
 Where she got her information I 
 can't imagine. She doesn't give the 
 slightest hint. 'They tell me'— I 
 copy her words — 'that the girl is all 
 but a savage, and does and says the 
 most awful things. I quite admire 
 Mrs. Mumford's courage. I've heard 
 of people doing this kind of thing, 
 and I always wondered how they got 
 on with their friends.' Of course, I 
 have written to contradict this rub- 
 bish. But it's very annoying, I'm 
 sure. " 
 
 Mum ford was angry. The source 
 of these fables must be either Bilton 
 or Dunnill, yet he had not thought 
 either of them the kind of men to 
 make mischief. Who else knew any- 
 thing of the affair? Searching her 
 memory, Emmeline recalled a person 
 unknown to her, a married lady, who 
 
 77
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 had dropped in at Mrs. Grove's when 
 she and Louise Vv'ere there. 
 
 "I didn't like her — a supercilious 
 sort of person. And she talked a 
 great deal of her acquaintance with 
 important people. It is far more 
 likely to have come from her than 
 from either of those men. I shall 
 write and tell Molly so." 
 
 They began to feel uncomfortable, 
 and seriously thought of getting rid 
 of the burden so imprudently imder- 
 taken. Louise, the next day, wanted 
 to take Emmeline to town, and 
 showed dissatisfaction when she had 
 to go unaccompanied. She stayed 
 till late in the evening, and came 
 back with a gay account of her calls 
 upon two or three old friends — ^the 
 girls of whom she had spoken to Mrs. 
 Mumford. One of them, Miss Feath- 
 erstone, she had taken to dine with 
 her at a restaurant, and afterwards 
 they had spent an hour or two at 
 Miss Eeatherstone's lodgings. 
 
 "I didn't go near Battersea Rise, 
 
 ' 78
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 and if you knew how I am wondering 
 what's going on there! Not a line 
 from any one. I shall write to mother 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Emmeline produced a letter which 
 had arrived for Miss Derrick. 
 
 "Why didn't you give it me be- 
 fore?" Louise exclaimed, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "My dear, you had so much to tell 
 me. I waited for the first pause." 
 
 "That isn't from home," said the 
 girl, after a glance at the envelope. 
 "It's nothing." 
 
 After saying good-night, she called 
 to Emmeline from her bedroom door. 
 Entering the room, Mrs. Mumford 
 saw the open letter in Louise's hand, 
 and read in her face a desire of con- 
 fession. 
 
 "I want to tell you something. 
 Don't be in a hurry, just a few min- 
 utes. This letter is from Mr. Bowl- 
 ing. Yes, and I've had one from 
 him before, and I was obliged to 
 answer it." 
 
 79
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Do you mean they are love-let- 
 ters?" 
 
 "Yes, I'm afraid they are. And 
 it's so stupid, and I'm so vexed. I 
 don't want to have anything to do 
 with him, as I told you long ago." 
 Louise often used expressions which 
 to a stranger would have implied 
 that her intimacy with Mrs. Mum- 
 ford was of years' standing. "He 
 wrote for the first time last 
 week. Such a silly letter, I wish 
 you would read it. Well, he 
 said that it was all over be- 
 tween him and Cissy, and that 
 he cared only for me, and always 
 would — you know how men write. 
 He said he considered himself quite 
 free. Cissy had refused him, and 
 wasn't that enough? Now that I 
 was away from home, he could write 
 to me, and wouldn't I let him see 
 me? Of course I wrote that I didn't 
 want to see him, and I thought he 
 was behaving very badly — though I 
 don't really think so, because it's all 
 
 80
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 that idiot Cissy's fault. Didn't I do 
 quite right?" 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "Very well. And now he's writ- 
 ing again, you see; oh, such a lot of 
 rubbish! I can hear him saying it, 
 all through his nose. Do tell me 
 what I ought to do next. " 
 
 "You must either pay no attention 
 to the letter, or reply so that he can't 
 possibly misunderstand you." 
 
 "Call him names, you mean?" 
 
 "My dear Louise!" 
 
 "But that's the only way with such 
 men. I suppose you never were 
 bothered with them. I think I'd 
 better not write at all." 
 
 Emmeline approved this course, 
 and soon left Miss Derrick to her re- 
 flections. 
 
 The next day, Louise carried out 
 her resolve to write for information 
 regarding the progress of things at 
 Coburg Lodge. She had not long to 
 wait for a reply, and it was of so 
 startling a nature that she ran at 
 
 8t
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 once to Mrs. Mumford, whom she 
 found in the nursery. 
 
 "Do please come down. Here's 
 something I must tell you about. 
 What do you think mother says? 
 I've to go back home again, at 
 once." 
 
 "What's the reason?" Emmeline 
 inquired, knowing not whether to be 
 glad or sorry. 
 
 "I'll read it to you. 'Dear Lou,' 
 she says, 'you've made a great deal 
 of trouble, and I hope you're satis- 
 fied. Things are all upside down, and 
 I've never seen dada' — that's Mr. 
 Higgins, of course — 'I've never seen 
 dada in such a bad temper not since 
 first I knew him. Mr. B. ' — that's 
 Mr. Bowling, you know — 'has told 
 him plain that he doesn't think any 
 more of Cissy, and that nothing 
 mustn't be expected of him.* Oh, 
 what sweet letters mother does write. 
 'That was when dada went and 
 asked him about his intentions, as 
 he couldn't help doing, because Cissy 
 
 82
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 was fretting so. It's all over, and of 
 course you're the cause of it, and 
 though I can't blame you as much as 
 the others do, I think you are to 
 blame. And Cissy said she must go 
 to the sea-side to get over it, and she 
 went off yesterday to Ramsgate to 
 your Aunt Annie's boarding house, 
 and there she says she shall stay as 
 long as she doesn't feel quite well, 
 and dada has to pay two guineas a 
 week for her. So he says at once, 
 "Now Lou'll have to come back. I'm 
 not going to pay for the both of 
 them boarding out," he says. And 
 he means it. He has told me to write 
 to you at once, and you're to come 
 as soon as you can, and he won't be 
 responsible to Mrs. Mum ford for 
 more than another week's payment.' 
 There! But I shan't go for all that. 
 The idea! I left home just to please 
 them, and now I'm to go back just 
 when it suits their convenience. 
 Certainly not." 
 
 "But what will you do, Louise," 
 
 83
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 asked Mrs. Mumford, "if Mr. Hig- 
 gins is quite determined?" 
 
 "Do? Oh, I shall settle it easily 
 enough. I shall write at once to the 
 old man, and tell him I'm getting on 
 so nicely in every way that I couldn't 
 dream of leaving you. It's all non- 
 sense, you'll see. " 
 
 Emmeline and her husband held a 
 council that night, and resolved that, 
 whatever the issue of Louise's appeal 
 to her father, this was a very good 
 opportunity for getting rid of their 
 guest. They would wait till Louise 
 made known the upshot of her nego- 
 tiations. It. seemed probable that 
 Mr. Higgins would spare them the 
 unpleasantness of telling Miss Der- 
 rick she must leave. If not, that 
 disagreeable necessity must be faced. 
 
 "I had rather cut down expenses 
 all round," said Emmeline, "than 
 have our home upset in this way. 
 It isn't like home at all. Louise is 
 a whirlwind, and the longer she 
 stays, the worse it'll be." 
 
 84
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Yes, it won't do at all," Mum- 
 ford assented. "By the way, I met 
 Bilton to-day, and he asked after 
 Miss Derrick. I didn't like his look 
 or his tone at all. I feel quite sure 
 there's a joke going round at our ex- 
 pense. Confound it!" 
 
 "Never mind. It'll be over in a 
 day or two, and — it'll be a lesson to 
 you, Clarence, won't it?" 
 
 "I quite admit that the idea was 
 mine," her husband replied, rather 
 irritably. "But it wasn't I who ac- 
 cepted the girl as a suitable person." 
 
 "And certainly it wasn't me!'' re- 
 joined Emmeline. "You will please 
 to remember that I said again and 
 again " 
 
 "Oh, hang it, Emmy! We made 
 a blunder, both of us, and don't let 
 us make it worse by wrangling about 
 it. There you are; people of that 
 class bring infection into the house. 
 If she stayed here a twelvemonth, 
 we should have got to throwing 
 things at each other." 
 
 85 
 
 1 
 
 I
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 The answer to Louise's letter of 
 remonstrance came in the form of 
 Mrs, Higgins herself. Shortly be- 
 fore luncheon, that lady drove up to 
 "Runnymede" in a cab, and her 
 daughter, who had just returned from 
 a walk, was startled to hear of the 
 arrival. 
 
 "You've got to come home with 
 me, Lou," Mrs. Higgins began, as 
 she wiped her perspiring face. "I've 
 promised to have you back by this 
 afternoon. Dada's right down an- 
 gry; you wouldn't know him. He 
 blamed everything on to you, and 
 you'd better just come home quiet." 
 
 "I shall do nothing of the kind," 
 answered Louise, her temper rising. 
 
 Mrs. Higgins glared at her, and 
 began to rail; the voice was pain- 
 fully audible to Emmeline, who just 
 then passed through the hall. Miss 
 Derrick gave as good as she received ; 
 a battle raged for some minutes, dif- 
 fering from many a former conflict 
 only in the slight moderation of pitch 
 
 86
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 and vocabulary due to their being 
 in a stranger's house. 
 
 "Then you won't come?" cried 
 the mother, at length. "I've had 
 my journey for nothing, have I ? 
 Then just go and fetch Mrs. What's- 
 her-name. She must hear what I've 
 got to say." 
 
 "Mrs. Mumford isn't at home," 
 answered Louise, with bold mendac- 
 ity. "And a very good thing, too. 
 I should be sorry for her to see you 
 in the state you're in." 
 
 "I'm in no more of a state than 
 you are, Louise! And just you listen 
 to this. Not one farthing more will 
 you have from 'ome — not one farth- 
 ing! And you may think yourself 
 lucky if you still 'ave a 'ome. For 
 all I know, you'll have to earn your 
 own living, and I'd like to hear how 
 you mean to do it. As soon as I get 
 back, I shall write to Mrs. What's- 
 her-name, and tell her that nothing 
 will be paid for you after the week 
 that's due, and the week that's for 
 
 57
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 notice. Now just take heed of what 
 you're doing, Lou. It may have 
 more serious results than what you 
 think for." 
 
 "I've thought all I'm going to 
 think," replied the girl. "I shall 
 sta)'' here as long as I like, and be 
 indebted neither to you nor to step- 
 father." 
 
 Mrs Mumford breathed a sigh of 
 thankfulness that she was not called 
 upon to take part in this scene. It 
 was bad enough that the servant en- 
 gaged in laying lunch could hear dis- 
 tinctly Mrs. Higgins' coarse and vio- 
 lent onslaught. When the front 
 door at length closed, she rejoiced, 
 but with trembling; for the words 
 that fell upon her ears from the hall 
 announced too plainly that Louise 
 was determined to stay. 
 
 88
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Miss Derrick had gone back into 
 the drawing-room, and, to Emme- 
 line's surprise, remained there. This 
 retirement was ominous: the girl 
 must be taking a resolve. Emme- 
 line, on her part, braced her courage 
 for the step on which she had de- 
 cided. Luncheon awaited them, but 
 it would be much better to arrive at 
 an understanding before they sat 
 down to the meal. She entered the 
 room, and found Louise leaning on 
 the back of a chair. 
 
 "I dare say you heard the row," 
 Miss Derrick remarked, coldly. "I'm 
 very sorry, but nothing of that kind 
 shall happen again." 
 
 Her countenance was disturbed; 
 she seemed to be putting a restraint 
 upon herself, and only with great 
 efforts to subdue her voice. 
 
 89
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "What are you going to do?" 
 asked Emmeline, in a friendly tone; 
 but, as it were, from a distance. 
 
 "I am going to ask you to do me 
 a great kindness, Mrs. Mumford. " 
 
 There was no reply. The girl 
 paused a moment, then resumed im- 
 pulsively. 
 
 "Mr. Higgins says that if I don't 
 come home, he won't let me have 
 any more money. They're going to 
 write and tell you that they won't be 
 responsible after this for my board 
 and lodging. Of course, I shall not 
 go home; I shouldn't dream of it; 
 I'd rather earn my living as — as a 
 scullery-maid. I want to ask you, 
 Mrs. Mumford, whether you will let 
 me stay on, and trust me to pay 
 what I owe you. It won't be for 
 very long, and I promise you I will 
 pay, every penny," 
 
 The natural impulse of Emmeline's 
 disposition was to reply with hospi- 
 table kindliness; she found it very 
 difficult to maintain her purpose; 
 
 . 9°
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 it shamed her to behave like the or- 
 dinary landlady, to appear actuated 
 by mean motives. But the domestic 
 strain was growing intolerable, and 
 she felt sure that Clarence would be 
 exasperated if her weakness pro- 
 longed it. 
 
 "Now, do let me advise you, 
 Louise," she answered, gently. 
 "Are you acting wisely? Wouldn't 
 it be very much better to go 
 home?" 
 
 Louise lost all her self-control. 
 Flushed with anger, her eyes glar- 
 ing, she broke into vehement excla- 
 mations. 
 
 "You want to get rid of me! Very 
 well, I'll go this moment. I was 
 going to tell you something: but 
 you don't care what becomes of me. 
 I'll send for my luggage; you shan't 
 be troubled with it long. And you'll 
 be paid all that's owing. I didn't 
 think you were cne of that kind. I'll 
 go this minute!" 
 
 "Just as you please," said Emme- 
 
 91
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 line. "Your temper is really so 
 very ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I know. It's always my 
 temper, and nobody else is ever to 
 blame. I wouldn't stay another 
 night in the house if I had to sleep 
 on the downs!" 
 
 She flung out of the room, and 
 flew upstairs. Emmeline, angered 
 by this unwarrantable treatment, de- 
 termined to hold aloof, and let the 
 girl do as she would. Miss Derrick 
 was of full age, and quite capable of 
 taking care of herself — or at all 
 events, ought to be. Perhaps this 
 was the only possible issue of the 
 difficulties in which they had all be- 
 come involved; neither Louise nor 
 her parents could be dealt with in 
 the rational, peaceful way preferred 
 by well-conditioned people. To get 
 her out of the house was the main 
 point; if she chose to depart in a 
 whirlwind, that was her own affair. 
 All but certainly she would go home, 
 to-morrow if not to-day. 
 
 92
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 In less than a quarter of an hour, 
 her step sounded on the stairs. 
 Would she turn into the dining- 
 room, where Emmelire now sat at 
 table? No; straight through the 
 hall, and out at the front door, which 
 closed, however, quite softly behind 
 her. That she did not slam it seemed 
 wonderful to Emmeline. The girl 
 was not wholly a savage. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Mumford went up 
 to inspect the forsaken chamber. 
 Louise had packed all her things; of 
 course, she must have tumbled them 
 recklessly into the trunks. The 
 drawers were left open, as if to ex- 
 hibit their emptiness, but in other 
 respects the room looked tidy enough. 
 Neatness and order came bv no means 
 naturally to Miss Derrick, and Em- 
 meline did not know what pains the 
 girl had taken, ever since her arrival, 
 to live in conformity with the habits 
 of a "nice" household. 
 
 Louise meanwhile had gone to 
 the railway station, intending to take 
 
 93
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 a ticket for Victoria. But half an 
 hour must elapse before the arrival 
 of a train, and she walked about in 
 an irresolute mood. For one thing, 
 she felt hungry; at Sutton her ap- 
 petite had been keen, and meal-times 
 were always welcome. She remem- 
 bered the refreshment room, and 
 with inward murmurs made a repast 
 which reminded her of the excellent 
 luncheon she might now have been 
 enjoying. All the time, she pon- 
 dered her situation. Ultimately, in- 
 stead of booking for Victoria, she 
 procured a ticket for Ep.som Downs, 
 and had not long to wait for the 
 train. 
 
 It was a hot day at the end of 
 June. Wafts of breezy coolness 
 passed now and then over the high 
 open country, but did not suffice to 
 combat the sun's steady glare; after 
 walking for half a mile or so, ab- 
 sorbed in thought, Louise suffered 
 so much that she looked about for 
 shadow. Before her was the tower- 
 
 * 
 
 94
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ing ugliness of the Grand Stand; 
 this she had seen and admired when 
 driving past it with her friends; it 
 did not now attract her. In another 
 direction the downs were edged with 
 trees, and that way she turned. All 
 but overcome with heat and weari- 
 ness, she at length found a shaded 
 spot where her solitude seemed se- 
 cure, and after seating herself, the 
 first thing she did was to have a good 
 cry. 
 
 Then, for an hour, she sat think- 
 ing; and, as she thought, her face 
 gradually emerged from gloom — the 
 better, truer face, which so often 
 allowed itself to be disguised at the 
 prompting of an evil spirit; her 
 softening lips all but smiled, as if at 
 an amusing suggestion, and her 
 eyes, in their reverie, seemed to be- 
 hold a pleasant promise. Uncon- 
 sciously, she plucked and tasted the 
 sweet stems of grass that grew about 
 her. At length, the sun's move- 
 ments having robbed her of shadow, 
 
 95
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 she rose, looked at her watch, and 
 glanced around for another retreat. 
 Hard by was a little wood, delight- 
 fully grassy and cool, fenced about 
 with railings she could easily have 
 climbed ; but a notice board, severely 
 admonishing trespassers, forbade the 
 attempt. With a petulant remark to 
 herself on the selfishness of "those 
 people," she sauntered past. 
 
 Along the edge of the downs 
 stands a picturesque row of pine 
 trees, stunted, battered and twisted, 
 through many a winter, by the up- 
 land gales. Louise noticed them 
 only to think for a moment what 
 ugly trees they were. Before her, 
 east, west and north, lay the wooded 
 landscape, soft of hue beneath the 
 summer sky, spreading its tranquil 
 beauty far away to the mists of the 
 horizon. In vivacious company, she 
 would have called it, and perhaps 
 have thought it, a charming view; 
 alone, she had no eye for such things 
 — an indifference characteristic of 
 
 96
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 her mind, and not at all dependent 
 upon its mood. Presently another 
 patch of shade invited her to repose 
 again, and again she meditated for 
 an hour or more. 
 
 The sun had grown less ardent, 
 and a breeze, no longer fitful, made 
 walking pleasant. The sight of holi- 
 day-making school-children, who, in 
 their ribboned hats and white pina- 
 fores, were having tea not far 
 away, suggested to Louise that she 
 also would like such refreshment. 
 Doubtless it might be procured at 
 the inn yonder, near the race- course, 
 and thither she began to move. Her 
 thoughts were now at rest; she had 
 made her plan for the evening; all 
 that had to be done was to kill time 
 tor another hour or so. Walking 
 lightly over the turf, she noticed 
 the chalk-marks significant of golf, 
 and wondered how the game was 
 played. Without difficulty she ob- 
 tained her cup of tea, loitered over 
 it as long as possible, strayed yet 
 
 97
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 awhile about the downs, and towards 
 half past six made for the railway 
 station. 
 
 She travelled no further than Sut- 
 ton, and there lingered in the wait- 
 ing room till the arrival of a certain 
 train from London Bridge. As the 
 train came in, she took up a position 
 near the exit. Among the people 
 who alighted, her eye soon per- 
 ceived Clarence Mumford ; she 
 stepped up to him, and drew his 
 attention. 
 
 "Oh, have you come by the same 
 train?" he asked, shaking hands 
 with her. 
 
 ''No, I've been waiting here, be- 
 cause I wanted to see you, Mr. Mum- 
 ford. Will you spare me a minute 
 or two?" 
 
 ''Here? In the station?" 
 
 "Please — if you don't mind." 
 
 Astonished, Mumford drew aside 
 
 with her, to a quiet part of the long 
 
 platform. Louise, keeping a very 
 
 grave countenance, told him rapidly 
 
 98
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 all that had befallen since his depart- 
 ure from home this morning. 
 
 "I behaved horribly, and I was 
 sorry for it as soon as I had left the 
 house. After all Mrs. Mumford's 
 kindness to me, and yours— I don't 
 know how I could be so horrid. But 
 the quarrel with mother had upset 
 me so, and I felt so miserable when 
 Mrs. Mumford seemed to want to 
 get rid of me. I feel sure she didn't 
 really want to send me away: she 
 was only advising me, as she thought, 
 for my good. But I can't and won't 
 go home. And I've been waiting all 
 the afternoon to see you. No, not 
 here. I went to Epsom Downs, and 
 walked about, and then came back 
 just in time. And — do you think I 
 might go back? I don't mean now, 
 at once — but this evening, after 
 you've had dinner? I really don't 
 know where to go for the night, and 
 it's such a stupid position to be in, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 With perfect naivete, or with per- 
 
 99
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 feet simulation of it, she looked him 
 in the face, and it was Mumford who 
 had to avert his eyes. The young 
 man felt very uncomfortable. 
 
 "Oh, I'm quite sure Emmy will 
 be glad to let you come for the night, 
 ]\Iiss Derrick." 
 
 "Yes, but — Mr. Mumford, I want 
 to stay longer — a few weeks longer. 
 Do you think Mrs. Mumford would 
 forgive me? I have made up my 
 mind what to do, and I ought to 
 have told her. I should have, if I 
 hadn't lost my temper." 
 
 "Well," replied the other, in grave 
 embarrassment,, but feeling that he 
 had no alternative, "let us go to the 
 house " 
 
 "Oh, I couldn't! I shouldn't like- 
 any one to know that I spoke to you 
 about it. It wouldn't be nice, would 
 it? I thought if I came later, after 
 dinner. And perhaps you could talk 
 to Mrs. Mumford and — and prepare 
 her. I mean, perhap-s you wouldn't 
 mind saying you were sorry I had 
 
 • lOO
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 gone so suddenly. And then perhaps 
 Mrs. Mumford — she's so kind — 
 would say she was sorry too. And 
 then — I might come into the garden 
 and find you both sitting there " 
 
 Mumford, despite his most uneasy 
 frame of mind, betrayed a passing 
 amusement. He looked into the 
 girl's face, and saw its prettiness 
 flush with pretty confusion; and 
 this did not tend to restore his tran- 
 quillit} . 
 
 "What shall you do in the mean- 
 time?" 
 
 "Oh, go into the town, and have 
 something to eat, and then walk 
 about." 
 
 '*You must be dreadfully tired 
 already." 
 
 "Just a little; but I don't mind. 
 It serves me right. I shall be so 
 grateful to you, Mr. Mumford. If 
 you won't let me come, I suppose I 
 must go to London, and ask one of 
 mv friends to take me in." 
 
 "I will arrange it. Come about 
 
 lOI
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 half past eight. We shall be in the 
 garden by then." 
 
 Avoiding her look he moved away, 
 and ran up the stairs. But from the 
 exit of the station he walked slowly. 
 in part to calm himself, to assume 
 his ordinary appearance, and in part 
 to think over the comedy he was 
 going to play. 
 
 Emmeline met him at the door, 
 herself too much flurried to notice 
 anything peculiar in her husband's 
 aspect. She repeated the story 
 with which he was already ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 "And really, after all, I am so 
 glad," was her conclusion. "I 
 didn't think she had really gone; all 
 the afternoon I've been expecting to 
 see her back again. But she won't 
 come now, and it is a good thing to 
 have done with the wretched busi- 
 ness. I only hope she will tell the 
 truth to her people. She might say 
 that we turned her out of the house. 
 But I don't think so — in s-pite of all 
 
 1-02
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 her faults, she never seemed deceit- 
 ful or malicious." 
 
 Mumford was strongly tempted to 
 reveal what had happened at the 
 station. But he saw danger alike in 
 disclosure and in reticence. When 
 there enters the slightest possibilitj'' 
 of jealousy, a man can never be sure 
 that his wife will act as a rational 
 being. He feared to tell the simple 
 truth, lest Emmeline should not be- 
 lieve his innocence of previous plot- 
 ting with Miss Derrick, or at all 
 events, should be irritated bv the 
 circumstances into refusing Louise a 
 lodging for the night. And with no 
 less apprehension he decided at 
 length to keep the secret, which 
 might so easily become known here- 
 after, and would then have such dis- 
 agreeable consequences. 
 
 "Well, let us have dinner, Emmy; 
 I'm an-hungered. Yes, it's a good 
 thing she has gone; but I wish it 
 hadn't happened in that way. What 
 a spitfire she is I" 
 
 103
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ' ' I never, never saw the like. And 
 if you had heard Mrs. Higgins! Oh, 
 what dreadful people! Clarence, 
 hear me register a vow " 
 
 "It was my fault, dear. I'm aw- 
 fully sorry I got you in for such 
 horrors. It was wholly and entirely 
 my fault." 
 
 By due insistence on this, Mum- 
 ford, of course, put his wife into an 
 excellent humour, and, after they had 
 dined, she returned to her regret 
 that the girl should have gone so 
 suddenly. Clarence, declaring that 
 he would allow himself a cigar, in- 
 stead of the usual pipe, to celebrate 
 the restoration of domestic peace, 
 soon led Emmeline into the garden. 
 
 ' ' Heavens ! How hot it has been I 
 Eighty-five in our office at noon — 
 eighty-five! Fellows are discarding 
 waistcoats, and wearing what they 
 call a cummerbund-silk sash round 
 the waist. I think I must follow 
 the fashion. How should I look, do 
 you think?" 
 
 * 104
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "You don't really mind that we 
 lose the money?" Emmeline asked, 
 presently. 
 
 "Pooh! We shall do well enough. 
 Who's that?" 
 
 Some one was entering the garden 
 by the side path. And in a moment 
 there remained no doubt who the 
 person was. Louise came forward, 
 her head bent, her features eloquent 
 of fatigue and distress. 
 
 "Mrs. Mumford — I couldn't — with- 
 out asking you to forgive me " 
 
 Her voice broke with a sob. She 
 stood in a humble attitude, and Em- 
 meline, although pierced with vexa- 
 tion, had no choice but to hold out a 
 welcoming hand. 
 
 "Have you come all the way back 
 from London just to say this?" 
 
 "I haven't been to London. I've 
 walked about — all day — -and oh, I'm 
 so tired and miserable. Will vou 
 let me stay, just for to-night? I 
 shall be so grateful." 
 
 "Of course you may stay, ^liss 
 
 105
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Derrick. It was very far from my 
 wish to see you go off at a moment's 
 notice. But I really couldn't stop 
 you." 
 
 Mumford had stepped aside, out of 
 hearing. He forgot his private em- 
 barrassment in speculation as to the 
 young woman's character. That she 
 was acting distress and penitence he 
 could hardly believe; indeed there 
 was no necessity to accuse her of dis- 
 honest behaviour. The trivial con- 
 cealment between him and her 
 amounted to nothing, did not alter 
 the facts of the situation. But what 
 could be at theroot of her seemingly 
 so foolish existence ? Emmeline held 
 to the view that she was in love with 
 the man Cobb, though perhaps un- 
 willing to admit it even in her own 
 silly mind. It might be so, and if 
 so, it made her more interesting; for 
 one was tempted to think that Louise 
 had not the power of loving at all. 
 Yet, for his own part, he couldn't 
 help liking her; the eyes that had 
 
 106
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 looked into his at the station, haunted 
 him a little, and would not let him 
 think of her contemptuously. But, 
 what a woman to make one's wife! 
 Unless — unless " 
 
 Louise had gone into the house. 
 Emmeline approached her husband. 
 
 "There! I foresaw it. Isn't it 
 vexing?" 
 
 "Never mind, dear. She'll go to- 
 morrow, or the day after." 
 
 "I wish I could be sure of that." 
 
 107
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Louise did not appear again that 
 evening. Thoroughly tired, she un- 
 packed her trunks, sat awhile by the 
 open window listening to a piano in 
 the next house, and then jumped into 
 bed. From ten o'clock to eight 
 next morning she slept soundly. 
 
 At breakfast her behaviour was 
 marked with excessive decorum. 
 To the ordinary civilities of her host 
 and hostess she replied softly, mod- 
 estly, in the manner of a very young 
 and timid girl; save when addressed, 
 she kept silence, and sat with 
 head inclined; a virginal freshness 
 breathed about her. She ate very 
 little, and that without her usual 
 gusto, but rather as if performing a 
 dainty ceremony. Her eyes never 
 moved in Mumford's direction. 
 
 io8
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 The threatened letter from Mrs. 
 Higgins had arrived ; Emmeline and 
 her husband read it before their 
 guest came down. If Louise con- 
 tinued to reside with them, they 
 entertained her with a full knowledge 
 that no payments must be expected 
 from Coburg Lodge. Emmeline 
 awaited the disclosure of her guest's 
 projects, which had more than once 
 been alluded to yesterday; she could 
 not dream of permitting Louise to 
 stay for more than a day or two, 
 whatever the suggestion offered. 
 This morning she had again heard 
 from her sister, Mrs. Grove, who 
 was strongly of opinion that Miss 
 Derrick should be sent back to her 
 native sphere. 
 
 "I shall always feel," she said to 
 her husband, "that we have behaved 
 badly. I was guilty of false pre- 
 tences. Fortunately, we have the 
 excuse of her unbearable temper. 
 But for that, I should feel dreadfully 
 ashamed of myself." 
 
 lOQ 

 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Very soon after Mumford's depart- 
 ure, Louise begged for a few min- 
 utes' private talk. 
 
 "Every time I come into this 
 drawing-room, Mrs. Mumford, I 
 think how pretty it is. What pains 
 you must have taken in furnishing 
 it. I never saw such nice curtains 
 anywhere else. And that little 
 screen — I avi so fond of that 
 screen ! ' ' 
 
 "It was a wedding present from 
 an old friend," Emmeline replied, 
 complacently regarding the object, 
 which shone with embroidery of 
 many colours. 
 
 "Will you help me when I furnish 
 my drawing-room?" Louise asked, 
 sweetly. And she added, with a 
 direct look, "I don't think it will be 
 very long." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "I am going to marry Mr. Bowl- 
 ing." 
 
 Emmeline could no longer feel 
 astonishment at anything her guest 
 
 no
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 said or did. The tone, the air, with 
 which Louise made this declaration 
 affected her with a sense of some- 
 thing quite unforeseen; but at the 
 same time she asked herself why she 
 had not foreseen it. Was not this 
 the obvious answer to the riddle? 
 All along, Louise had wished to 
 marry Mr. Bowling. vShe might, or 
 might not, have consciously helped 
 to bring about the rupture between 
 Mr. Bowling and Miss Higgins; she 
 might, or might not, have felt gen- 
 uinely reluctant to take advantage of 
 her half-sister's defeat. But a strug- 
 gle had been going on in the girl's 
 conscience, at all events. Yes, this 
 explained everything. And on the 
 whole it seemed to speak in Louise's 
 favour. Her ridicule of Mr. Bowl- 
 ing's person and character became, 
 in this new light, a proof of the de- 
 sire to resist her inclinations. She 
 had only yielded when it was certain 
 that Miss Higgins' former lover had 
 quite thrown off his old allegiance, 
 
 III
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 and when no good could be done by 
 self-sacrifice. 
 
 "When did you make up your 
 mind to this, Louise?" 
 
 "Yesterday, after our horrid quar- 
 rel. No, j'ou didn't quarrel; it was 
 all my abominable temper. This 
 morning I'm going to answer Mr. 
 Bowling's last letter, and I shall tell 
 him — what I've told you. He'll be 
 delighted!" 
 
 "Then j'ou have really wished for 
 this, from the first?" 
 
 Louise plucked at the fringe on the 
 arm of her chair, and replied at 
 length with maidenly frankness. 
 
 "I always thought it would be a 
 good marriage for me. But I never 
 — do believe me — I never tried to cut 
 Cissy out. The truth is, I thought a 
 good deal of the other — of Mr. Cobb. 
 But I knew that I couldn't marry 
 him. It would be dreadful; we 
 should quarrel frightfully, and he 
 would kill me. I feel sure he would, 
 he's so violent in his tempers. But 
 
 112
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Mr, Bowling is very nice; he 
 couldn't get angry if he tried. And 
 he has such a much better position 
 than Mr. Cobb." 
 
 Emmeline began to waver in her 
 conviction, and to feel a natural 
 annoyance. "And you think," she 
 said coldly, "that your marriage will 
 take place soon?" 
 
 "That's what I want to speak 
 about, dear Mrs. Mumford. Did 
 you hear from my mother this morn- 
 ing? Then you see what my posi- 
 tion is. I am homeless. If I leave 
 you, I don't know where I shall go. 
 When Mr. Higgins knows I'm going 
 to marry Mr. Bowling, he won't 
 have me in the house, even if I 
 wanted to go back. Cissy will be 
 furious; she'll come back from Mar- 
 gate just to keep up her father's 
 anger against me. If you could let 
 me stay here just a short time, Mrs, 
 Mumford — just a few weeks! I 
 should so like to be married from 
 your house." 
 
 113
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 The listener trembled with irrita- 
 tion, and before she could command 
 her voice, Louise added eagerly: 
 
 "Of course, when we're married, 
 Mr. Bowling will pay all my debts." 
 
 "You are quite mistaken," said 
 Emmeline, distantly, "if you think 
 that the money matter has anything 
 to do with — with my unreadiness to 
 
 agree 
 
 "Oh, I didn't think it— not for a 
 moment. I'm a trouble to you; I 
 know I am. But I'll be so quiet, 
 dear Mrs. Mumford. You shall 
 hardly know I'm in the house. If 
 once it's all settled, I shall never be 
 out of temper. Do please let me stay ! 
 I like you so much, and how wretched 
 it would be if I had to be married 
 from a lodging house!" 
 
 "I'm afraid, Louise — I'm really 
 afraid " 
 
 "Of my temper?" the girl inter- 
 rupted. "If ever I say an angry 
 word, ,.you shall turn me out that 
 very moment. Dear Mrs. Mumford! 
 
 114
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Oh, what shall I do if you won't be 
 kind to me? What will become of 
 me? I have no home — and every- 
 body hates me " 
 
 Tears streamed down her face; 
 she lay back, overcome with misery. 
 Emmeline was distracted. She felt 
 herself powerless to act as common 
 sense dictated, yet desired more than 
 ever to rid herself of every shadow 
 of responsibility for the girl's pro- 
 ceedings. The idea of this marriage 
 taking place at "Runnymede" made 
 her blood run cold. No, no; that 
 was absolutely out of the question. 
 But equally impossible did it seem 
 to speak with brutal decision. Once 
 more she must temporize, and hope 
 for courage on another day. 
 
 "I can't — I really can't give you a 
 definite answer till I have spoken 
 with Mr. Mumford." 
 
 "Oh, I'm sure he will do me this 
 kindness," sobbed Louise. 
 
 A slight emphasis on the "he" 
 touched Mrs. Mumford unpleasantly. 
 
 iiT
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 She rose, and began to pick out 
 some over-blown flowers from a vase 
 on the table near her. Presently 
 Louise became silent. Before either 
 of them spoke again, a postman's 
 knock sounded at the house door, and 
 Emmeline went to see what letter 
 had been delivered. It was for Miss 
 Derrick; the handwriting, as Emme- 
 line knew, that of Mr. Cobb. 
 
 "Oh, bother!" Louise murmured, 
 as she took the letter from Mrs. 
 Mumford's hand. "Well, I'm a 
 trouble to everybody, and I don't 
 know how it'll all end. I dare say I 
 shan't live very long." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense, Louise!" 
 
 "Should you like me to go at once, 
 Mrs. Mumford?" the girl asked, 
 with a submissive sigh. 
 
 "No, no. Let us think over it for 
 a day or two. Perhaps you haven't 
 quite made up your mind, after all." 
 
 To this, oddly enough, Louise 
 gave no reply. She lingered by the 
 window, nervously bending and roU- 
 
 • ii6
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ing her letter, which she did not 
 seem to think of opening. After a 
 glance or two of discreet curiosity, 
 Mrs. Mumford left the room ; daily 
 duties called for attention, and she 
 was not at all inclined to talk further 
 with Louise. The girl, as soon as 
 she found herself alone, broke Mr. 
 Cobb's envelope, which contained 
 four sides of bold handwriting; not 
 a long letter, but, as usual, vigour- 
 ously worded. 
 
 "Dear Miss Derrick," he wrote, 
 "I haven't been in a hurry to 
 reply to your last, as it seemed to 
 me that you were in one of your 
 touchy moods when you sent it. It 
 wasn't my fault that I called at the 
 house when you were away. I hap- 
 pened to have business at Croydon, 
 unexpectedly, and ran over to Sutton 
 just on the chance of seeing you. 
 And I have no objection to tell you 
 all I said to your friend there. I am 
 not in the habit of saying things be- 
 hind people's backs that I don't wish 
 
 i 17
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 them to hear. All I did was to ask 
 out plainly whether Mrs. M. was 
 trying to persuade you to have noth- 
 ing to do with me. She said she 
 wasn't, and that she didn't wi.sh to 
 interfere one way or another. I told 
 her I could ask no more than that. 
 She seemed to me a sensible sort of 
 woman, and I don't suppose you'll 
 get much harm from her, though I 
 dare say she thinks more about dress 
 and amusements and so on than is 
 good for her, or any one else. You 
 say at the end of your letter that I'm 
 to let you know when I think of 
 coming again,- and if you mean by 
 that that you would be glad to see 
 me, I can only say thank you. I 
 don't mean to give you up yet, and 
 I don't believe you want me to, say 
 what you will. I don't spy after 
 you; you're mistaken in that. But 
 I'm pretty much always thinking 
 about you, and I wish you were 
 nearer to me. I may have to go to 
 Bristol in a week or two, and per- 
 
 ii8
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 haps I shall be there for a month cr 
 more, so I must see you before then. 
 Will you tell me what clay would suit 
 you, after seven? If you don't want 
 me to come to the house, then meet 
 me where you like. And there's 
 only one more thing I have to say — 
 you must deal honestly with me. I 
 can wait, but I won't be deceived." 
 
 Louise pondered for a long- time, 
 turning now to this part of the letter, 
 now to that. And the lines of her 
 face, though they made no approach 
 to smiling, indicated agreeable 
 thought. Tears had left just suffi- 
 cient trace to give her meditations a 
 semblance of unwonted seriousness. 
 
 About mid-day she went up to her 
 room, and wrote letters. The first 
 was to Miss Cissy Higgins. 
 
 "Dear Ciss, I dare say you would 
 like to know that Mr. B. has proposed 
 to me. If you have any objection, 
 please let me know it by return. 
 Affectionately yours, L. E. Derrick." 
 
 This she addressed to Margate, 
 
 119
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 and stamped with a little thump 
 of the fist. Her next sheet of paper 
 was devoted to Mr. Bowling, and the 
 letter, though brief, cost her some 
 thought. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Bowling, your last 
 is so very nice and kind that I 
 feel I ought to answer it without de- 
 lay, but I cannot answer in the way 
 you wish. I must have a long, long 
 time to think over such a very im- 
 portant question. I don't blame 
 you in the least for your behaviour to 
 some one we know of, as I think, 
 after all that happened, you were 
 quite free. It is quite true that she 
 did not behave straightforwardly, 
 and I am very sorry to have to say 
 it. I shall not be going home 
 again, I have quite made up my 
 mind about that. I am afraid I 
 must not let you come here to call 
 upon me, I have a particular reason 
 for it. To tell you the truth, my 
 friend, Mrs. Mum ford, is very par- 
 ticular, and rather fussy, and has a 
 
 120
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 rather trying temper. So please do 
 not come just yet. I am quite well, 
 and enjoying myself in a very quiet 
 way. I remain, sincerely yours, 
 Louise E. Derrick." 
 
 Finally, she penned a reply to 
 Mr. Cobb, and this, after a glance 
 at a railway timetable, gave her no 
 trouble at all. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Cobb," she scribbled, 
 "if you really inust see me before you 
 go away to Bristol, or wherever it is, 
 you had better meet me on Saturda}' 
 at Streatham Station, which is about 
 half way between me and you. I 
 shall come by the train from Sutton 
 which reaches Streatham at 8.6. 
 Yours truly, L. E. D." 
 
 To-day was Thursday. When 
 Saturday came, the state of things 
 at "Runnymede" had undergone no 
 change whatever; Emmeline still 
 waited for a moment of courage, and 
 Mumford, though he did not relish 
 the prospect, began to think it more 
 than probable that Miss Derrick 
 
 121
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 would hold her ground until her 
 actual marriage with Mr. Bowling. 
 Whether that unknown person would 
 discharge the debt his betrothed was 
 incurring seemed an altogether un- 
 certain matter. Louise, in the 
 meantime, kept quiet as a mouse; so 
 strangely quiet, indeed, that Emme- 
 line's prophetic soul dreaded some 
 impending disturbance, worse than 
 any they had yet suffered. 
 
 At luncheon, Louise made known 
 that she would have to leave in the 
 middle of dinner, to catch a train; 
 no explanation was offered or asked, 
 but Emmeline, it being Saturday, 
 said she would put the dinner- hour 
 earlier, to suit her friend's conveni- 
 ence. Louise smiled pleasantly, and 
 said how very kind it was of Mrs. 
 Mumford. 
 
 She had thus no difficulty in reach- 
 ing Streatham by the time appointed. 
 Unfortunately, it was a clouded even- 
 ing, and a spattering of rain fell 
 from time to t'me. 
 
 122
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "I suppose you'll be afraid to 
 walk to the Common," said Mr. 
 Cobb, who stood waiting at the exit 
 from the station, and showed more 
 satisfaction in his countenance when 
 Louise appeared than he evinced in 
 words. 
 
 "Oh, I don't care," she answered. 
 "It won't rain much, and I've 
 brought my umbrella, and I've noth- 
 ing- on that will take any harm." 
 
 She had, indeed, dressed herself 
 in her least demonstrative costume. 
 Cobb wore the usual garb of his leis- 
 ure hours, which was better than 
 that in which he had called the other 
 day at " Runny mede." For some 
 minutes they walked toward Streat- 
 ham Common without interchange 
 of a word, and with no glance at 
 each other. Then the man coughed, 
 and said bluntly that he was glad 
 Louise had come. 
 
 "Well, I wanted to see you," was 
 her answer. 
 
 "What about?" 
 
 123
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "I don't think I shall be able to 
 stay with the Mumfords. They're 
 very nice people, but they're not 
 exactly my sort, and we don't get on 
 very well. Where had I better go?" 
 
 "Go? Why, home, of course. 
 The best place for you." 
 
 Cobb was prepared for a hot re- 
 tort, but it did not come. After a 
 moment's reflection, Louise said, 
 quietly: 
 
 "I can't go home. I've quarrelled 
 with them too badly. You haven't 
 seen mother lately? Then I must 
 tell you how things are." 
 
 She did so, with no concealment, 
 save of her correspondence with Mr. 
 Bowling, and the not unimportant 
 statements concerning him which 
 she had made to Mrs. Mumford. In 
 talking with Cobb, Louise seemed to 
 drop a degree or so in social status; 
 her language was much less careful 
 than when she conversed with the 
 Mumfoi:ds, and even her voice struck 
 a note of less refinement. Decidedly 
 
 • 124
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 she was more herself — if that could 
 be said of one who very rarely made 
 conscious disguise of her character- 
 istics. 
 
 "Better stay where you are, then, 
 for the present," said Cobb, when 
 he had listened attentively. "I 
 dare say you can get along well 
 enough with the people, if you 
 try." 
 
 "That's all very well; but what 
 about paying them? I shall owe 
 three guineas for every week I stop. " 
 
 "It's a great deal, and they ought 
 to feed you very well for it," replied 
 the other, smiling rather sourly. 
 
 "Don't be vulgar. I suppose you 
 think I ought to live on a few shil- 
 lings a week." 
 
 "Lots of people have to. But 
 there's no reason why you should. 
 But look here; why should yoii be 
 quarrelling with your people now 
 about that fellow Bowling? You 
 don't see him anywhere, do you?" 
 
 He flashed a glance at her, and 
 
 125
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Louise answered with a defiant 
 motion of the head. 
 
 "No, I don't. But they put the 
 blame on me, all the same. I 
 shouldn't wonder if they think I'm 
 trying to get him." 
 
 She opened her umbrella, for heavy 
 drops had begun to fall; they pattered 
 on Cobb's hard-felt hat, and Louise 
 tried to shelter him as well as her- 
 self. 
 
 "Never mind me," he said. "And 
 here, let me hold that thing over 
 you. If 5'ou just put your arm in 
 mine, it'll be easier. That's the 
 way. Take two steps to my one; 
 that's it." 
 
 Again they were silent for a few 
 moments. They had reached the 
 Common, and Cobb struck along a 
 path most likely to be unfrequented. 
 No wind was blowing ; the rain fell 
 in steady spots that could all but be 
 counted, and the air grew dark. 
 
 "Well, I can only propose one 
 thing," sounded the masculine voice. 
 
 126
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "You can get out of it by marrying 
 me." 
 
 Louise gave a little laugh, rather 
 timid than scornful. "Yes, I sup- 
 pose I can. But it's an awkward 
 way. It would be rather like using 
 a sledge-hammer to crack a nut." 
 
 "It'll come sooner or later," as- 
 serted Cobb, with genial confidence. 
 
 "That's what I don't like about 
 you." Louise withdrew her arm, 
 petulantly. "You always speak as 
 if I couldn't help myself. Don't 
 you suppose I have any choice?" 
 
 "Plenty, no doubt," was the grim 
 answer. 
 
 "Whenever we begin to quarrel, 
 it's your fault," pvirsued Miss Der- 
 rick, with unaccustomed moderation 
 of tone. "I never knew a man who 
 behaved like you do. You seem to 
 think the way to make any one like 
 you is to bully them. We should 
 have got on very much better if you 
 had tried to be pleasant." 
 
 "I don't think we've got along 
 
 127
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 badly, all things considered," Cobb 
 replied, as if after weighing a doubt. 
 "We'd a good deal rather be together 
 than apart, it seems to me; or else, 
 why do we keep meeting? And I 
 don't want to bully anybody — least 
 of all, you. It's a way I have of 
 talking, I suppose. You must judge 
 a man by his actions and his mean- 
 ing, not by the tone of his voice. 
 You know very well what a great 
 deal I think of you. Of course, I 
 don't like it when you begin to speak 
 as if you were only playing with me; 
 nobody would." 
 
 "I'm serious enough," said Louise, 
 trying to hold the umbrella over her 
 companion, and only succeeding in 
 directing moisture down the back of 
 his neck. "And it's partly through 
 you that I've got into such difficul- 
 ties." 
 
 "How do you make that out?" 
 
 "If it wasn't for you, I should 
 very likely marry Mr. Bowling." 
 
 "Oh, he's asked you, has he?" 
 
 128
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 cried Cobb, staring at her. "Why 
 didn't you tell me that before? 
 Don't let me stand in your way. I 
 dare say he's just the kind of man 
 for you. At all events, he's like you 
 in not knowing his own mind." 
 
 "Go on! Go on!" Louise ex- 
 claimed, carelessly. "There's plenty 
 of time. Say all you've got to say." 
 
 From the gloom of the eastward sky 
 came a rattling of thunder, like 
 quick pistol shots. Cobb checked 
 his steps. 
 
 "We mustn't go any further. 
 You're getting wet, and the rain isn't 
 likely to stop." 
 
 "I shall not go back," Louise an- 
 swered, "until something has been 
 settled . " And she stood before him, 
 her eyes cast down, whilst Cobb 
 looked at the darkening sky. "I 
 want to know what's going to be- 
 come of me. The Mumfords won't 
 keep me much longer, and I don't 
 wish to stay where I'm not wanted." 
 
 "Let us walk down the hill." 
 
 129
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 A flash of lightning made Louise 
 start, and the thunder rattled again. 
 But only light drops were falling. 
 The girl stood her ground. 
 
 "I want to know what I am to do. 
 If you can't help me, say so, and let 
 me go my own way." 
 
 "Of course I can help you. That 
 is, if you'll be honest with me. I 
 want to know, first of all, whether 
 you've been encouraging that man 
 Bowling." 
 
 "No, I haven't." 
 
 "Very well. I believe you. And 
 now I'll make you a fair offer. 
 Marry me as soon as I can make the 
 arrangements, and I'll pay all you 
 owe, and see that you are in com- 
 fortable lodgings until I've time to 
 get a house. It could be done be- 
 fore I go to Bristol, and then, of 
 course, you would go with me." 
 
 "You speak," said Louise, after a 
 short silence, " as if you were mak- 
 ing an agreement with a servant." 
 
 "That's all nonsense, and you 
 
 130
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 know it. I've told you how I think, 
 often enough, in letters, and I'm not 
 good at saying it. Look here, I 
 don't think it's very wise to stand 
 out in the middle of the Common in 
 a thunder storm. Let us walk on, 
 and I think I would put down your 
 umbrella." 
 
 "It wouldn't trouble you much, if 
 I were struck with lightning." 
 
 "All right; take it so. I shan't 
 trouble to contradict." 
 
 Louise followed his advice, and 
 they began to walk quickly down the 
 slope towards Streatham. Neither 
 spoke until they were in the high 
 road again. A strong wind was 
 driving the rain cloud to other 
 regions, and the thunder had ceased ; 
 there came a gray twilight ; rows of 
 lamps made a shimmering upon the 
 wet ways. 
 
 "What sort of a house would you 
 take?" Louise asked, suddenly. 
 
 "Oh, a decent enough house. 
 What kind do you want?" 
 
 131
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Something like the Mumfords'. 
 It needn't be quite so large," she 
 added quickly. "But a house with 
 a garden, in a nice road, and in a 
 respectable part." 
 
 "That would suit me well enough," 
 answered Cobb, cheerfully. "You 
 seem to think I want to drag you 
 down, but you're very much mis- 
 taken. I'm doing pretty well, and 
 likely, as far as I can see, to do 
 better. I don't grudge you money; 
 far from it. All I want to know is that 
 you'll marry me for my own sake." 
 
 He dropped his voice, not to ex- 
 press tenderness, but because other 
 people were near. Upon Louise, 
 however, it had a pleasing effect, 
 and she smiled. 
 
 "Very well," she made answer, in 
 the same subdued tone. "Then let 
 us settle it in that way." 
 
 They talked amicably for the rest 
 of the time that they spent together. 
 It was nearly an hour, and never 
 before had they succeeded in con- 
 
 132
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 versing so long without a quarrel. 
 Louise became light-hearted and 
 mirthful; her companion, though 
 less abandoned to the mood of the 
 moment, wore a hopeful counte- 
 nance. Through all his roughness, 
 Cobb was distinguished by a per- 
 sonal delicacy which no doubt had 
 impressed Louise, say what she 
 might of pretended fears. At part- 
 ing, he merely shook hands with her, 
 as always. 
 
 133
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Glad of a free evening, Emme- 
 line, after dinner, walked round to 
 Mrs. Fentiman's. Louise had put a 
 restraint upon the wonted friendly- 
 intercourse between the Mumfords 
 and their only familiar acquaintances 
 at Sutton; Mrs. Fentiman liked to 
 talk of purely domestic matters, and 
 in a stranger's presence she was 
 never at ease. Coming alone, and 
 when the children were all safe in 
 bed, Emmeline had a warm welcome. 
 For the first time, she spoke of her 
 troublesome guest without reserve. 
 This chat would have been restful 
 and enjoyable but for a most unfor- 
 tunate remark that fell from the 
 elder lady, a perfectly innocent 
 mention of something her husband 
 had told her, but secretly so disturb- 
 
 134
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ing to Mrs. Mumford that, aftei- 
 hearing it, she got away as soon as 
 possible, and walked quickly home 
 with dark countenance. 
 
 It was ten o'clock; Louise had not 
 yet returned, but might do so any 
 moment. Wishing to be sure of pri- 
 vacy in a conversation with her hus- 
 band, Emmeline summoned him 
 from his book to the bedroom. 
 
 "Well, what has happened now?" 
 exclaimed Mumford. "If this kind 
 of thing goes on much longer, I shall 
 feel inclined to take a lodging in 
 town." 
 
 "I have heard something very 
 strange. I can hardly believe it; 
 there must have been a mistake." 
 
 "What is it? Really, one's 
 nerves " 
 
 "Is it true that, on Thursday 
 evening, you and Miss Derrick were 
 .seen talking together at the station ? 
 Thursday; the day she went off, and 
 came back again after dinner." 
 
 Mumford would gladly have got 
 
 135
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 out of this scrape at any expense of 
 mendacity, but he saw at once how 
 useless such an effort would prove. 
 Exasperated by the result of his in- 
 discretion, and resenting, as all men 
 do, the undignified necessity of de- 
 fending himself, he flew into a rage. 
 Yes, it icas true, and what next? 
 The girl had waylaid him, begged 
 him to intercede for her with his 
 wife. Of course, it would have been 
 better to come home and reveal the 
 matter; he didn't do so, because it 
 seemed to put him in a silly position. 
 For heaven's sake, let the whole ab- 
 surd business be forgotten and done 
 with! 
 
 Emmeline, though not sufficiently 
 enlightened to be above small jeal- 
 ousies, would have been ashamed to 
 declare her feeling with the energy 
 of unsophisticated female nature. 
 She replied coldly and loftily that 
 the matter of course zuas done with; 
 that it interested her no more; but 
 that she could not help regretting an 
 
 136
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 instance of secretiveness such as she 
 had never before discovered in her 
 husband. Surely he had put him- 
 self into a much sillier position, as 
 things turned out, than if he had 
 followed the dictates of honour. 
 
 "The upshot of it is this, " cried 
 Mumford. "Miss Derrick has to 
 leave the house, and, if necessary, I 
 shall tell her so myself." 
 
 Again Emmeline was cold and 
 lofty. There was no necessity 
 whatever for any further communi- 
 cation between Clarence and Miss 
 Derrick. Let the affair be left en- 
 tirely in her hands. Indeed, she 
 must very specially request that 
 Clarence would have nothing more 
 to do with Miss Derrick's business. 
 Whereupon Mumford took offence. 
 Did Emmeline wish to imply that 
 there had been anything improper 
 in his behaviour, oeyond the paltry 
 indiscretion to which he had con- 
 fessed? No; Emmeline was thank- 
 ful to say that she did not harbour 
 
 137
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 base suspicions. Then, rejoined 
 Mumford, let this be the last word of 
 a difference as hateful to him as to 
 her. And he left the room. 
 
 His wife did not linger more than 
 a minute behind him, and she sat in 
 the drawing-room to await Miss 
 Derrick's return; Mumford kept 
 apart in what was called the library. 
 To her credit, Emmeline tried hard 
 to believe that she had learnt the 
 whole truth; her mind, as she had 
 justly declared, was not prone to 
 ignoble imaginings; but acquitting 
 her husband by no means involved 
 an equal charity towards Louise, 
 Hitherto imcertain in her judgment, 
 she had now the relief of an assur- 
 ance that Miss Derrick was not at 
 all a proper person to entertain as a 
 guest, on whatever terms. The in- 
 cident of the railway station proved 
 her to be utterly lacking in self-re- 
 spect, in genuine modesty, even if 
 her behaviour merited no darker de- 
 scription. Emmeline could now 
 
 • 138
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 face with confidence the scene from 
 which she had shrunk; not only was 
 it a duty to insist upon Miss Der- 
 rick's departure, it would be a posi- 
 tive pleasure. 
 
 Louise very soon entered ; she 
 came into the room with her bright- 
 est look, and cried gaily: 
 
 "Oh, I hope I haven't kept you 
 waiting for me. Are you alone?" 
 
 "No. I have been out. " 
 
 "Had you the storm here? I'm 
 not going to keep you talking; you 
 look tired." 
 
 "I am, rather," said Emmeline, 
 with reserve. She had no intention 
 of allowing Louise to suspect the real 
 cause of what she was about to say; 
 that would have seemed to her un- 
 dignified; but she could not speak 
 quite naturall3^ "Still, I should be 
 glad if you would sit down for a 
 minute." 
 
 The girl took a chair, and began 
 to draw off her gloves. She under- 
 stood what was coming; it appeared 
 
 139
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 in Emmeline's face. "Something to 
 say to nie, Mrs. Mumford?" 
 
 "I hope you won't think me un- 
 kind. I feel obliged to ask you 
 when you will be able to make new 
 arrangements." 
 
 •'You would like me to go very 
 soon?" said Louise, inspecting her 
 finger-nails, and speaking without 
 irritation. 
 
 "I am sorry to say that I think it 
 better you should leave us. Forgive 
 this plain speaking, Miss Derrick. 
 It's always best to be perfectly 
 straightforward, isn't it?" 
 
 Whether she felt the force of this 
 innuendo or not, Louise took it in 
 good part. As if the idea had only 
 just struck her, she looked up cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 "You're quite right, Mrs. Mum- 
 ford. I'm sure you've been very 
 kind to me, and I've had a very 
 pleasant time here, but it wouldn't 
 do for me to stay longer. May I 
 wait over to-morrow, just till Wed- 
 
 140
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 nesday morning, to have an answer 
 to a letter?" 
 
 "Certainly, if it is quite under- 
 stood that there will be no delay be- 
 yond that. There are circumstances 
 — private matters — I don't feel quite 
 able to explain. But I must be sure 
 that you will have left us by Wed- 
 nesday afternoon." 
 
 "You may be quite sure of it. I 
 will write a line and post it to-night, 
 for it to go as soon as possible." 
 
 Therewith Louise stood up, and, 
 smiling, withdrew. Emmeline was 
 both relieved and surprised; she 
 had not thought it possible for the 
 girl to conduct herself at such a 
 juncture with such perfect propriety. 
 An outbreak of ill-temper, perhaps 
 of insolence, had seemed more than 
 likely; at best she looked for tears 
 and entreaties. Well, it was over, 
 and by Wednesday the house would 
 be restored to its ancient calm. 
 Ancient, indeed: one could not be- 
 lieve that so short a time had passed 
 
 141
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 since Miss Derrick first entered the 
 portals. Only one more day. 
 
 "Oh, blindness to the future, 
 kindly given — that each may fill the 
 circle marked by Heaven." At 
 school, Emmeline had learnt and re- 
 cited these lines; but it was long 
 since they had recurred to her 
 memory. 
 
 In ten minutes, Louise had written 
 her letter. She went out, returned, 
 and looked in at the drawing-room 
 door with a pleasant smile. "Good- 
 night, Mrs. Mumford." "Good- 
 night, Miss Derrick." For the grace 
 of the thing, Emmeline would have 
 liked to say "Louise," but could 
 not bring her lips to utter the name. 
 
 About a year ago there had been a 
 little misunderstanding between Mr. 
 and Mrs. Mumford, which lasted for 
 some twenty- four hours, during 
 which they had nothing to say to 
 each other. To-night they found 
 themselves in a similar situation, and 
 remembered that last difference, 
 
 142
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 and wondered, both of them, at the 
 harmony of their married life. It 
 was in truth wonderful enough; 
 twelve months without a shadow of 
 ill-feeling between them. The re- 
 flection compelled Mumford to 
 speak, when his head was on the 
 pillow. 
 
 "Emmy, we're making fools of 
 ourselves. Just tell me what you 
 have done." 
 
 '*I can't see how / am guilty of 
 foolishness," was the clear-cut reply. 
 
 "Then why are you angry with 
 me? ' 
 
 "I don't like deceit." 
 
 "Hanged if I don't dislike it just 
 as much. When is that girl going?" 
 
 Emmeline made known the under- 
 standing at which she had arrived, 
 and her husband breathed an ex- 
 clamation of profound thankfulness. 
 But peace was not perfectly restored. 
 
 In another room, Louise lay com- 
 muning with her thoughts, which 
 were not at all disagreeable. She 
 
 143
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 had written to Cobb, telling him 
 what had happened, and asking him 
 to let her know by Wednesday morn- 
 ing what she was to do. She could 
 not go home; he must not bid her do 
 so; but she would take a lodging 
 wherever he liked. The position 
 seemed to her romantic and enjoy- 
 able. Not till after her actual mar- 
 riage should the people at home 
 know what had become of her. She 
 was marrying with utter disregard 
 of all her dearest ambitions; all the 
 same, she had rather be the wife of 
 Cobb than of any one else. Her 
 stepfather might recover his old 
 kindness and generosity as soon as 
 he knew that she no longer stood in 
 Cissy's way, and that she had never 
 really seriously thought of marrying 
 Mr. Bowling. Had she not thought 
 of it? The question did not enter 
 her own mind, and she would have 
 been quite incapable of passing a 
 satisfactory cross-examination on the 
 subject. 
 
 144
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Mrs. Mumford, foreseeing- the 
 difficulty of spending the next day 
 at home, told her husband in the 
 morning that she would have early 
 luncheon, and go to see Mrs. Grove. 
 
 "And I should like you to fetch 
 me from there, after business, 
 please." 
 
 "I will," answered Clarence, read- 
 ily. He mentally added a hope that 
 his wife did not mean to supervise 
 him henceforth and forever. If so, 
 their troubles were only begin- 
 ning. 
 
 At breakfast, Louise continued to 
 be discretion itself. She talked of 
 her departure on the morrow as 
 though it had long been a settled 
 thing, and was quite unconnected 
 with disagreeable circumstances. 
 Only mid-way in the morning did 
 Mrs. Mumford, who had been busy 
 with her child, speak of the early 
 luncheon and her journey to town. 
 She hoped Miss Derrick would not 
 mind being left alone. 
 
 145
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "Oh, don't speak of it," answered 
 Louise. "I have lots to do. You'll 
 give my kind regards to Mrs. 
 Grove?" 
 
 So they ate together at mid-day, 
 rather silently, but with faces com- 
 posed. And Emmeline, after a last 
 look into the nursery, hastened away 
 to catch her train. She had no mis- 
 givings; during her absence, all 
 would be well as ever. 
 
 Louise passed the time without 
 difficulty, and at seven o'clock made 
 an excellent dinner. This evening 
 no reply could be expected from 
 Cobb, as he was not likely to have 
 received her letter of last night till 
 his return home from business. 
 Still, there might be something 
 from some one; she always looked 
 eagerly for the postman. 
 
 The weather was gloomy. Not 
 long after eight, the housemaid 
 brought in a lighted lamp, and set 
 it, as usual, upon the little black 
 four-legged table in the drawing- 
 
 146
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 room. And in the same moment 
 the knocker of the front door sounded 
 a vigorous rat-tat-tat, a visitor's 
 summons. 
 
 147
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "It may be some one calling upon 
 me," said Louise to the servant. 
 "Let me know the name before you 
 show any one in." 
 
 "Of course, miss," replied the 
 domestic, with pert familiarity, and 
 took her time in arranging the shade 
 of the lamp. When she returned 
 from the door, it was to announce, 
 smilingly, that Mr. Cobb wished to 
 see Miss Derrick. 
 
 "Please to show him in." 
 
 Louise stood in an attitude of joy- 
 ous excitement, her eyes sparkling. 
 But at the first glance she perceived 
 that her lover's mood was by no 
 means correspondingly gay. Cobb 
 stalked forward, and kept a stern 
 gaze upon her, but said nothing. 
 
 "Well? You got my letter, I sup- 
 pose?" 
 
 148
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "What letter?" 
 
 He had not been home since 
 breakfast time, so Louise's appeal to 
 him for advice lay waiting' his ar- 
 rival. Impatiently, she described 
 the course of events. As soon as she 
 had finished, Cobb threw his hat 
 aside, and addressed her harshly. 
 
 "I want to know what you mean 
 by writing to your sister that you 
 are going to marry Bowling. I saw 
 your mother this morning, and that's 
 what she told me. It must have 
 been only a day or two ago that you 
 said that. Just explain, if you 
 please. I'm about sick of this kind 
 of thing, and I'll have the truth out 
 of you." 
 
 His anger had never taken such a 
 form as this; for the first time, 
 Louise did in truth feel afraid of 
 him. She shrank away; her heart 
 throbbed, and her tongue refused its 
 office. 
 
 "Say what you mean by it!" Cobb 
 repeated, in a voice that was all the 
 
 149
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 more alarming because he kept it 
 low. "Did you write that to your 
 sister?" 
 
 "Yes, but I never meant it — it 
 was just to make her angry " 
 
 "You expect me to believe that? 
 And, if it's true, doesn't it make you 
 out a nice sort of girl? But I don't 
 believe it. You've been thinking of 
 him in that way all along; and 
 you've been writing to him, or meet- 
 ing him, since you came here. 
 What sort of behaviour do you call 
 this?" 
 
 Louise was recovering self-posses- 
 sion; the irritability of her own 
 temper began to support her courage. 
 
 "What if I have? I'd never given 
 j/ou any promise, till last night, had 
 I ? I was free to marry any one I 
 liked, wasn't I? What do }fou mean 
 by coming here and going on like 
 this? I've told you the truth about 
 that letter, and I've always told you 
 the truth about everything. If you 
 don't like it, say so, and go!" 
 
 150
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Cobb was impressed by the energy 
 of her defence. He looked her 
 strait^ht in the eyes, and paused a 
 moment; then spoke less violently. 
 
 "You haven't told me the whole 
 truth. I want to know when vou 
 saw Bowling last." 
 
 "I haven't seen him since I left 
 home." 
 
 "When did you write to him last?" 
 
 "The same day I wrote to Cissy. 
 And I shall answer no more ques- 
 tions." 
 
 "Of course not. But that's quite 
 enough. You've been playing a 
 double game; if you haven't told 
 lies, you've acted them. What sort 
 of a wife would you make? How 
 could I ever believe a word vou said ? 
 I shall have no more to do with vou." 
 
 He turned away, and, in the vio- 
 lence of his movement, knocked over 
 a little toy chair, one of those per- 
 fectly useless, and no less ugly, im- 
 pediments which stand about the 
 floor of a well-furnished drawing- 
 
 151
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 room. Too angry to stoop and set 
 the object on its legs again, he strode 
 towards the door. Louise followed 
 him. 
 
 "You are going?" she asked, in a 
 struggling voice. 
 
 Cobb paid no attention, and all 
 but reached the door. She laid a 
 hand upon him. 
 
 "You are going?" 
 
 The touch and the voice checked 
 him. Again he turned abruptly, 
 and seized the hand that rested upon 
 his arm. 
 
 ' 'Why are you stopping me ? What 
 do you want with me? I'm to help 
 you out of the fire you've got into, 
 is that it? I'm to find you a lodging, 
 and take no end of trouble, and then 
 in a week's time get a letter to say 
 that you want nothing more to do 
 with me." 
 
 Louise was pale with anger and 
 fear and as many other emotions as 
 her little heart and brain could well 
 hold. She did not look her best; far 
 
 152
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 from it; but the man saw something 
 in her eyes which threw a fresh spell 
 upon him. Still grasping her one 
 hand, he caught her by the other arm, 
 held her as far from him as he 
 could, and glared passionately as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 "You know — I've told you the 
 truth " 
 
 His grasp hurt her; she tried to re- 
 lease herself, and moved backwards. 
 For a moment Cobb left her free; 
 she moved backward again, her eyes 
 drawing him on. She felt her 
 power, and could not be content with 
 thus much exercise of it. 
 
 "You may go if you like. But 
 you understand, if you do " 
 
 Cobb, inflamed with desire and 
 jealousy, made an effort to recapture 
 her. Louise sprang away from him ; 
 but immediately behind her lay the 
 foolish little chair which he had 
 kicked over, and just beyond that 
 stood the scarcely less foolish little 
 
 153
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 table which supported the heavy 
 lamp, with its bowl of coloured glass, 
 and its spreading yellow shade. She 
 tottered back, fell with all her might 
 against the table, and brought the 
 lamp crashing to the floor. A shriek 
 of terror from Louise, from her lover 
 a shout of alarm, blended with the 
 sound of breaking glass. In an in- 
 stant a great flame shot up half way 
 to the ceiling. The lamp-shade 
 was ablaze; the much-embroidered 
 screen, Mrs. Mumford's wedding 
 present, forthwith caught fire from a 
 burning tongue that ran along the 
 carpet; and Louise's dress, well 
 sprinkled with parafifin, aided the 
 conflagration. Cobb, of course, saw 
 only the danger to the girl. He 
 seized the woollen hearthrug, and 
 tried to wrap it about her; but with 
 screams of pain and frantic struggles, 
 Louise did her best to thwart his 
 purpose. 
 
 The window was open, and now a 
 servant, rushing in to see what the 
 
 154
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 uproar meant, gave the blaze every 
 benefit of draughts. 
 
 "Bring water!" roared Cobb, who 
 had just succeeded in extinguishing 
 Louise's dress, and was carrying her, 
 still despite her struggles, out of the 
 room. "Here, one of you take Miss 
 Derrick to the next house. Bring 
 water, you!" 
 
 All three servants were scamper- 
 ing and screeching about the hall. 
 Cobb caught hold of one of them, 
 and all but twisted her arm out of 
 its socket; at his fierce command, the 
 women supported Louise into the 
 garden, and thence, after a minute 
 or two of faintness on the sufferer's 
 part, led her to the gate of the neigh- 
 bouring house. The people who lived 
 there chanced to be taking the air 
 on their front lawn; without delay 
 Louise was conveyed beneath the 
 roof, and her host, a man of energy, 
 sped toward the fire to be of what 
 assistance he could. 
 
 The lamp-shade, the screen, the 
 
 155
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 little table and the diminutive chair 
 blazed gallantly, and with such a 
 volleying of poisonous fumes that 
 Cobb could scarce hold his ground to 
 do battle. Louise out of the way, 
 he at once became cool and resource- 
 ful. Before a flame could reach the 
 windows, he had rent down the flimsy 
 curtains and flung them outside. 
 Bellowing for the water which was 
 so long in coming, he used the 
 hearthrug to some purpose on the 
 outskirts of the bonfire, but had to 
 keep falling back for fresh air. Then 
 appeared a pail and a can, which he 
 emptied effectually, and next mo- 
 ment sounded the voice of the 
 gentleman from next door. 
 
 "Have you a garden hose? Set 
 it on to the tap, and bring it in here. " 
 
 The hose was brought into play, 
 and in no great time the flame had 
 flickered out amid a deluge. When 
 all danger was at an end, one of the 
 servants, the nurse-girl, uttered a 
 
 156
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 sudden shriek; it merely signified 
 that she had now thought for the 
 first time of the little child asleep 
 upstairs. Aided by the housemaid, 
 she rushed to the nursery, snatched 
 her charge from bed, and carried the 
 unhappy youngster into the breezes 
 of the night, where he screamed at 
 the top of his gamuts. 
 
 Cobb, when he no longer felt that 
 the house would be burnt, hurried to 
 inquire after Louise. She lay on a 
 couch, wrapped in a dressing-gown; 
 for the side and one sleeve of her 
 dress had been all but burnt away. 
 Her moaning never ceased ; there was 
 a fire-mark on the lower part of her 
 face, and she stared with eyes of 
 terror and anguish at whoever ap- 
 proached her. Already a doctor had 
 been sent for. Cobb, reporting that 
 all was safe at ' ' Runny mede, ' ' wished 
 to remove her at once to her own 
 bedroom, and the strangers were 
 eager to assist. 
 
 157
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "What will the Mumfords say?" 
 Louise cried of a sudden, trying to 
 raise herself. 
 
 "Leave all that to me," Cobb re- 
 plied, reassuringly. "I'll make it 
 all right; don't trouble yourself." 
 
 The nervous shock had made her 
 powerless; they carried her in a 
 chair back to "Runnymede, " and 
 upstairs to her bedroom. Scarcely 
 was tliis done, when Mr. and Mrs. 
 Mumford, after a leisurely walk from 
 the station, approached their garden 
 gate. The sight of a little crowd of 
 people in the quiet road, the smell 
 of burning, loud noises of excited 
 servants, caused them to run forward 
 in alarm ; Emmeline, frenzied by the 
 certainty that her own house was on 
 fire, began to cry aloud for her child, 
 and Mumford rushed like a madman 
 through the garden. 
 
 "It's all right," said a man who 
 stood in the doorway. "You Mr. 
 Mumford? It's all right. There's 
 been a fire, but we've got it out." 
 
 15S
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Emmeline learnt at the same 
 moment that her child had suffered 
 no harm, but she would not pause 
 until she saw the little one and held 
 him in her embrace. Meanwhile, 
 Cobb and Mumford talked in the de- 
 vastated drawing-room, which was 
 illumined with candles. 
 
 "It's a bad job, Mr. Mumford. 
 My name is Cobb; I dare say you've 
 heard of me. I came to see Miss 
 Derrick, and I was clumsy enough 
 to knock the lamp over." 
 
 "Knock the lamp over! How 
 could you do that? Were you 
 drunk?" 
 
 "No, but you may well ask the 
 question. I stumbled over some- 
 thing — a little chair, I think — and 
 fell against the table with the lamp 
 on it" 
 
 "Where's Miss Derrick?" 
 
 "Upstairs. She got rather badly 
 burnt, I'm afraid. We've sent for a 
 doctor." 
 
 "And here I am," spoke a voice 
 
 159
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 behind them. "Sorry to see this, 
 Mr. Mumford." 
 
 The two went upstairs together, 
 and on the first landing encountered 
 Emmeline, sobbing and wailing 
 hysterically, with the child in her 
 arms. Her husband spoke sooth- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Don't, don't, Emmy. Here's Dr. 
 Billings come to see Miss Derrick. 
 She's the only one that has been 
 burnt. Go down, there's a good 
 girl, and send somebody to help in 
 Miss Derrick's room; you can't be 
 any use j^ourself just now." 
 
 "But how did it happen? Oh, 
 Jiow did it happen?" 
 
 "I'll come and tell you all about 
 it. Better put boy to bed again, 
 hadn't you?" 
 
 When she recovered her senses, 
 Emmeline took this advice, and, 
 leaving the nurse by the child's cot, 
 went down to survey the ruin of her 
 property. It was a sorry sight. 
 Where she had left a reception-room 
 
 , i6o
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 such as any suburban lady in moder- 
 ate circumstances might be proud of, 
 she now beheld a mere mass of un- 
 recognizable furniture, heaped en 
 what had once been a carpet, amid 
 dripping walls and under a grimed 
 ceiling. 
 
 "Oh! Oh!" She almost sank 
 before the horror of the spectacle. 
 Then, in a voice of fierce conviction: 
 "She did it! She did it! It was 
 because I told her to leave. I know 
 she did it on purpose!" 
 
 Mumford closed the door of the 
 room, shutting out Cobb and the 
 cook and the housemaid. He re- 
 peated the story Cobb had told him, 
 and quietly urged the improbability 
 of his wife's explanation. Miss 
 Derrick, he pointed out, was lying 
 prostrate from severe burns; the fire 
 must have been accidental, but the 
 accident, to be sure, was extraordi- 
 nary enough. Thereupon Mrs. 
 Mumford 's wrath burned against 
 Cobb. What business had such a 
 
 i6i
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 man — a low-class savage — in her 
 drawing-room ? He must have come 
 knowing that she and her husband 
 were away for the evening. 
 
 "You can question him if you 
 like," said Mumford. "He's out 
 there." 
 
 Emmeline opened the door, and at 
 once heard a cry of pain from up- 
 stairs. Mumford, also hearing it, 
 and seeing Cobb's misery-stricken 
 face by the light of the hall lamp, 
 whispered to his wife: 
 
 "Hadn't you better go up, dear? 
 Dr. Billings may think it strange." 
 
 It was much wiser to urge this 
 consideration than to make a direct 
 plea for mercy. Emmeline did not 
 care to have it reported that selfish 
 distress made her indifferent to the 
 sufferings of a friend staying in her 
 house. But she could not pass 
 Cobb without addressing him 
 severely. 
 
 "So you are the cause of this?" 
 
 "I am, Mrs. Mumford, and I can 
 
 162
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 only say that I'll do my best to make 
 good the damage to your house." 
 
 "Make good! I fancy you have 
 strange ideas of the value of the 
 property destroyed." 
 
 Insolence was no characteristic of 
 Mrs. Mumford. But calamity had 
 put her beside herself; she spoke, 
 not in her own person, but as a 
 woman whose carpets, curtains and 
 bric-a-brac have ignominiously per- 
 ished. 
 
 "I'll make it good," Cobb re- 
 peated, humbly, "however long it 
 takes me. And don't be angry with 
 that poor girl, Mrs. Mumford. It 
 wasn't her fault, not in any way. 
 She didn't know I was coming; she 
 hadn't asked me to come. I'm en- 
 tirely to blame." 
 
 "You mean to say you knocked 
 over the table by accident?" 
 
 "I did, indeed. And I wish I'd 
 been burnt myself, instead of her." 
 
 He had suffered, by the way, no 
 inconsiderable scorching, to which 
 
 l^>3
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 his hands would testify for many a 
 week; but of this he was still hardly 
 aware. Emineline, with a glance of 
 uttermost scorn, left him and as- 
 cended to the room where the doctor 
 was busy. Free to behave as he 
 thought fit, Mumford beckoned Cobb 
 to follow him into the front garden, 
 where they conversed with masculine 
 calm. 
 
 "I shall put up at Sutton for the 
 night," said Cobb, "and perhaps 
 you'll let me call the first thing in 
 the morning to ask how vShe gets on. " 
 
 "Of course. We'll see the doctor 
 when he comes down. But I wish I 
 could understand how you managed 
 to throw the lamp down." 
 
 "The truth is," Cobb replied, "we 
 were quarrelling. I'd heard some- 
 thing about her that made me wild, 
 and I came and behaved like a fool. 
 I feel just now as if I could go and 
 cut my throat, that's the fact. If 
 anything happens to her, I believe I 
 shall. I might as well, in any 
 
 164
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 case; she'll never look at me again." 
 "Oh, don't take such a dark view 
 of it." 
 
 The doctor came out, on his way 
 to fetch certain requirements, and 
 the two men walked with him to his 
 house in the next road. They learned 
 that Louise was not dangerously in- 
 jured ; her recovery would be merely 
 a matter of time and care. Cobb 
 gave a description of the fire, and 
 his hearers marvelled that the results 
 were no worse. 
 
 "You must have some burns too?" 
 said the doctor, whose curiosity was 
 piqued by everything he saw and 
 heard of the strange occurrence. "I 
 thought so; those hands must be 
 attended to," 
 
 Meanwhile, Emmeline sat by the 
 bedside, and listened to the hysteri- 
 cal lamentation in which Louise 
 gave her own— the true— account of 
 the catastrophe. It was all her fault, 
 and upon her let all the blame fall.' 
 She would humble herself to Mr. 
 
 165
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Higgins, and get him to pay for the 
 furniture destroyed. If Mrs. Mum- 
 ford would but forgive her! And 
 so on, as her poor body agonized, and 
 the blood grew feverish in her veins. 
 
 I66
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Accept it? Certainly. Why 
 should we bear the loss, if he's able 
 to make it good? He seems to be 
 very well off for an unmarried 
 man." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mumford, "but 
 he's just going to marry, and it 
 
 seems Well, after all, you 
 
 know, he didn't really cause the 
 damage. I should have felt much 
 less scruple if Higgins had offered to 
 pay " 
 
 "He did cause the damage," as- 
 severated Emmeline. "It was his 
 gross or violent behaviour. If you 
 had been insured, it wouldn't matter 
 so much — and pray let this be a 
 warning, and insure at once. How- 
 ever you look at it, he ought to 
 pay." 
 
 167
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Emmeline's temper had suffered 
 much since she made the acquaint- 
 ance of Miss Derrick. Aforetime 
 she could discuss a difference of 
 opinion; now a hint of diversity 
 drove her at once to the female 
 weapon, angry and iterative asser- 
 tion. Her native delicacy, also, 
 seemed to have degenerated. Mum- 
 ford could onl}^ hold his tongue, and 
 trust that this would be but a tem- 
 porary obscurement of his wife's 
 amiable virtues. 
 
 Cobb had written from Bristol, a 
 w^eek after the accident, formally re- 
 questing a statement of the pecuni- 
 ary loss which the Mumfords had 
 suffered; he resolved to repay them, 
 and would do so if possible as soon 
 as he knew the sum. Mumford felt 
 a trifle ashamed to make the neces- 
 sary declaration; at the outside, 
 even with expenses of painting and 
 papering, their actual damage could 
 not be estimated at more than forty 
 pounds, and even Emmeline did not 
 
 i68
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 wish to save appearances by making 
 an excessive demand. The one 
 costly object in the room, the piano, 
 was practically uninjured, and sun- 
 dry other pieces of furniture could 
 easily be restored; for Cobb and his 
 companion, as amateur firemen, had 
 be no means gone recklessly to work. 
 By candle-light, when the floor was 
 still in swamp, things looked more 
 desperate than they proved to be on 
 subsequent investigation ; and it is 
 wonderful at how little outlay, in 
 our glistening times, a villa draw- 
 ing-room may be fashionably equip- 
 ped. So Mumford wrote to his cor- 
 respondent that only a few articles 
 had absolutely perished ; that it was 
 not his wish to make any demand at 
 all; but that, if j\Ir. Cobb insisted on 
 offering restitution, why, a matter 
 of forty pounds, etc., etc. And in a 
 few days this sum arrived, in the 
 form of a draft upon respectable 
 bankers. 
 
 Of course the house was in griev- 
 
 169
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ous disorder. Upholsterers' work- 
 men would have been bad enough, 
 but much worse was the establish- 
 ment of Mrs. Higgins by her daugh- 
 ter's bedside, which naturally in- 
 volved her presence as a guest at 
 table, and the endurance of her con- 
 versation whenever she chose to 
 come downstairs. Mumford urged 
 his wife to take her summer holiday, 
 to go away with the child imtil all 
 was put right again —a phrase which 
 included the removal of Miss Der- 
 rick to her own home ; but of this 
 Emmeline would not hear. How 
 could she enjoy an hour of mental 
 quietude when, for all she knew, 
 ^Irs. Higgins and the patient might 
 be throwing lamps at each other? 
 And her jealousy was still active, 
 though she did not allow it to betray 
 itself in words. Clarence seemed to 
 her quite needlessly anxious in his 
 inquiries concerning Miss Derrick's 
 condition. Until that young lady 
 had disappeared from "Runnymede" 
 
 170
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 for ever, Emmeline would keep 
 matronly watch and ward. 
 
 Mrs. Higgins declared at least a 
 score of times every day that she 
 could 7iot understand how that dread- 
 ful affair had come to pass. The 
 most complete explanation from 
 her daughter availed nothing; she 
 deemed the event an insoluble mys- 
 tery, and, in familiar talk with Mrs. 
 Mumford, breathed singular charges 
 against Louise's lover. "She's 
 shielding him, my dear. I've no 
 doubt of it. I never had a very good 
 opinion of him, but now she shall 
 never marry him with viy consent." 
 To this kind of remark Emmeline at 
 length deigned no reply. She grew 
 to detest Mrs. Higgins, and escaped 
 her society by every possible ma- 
 noeuvre. 
 
 "Oh, how pleasant it is," she ex- 
 claimed, bitterly, to her husband, 
 "to think that everybody in the road 
 is talking about us with contempt! 
 Of course the servants have spread 
 
 171
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 nice stories. And the Wilkinsons" 
 — these were the people next door 
 — "look upon lis as hardly respect- 
 able. Even Mrs. Fentiman said 
 yesterday that she really could not 
 conceive how I came to take that 
 girl into the house. I acknowledge 
 that I must have been crazy." 
 
 "Whilst we're thoroughly upset," 
 replied Mumford, with irritation at 
 this purposeless talk, "hadn't we 
 better leave the house, and go to live 
 as far away as possible?" 
 
 "Indeed, I very much wish we 
 could. I don't think I shall ever be 
 happy again at Sutton." 
 
 And Clarence went off muttering 
 to himself about the absurdity and 
 the selfishness of women. 
 
 For a week or ten days Louise lay 
 very ill; then her vigorous constitu- 
 tion began to assert itself. It helped 
 her greatly toward convalescence 
 when she found that the scratches 
 on her face would not leave a per- 
 manent blemish. Mrs. Mumford 
 
 172
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 came into the room one day, and sat 
 for a few minutes, neither of them 
 desiring longer communion; but 
 they managed to exchange inquiries 
 and remarks with a show of friend- 
 liness. When the forty pounds came 
 from Cobb, Emmeline made no men- 
 tion of it. The next day, however, 
 Mrs. Higgins being absent when 
 Emmeline looked in, Louise said, 
 with an air of satisfaction: 
 
 "So he has paid the money! I'm 
 very glad of that." 
 
 "Mr. Cobb insisted on paying," 
 Mrs. Mumford answered, with re- 
 serve. '*We could not hurt his feel- 
 ings by refusing." 
 
 "Well, that's all right, isn't it? 
 You won't think so badly of us now? 
 Of course you wish you'd never set 
 eyes on me, Mrs. Mumford; but 
 that's only natural; in your place I'm 
 sure I should feel the same. Still, 
 now the money's paid, you won't 
 always think unkindly of me, will 
 you?" 
 
 173
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 The girl lay propped on pillows; 
 her pale face, with its healing scars, 
 bore witness to what she had under- 
 gone, and one of her arms was com- 
 pletely swathed in bandages. Em- 
 meline did not soften towards her, 
 but the frank speech, the rather 
 pathetic little smile, in decency de- 
 manded a suave response. 
 
 "I shall wish you every happiness, 
 Louise." 
 
 "Thank you. We shall be married 
 as soon as ever I'm well, but I'm 
 sure I don't know where. Mother 
 hates his very name, and does her 
 best to set me against him ; but I 
 just let her talk. We're beginning 
 to quarrel a little — did you hear us 
 this morning? I try to keep down 
 my voice, and I shan't be here much 
 longer, you know. I shall go home 
 at first; my stepfather has written a 
 kind letter, and of course he's glad 
 to know I shall marry Mr. Cobb. 
 But I don't think the wedding will 
 be there. It wouldn't be nice to go 
 
 174
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 to church in a rage, as I'm sure I 
 should with mother and Cissy look- 
 ing on." 
 
 This might, or might not, signify 
 a revival of the wish to be married 
 from "Runnymede. " Emmeline 
 quickly passed to another subject. 
 
 Mrs. Higgins was paying a visit 
 to Coburg Lodge, where, during 
 these days of confusion, the master 
 of the house had been left at his ser- 
 vants' mercy. On her return, late 
 in the evening, she entered flurried 
 and perspiring, and asked the ser- 
 vant who admitted her where Mrs. 
 Mum ford was. 
 
 "With master, in the library, 
 
 ID. 
 
 "Tell her I wish to speak to her 
 at once." 
 
 Emmeline came forth, and a lamp 
 was lighted in the dining-room, for 
 the drawing-room had not yet been 
 restored to a habitable condition. 
 Silent, and wondering in gloomy re- 
 signation what new annoyance was 
 
 175
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 prepared for her, Emmeline sat with 
 eyes averted, whilst the stout w^oman 
 mopped her face and talked discon- 
 nectedly of the hardships of travel- 
 ling in such weather as this; when 
 at length she readied her point, 
 Mrs. Higgins became lucid and 
 emphatic. 
 
 "I've heard things as have made 
 me that angry I can hardly bear my- 
 self. Would you believe that people 
 are dying to take away my daughter's 
 character? It's Cissy 'Iggins' do- 
 ing, I'm sure of it, though I haven't 
 brought it 'ome to her yet. I 
 dropped in to see some friends of 
 ours — I shouldn't wonder if you 
 know the name, it's Mrs. Jolliffe, a 
 niece of Mr. Baxter — Baxter, Lukin 
 & Co., you know; and she told me in 
 confidence what people are saying — 
 as how Louise was to marry Mr. 
 Bowling, but he broke it off when he 
 found the sort of people she was 
 living with, here at Sutton — and a 
 great many more things as I shouldn't 
 
 1/6
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 like to tell you. Now what do you 
 think of " 
 
 Emmeline, her eyes flashing, broke 
 in angrily. 
 
 "I think nothing at all about it, 
 Mrs. Higgins, and I had very much 
 rather not hear the talk of such 
 people." 
 
 "I don't wonder it aggravates 
 you, Mrs. Mumford. Did any one 
 ever hear such a scandal! I'm sure 
 nobody that knows you could say a 
 word against your respectability, 
 and, as I told Mrs. Jolliffe, she's 
 quite at liberty to call here to-mor- 
 row or the next day " 
 
 "Not to see me, I hope," said 
 Emmeline. "I must refuse " 
 
 "Now just let me tell you what 
 I've thought," pursued the stout 
 lady, hardly aware of this interrup- 
 'on. "This'll have to be set right, 
 both for Lou's sake and for yours, 
 and to satisfy us all. They're mak- 
 ing a mystery, d'you see, of Lou 
 leaving 'ome, and going ofiE to live 
 
 177
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 with strangers; and Cissy's been 
 doing her best to make people think 
 there's something wrong — the spite- 
 ful creature. And there's only one 
 way of setting it right. As soon as 
 Lou can be dressed and get down, and 
 when the drawing-room's finished, 
 I want her to ask all our friends 
 here to five o'clock tea just to let them 
 see with their own eyes " 
 
 "Mrs. Higgins, " 
 
 "Of course there'll be no expense 
 ior you, Mrs. Mumford, not a farth- 
 ing. I'll provide everything, and 
 all I ask of you is just to sit in your 
 own drawing-room " 
 
 "Mrs. Higgins, be so kind as to 
 listen to me. This is quite impossi- 
 ble. I can't dream of allowing any 
 such thing." 
 
 The other glared in astonishment, 
 which tended to wrath. 
 
 "But can't you see, Mrs. Mum- 
 ford, that it's for your own good as 
 well as ours? Do you want people 
 to be using your name " 
 
 178
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "What can it matter to me how 
 such people think or speak of me?" 
 cried Emmeline, trembling with ex- 
 asperation. 
 
 "Such people! I don't think you 
 know who you're talking about, 
 Mrs. Mumford. You'll let me tell 
 you that my friends are as respect- 
 able as yours " 
 
 "I shall not argue about it," said 
 Emmeline, standing up. "You will 
 please to remember that already I've 
 had a great deal of trouble and an- 
 noyance, and what you propose would 
 be quite intolerable. Once for 
 all, I can't dream of such a 
 thing." 
 
 "Then all I can say is, Mrs. Mum- 
 ford," — the speaker rose with heavy 
 dignity — "that you're not behaving 
 in a very ladylike way. I'm not a 
 quarrelsome person, as you well 
 know, and i don't say nasty things 
 if I can help it. But there's one 
 thing I must say and will say, and 
 that is, that when we fir5t came here 
 
 179
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 you gave a very different account of 
 yourself to what it's turned out. 
 You told me and my daughter dis- 
 tinctly that you had a great deal of 
 the very best society, and that was 
 what Lou came here for, and you 
 know it, and you can't deny that you 
 did. And I should like to know how 
 much society 's she's seen all the 
 time she's been here — that's the 
 question I ask you. I don't believe 
 she's seen more than three or four 
 people altogether. They may have 
 been respectable enough, and I'm 
 not the one to say they weren't, but 
 I do say it isn't what we was led to 
 expect, and that you can't deny, Mrs. 
 Mumford." 
 
 She paused for breath. Emmeline 
 had moved towards the door, and 
 stood struggling with the feminine 
 rage which compelled her to undig- 
 nified altercation. To withdraw in 
 silence would be like a shamed con- 
 fession of the charge brought against 
 her, and she suffered not a little from 
 
 1 80
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 her consciousness of the modicum of 
 truth therein. 
 
 "It was a most unfortunate thing, 
 Mrs. Higgins," burst from her lips, 
 "that I ever consented to receive 
 your daughter, knowing as I did that 
 she wasn't our social equal." 
 
 "Wasn't what!'' exclaimed the 
 other, as though the suggestion 
 startled her by its novelty. "You 
 think yourself superior to us? You 
 did us a favour " 
 
 Whilst Mrs. Higgins was uttering 
 these words, the door opened, and 
 there entered a figure which startled 
 her into silence. It was that of 
 Louise, in a dressing gown and slip- 
 pers, with a shawl wrapped about 
 the upper part of her body. 
 
 "I heard you quarrelling," she 
 began. (Her bedroom was immedi- 
 ately above, and at this silent hour 
 the voices of the angry ladies had 
 been quite audible to her as she lay 
 in bed). "What /.y it all about? It's 
 too bad of you, mother " 
 
 i8i
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 •'The idea, Louise, of coining 
 down like that!" cried her parent, 
 indignantly. "How did you know 
 Mr. Mumford wasn't here? For 
 shame! Go up again this moment. " 
 "I don't see any harm if Mr. 
 Mumford had been here," replied 
 the girl, calmly. 
 
 "I'm sure it's most unwise of you 
 to leave your bed, " began Emmeline, 
 with anxious thought for Louise's 
 health, due probably to her dread of 
 having the girl in the house for an 
 indefinite period. 
 
 "Oh, I've wrapped up. I feel 
 shaky, that's all, and I shall have to 
 sit down." She did so, on the near- 
 est chair, with a little laugh at her 
 strange feebleness. "Now please 
 don't quarrel, you two. Mrs. Mum- 
 ford, don't mind anything that 
 mother says." 
 
 Thereupon Louise's mother burst 
 into a vehement exposition of the 
 reasons of discord, beginning with 
 the calumnious stories she had heard 
 
 • 182
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 at Mrs. Jolliffe's, and ending with 
 the outrageous arrogance of Mrs. 
 Mumford's latest remark. Louise 
 listened with a smile. 
 
 "Now, look here, mother," she 
 said, when silence came for a mo- 
 ment. "You can't expect Mrs. 
 Mum ford to have a lot of strangers 
 coming to the house just on my ac- 
 count. She's sick and tired of us 
 all, and wants to see our backs as 
 soon as ever she can. I don't say it 
 to offend you, Mrs. Mumford, but 
 you know it's true. And I tell you 
 what it is. To-morrow morning 
 I'm going back home. Yes, I am. 
 You can't stay here, mother, after 
 this, and I'm not going to have any 
 one new to wait on me. I shall go 
 home in a cab, straight from this 
 house to the other, and I'm quite 
 sure I shan't take any harm." 
 
 "You won't do it till the doctor's 
 given you leave, " said Mrs. Higgins, 
 with concern. 
 
 "He'll be here at ten in the morn- 
 
 183
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 ing, and I know he will give me 
 leave. So there's an end of it. And 
 you can go to bed and sleep in peace 
 Mrs. Mumford." 
 
 It was not at all unamiably said 
 But for Mrs. Higgins' presence 
 Emmeline would have responded 
 with a certain kindness; still smart 
 ing under the stout lady's accusa 
 tions, which continued to sound in 
 sniffs and snorts, she answered as 
 austerely as possible. 
 
 "I must leave you to judge, Miss 
 Derrick, how soon you feel able to 
 go. I don't wish you to do anything 
 imprudent. But it will be much 
 better if Mrs. Higgins regards me as 
 a stranger during the rest of her stay 
 here. Any communication she 
 wishes to make to me must be made 
 through a servant." 
 
 Having thus delivered herself, 
 Emmeline quitted the room. From 
 the library, of which the door was 
 left ajar, she heard Louise and her 
 mother pass up?tairs, both silent. 
 
 . 184
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 Mumford, too well aware that yet an- 
 other disturbance had come upon his 
 unhappy household, affected to read, 
 and it was only when the door of 
 Louise's room had closed that Em- 
 meline spoke to him. 
 
 "Mrs. Higgins will breakfast by 
 herself to-morrow," she said, se- 
 verely. "She may perhaps go before 
 lunch; but in any case, we shall not 
 sit down at table with her again." 
 
 "All right," Mumford replied, 
 studiously refraining from any hint 
 of curiosity. 
 
 So, next morning, their breakfast 
 was served in the library. Mrs. 
 Higgins came down at the usual 
 hour, found the dining-room at her 
 disposal, and ate with customary 
 appetite alone. Had Emmeline's 
 experience lain among the more 
 rigorously vulgar of her sex, she 
 would have marvelled at Mrs. Hig- 
 gins' silence and general self-re- 
 straint during these last hours; 
 Louise's mother might, without 
 
 185
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 transgressing the probabilities of 
 the situation, have made this a 
 fliemorable morning indeed. She 
 confined herself to a rather frequent 
 ringing of the bedroom bell. Her 
 requests of the servant became 
 orders, such as she would have given 
 in a hotel or lodging-house, but no 
 distinctly offensive word escaped 
 her. And this was almost entirely 
 due to Louise's influence; for the 
 girl impressed upon her mother that 
 "to make a row" would be the sure 
 and certain way of proving that Mrs. 
 Mumford was justified in claiming 
 social superiority over her guests. 
 
 The doctor, easily perceiving how 
 matters stood, made no difficulty 
 about the patient's removal; in a 
 closed carriage, and with exercise of 
 all obvious precautions, she might 
 travel as soon as she liked. Antici- 
 pating this, Mrs. Higgins had already 
 packed all the luggage, and Louise, 
 as well as it could be managed, had 
 been clad for the journey. 
 
 ■ i86
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 "I suppose you'll go and order the 
 cab yourself, " she said to her mother, 
 when they were alone again. 
 
 "Yes, I must; on account of mak- 
 ing a bargain about the charge. A 
 nice expense you've been to us, 
 Louise. That man ought to pay 
 every penny." 
 
 "I'll tell him you say so, and no 
 doubt he will." 
 
 They wrangled about this whilst 
 Mrs. Higgins was dressing to go out. 
 As soon as her mother had left the 
 house, Louise stole downstairs, and 
 to the door of the drawing-room, 
 which was half open; Emmeline, 
 her back turned, stood before the 
 fireplace, as if considering some new 
 plan of decoration; she did not hear 
 the girl's light step. Whitewashers 
 and paper-hangers had done their 
 work; anew carpet was laid down; 
 but pictures had still to be restored 
 to their places, and the furniture 
 stood all together in the middle 
 of the room. Not till Louise 
 
 187
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 had entered did her hostess look 
 round. 
 
 "Mrs. Mumford, I want to say 
 good-bye." 
 
 "Oh, yes," Emmeline answered, 
 civilly, but without a smile. "Good- 
 bye, Miss Derrick. " And she stepped 
 forward to shake hands. 
 
 "Don't be afraid," said the girl, 
 looking into her face good-humour- 
 edly. "You shall never see me 
 again, unless you wish to." 
 
 "I'm sure I wish you all happi- 
 ness," was the embarrassed reply. 
 "And — I shall be glad to hear of 
 your marriage." 
 
 "I'll write to you about it. But 
 you won't talk unkindly about me, 
 when I've gone — you and Mr. Mum- 
 ford?" 
 
 "No, no; indeed we shall not." 
 
 Louise tried to say something else, 
 but without success. She pressed 
 Emmeline's hand, turned quickly, 
 and disappeared. In half an hour's 
 time arrived the vehicle Mrs. Higgins 
 
 ' i88
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 had engaged; without delay, mother 
 and daughter left the house, and were 
 driven ofi. Mrs. Muinford kept a 
 strict retirement. When the two 
 had gone, she learnt from the house- 
 maid that their luggage would be 
 removed later in the day. 
 
 A fortnight passed, and the Mum- 
 fords once more lived in enjoyment 
 of tranquillity, though Emmeline 
 could not quite recover her old self. 
 They never spoke of the dread ex- 
 periences through which they had 
 gone. Mumford's holiday-time ap- 
 proached, and they were making ar- 
 rangements for a visit to the seaside, 
 when one morning a carrier's cart 
 delivered a large package, unex- 
 pected and of unknown contents. 
 Emmeline stripped off the matting, 
 and found — a drawing-room screen, 
 not unlike that which she had lost in 
 the fire. Of course it came from 
 Louise, and, though she professed 
 herself very much annoyed, Mrs. 
 Mumford had no choice but to ac- 
 
 189
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 knowledge it in a civil little note ad- 
 dressed to Coburg Lodge. 
 
 They were away from home for 
 three weeks. On returning, Emme- 
 line found a letter which had arrived 
 for her the day before; it was from 
 Louise, and announced her marriage. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Mumford, I know 
 you'll be glad to hear it's all over. It 
 was to have been at the end of Octo- 
 ber, when our house was ready for 
 us. We have taken a very nice one in 
 Holloway. But, of course, some- 
 thing happened, and mother and 
 Cissy and I quarrelled so dreadfully 
 that I went off and took a lodging. 
 And then Tom said that we must be 
 married at once, and so we were 
 without any fuss at all, and I think 
 it was ever so much better, though 
 some girls would not care to go in 
 their plain dress and without friends 
 or anything. After it was over, 
 Tom and I had just a little disagree- 
 ment about something, but, of 
 course, he gave way, and I don't 
 
 ' 190
 
 THE PAYING GUEST 
 
 think we shall get on together at all 
 badly. My stepfather has been very 
 nice, and is paying for all the furni- 
 ture, and has promised me a lot of 
 things. Of course he is delighted 
 to have me out of the house, just as 
 you were. You see that I write 
 from Broadstairs, where we are 
 spending our honeymoon. Please re- 
 member me to Mr. Mumford, and 
 believe me, very sincerely yours, 
 Louise E. Cobb." 
 
 Enclosed was a wedding card. 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Cobb," in 
 gilt lettering, occupied the middle, 
 and across the right-hand up])er cor- 
 ner ran "Louise E. Derrick," an 
 arrow transfixing the maiden sur- 
 name. 
 
 191
 
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