M* RW *KIM *H *** 
 
 Ml Kit ** 
 
 MM M* I 
 
 MM4M II 
 
 1*1 
 
 
 m 
 
 l'l 
 
 
 B i 
 
 s| 
 
 
 :* 
 i* 1 
 
 :i 
 
 
 '! 
 
 1* 
 
 "! 
 
 
 |I 
 
 ; 
 
 
 ii 
 
 'ii 
 
 
 |!i 
 
 S I 
 
 
 *s 
 
 
 
 
 !* 
 
 !i 
 
 
 i 1 
 
 ii 
 *i 
 
 
 i!fl 
 i 1 
 
 i" 
 
 ,!> 
 
 
 !i 
 i 1 
 
 si 
 
 
 ji* 
 
 * 
 * 
 
 


 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY 
 
 A MONOGRAPH 
 
 BY 
 
 ESME STUART 
 
 AUTHOR OF JOAN VELLACOT, KESTELL OF GREYSTONE, ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 1893
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1893, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED 
 AT THE APPLETON PRESS, U. S. A.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY- 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LADY MARY MILTON had a passion, she wished 
 to make her parties as rec/ierc/te and as famous as were 
 the salons of the ancien regime. She had taken as 
 much pains to attain this object as other women do 
 to attain literary or scholastic fame. She believed 
 that she would have as much pleasure when success 
 crowned her efforts and her invitation cards were 
 looked upon as real treasures, as a Girton girl does 
 when she can put M.D. or D.S. after her name, or when 
 she is hailed as senior wrangler or first classic. Let 
 us, however, pass over all the period of effort, for 
 at this moment Lady Mary Milton had reached the 
 desired pinnacle. She was at the height of her 
 triumph ; she did not even regret all she had gone 
 through to reach her coveted position. It is super- 
 fluous to say she was a very clever, original woman. 
 She was not, however, as clever as many of the 
 women who were invited to her house, nor as original 
 as several original London ladies we could name ; 
 but she had the exact proportion of originality, clever- 
 
 2138256
 
 2 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 ness, good and bad temper, power and weakness, 
 necessary to win her cause and she had won it. 
 
 Her husband, Frank Milton, Esq., R.A., was a 
 fashionable portrait painter. He was not a great 
 artist, and a thousand years hence he would not be an 
 old master ; his pictures would be forgotten as well as 
 his sitters, or only brought out of dark corners as bad 
 examples of a bad period. Nevertheless, he and his 
 generation were firm friends. He painted portraits 
 that were always pleasing; he put neither too great 
 originality in his faces or his technique, but he held 
 the balance equally between the modern impressionist, 
 the modern un-impressionist, and the pre-Raphaelite. 
 He easily imbibed ideas, and he knew human nature 
 by instinct, so he suited his picture to his sitter and 
 what more was required of him ? The public had 
 taken a fancy to him ; the public did not know why, 
 neither did he, but it was a fact. The other artists 
 laughed, at him behind his back, they scorned his 
 popularity, and he knew it. Charles Seymour the 
 great impressionist, who painted people as if seen 
 through a London fog, and landscapes as if it were 
 always evening, and sunshine disgraceful could not 
 mention Frank Milton's name without a muttered 
 anathema. Lighthill, who was favoured by provincial 
 lord mayors and gave equivalent paint for their 
 guineas, said that Milton's manner was execrable, 
 that his paint would not stand the test of time, that he 
 knew nothing of the first principles of art, and that
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 3 
 
 the rage for him was a disgrace to society ; but the 
 fact remained unquestioned Milton was popular. In 
 spite of everybody, society people would be painted by 
 Milton. They insisted upon it ; they showered their 
 guineas on him ; they were immortalised in order of 
 application ; they demeaned themselves to beg that 
 their special pictures might be one of his exhibited 
 portraits ; they pressed their gifts upon him, which 
 gifts were delicately hidden bribes ; and, above all, 
 they praised his wife and allowed her to be a queen of 
 society. 
 
 Frank Milton himself was a thoroughly good, hard- 
 working fellow. There was no humbug about him and 
 no pretence, but he could not help knowing that he was 
 popular and that he was rich. He was sorry the ar- 
 tistic brotherhood thought so little of his pictures, but 
 he forgave them, for in his inmost soul he was not very 
 appreciative of his own work, still his style was liked 
 by fashionable lar^es, and he was not going to quarrel 
 with them for that, not even for the sake of all the 
 other artists in England. The truth was, he thought 
 more of a word of praise from Lady Mary's lips than 
 of all the fine sentences of the dukes and duchesses in 
 the world. If Mary said his picture was pretty, he 
 knew she meant it; usually she told him his portraits 
 were made to order, and on these occasions he con- 
 tented himself with smiling or asking her what would 
 be the cost of the new show she was preparing for her 
 next triumph.
 
 4 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 The two were a devoted couple devoted in the 
 best sense of this much-abused word. They were so 
 sure of each other's affection that, had some one come 
 and told Milton his wife had eloped with the Duke of 
 Blackwater, he would have taken the announcement 
 quietly and answered that she would soon come back. 
 Lady Mary had so many men friends that Frank did 
 not know them all, but what did it matter ? Mary 
 might laugh and talk, and flutter here and there she 
 was true to the core, and Frank knew it. On his side, 
 though he painted all the beauties of the season, he 
 never imagined one of them "came up to Mary," and 
 Mary never imagined that he would think so. 
 
 Perhaps it was this perfect domestic atmosphere 
 that had made Lady Mary able to attain her object. 
 The best people were asked and came to her recep- 
 tions, but also the best people had to be in some way 
 distinguished, for the fashionable artist's wife was 
 very dainty in her choice. The queer foreigners with 
 doubtful titles were never found in her rooms. The 
 Bohemian element was there certainly, but it was not 
 fragile Bohemian glass which she displayed, but the 
 glass which, though it may look fragile, is advertised 
 as unbreakable. 
 
 We will not go so far as to say that all the guests 
 who received the coveted invitation to No. i Ross 
 Square were arrayed in spotless robes, but at all events 
 none of them had been openly talked about if they 
 were erring mortals their errors were not notorious.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 5 
 
 As to her person, Lady Mary Milton was decidedly 
 pretty and piquante, but everything around her com- 
 bined to increase her charms. Her dresses were de- 
 signed by Frank, her hair was golden and her eyes 
 were deep violet. Her manners were perfect, and 
 were inherited as well as acquired, for she had known 
 good society from the time she first opened her eyes 
 on the wicked world; above all, these- same good 
 manners were not variable but ingrained, and there- 
 fore never found wanting. 
 
 All those charms in the natural order of events 
 would only have raised her up enemies had she not 
 possessed yet one more virtue she adored her own 
 sex, she was a woman's woman quite as much as a 
 man's woman, and she had a heart. If she had not 
 been born with the passion for good society, she 
 would merely have been a pleasant English matron, 
 but as it was she reigned as the favourite of society 
 and gave herself airs in plenty, and to crown all it 
 was her privilege to have these airs respected. 
 
 The Miltons lived at the corner house of Ross 
 Square. Just then it was a very fashionable square, 
 the houses were difficult to get hold of, and though 
 comparatively small they were run after. The studio 
 was in the garden, and considering the aristocratic 
 sitters who came there it was very simple ; but it 
 suited the fashionable portrait painter, who was like- 
 wise very simple in his tastes. 
 
 Lady Mary's parties were never overcrowded.
 
 6 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 She was resolute about this important item. Her re- 
 ceptions were not to be like the game of chairs, in 
 which there are always less chairs than persons, and 
 she never allowed a man to crowd up the doorway 
 vainly seeking a new position for his legs and arms. 
 The men and women who came to her house were 
 asked there to talk to each other, to amuse each other, 
 and to keep up the character of her unique parties ; 
 if they failed on second trial she was merciful the 
 first time and made allowances for English shyness 
 they never received, in spite of broad hints, another 
 invitation. Lady Mary could do this though no one 
 else could do it. It is certainly wonderful how much 
 can be done by a man or a woman, if he or she 
 has the necessary courage of their firm opinions, 
 and if they allow the world to hear "a bit of their 
 minds." 
 
 " Half the world wastes its brain power in saying 
 what it does not mean," she would remark; "my ad- 
 vice is, 'say what you mean and do it.' " 
 
 But Lady Mary's maxims though good were not 
 good enough for universal acceptance, because it is 
 not only honesty of speech which succeeds, it requires 
 also a mixture of luck. Mrs. Bellew, the mother of 
 pretty Miss Bellew, had tried to imitate all Lady 
 Mary's ways, and had failed utterly. Everybody was 
 offended with her and cut her that was all she got 
 for her pains. It is best and kindest to mention this 
 fact at once for fear of further imitation and further
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 7 
 
 failure, for to imitate this fashionable lady without 
 her special talents is to court disappointment. 
 
 Lady Mary introduced her guests when she did 
 so at all in the prettiest way imaginable; with a few 
 words she could make people feel quite at ease with 
 each other, but that again was her special gift which 
 we have tried in vain to imitate. 
 
 The season was getting aged. The decorous 
 squabbles of the artists had subsided after an unusual 
 flood of adverse criticism by each other upon each 
 other's work, and the society parties were abating. 
 The fashionable world had only about two engage- 
 ments for the same evening instead of three or four, 
 and it was getting a little <%w/and weary, but wearied 
 as it might be it could still find enough spirit to attend 
 Lady Mary's last reception. People could go there 
 before going off to Mrs. Montresor's ball, a ball 
 famous for its strange medley of guests, but to which 
 "every one went." Those who came early to Lady 
 Mary Milton's reception took care not to mention they 
 were on their way to " Mrs. Montresor's mixture." 
 The real enjoyment was to say at the ball to certain 
 people, whom you knew could never cross her thresh- 
 old, that you had "just come from Lady Mary Mil- 
 ton's reception." That was a real triumph, the 
 triumph of, to speak plainly, morality over immorality, 
 good over evil, and therefore it must be owned a very 
 rare triumph, and one which has no written promise 
 of immediate success to rest upon.
 
 8 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Lady Mary had triumphed over the world, would 
 the world some day make her surfer for it ? This 
 question remained to be answered. 
 
 She was charming on this particular evening. 
 Frank Milton had designed her " frock," as his wife 
 called what he styled her " triumph of arts and 
 manufactures." Her thirty-five years did not make 
 themselves conspicuous, for she only allowed twenty- 
 five out of the whole number to appear before the 
 guests. Her hair, arranged artificially, was adorned 
 with the smallest and most delicate wreath of real ivy. 
 Her dress was of a pale sea-green, and was adorned 
 also with natural ivy, causing her several times to be 
 likened to a woodland nymph. As to her stature, she 
 was short but well-proportioned ; moreover, she had by 
 inheritance beautiful hands and feet. To-night she 
 was extremely lively, but she seldom failed in this re- 
 spect for you never found Lady Mary running to 
 several parties on one and the same evening. She 
 gave as an excuse for her many refusals that she only 
 knew how to be brilliant once a day. She accepted 
 very few invitations, and certainly her popularity was 
 not due to the frequency of her appearance in society, 
 but rather, comet-like, to the uncertainty of her ap- 
 pearances, and to the agreeable surprise created when 
 her presence was notified. 
 
 This evening the two drawing-rooms in Ross 
 Square were thrown open, and looked like fairy-land. 
 Flowers and ferns were mingled together, simplicity
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 9 
 
 and severe art, with just a touch besides of Eastern 
 gorgeousness. Everything was perfect, neither vul- 
 gar nor mean. 
 
 The special entertainment provided by her lady- 
 ship was a child-violinist. He was to play two pieces 
 and then to disappear. Lady Mary had a tender 
 heart, she did not like show-children ; but this infant 
 prodigy was the rage, so she contrived as usual to use 
 the world and not to abuse it. These two pieces she 
 knew would have more success than if the child 
 wearied himself and his audience with an hour's un- 
 ceasing work. 
 
 The boy, Hector Prowton, was accompanied by his 
 sister, a tall girl of twenty, dressed in black silk, 
 whose sad face looked out of keeping with a lively 
 party. After the first solo was finished she retired 
 with Hector into a corner, in order to avoid as much 
 as possible the notice of the guests. 
 
 As for Lady Mary, she moved about the room and 
 kept the ball of amusing conversation gently rolling. 
 The company was too well chosen for this ball to 
 need much propelling power, indeed, only a gentle 
 touch was now and then necessary to keep it in mo- 
 tion. 
 
 Mr. Milton had not his wife's talent for society 
 talk, but he enjoyed a chat with anybody and every- 
 body ; he did not put on the airs of genius, and was 
 happily able to be himself, that is, simple and straight- 
 forward.
 
 IO A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 We shall not pretend to reproduce the clever talk 
 which made the success of the party at No. i Ross 
 Square. You cannot paint a woman's kiss, nor the 
 quick blush on a lovely cheek, nor a thousand things 
 in real life, for art fails when she steps out of her 
 province. This evening there was a network of 
 sparkling repartee, a very Turkey carpet of rich 
 thoughts woven with single threads ; but there was 
 only one guest, besides the Wunderkind's sister, who 
 here seemed out of place a thread, as it were, from 
 another texture. He was sitting not far from the 
 musician, and he had half a mind to address the 
 silent sister, as he too knew no one in that gay society 
 except Lady Mary herself; but before he could do 
 this the latter had come across the room bringing 
 with her, of course without apparent purpose, an 
 elderly man who was, by her orders, to talk to the 
 lonely guest, and to whom she said 
 
 " May I introduce Mr. Leslie to you, Colonel 
 Moore? He has just come back from Australia or 
 New Zealand which is it, Mr. Leslie ? and he is a 
 distant cousin of mine. He knows nothing of Eng- 
 lish society, so I told him to come and see it this 
 evening, but you will agree with me he is too late 
 now for anything but the fag-end of our beau monde." 
 
 "But he will begin with the best first," said the 
 Colonel, with a courtly bow to his hostess ; being 
 fully aware that dainty compliments help much to 
 sweeten daily life.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. II 
 
 " I only landed from New Zealand last night," said 
 Brice Leslie, trying to rouse himself. 
 
 " He will give you his opinion of us, after the man- 
 ner of the future New Zealander when found standing 
 on the ruins of London," said Lady Mary. 
 
 " I was born an Englishman," said Leslie, smiling, 
 "and it is only about ten years since I last trod Eng- 
 lish soil ; I am not altogether a foreigner." 
 
 " Ten years, and you have never been back ? " said 
 the Colonel ; it seemed to him a very long exile. 
 
 " Never ; and even now I am enjoying the novel 
 sensation of having landed in England unexpected by 
 anyone even by my own people. Strangely enough 
 I was coming by the next boat, but having finished 
 some surveying I was engaged in sooner than I ex- 
 pected I took the ship that was on the point of start- 
 ing." 
 
 " He never even telegraphed," added Lady Mary, 
 " so he is experiencing a new sensation. Is he not to 
 be envied ? How I wish I could do something to 
 astonish Frank, but he is like the man who could 
 never shiver nothing I do surprises him. To punish 
 the returned prodigal (all Colonials are prodigals of 
 course) I invited him here. It is strange but true that 
 I recognised a' family likeness in the wanderer's 
 face, when we were both in the same shop this morn- 
 ing; quite a theatrical scene it was, ' Surely you are 
 Brice Leslie/ 'And are you Lady Mary Milton, my 
 long-lost cousin ? ' Now, Colonel Moore, you can see
 
 12 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 it all, I may drop the curtain. Will you act the part 
 of Telemachus and tell him about everyone, point out 
 what he is to admire and what to detest ; I must go 
 and talk to my Wunderkind's sister. Ah, by the way, 
 Mr. Leslie, what do you think of that girl in pink on 
 the other side of the room ? If I remember rightly, 
 ten years ago you were an ardent admirer of beauty." 
 
 " Ten years cures many foibles," said Brice Leslie 
 earnestly. In spite of his having been ten years in 
 New Zealand there was nothing colonial in his manner 
 unless we except its gravity. He was tall, broad- 
 shouldered, with a fair complexion tanned by sun and 
 air. Now and then there flitted across his face a look 
 of keen perception, which it was a pleasure to note. It 
 had pleased Lady Mary, or, cousin though he was, he 
 would not have been at her reception. His thought- 
 ful expression was occasionally dispersed by a sudden 
 gleam of amusement, which showed hidden forces at 
 work, and which proved him to be a man not easily 
 passed over when once you had looked at him. 
 
 " Yes ; and ten years also gives time to contract 
 new faults," replied the hostess. 
 
 " Have pity on my grey hairs," interposed the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " But really one of you must give me an opinion 
 on my pretty Miss Betham a true Greek face I call 
 it, so pure and simple." 
 
 " Were the Greeks pure and simple, Lady Mary ? 
 I am merely asking for information," said the Colonel.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 13 
 
 " She is very pretty," said Brice Leslie, but no 
 gleam of admiration came into his eyes. 
 
 " Very pretty ? You men are past my comprehen- 
 sion. I gather together the most unique, the most 
 charming maidens of nineteen for you, and you say 
 ' very pretty.' " 
 
 " We say far more when the girl of nineteen 
 mentions Lady Mary," said the Colonel ; and Leslie 
 admired the aplomb of the grey-haired soldier and 
 courtier. 
 
 Lady Mary laughed, she liked compliments be- 
 cause she knew exactly what they were worth, she 
 could beat even the Colonel in that line when she 
 chose. 
 
 " You are a born courtier, Colonel Moore. By the 
 way, do you know that Miss Cuthbert is to be here 
 this evening ? She is late, so 1 expect she has been 
 elsewhere. I fight against that habit and never give 
 in to it." 
 
 " Is Miss Cuthbert another pink beauty of nine- 
 teen ? " asked Brice Leslie quietly ; that unconscious 
 irony of his was a great charm in women's eyes. 
 
 " Oh no ; a woman of a certain age say of my age." 
 
 " Let us call it the usual age, then," said the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " What claim has she on your notice and regard, 
 Lady Mary ? " said Leslie, for he had quickly found 
 out that his cousin was a woman who expected some- 
 thing from each of her guests.
 
 ! 4 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Well, she is no, I will not tell you, you will see 
 for yourself. .- . . The Wunderkind must wait till she 
 comes, for she adores music." 
 
 Lady Mary passed on, and the two men were left 
 alone in a crowd. 
 
 The Colonel knew everyone, and the newly-re- 
 turned Englishman knew no one, but the Colonel was 
 a good-natured man and he admired the calm way in 
 which the New Zealander took his good fortune, so 
 he began 
 
 " I suppose you know that Lady Mary Milton is 
 the most popular hostess in town ? " Then he sud- 
 denly broke off. " Look," he added, " there is Miss 
 Cuthbert coming in. The deuce ! " this exclamation 
 was uttered sotto voce " Isn't she handsome ? "
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MAGDALEN CUTHBERT entered the room accompa- 
 nied by her aunt, as Mrs. Stewart was called, though 
 she was really only a chaperon, a useful person for 
 appearances, a mere nobody who did not count for 
 much. Mrs. Stewart had all the virtues said to belong 
 to a faithful dog ; she was quite content to be nobody, 
 and she was nobody when Miss Cuthbert was by. 
 
 Lady Mary knew what she was about when she 
 asked Miss Cuthbert to her receptions. She knew the 
 handsome woman was talked about, but she also knew 
 that the talk was not such as could close the doors of 
 No. i Ross Square against her. Further, Lady Mary 
 did not even hide it from herself or from Frank that in 
 her secret heart she was one of Miss Cuthbert's many 
 admirers, or rather one of her few women admirers, 
 for the men were too many to count. When Lady 
 Mary had told Brice Leslie that the expected guest 
 was of the same age as herself, she had been lenient 
 to Magdalen Cuthbert. In reality she was a woman 
 just touching forty, but a woman is no older than she 
 looks, and Magdalen did not often look her age. At 
 times you could not guess it at all, having too great a
 
 l6 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 personality for the number of her years to be of much 
 consequence. The young girls, pink-and-white creat- 
 ures of eighteen to twenty, did not much appreciate 
 the entrance of Miss Cuthbert into a drawing-room. 
 She seemed to fill the place, and her influence appeared 
 to permeate everywhere. She was so handsome that 
 mere beauty of youth or mere prettiness of feature 
 faded away in her presence and was as nothing in 
 comparison, for besides being naturally handsome 
 Miss Cuthbert knew how to dress well; indeed, she 
 dressed extremely well, neither in too old nor too 
 young a style, being endowed with an artist's eye as 
 to what personally suited her. 
 
 Brice Leslie, looking across the room, was suddenly 
 transformed from the phlegmatic New Zealander to a 
 human being with a new gleam of interest in the life 
 around him, an interest previously conspicuous by its 
 absence. As he watched Miss Cuthbert closely he 
 found it difficult to describe her verbally to himself. 
 He saw she was tall, well made, full in figure, but so 
 exquisitely proportioned that the word stout could not 
 be applied to her ; there was, however, something more 
 than mere beauty which constituted her special attrac- 
 tion, and this something refused to be defined. 
 
 If a man happened to have a predilection for a tiny 
 woman, it was no use enumerating Miss Cuthbert's 
 charms to him, for no amount of art could make her 
 look small. She was the type of fully-developed 
 womanhood. Her pose, her walk, all her movements
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ij 
 
 were so graceful, that one realised without further 
 analysis that she was exactly what she should be. 
 Unless you are an artist or a sculptor or a doctor or 
 an anatomist, you do not dissect a woman's stature, 
 you simply comply with the natural desire to acknowl- 
 edge perfection wherever and in whatever form you 
 find it. Arrayed in her low cut evening dress, Miss 
 Cuthbert's chief beauty was seen to perfection. Her 
 head was perfectly poised on her rounded throat. It 
 was not like a girl's slender neck with that serpent- 
 like twist so much admired by a certain school, but 
 the rounded, finely-proportioned throat of a Hebe, 
 starting from its base in one splendid curve that one 
 could mentally trace as it swept round the outline of 
 her exquisitely-shaped head. 
 
 Her hair had, as it seemed, conspired to repeat the 
 undulating lines of the head, for its meshes resembled 
 dark waves in the act of turning to break upon the 
 shore. Her eyes were of a pure pale blue, but shaded 
 by deep brown eyelashes that matched the colour of 
 her hair. This effect of blue eyes with rich brown 
 fringes was very charming ; moreover, the rich healthy 
 complexion, with its dash of red colouring, was pecul- 
 iarly striking. Her nose was straight, her mouth the 
 despair of artists ; Miss Cuthbert's lips had once been 
 described by a society paper as " a cupid's bow dipped 
 in carmine, which when bent to send forth its winged 
 arrows was sure to conquer." The description was 
 " fine " but not true. Her lips were in reality rather
 
 !8 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 thin, red certainly, but when at rest there was a sad, 
 severe expression about the mouth which did not alto- 
 gether belong to a perfect type of beauty. When, 
 however, she suddenly smiled or spoke of some sub- 
 ject which pleased her, the transformation produced 
 perfection. That smile was extremely dangerous, it 
 seemed to lift the beholder of it into another world, it 
 expressed a thousand things in one and one in a thou- 
 sand ; for the whole face felt the smile, especially the 
 eyes, which sometimes shared the sadness and severity 
 of the mouth. No circumstance could ever make Miss 
 Cuthbert's eyes anything but beautiful, but even they 
 changed their expression when " Cupid's bow " was 
 really parted by smiles. 
 
 Perhaps it was for this reason that Miss Cuthbert 
 was not chary of her smiles in society, indeed some 
 men thought she was a perfect woman only because of 
 that smile. You could find heaps of handsome women 
 said they, but no one who could smile like " the Mag- 
 dalen," so they irreverently called her amongst them- 
 selves with unintentional flippancy, for men's minds 
 are shaped after another pattern to that of the other 
 sex. 
 
 Lady Mary Milton admired cleverness wherever 
 she found it, and she admired it especially in Magdalen 
 Cuthbert. It was so evident, so ready for use, and so 
 easily displayed, for she possessed a memory that 
 would have made her senior classic had she chosen to 
 walk in academic groves.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ig 
 
 We need not, at this moment, enumerate the rest 
 of Magdalen's attractions. She was a thorough woman 
 a very woman of women, even though her mind 
 possessed such masculine strength. A woman should 
 never be catalogued like drawing-room furniture, for 
 she is the compound, not only of a thousand inherited 
 beauties, but also of ages of weakness, and a mere 
 catalogue can in no way define such niceties. 
 
 Brice Leslie was fascinated at first sight. He had 
 gazed at all Lady Mary's society beauties without 
 feeling his pulse beat quicker, or his eye charmed 
 above its normal condition in their presence; but the 
 entrance of that one woman, no longer young, had 
 roused his interest and his curiosity. When at last 
 she had been hidden in the crowd by several guests, 
 Brice turned to his companion. 
 
 " Who is she ? " he said very calmly, secretly 
 ashamed of feeling excited. 
 
 " Well, we all know her,, but personally I can tell 
 you very little about her. Her father died some ten 
 years ago, he lived a quiet life, had a nice little house 
 of his own, and a moderate fortune. He much ad- 
 mired his daughter as we all do. Now he is dead 
 she lives in the same house, has the same income, and 
 the same chaperon." 
 
 " Why did she never marry ? " said Brice slowly ; 
 he was afraid of showing his interest, though he 
 wanted to hear all about her everything. 
 
 " Well, that's what we all say, or we used to say it,
 
 2Q A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 but Humph, you are a newcomer, a New Zealander. 
 If you want to know the answer, I will give you the 
 best advice I can. Try and make love to her, and if 
 you get the opportunity make her an offer. You 
 won't be the first who has tried and failed. By Jove, 
 she's not a chicken, and she'll die an old maid I call 
 it cheating nature of her rights. Confess you have 
 seldom seen a handsomer woman." 
 
 "We have fine specimens in New Zealand," said 
 Brice Leslie carelessly. He had not the courage to 
 say,' " Yes, the handsomest woman I have ever seen, 
 whatever her age may be." Then he added, " Do you 
 mean to say that all have failed ? Isn't there " 
 
 "Yes, all. Karstairs failed, and if you know 
 Karstairs Ah, I forgot you have been an ab- 
 sentee." 
 
 " I know no one," said Brice, this time almost 
 coldly, and as if the subject of Miss Cuthbert bored 
 him. 
 
 " Karstairs is a lady's-man. His manner is almost 
 irresistible." 
 
 " But she resisted ? " 
 
 "Would have nothing to say to him nothing. 
 We had betted on it, so we took an interest in the 
 result, you see." 
 
 " I shouldn't have betted on it." 
 
 " No ? Prudent by nature, perhaps ? I shall go 
 and talk to her: apart from bets and all that, she is 
 very good company. As to cleverness she beats Lady
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 21 
 
 Mary hollow, and the greater wonder is that her little 
 ladyship does not mind." 
 
 "All women are not jealous of their own sex. I 
 used to think so, but I know better now. It is one of 
 our foolish masculine ideas." 
 
 " Ah well perhaps." 
 
 The Colonel, quite unconvinced, stuck an eye- 
 glass into one eye and began to thread his way 
 through the first drawing-room, but before he could 
 accomplish the journey the child violinist was led to 
 his seat, and after a few squeaks from his instrument, 
 a few chords from the shy sister, the music began. 
 The guests sat down, and Brice caught sight of Miss 
 Cuthbert seated between two small women. The 
 smile had disappeared, the lips were pressed together, 
 the eyes had in them a far-away expression, and the 
 corners of the mouth showed a slight droop. To his 
 surprise Brice now saw another woman before him; he 
 had admired the first Miss Cuthbert he was startled 
 by this one. " One would say she has suffered," he 
 thought. " Or is it simply that she is listening to that 
 boy ? Shall I ask for an introduction ? Perhaps I 
 had better not, why not ? No yes humbug. A 
 woman's not a girl, especially a woman who can un- 
 derstand, and who will not marry. If it were possible, 
 that is the woman I should Hang it, that boy will 
 never stop." 
 
 He took out his watch. " If he stops in five 
 minutes I'll get my cousin to introduce me, if not
 
 22 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 I won't." This was a strange compact with his sec- 
 ond nature, but not an unusual one for a man to 
 make. 
 
 The child musician played on. His little pale 
 cheeks flushed, his small hands moved faster and 
 faster, and his bow seemed to be an evil spirit bent 
 on mischief. His pathetic eyes were not in a London 
 drawing-room, but far away very far in the mysteri- 
 ous realms of music. He had played his best ; it was 
 wonderful, his soul had gone into it a soul which 
 seemed too small to contain all his thoughts; it surely 
 would break its bonds and fly away right away, but 
 where ? Now at last the long selection was drawing 
 to its close. It seemed as if the furies were pursuing 
 the child-spirit, but there was just a chance that they 
 would be defeated and that the little one would con- 
 quer. The Erlking would not get him, neither would 
 his cruel daughter clasp her cold arms around him. 
 Suddenly he struck the last chord, and it was one of 
 triumph and of joy. The struggle was at an end, and 
 pale with emotion the child moved away from the 
 piano. 
 
 Brice looked at his watch, only one second was 
 wanting to the five-minutes' probation. 
 
 "The Fates have it so," he said, smiling, ''and for 
 one night what can it matter?" He rose from his 
 seat and made his way direct to Lady Mary's corner. 
 His determined manner and straightforward purpose 
 had attracted Miss Cuthbert's attention even before
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 23 
 
 Lady Mary came up to her, at Brice Leslie's special 
 request, to introduce them to each other. 
 
 " Miss Cuthbert will be charmed, I am sure," the 
 hostess said, and then turning towards her friend she 
 added : " Magdalen, my dear, here is a gentleman who 
 wishes to be introduced to you. A cousin, or a sort 
 of cousin of mine, moreover a New Zealander. You 
 like natural curiosities, don't you ? and a man who has 
 been away ten years from London society is one cer- 
 tainly. Mr. Leslie, Miss Cuthbert." 
 
 " I do feel strangely out of my element," Brice 
 Leslie said, bowing to her, whilst Lad)' Mary added 
 
 " I see Miss Cuthbert is still thinking of my 
 genius." 
 
 Magdalen stood up and bowed. Standing close 
 beside each other they looked a very handsome pair, 
 and some of Magdalen's men friends noticed the fact, 
 wondering who was being introduced to her, for evi- 
 dently he was a new recruit. 
 
 "Yes, it was wonderful for a child." 
 
 " I knew you would be pleased," said Lady Mary, 
 smiling, and then she moved away leaving the two 
 together. 
 
 " He will be a great man, don't you think ? " she 
 said, turning to Brice, who saw the smile had come 
 back to her lips, so that the face was once more 
 illuminated. Brice was in secret delight. To himself 
 he said : " I never met such a woman before how 
 strange she is not married ! " aloud he answered
 
 24 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " I am not musical, to me it seemed as if the little 
 fellow went on for a long time ; I thought he would 
 never end." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Magdalen Cuthbert. Her eyes ex- 
 pressed all the scorn and the surprise she felt ; but 
 the expression was only momentary, like a sudden 
 overshadowing of the sun by a summer cloud ; indeed, 
 Brice did not see it, only he heard the altered tone of 
 her voice. He was just then only conscious that in 
 the space of five minutes he had balanced the pros 
 and cons, and that Fate Brice called it Fate had 
 decided he should now be close to her, and that he 
 should be speaking to her. 
 
 " I shall be very soon disenchanted," he said to 
 himself, for he did not believe in sudden attraction ; 
 " and besides " 
 
 " You are musical ; I hear from your tone that you 
 have no pity for a man who has none of the divine 
 feeling." 
 
 " Pity ? That is hardly the word. If he acknowl- 
 edges it at once, as you have done, I know that I 
 need not waste my breath in trying to do the impos- 
 sible. I am really grateful to him. But, before you 
 came up, Austin Dobson's words were ringing in my 
 ears." 
 
 " I am sorry I do not know his poems. You for- 
 get that I come from underground ! " 
 
 "I am glad you do," she said, turning a little to- 
 wards him and for the first time looking up into his
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 25 
 
 face ; " one gets to know so well the ideas of most 
 people, and one wearies of them a little." The smile 
 that accompanied these words took out a little of 
 their sting, but added somewhat to their mockery. 
 Suddenly her expression changed again ; was there a 
 dimness in her eyes as she added : " If you do not 
 know Austin Dobson's ' Child Musician,' make haste 
 and read it. It is a little poem full of pure pathos ; I 
 have hated to listen to a Wunderkind, as Lady Mary 
 calls this one, ever since I read it." 
 
 " You have a good memory. Will you say it ?" 
 
 " It is easy to remember. I I am sorry for it 
 sometimes some things run in one's head till one 
 would beg for oblivion, if one only knew whom to 
 ask." 
 
 " I have not got a good verbal memory, but I can 
 minutely remember some scenes I have gone through." 
 
 Magdalen Cuthbert once more gave him a quick 
 glance. Her glance had nothing coy about it, she 
 seemed to do everything with a certain directness of 
 purpose, and yet, at the same time, her actions ap- 
 peared spontaneous. This man's face interested her, 
 for she smiled at his remark. Often as not she merely 
 looked bored if the speaker were not amusing. 
 
 " Well, then, perhaps these lines will run in your 
 brain as they have done in mine. By the way, I hope 
 no one is listening, or they would think it strange to 
 hear verses quoted at a reception, unless, indeed, one 
 called oneself a professional reciter."
 
 26 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Then she said in a low tone but speaking with a 
 perfect intonation 
 
 " ' He had played for his lordship's levee, 
 
 He had played for her ladyship's whim, 
 Till the poor little head was heavy 
 And the poor little brain would swim. 
 
 " And the face grew peaked and eerie, 
 
 And the large eyes strange and bright, 
 
 And they said too late " He is weary ! 
 
 He shall rest for, at least, to-night ! " ' 
 
 " There are two more verses, but I could not say 
 them, they are too pathetic." 
 
 " One can guess the rest of the story," said Brice 
 Leslie ; " thank you." She ought to have been an 
 actress, he thought, as he looked furtively at her. 
 He seemed altogether fascinated, though she had said 
 so few words. He had admired the pathos in her 
 voice as she repeated those few lines, and the quick 
 look of sympathy she had cast across the room to 
 where the boy violinist sat demurely trying to answer 
 the foolish remarks of a guest. Brice was indulging 
 in this train of pleasant thoughts, forgetting he ought 
 to make conversation, when suddenly Miss Cuthbert's 
 mood changed. She opened her large fan and 
 laughed gaily, but there was a hardness in the laugh 
 that immediately grated on Brice Leslie's feelings. 
 He had fancied Miss Cuthbert was always as she had 
 been the moment before. 
 
 "As you see us again after ten years by us, I 
 mean society I wonder what you think of it all.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 27 
 
 The season is nearly over ; strange that we are not 
 sick to death of it, but somehow we manage to keep 
 up to the end. We are in at the death and ride off the 
 field with colours flying. Excuse a double metaphor." 
 
 " If you are sick to death of it, I wonder you go 
 on with it," said Brice Leslie quietly. His very tone 
 seemed in itself a kind of reproof. 
 
 " Do you wonder ? I do not. By force of repeti- 
 tion, one gets to think it the most important thing one 
 can do. I know I do." 
 
 "You do! I should have thought. ... I suppose 
 however, that is zfafon de parler, and I am not clever 
 enough to understand you." 
 
 "If I did not see you were guiltless of sarcasm, I 
 should say you had just said a cutting thing very 
 neatly." 
 
 " I am afraid ten years of a lonely and wandering 
 life have not taught me an unknown tongue. I never 
 learnt to be sarcastic." 
 
 " Never ? Well, you have lost a good deal of 
 pleasure." 
 
 " I doubt it I beg your pardon. I noticed that 
 Colonel Moore could turn off a compliment out of 
 any of Lady Mary Milton's words. I am quite un- 
 equal to the task, so, of course, quite unfit for bril- 
 liant society." 
 
 Miss Cuthbert turned her blue eyes upon him 
 again, and the sarcasm faded from her face. Brice 
 had a look which defied sarcasm. He had known
 
 2 8 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 much of life, he was to know more, but he had always 
 been entirely in earnest for the time at least. 
 
 " I am very glad. I hope we shall meet again ; 
 perhaps we shall. Lady Mary is going down to her 
 country-house soon, and she has asked me to spend a 
 few weeks with her. I love the country, in spite of 
 living nearly always in London." 
 
 " You are obliged to live in town ? " 
 
 " Obliged, oh no ! I always go away after the sea- 
 son is over, but I must live in London ; I should miss 
 the constant excitement, the parties, the the World, 
 in fact. One lives a life apart here, and one gets 
 attached to it." 
 
 Brice Leslie said a little dreamily, " Ah, yes, per- 
 haps." The last words had depressed him. He hated 
 women of this stamp, and he was almost glad that at 
 that instant a dashing young guardsman came up to 
 Miss Cuthbert and claimed her attention. Young 
 men were always attracted to her ; she flattered their 
 vanity, and possessed the power to charm them with 
 her varied talk, her easy flow, her sarcastic remarks. 
 Brice moved away to leave his place to the younger 
 man, and he did it without a pang. " Not the woman 
 I took her for," he thought. " Shallow, worldly, 
 everything else a mere pretence." But gradually he 
 found himself again looking towards her, watching 
 how she left the guardsman in order to charm another 
 young officer, who was not afraid to let his voice be 
 heard. Now and then Miss Cuthbert's answers
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 29 
 
 reached Leslie's ears. People talk of balm to a 
 wounded spirit ; her remarks were more like the appli- 
 cation of vinegar to a sore, and Brice Leslie said to 
 himself - 
 
 " She is beautiful, very beautiful, but I wonder 
 how I could for a moment have compared her with 
 Griselda ? "
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IT sounds well to talk with familiarity of the ways 
 of society, but society is extremely dull unless you be- 
 long to its charmed circle. Brice Leslie found that 
 after Miss Cuthbert moved away no one spoke to him, 
 and he seemed figuratively and literally a being from 
 another world. Presently he found himself in Mr. 
 Milton's studio, which had been thrown open this even- 
 ing, but which had served chiefly as a suitable place 
 for sipping champagne cup and partaking of dainty 
 refreshments. It was a studio with nooks and corners 
 in it, and having sauntered to its farthest end, where 
 a bank of flowers had been artistically arranged 
 against a screen, Mr. Leslie by chance found himself 
 again face to face with Miss Cuthbert. She was in 
 earnest and lively conversation with a barrister. 
 Brice at once recognised the man of law by the 
 smooth chin, the keen eyes, the satirical smile, and 
 the look of cool admiration he was bestowing on his 
 companion. Miss Cuthbert was just then in a bril- 
 liant mood. She was discussing the last society novel 
 written by Grey Maston. 
 
 "Uncommonly good," said the barrister; "not a
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 3! 
 
 bad picture either of the times ; I rather fancy Grey 
 Maston took the plot from a much-talked-of case 
 you know the one I am referring to ? " 
 
 "Oh yes; Mrs. Twinhaven's elopement with Lord 
 Fookes," said Miss Cuthbert calmly. "Do you re- 
 member the sensation it made, Mr. Leslie ? " she 
 added, turning towards Brice. 
 
 To anyone who knew him well, which was not the 
 case here, it would have been apparent that his coun- 
 tenance changed, and that the studied gravity of his 
 answer was not merely put on for the occasion, but 
 was the index of deeper thought. 
 
 " I have been in New Zealand for ten years, so if 
 it is a recent scandal I am not likely to know it." 
 
 Miss Cuthbert laughed ; her laugh was peculiar 
 to herself a short, dry laugh, and to Brice it sounded 
 intensely sad and shallow. 
 
 " I suppose you are also a pre-Zola man." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Her words stung him and so did the amused smile 
 on the barrister's face. Magdalen again looked up at 
 him as she closed her fan with a quick movement of 
 impatience. 
 
 " I see you really are a revivified primeval man. 
 You will have much to learn if you take up your 
 quarters in London." 
 
 "Miss Cuthbert knows us all by heart," said the 
 barrister. " She puts her finger on all our failings 
 and has no mercy on man " Then he politely 
 3
 
 32 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 gave up his seat to Brice Leslie and walked away. 
 Brice was angry, so he still remained standing, only 
 he could not help looking down upon that mass of 
 beautiful dark wavy hair, and upon the arch of the 
 white neck. He could even just see the exquisite 
 smile, not the less beautiful because it was now so 
 scornful. She spoke first. 
 
 " Won't you sit down ?' Lady Mary can do nearly 
 everything, but she cannot prevent her rooms be- 
 coming hot. Here it is delicious. Unfortunately I 
 have discovered this spot just when it is nearly time 
 to go home." 
 
 " I heard some one mention a ball ; are you going 
 to it?" said Leslie, not knowing what appropriate 
 subject to talk about. 
 
 "I don't dance, but I often go and watch the fol- 
 lies of others. So you do not read naughty books ? " 
 
 " I read very little of anything. I have had a life 
 of hard work, an out-of-door life. I was surveying 
 for a company during most of the time I was out in 
 New Zealand, and I have been far from books ex- 
 cept books in flesh and blood." 
 
 " Were they exciting ? " 
 
 " One of these life stories was a sad one, and my 
 heart was in it, so I cannot laugh about it as you can 
 about scandal." 
 
 Brice wanted to punish Miss Cuthbert for some of 
 her scornful remarks. 
 
 " Oh, you are going to be in earnest. Spare your-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 33 
 
 self the trouble, it is hardly worth while in London 
 society." 
 
 " So I see." 
 
 "You are not a very discerning man. You must 
 learn that society says, ' Then love me all in all or not 
 at all.'" 
 
 " False, shallow-hearted woman," thought Brice ; 
 " and yet, at this moment she would make the fortune 
 of an artist. Why on earth should I think about 
 her?" He looked towards the opposite end of the 
 studio. 
 
 " Shall I take you back to the drawing-room ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Magdalen Cuthbert laughed. 
 
 " You are delightful. Do you know, Mr. Leslie, 
 that you have not yet concealed one thought during 
 your entrance into this charmed circle ? You must 
 add yourself to the collection on the shelf of living 
 books easily studied." 
 
 " I was in earnest at all events." 
 
 " So is Zola terribly in earnest, if that is all one 
 requires." 
 
 "You talk lightly of such things as elopements," 
 said Brice, feeling that he was dashing his head 
 against a wall of adamant, " but if you had known a 
 story that I could tell you " 
 
 "We know heaps of them," laughed Magdalen, 
 flinging her fan open again. " I assure you that is not 
 an original topic, indeed we have taken to telling
 
 34 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 ghost stories to vary our subject. Mr. Greg was 
 amusing me just now with one authentic, of course. 
 By the way, the one thing a lawyer will not believe in 
 is an authentic story, but some of their divorce trials 
 are quite as extraordinary as ghost stories." 
 
 Brice Leslie lost all patience with her. 
 
 " I see I am not made for your kind of society, 
 Miss Cuthbert. Your people are never in earnest. I 
 was going to tell you that when I first went to New 
 Zealand, I made friends with a man who in his own 
 person had proved many of the ordinarily received no- 
 tions received in society, I mean " 
 
 " Yes, society with a big, big S." 
 
 Brice did not notice the interruption, and Magda- 
 len, accustomed to notice, at the same moment re- 
 sented and admired the omission. 
 
 "And had proved them to be false. He had him- 
 self acted out one of your society novels 
 
 "I don't write novels." 
 
 "And, as I say, he had proved it utterly false." 
 
 "You mean, he said so." 
 
 " No, I got to know that man as well or better than 
 if he had been my brother, and I know he would have 
 given worlds to have " 
 
 Magdalen laughed. 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Leslie; you would do so if you 
 only knew how strange your words sound to me. I 
 fancy I am reading a novel with a purpose." 
 
 " Which would seem rubbish to you."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 35 
 
 Magdalen laughed again. 
 "Certainly," she said. 
 
 Brice Leslie felt inclined to throttle this splendid 
 impersonification of heartless scepticism. He threw 
 all the scorn he possessed into his voice. -He was not 
 mollified even by seeing Magdalen rise slowly from 
 her bower of ferns and flowers and place a perfectly- 
 shaped arm and hand upon the base of a pure white 
 marble Venus. He knew, as well as if she had said 
 so, that she was posing, that she had studied that 
 attitude, and that she was well aware how grand she 
 looked with that expression of amused scorn flashing 
 from her dark-fringed blue eyes. But the man was not 
 equal to the woman in sang f raid ; he lost his temper, 
 or something like it. He forgot he was in society, 
 forgot he had never seen this society lady before, for- 
 got there are rules of courtesy and etiquette which 
 cannot be broken, forgot that it is vulgar perhaps he 
 never knew it to show your true feeling, or to ex- 
 press a strong opinion about anything. Brice forgot 
 all that, forgot that he had even admired her, both for 
 her perfection of form and for the depth of kindly 
 sympathy in her blue eyes when she had looked at the 
 tired child musician, and knitting his brows, he said 
 bitterly, being at this moment quite off his guard 
 
 " What is earnest to a man is often foolishness to a 
 woman like you. If you had known Percy Chester's 
 story, you would " 
 
 Brice's sudden anger had caused him as he spoke
 
 36 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 to turn half away from Miss Cuthbert; but an unex- 
 plainable reason, some vibration of the unseen mag- 
 netic current, suddenly and unconsciously caused him 
 to turn round to look at her. He stopped short from 
 intense surprise. The .woman who a moment before 
 had angered him was utterly changed. The daring 
 scornful look in her eyes was replaced by one of in- 
 tense agony and of dumb despair. Her face had be- 
 come deadly pale, and the hand that held her fan 
 trembled visibly, whilst the other fell as if powerless 
 by her side. At that instant several couples came 
 slowly towards them, and the danger of discovery 
 evidently caused Miss Cuthbert, on the spur of the 
 moment, to find words. In a low, indistinct voice she 
 said 
 
 " Give me your arm, please, and take me back to 
 the drawing-room." 
 
 Brice Leslie obeyed in silence. Another man might 
 have talked on to hide her confusion or might lightly 
 have continued the story ; but Brice did neither of 
 these things he did as she told him, and said nothing. 
 He felt the weight of her arm on his, and she knew 
 she was leaning on him for support. He did not argue 
 or wonder to himself what he had said to cause this 
 emotion, or what was the matter with her. He was 
 bewildered, and yet there seemed to come over him a 
 feeling of intense sympathy with this woman whom 
 three minutes before he had almost hated. At this 
 instant, if she had asked him to put his hand into
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 37 
 
 the fire for her, he would have done it unquestion- 
 ingly. 
 
 Before they had reached the small flight of steps 
 leading to the drawing-room Magdalen Cuthbert 
 paused. 
 
 " I am feeling unwell. Will you do me a kindness ? 
 find my carnage and my friend, Mrs. Stewart; ask 
 Lady Mary to point her out to you and to excuse me ; 
 let no fuss be made. Can I yes, I can trust you." 
 
 It was quite like Brice Leslie to say nothing, but to 
 obey. He led her to the cloak-room, then hastened 
 away and executed all her commissions with wonder- 
 ful tact and precision. Lady Mary was too much 
 engaged with her guests to question him, and Mrs. 
 Stewart was easily found. Before many moments had 
 gone by he was again standing silently by Magdalen's 
 side, whilst Mrs. Stewart filled up the pause of silence 
 by saying 
 
 " You have not got over your bad cold, Magdalen, 
 dear; I knew you would be tired. How kind of Mr. 
 Leslie to see about our carriage." 
 
 Magdalen walked on and did not answer till the 
 door was flung open, and the cool June air blew softly 
 upon them. It was a lovely starlight night, such a 
 night as would waft a poet into a dream of bliss, a 
 young man into joyful thoughts of love, a woman into 
 a vision-land of not-to-be-realised happiness, and a 
 child to heaven. 
 
 She paused to allow Mrs. Stewart to go first ; then
 
 38 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 she loosed Brice Leslie's arm, saying in a very low 
 voice 
 
 " Good-night, thank you. One moment, I must see 
 you again ; when, where ? " 
 
 Brice had gone through several phases since he had 
 experienced the renewed feeling of sympathy for the 
 beautiful Miss Cuthbert. He even began to fancy she 
 was acting all this little play to entice him. What was 
 the matter ? What had he said or done to excite her ? 
 What did she mean by all this piece of splendid acting ? 
 Now was the time to revenge himself. Partly from 
 this feeling, and partly from a certain stolidity which 
 often manifested itself in him, partly also because his 
 ideas sometimes moved slowly, and that he was al- 
 ready reproaching himself for being where he was, 
 he answered in the most ordinary and matter-of-fact 
 tone 
 
 " I cannot say, for I must leave town to-morrow. 
 You see, Miss Cuthbert, you have shown me how unfit 
 I am for modern society." 
 
 The next moment he regretted his words, but it was 
 too late. He. saw Miss Cuthbert bite her lip ; he saw 
 her rise to her full height; he saw how she mentally 
 pulled herself together and flung back his punishment 
 with supreme scorn. 
 
 " On the contrary, your last speech shows you are 
 well fitted to crush its few genuine impulses. Good- 
 night." 
 
 She barely gave him her hand, and then all was
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 39 
 
 over. The carriage door shut, the coachman drove 
 off, the footmen closed the front door, and Brice 
 Leslie slowly walked upstairs ready to hate himself 
 for his words and more for his actions. Here the 
 move was being made by the remaining guests, and 
 last words were being exchanged. Brice saw every- 
 thing as if he were in a London fog; Lady Mary's 
 sparkling last sallies sounded dull after Miss Cuth- 
 bert's strong words, and he felt like a despicable 
 fool. 
 
 " I must go," he said, when at last he could claim 
 the attention of his hostess. 
 
 " No, wait a moment. The exodus has begun, but 
 you are entitled to the privilege of a relation." 
 
 He obeyed, he felt too bewildered to disobey, and 
 only woke up to this fact when Lady Mary's happy 
 laugh roused him, while at the same time Mr. Milton 
 put his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Well, Leslie, what do you think of Mary's party ? 
 Splendid success. Lady Coombe was charmed, and 
 Ewart, you know the famous Ewart, said it was the 
 first party this season he had enjoyed. But it's her 
 last. Now for the country Hampshire and Surrey 
 lanes. I get my turn after Mary, for in this world it 
 generally seems to be, ' ladies first.' " 
 
 " I like that ! Why, Frank, you enjoyed yourself 
 amazingly. But tell me, my New Zealander, what do 
 you think of your return to civilised life and to civil- 
 ised men and women ? "
 
 40 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " It is very strange," said Brice slowly, and Lady 
 Mary laughed like a girl. 
 
 " Charming ! Your originality would make you a 
 social success." 
 
 " So you leave us to-morrow ? " said the artist. 
 
 "Yes, I'm going down home. By the way, I have 
 not said how much obliged I am to you, and how kind 
 I think it of you to have asked me here to-night." 
 
 " Not at all. Do you know that you made your- 
 self conspicuous by being the chosen knight ? " 
 
 " Chosen knight ! Whose ? " 
 
 " Come now. Don't be too much the barbarian. 
 A mixture of it, I grant you, is necessary for success, 
 but we do require a small amount of European cloth- 
 ing on the fashionable aborigines. Don't you know 
 that Magdalen Cuthbert honoured you with her no- 
 tice ? " 
 
 " With some biting sarcasm," said Brice, but wish- 
 ing as he maligned her that he could see her standing 
 once more near the Venus with her arm on the marble 
 pedestal. 
 
 " Charming ! What did you say to bring it upon 
 you ? But don't be cast down. I assure you some of 
 the men prefer her in that mood. Not Frank, he 
 never makes anything of her, he is quite unfair to 
 her." 
 
 " She poses," said Mr. Milton slowly, and trying to 
 hide a yawn. " Splendid woman, you know. I'd pay 
 her to sit for me and all that, but to live with. . . .
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 41 
 
 Heaven preserve us ! She has a devil of a temper, 
 I'm sure. Those frowns mean something, or I'm not 
 an artist of the human face." 
 
 " A woman without a temper what is she, 
 Frank?" retorted his wife. "You are asking fora 
 balloon without gas or an engine without steam. You 
 know very well that my temper helps us to live ami- 
 cably together. Well, I am sorry to lose you so soon, 
 Mr. Leslie. Let me see, what does your home consist 
 of now ? Your mother and father of course, and how 
 many sisters ? You will only be about ten miles from 
 Rosehill, our country house." 
 
 " I have but one sister, who lives at home and is 
 much taken up with nursing my invalid father; my 
 mother is dead. If we are neighbours I might look 
 you up in the country. You have taught me town 
 life, let me learn rural existence under your guid- 
 ance." 
 
 " He's getting on, isn't he, Frank ? By all means. 
 Ah, I have it. You have heard that Magdalen Cuth- 
 bert is coming to stay with us. Good heavens ! 
 Brice Leslie, don't be so transparent. I could have 
 taught you better, but now I'm sleepy. By all means 
 come. The Magdalen appears on the first of August. 
 Say you come on the fifth." 
 
 " Thank you," said Brice. 
 
 " Then that is an understood thing. Good-night." 
 
 When Brice Leslie was gone Lady Mary turned 
 towards her husband.
 
 4 2 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Tell it not in Gath, Frank. I've taken a bet that 
 Magdalen will be married this year. Now, don't in- 
 terfere, for I mean to. succeed." 
 
 " What nonsense ! Pray don't meddle with that 
 woman's affairs." 
 
 " What is more I fancy this New Zealander may 
 be the man. Wait and see."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MAGDALEN CUTHBERT'S house was in Wilton 
 Crescent ; it was not large but it was very comfort- 
 able, and amply sufficed for her needs, her visitors 
 not being numerous. Her father had been an only 
 son, and she was his only child. On her mother's side 
 she had one married aunt, whose children came occa- 
 sionally to stay with her. Magdalen was fond of her 
 cousins, and they kindly allowed her to do a good 
 deal for them ; for their father, the Rev. Benjamin Wat- 
 son, was a poor man and found his means quite inade- 
 quate to his expenses. He is a happy being who has 
 no poor relations. Magdalen's cousins came when it 
 was convenient to themselves, and left her alone when 
 they did not want anything ; but she never resented 
 their conduct, for she had an exaggerated idea of blood 
 relationship. For years before his death her father 
 had been a great invalid. Always a bookworm, he 
 had, even before he fell ill, refused to exert himself, so 
 he had found Mrs. Stewart, the widow of a spendthrift 
 admiral, to come and chaperon his daughter when she 
 first grew up. 
 
 Things were apt to become institutions in that
 
 44 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 household, and Mrs. Stewart had followed the general 
 rule. She had remained there ever since, and hav- 
 ing taking kindly to 'society, which she accepted in a 
 sleepy manner, she made herself very comfortable and 
 very happy in spite of having so little in common with 
 Magdalen Cuthbert. It need hardly be said that, when 
 younger, Magdalen had ruled her, and she did so still. 
 Mrs. Stewart knew Miss Cuthbert's peculiarities so 
 well that now she hardly noticed them. Magdalen 
 liked to be left alone, and was given to long fits of 
 silence. Mrs. Stewart said " it was all the result of 
 that affair" but added that " she had always been a 
 strong-willed woman, and would now always remain 
 so." The fashion had begun for people to talk a good 
 deal about heredity. Mrs. Stewart, who was old-fash- 
 ioned, thought it a curious subject to discuss in so- 
 ciety, but as a result of this doctrine she supposed 
 that no one was now answerable for their virtues or 
 their vices, so it naturally followed that Magdalen was 
 exempt from blame, and besides, when all her faults 
 were -enumerated, she was as generous a woman as 
 you could find. The widow was not given to ana- 
 lysing character, she divided her life between going 
 to parties and knitting at home. She knitted for " the 
 indigent," as she expressed it, and considering how 
 much she got through in a year it was really wonder- 
 ful any deserving poor went barefooted, for she was 
 anxious to announce that she only knitted for the de- 
 serving.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 45 
 
 Magdalen gave Mrs. Stewart more love than she 
 received from her, but the outward expression of it 
 was a little uncertain. There were long intervals 
 when Mrs. Stewart's presence seemed to her unbear- 
 able, just because she was there and could not be got 
 rid of. On the other hand, had Miss Cuthbert found 
 a suitable opportunity of sending away her compan- 
 ion, she would not have taken advantage of it. 
 
 This evening, for instance, she would have given 
 ten pounds to have driven home alone, but she could 
 not drop her old friend out of the window, so she did 
 the next best thing and treated her as if she were not 
 there. Wrapped in her white shawl she leant back 
 in the brougham, and tried to still the beating of her 
 . heart by tightly folding her arms across it, as if phys- 
 ical pain were the cause of her mental agony. When 
 she reached home she went upstairs as soon as possi- 
 ble, and dismissing her maid locked the door ; then, 
 drawing the curtain back, threw herself into an arm- 
 chair to marshal the wild thoughts that made every 
 pulse vibrate and every nerve acutely sensitive. And 
 all this agitation was caused by the sound of those 
 two words " Percy Chester ! " 
 
 " He knew him knew him out there. How could 
 I have expected it ? New Zealand is such a big place. 
 He was his friend ; he knew her too, perhaps. I must, 
 I must hear more about him. Fool that I am, after all 
 these years, and yet I only saw his name once in the 
 papers that was bad enough ; but now, here, in Lon-
 
 46 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 don, I meet a man who knew him, knew him O God ! 
 and I never guessed, it." 
 
 She seemed to be suffocating, and rose quickly to 
 throw up the window sash. Her window looked out 
 upon the Square, which was silent now except for the 
 occasional rattle of a passing cab. The evening 
 breeze blew softly about her waving hair, and the 
 moonlight rested on the face and neck of the beau- 
 tiful woman. She was alone now alone, and she 
 could afford to be natural. Her ordinary life, and 
 she knew it well, was one great piece of acting. She 
 had studied her words, her looks, her very attitudes, 
 till studied life seemed the most natural part of her 
 existence. She was such a complex woman not more 
 so perhaps than thousands of other human beings ; 
 but she realised it more, and in that she suffered more 
 than those who are willing to let the passing hour or 
 even the passing minute guide them. Magdalen was 
 not like such ; she argued from one standpoint, and 
 that standpoint was Percy Chester. 
 
 That story which touched her to the quick came 
 back to her this evening in almost all its freshness. 
 Her strong nature, like all strong natures, could suffer 
 acutely from the memory of the past and from antici- 
 pation ; but she also possessed in a great degree that 
 capacity for happiness which cold-blooded people can 
 never understand. Even now, as she impatiently 
 opened a drawer and seized a packet of letters, tak- 
 ing from one of them a man's photograph, Magdalen's
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 47 
 
 face changed suddenly ; she forgot everything that 
 was sad, and as she gazed at the portrait, an exqui- 
 site look of happiness passed over her face. She saw 
 Percy Chester as she had first known him and loved 
 him. She remembered what she had been herself 
 not a woman like the present Magdalen Cuthbert, but 
 another Magdalen an intensely loving, passionate, 
 generous -hearted woman a woman of twenty-five, 
 with every good impulse ready to increase a thou- 
 sandfold in the sunshine of happiness, ready to sac- 
 rifice herself where she loved, and to be forgiving 
 where she hated, a woman as well able to admire as 
 to scorn, and to despise all that was mean, ungenerous, 
 and sinful. 
 
 That Magdalen had thought little of her beauty ; 
 indeed she had hardly realised its power, perhaps even 
 in those early days it had not been quite as striking 
 as it now was. Then she had been capable of loving, 
 but now it seemed as if she were incapable of it, and 
 that she had only a capacity for hating. Then she 
 had hidden nothing of her great love, she had not 
 cared to hide it. This Percy with his handsome face, 
 his fascinating manners, his conscious power, his calm 
 possession, his assured belief in himself, his touch of 
 the adventurous, had seemed created to captivate 
 Magdalen Cuthbert. She was not a nature that was 
 easily won. The resisting force had been closely al- 
 lied to the passionate element, as yet hardly devel- 
 oped in her, but this resistance had been her charm.
 
 48 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Before knowing her Percy had won love easily and 
 often. Without having got into serious scrapes, or at 
 all events into any of which the world was cognizant, 
 he had somehow managed to imbibe the idea that he 
 need only put forth his power of fascination in 
 order to conquer. 
 
 Magdalen Cuthbert had crossed his path, and her 
 unusual beauty, even then differing utterly from the 
 pink-and-white simpering type of womanhood, had 
 entirely fascinated him. He had paused, admired, and 
 in spite of this she had appeared unconscious of his 
 meaning. He felt piqued, he returned to the attack 
 and determined to lay siege in good earnest. But it 
 is dangerous to play at this game. Cupid may often 
 be represented as a naked cherub handling a bow that 
 would not kill a sparrow, but his appearance is decep- 
 tive ; this pigmy is certainly the oldest inhabitant of 
 the world, and his power is altogether dispropor- 
 tionate to his size. In playing with that fire, which in 
 the beginning only just warmed him, Percy had been 
 first singed, then scorched, then lastly he had fancied 
 his whole happiness depended in winning the love of 
 this perfect woman. He had not in the least under- 
 stood her character, but he worshipped the visible per- 
 fection. He had learnt constancy for her sake, and 
 he had added truth to his former powers of fascina- 
 tion, being now fully aware of the worth of the prize. 
 Magdalen was a beautiful woman, but strange to say 
 she had never been in love before. One morning she
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 49 
 
 awoke to the realisation of the meaning of the word 
 love, to the sweet agony of being absorbed by one 
 idea, to the knowledge that she could and would sacri- 
 fice herself, if necessary, for Percy Chester's good. 
 
 Magdalen could, if she chose, always conjure back 
 a certain garden in Surrey. She could in her dream 
 find herself under a softly murmuring beech tree ; she 
 could hear Percy's tones ; she could feel again the 
 touch of his hand and the electric current of strong 
 feeling that passed between them when he had told 
 her of his passionate love and that he must win her 
 or die. 
 
 It is said that every woman has lived through 
 this supreme moment, or might experience it if she 
 chose. We doubt it, and certainly to only a few 
 natures is it granted to give and to receive perfect 
 and passionate love. 
 
 Magdalen had not given her love without a 
 struggle, for love implies sacrifice ; but once given 
 the joy had seemed almost too great, too wonderful 
 she had not even had the strength to say "yes" to 
 Percy Chester's flood of passionate rhetoric. She had 
 leant against the beech bole and the beating of her 
 heart had rendered her mute, but she had lifted her 
 blue eyes, and their blue had been dimmed with tears, 
 not from a "divine despair" but by a divine love. 
 Life possesses nothing more beautiful, nothing more 
 mysterious than this reciprocal love, and Percy 
 Chester suddenly realised it. His flow of words
 
 jo A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 ceased; his strong, manly arms, taught gentleness by 
 love, encircled her this wondrous Magdalen ! and in 
 one pure passionate kiss their hearts had been joined. 
 
 This evening Magdalen saw the whole scene re- 
 peated ; she seemed to feel the kiss again, to rest once 
 more against the strong arm, to find breath at last to 
 say, as she had done that day, " O Percy ! is it true ? " 
 She seemed to hear his very tone as he answered, 
 " Yes, Magdalen, till death ! " Then her weary brain 
 made a bound ; it leapt over that year of happiness 
 and alighted on another period, one which she repre- 
 sented to herself by the figure of a black curtain 
 slowly, very slowly let down from heaven till her 
 whole sky was hidden and she was left in utter dark- 
 ness, a darkness which had never dispersed, but 
 which had ever since turned her day into night, caus- 
 ing her always to be groping on, seeking in vain for 
 support. 
 
 " It did not kill me," she said to herself as she sud- 
 denly dropped the photograph and the letters upon 
 the floor ; " strange, or can it be possible that I am 
 merely a ghost, a being without a soul, that it went 
 away when he left England ? There are strange 
 things in life, is this one impossible ? " 
 
 The clock struck one, and a colder breath stirred 
 the soft folds of her dress. She had not even taken 
 the trouble to take off her beautiful gown ; she knew 
 that before she could find rest she would have to 
 think down the sharp pain. It was very, very rarely
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 5! 
 
 that Magdalen allowed herself to begin thinking ; but 
 when she did so some irresistible avenger forced her 
 to go on through the whole scene. She had to begin 
 at the beginning, when she had first been introduced 
 to Percy, and to go on and on to pause under that 
 beech tree, to feel the thrill of intense happiness, and 
 then again to go on and on till the black curtain be- 
 gan to descend and to shut out inch by inch her sky 
 of blue and all her happiness. 
 
 That first little edge of black had been so narrow, 
 hardly noticeable. She even remembered that she 
 had experienced pleasure when a certain married pair 
 had settled in a house near to her country home. 
 The wife was a pretty, fluffy, fair thing ; a little angel 
 in appearance, alway dressed to perfection, and out- 
 wardly joining the innocence of the new-born Eve 
 with the beauty of a Helen. A little soft, affectionate 
 creature, whose very baby face and baby hands spoke 
 of everything except guile. But some evil star had 
 shone, and the baby woman had cast her soft looks 
 upon Percy. He had played with her at first, as one 
 does with a kitten. What did it matter ? She had a 
 husband, and he was engaged : both were quite safe. 
 Magdalen was sometimes a little too much in earnest, 
 and showed too plainly her devotion to and her ad- 
 miration for him. The fair, fluffy kitten said little 
 amusing things sharp, like drops of vinegar. She 
 often even scolded the big Percy, taking up the amus- 
 ing standpoint of a married woman. She laughed at
 
 52 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 him for being such a devoted lover, and she unfortu- 
 nately found out that Magdalen had not much sense 
 of the ludicrous. This little thing had a passion for 
 amusing herself, whilst her lord liked nothing better 
 than fishing, and, as she said, you could not expect a 
 woman to turn into an everlasting water-nymph to 
 please any husband. She adored horses and hunting, 
 so did Percy, whilst Magdalen was nervous on horse- 
 back, and why enumerate any more ? It is a com- 
 mon story, so common that every day our newspapers 
 contain more or less detailed accounts of such narra- 
 tives, and the beginning of those trials that end with 
 a respondent and a co-respondent are as often as not 
 begun in just such harmless ways. The heroines are 
 often little soft, pretty, fluffy, delicate women who are 
 bored, who want amusement, who are blast, who find 
 a dull husband hell upon earth, and somebody's hand- 
 some lover a glimpse of heaven. Really, after a time 
 the details are not interesting. Zola or another may 
 describe them graphically, but very soon they pall 
 upon one; they are true but not amusing, for out of 
 the hollow life rings a hollow laugh, and the death's 
 head peeps out wickedly below the pink-and-white 
 flesh. There is seldom one ennobling struggle to 
 compensate the reader for examining the sickening 
 details, there is seldom even one defeat as good as a 
 victory. 
 
 A man is but a very weak instrument in the hands 
 t>f a woman of that sort. Lily M'Intyre pitted against
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 53 
 
 Magdalen Cuthbert was as a strong silk cord compared 
 with a gossamer thread. Percy found himself one 
 day tied and bound with the silk cord ; he struggled 
 feebly, but it is not easy to struggle when a fluffy kit- 
 ten is looking on and laughing softly ; and Magdalen 
 in her noble, generous unsuspectingness, woke up one 
 day to find the first seed of jealousy in her mind, the 
 first idea of suspicion eating into her very heart. 
 
 That is yet another story, another well-known 
 struggle, another oft-told tale, and the end too is pain- 
 fully unoriginal. The waking up and seeing Finis at 
 the end of a page of one's life, when the life has ap- 
 parently just begun. The sudden news, told with 
 almost brutal sympathy, that one's lover has eloped 
 with another man's wife, and that they have both left 
 the country. 
 
 When Magdalen's meditation reached this point, 
 even now she opened her blue eyes wide, as if she 
 must look into the invisible, as if she must see far- 
 ther, as if she must follow him and know more. Find- 
 ing this impossible, she rose and began nervously to 
 undo her dress ; she wrapped herself up in a soft 
 white dressing-gown and leant out of the window to 
 imbibe another breath of cool night air. To the 
 world the story was old and forgotten, to her it was 
 new still, it might even have happened yesterday. 
 She felt she must go after them ; she must, at any 
 cost, separate them ; she must tell him that as he had 
 left her she would die; that her heart was breaking;
 
 54 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 that that woman could not make him happy ; that she 
 alone had the power and the right to do so. 
 
 " Percy, Percy, I alone ! " She said these words 
 aloud, now she was alone, and now that the words 
 were but a foolish mockery. " Percy, Percy, do you 
 hear me ? you must, you must ! O God ! do the dead 
 hear ? I forgot. He is dead, dead my Percy ; the 
 man I loved like that; and he, this Brice Leslie, knew 
 him, loved him. He must have heard his story, but 
 not with names. Oh no, Percy was generous even 
 when he was wicked, he could not betray a woman's 
 name. You could not do that could you, Percy, 
 though you did so much else ? Is it possible that I can 
 still feel the agony, still, after all these years ? " 
 
 She walked to the pier glass and, lifting her beau- 
 tiful arms, unfastened her hair. It fell in thick, wav- 
 ing masses around her (the Magdalen's hair was a 
 subject of discussion among some of her acquaint- 
 ances), and she gazed at herself as one gazes at a 
 beautiful stranger. 
 
 " No, I am not that Magdalen ; I have all her 
 power of suffering, I have inherited all her sorrow ; 
 but I am not that woman ; she had the capability of 
 being good and generous; she was. loving, forgiving 
 oh yes, intensely loving, and this one Mag- 
 dalen laughed, a short, satirical laugh, a laugh that 
 would have stirred pity in any heart that still re- 
 mained human. " This one is very different, for now 
 I know everything about women ; I know all she did
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 55 
 
 to win Percy and ruin him ; and if I chose ... I, 
 too, could win and ruin a man. Have I done it ? 
 Not as she did, because I have never seen another 
 Percy ; but, pshaw, the game is not worth the trouble. 
 Where is the man that would satisfy me ? That 
 woman must have had a moment of intense triumph ; 
 she must have laughed in her soft cooing manner, 
 if only once, with real enjoyment and afterwards ? 
 But perhaps that once must have made up for the 
 rest. Who would risk all for nothing? No one, not 
 even the devil." 
 
 The clock in the room struck two. A dull sound 
 of a church clock followed, and Magdalen Cuthbert 
 lay back on her cushioned chair, spent with the strug- 
 gle that had taken place in her. She might have 
 been the ancient mariner himself telling his tale to a 
 stranger, urged on to do so by an inward impulse too 
 strong to resist, but now that the tale was told she 
 felt weak as a child. 
 
 Usually she stopped here, because she knew no 
 more. When Percy Chester had disappeared, the 
 world Magdalen lived in had paused a moment to 
 lift its eyebrows, and to offer her a curious pity; 
 then, after this slight surprise, the world remarked 
 that the tale was old, forgot the episode, and went on 
 as before. 
 
 And for Magdalen never a syllable of news. Had 
 they lived and loved ? had they drawn closer or had 
 they parted ? had the after enjoyment been worth the
 
 56 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 awful tearing asunder of true love and of rightful 
 duty ? had they been all in all to each other, or had 
 they hated each other ? 
 
 But silence alone answered nothing. 
 
 Time ha.d gone on. Magdalen had changed, 
 changed past recognition ; she had given up old 
 friends ; she had dragged her father to London, and 
 she had tried to drown thought in the world's restless 
 stream. And all the time she had been starving, 
 starving for the want of any word, any certainty of 
 Percy's fate ; but the word had never come. 
 
 She waited and waited. Some day she thought 
 he would come back, broken-down, sad, crushed ; he 
 would come and lay his wretched life at her feet, and 
 say that what remained of it was hers. This was 
 Magdalen's last generous thought, last womanly vis- 
 ion. In it she had seen herself stooping to him, lift- 
 ing him tenderly in her arms she who was so tall and 
 strong; she had heard herself murmuring words of 
 forgiveness ; she had heard herself saying once more, 
 " O Percy ! is it true ? " She had believed that her 
 pure lips would cleanse away his stains, and then that 
 their broken lives would unite like a bough that has 
 nearly been broken off, but which, because of tender 
 binding up, has once more been joined to the parent 
 stem. 
 
 But that awful silence had in the end destroyed 
 the vision, and she had at last, remember it was a 
 long time before this happened, she had said aloud
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 57 
 
 " If he comes I will spurn him with my foot, and I 
 know he will come." 
 
 By this time there was sad havoc made in Magda- 
 len's fair garden. Her father died, and she was left 
 alone with Mrs. Stewart, but she was left well off. 
 Had Percy come now as a penniless prodigal, she 
 would have had enough for both, but then that vision 
 of exquisite tenderness had faded quite away. And 
 next the tale must be gone through, even if it is not 
 by any means original one morning Magdalen Cuth- 
 bert took up a newspaper, and read the bare an- 
 nouncement : " At , New Zealand, on the 
 
 1 8 , Percy Chester. Friends will please accept this 
 the only intimation." 
 
 Strange human nature ! Magdalen suddenly re- 
 gretted her lost vision of pity. She might have kept 
 it had she been more noble; it would have made no 
 difference to facts. He had never come back. 
 
 And the rest ? What was it ? Had she, Lily 
 M'Intyre, closed his eyes ? Why had he died ? Percy 
 Chester had been so strong, so handsome, that the 
 word death could never be associated with him. It 
 seemed almost an impossibility to think of him in the 
 cold grave. 
 
 Again silence said nothing. 
 
 Magdalen breathed a deep sigh. The story was 
 over, it was her turn now to live. She must live, she 
 must have some enjoyment before she died, she must 
 revenge herself on life that had cheated her so miser-
 
 58 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 ably. She, too, must have her one moment of tri- 
 umph her one soft, cooing laugh of happiness paid 
 for at any price; why not she as well as that other 
 woman ? Why not ? Life was life, and death was in- 
 exorab.le. Life was slipping away so quickly, so very 
 quickly, and she had had no happiness; she had only 
 sipped the wine of love; she had never had a child's 
 lips against her lips; she had never heard the sweet 
 call of mother, as did so many common women with no 
 heart she who would have worshipped at a child's 
 shrine if it had been his child, Percy's child. O God ! 
 if there were a God ! 
 
 The clock struck three, a distant cock crowed, a 
 coachman's wife in some near mews kept fowls, and 
 this chanticleer began early to wake the echoes. 
 
 Magdalen was intensely weary. She had now 
 hardly sufficient power left to crawl into her bed. In 
 spite of her weariness, however, her beauty was a sight 
 worth seeing at this moment, for the weakness of 
 strength has its own strange beauty. She looked like 
 some heroine of the Sagas, or some ancient prophetess 
 after the oracle has been delivered at the cost of the 
 bodily anguish of the seer. Then suddenly a spring 
 of long dried-up tears forced its way to the surface, 
 and with one bitter heart-rending cry Magdalen threw 
 herself on her bed as the words escaped her lips 
 
 "But he, this man, saw him knew him, knew all; 
 and I must, I must know ! "
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GORSE and heather and a thousand beautiful 
 things; fir woods where the squirrels scamper and 
 where the hedgehog coils himself up into a formidable 
 ball, where the woodpecker disports himself and the 
 wood-pigeon coos to her mate. Imagine a property 
 composed of all such lovely things, and add to it dis- 
 tant views of exquisite colouring, for it is only in this 
 part of the world that you get exactly these tints. 
 Imagine, too, a canal whose banks are more beautiful 
 than many a riverside, and place a little boat on it in 
 which a girl is rowing herself slowly along in the 
 dreamy fashion which a hot July day naturally calls 
 forth. Now and then she hastily puts up her hand to 
 brush away a gnat, or else she bends forward to 
 notice the lovely dragon-fly that has settled for an 
 instant on the arrow-head leaf. If you can visualise 
 all this, you cannot but admire an exquisite picture. 
 
 " It is very, very delightful to be in Old England,' 
 the girl was thinking ; " in New Zealand we were al- 
 ways talking of home, and yet we little expected to 
 come here, here to Foy Lodge. How papa used to 
 picture it all to me, and how mother doubted ; and
 
 60 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 now, and now I am so very, very happy ; and 
 when he comes " 
 
 She shipped her oars and, throwing herself back, 
 flung her arms behind her head and let herself float 
 downwards with the current. She made a very lovely 
 picture, and an artist sitting on the bank saw her pass 
 by, and to himself called her "divinely fair." Poor 
 man ! he had no settled income, but much romance in 
 his character. He would have given her the last gold 
 piece he possessed to have stopped by him in her 
 present attitude, and just to let him sketch her as a 
 sweet water-nymph, but even the possession of money 
 does not give you the courage to beg young ladies 
 dressed in becoming costumes and who are floating 
 down a river to act as models. 
 
 Griselda Foy was not "divinely fair," because that 
 is a fairness we cannot easily describe, whilst she, on 
 the contrary, easily lent herself to definition. She 
 was rather above the average height, but she had 
 more the outlines of youthful girlhood than of fully 
 developed womanhood. Neither was she extremely 
 young, having just celebrated her twenty-first birth- 
 day in her new home. It is beautiful to be young and 
 to possess nearly all that an innocent heart can desire. 
 It is still more beautiful to have a strong power of en- 
 joyment which crowns everything that surrounds your 
 existence with a golden halo. Life was precious to 
 Griselda because she was happy. She looked down 
 on its long vista and hailed it with the gladdest wel-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 6t 
 
 come and with laughter. She was not blas^ she had 
 plenty to do, and she was not delicate or fanciful. 
 She was full of a healthy poetry, which to some 
 natures makes even sad things enjoyable. She was 
 ignorant of the details of evil, but she had intense pity 
 for evil-doers and for the suffering of which she was 
 cognisant. Now she had come home to England 
 after her twenty-one years of colonial life, and she 
 was ready to believe that everything in England was 
 perfect. She dearly loved New Zealand, but Foy 
 Lodge was the old home of her ancestors, so she loved 
 it better than the colonial farm. Her two elder 
 uncles had died within a few years of each other, and 
 most unexpectedly her father had become head of the 
 family and possessor of its Hampshire property, and 
 this was the reason why these New Zealand settlers 
 had returned to the mother country. 
 
 Griselda could have found her way about the Foy 
 estate blindfolded, before ever she came to Foy 
 Lodge. She knew all the nooks and corners of the 
 house, of the garden, of the fields and woods; she 
 knew all about the winding canal and all the lovely 
 bushes and copsewood treasures on its banks ; she 
 knew the look of the American weed lazily waving its 
 fronds below the surface of the water ; she recognised 
 the rustle of the moorhen, the song of the nightingale, 
 and the chirp of the yellowhammer. Now she had 
 them all in reality, and leaning back in her boat she 
 said aloud
 
 62 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " I believe I am still dreaming, but when Brice 
 comes it will be real, real. I wonder if next year we 
 shall go to London, and if Brice and I will . . . No, 
 papa can't do without me yet, and mamma won't hear 
 of any parting; but Horace and Evie will soon be 
 grown up, and well, nothing matters now that we are 
 here and that Brice is coming." 
 
 There was no inordinate shyness about Griselda. 
 In that she differed from an English girl of her own 
 age, character, and standing. Hers was a beautiful 
 nature, and by that we mean that all her impulses 
 were good, for the passions of more passionate na- 
 tures had never ruffled her inner sanctuary. To some 
 she would have seemed as one of God's angels whilst 
 to others but half a woman, and in consequence only 
 half to be desired if wholly to be admired. 
 
 The lithe limbs were all grace ; the small, active, 
 well-rounded arms were the embodiment of energy; 
 the fair hair in plaits around her small, well-shaped 
 head looked like spun silk, and the grey eyes deep, 
 tender, and gentle in expression. A modern writer 
 has said : " The ideal world has its sorrows but it 
 never admits despair." Griselda had lived and did 
 live in an ideal world, and she not only shut out 
 despair but she knew not even the meaning of the 
 word. 
 
 Heine's words did, indeed, apply to Griselda 
 Foy, and must have been written for her counter- 
 part
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 63 
 
 " Du bist wie eine Blume 
 So hold und schon und rein ; 
 Ich schau' dich an und Wehmuth 
 Schleicht mir ins Herz hinein. 
 Mir 1st, als ob ich die Hande 
 Aufs Haupt dir legen sollt', 
 Betend, dass Gott dich erhalte 
 So rein und schon und hold." 
 
 Thus dreaming of future happiness, whilst hardly 
 able to realise to the full her present joys, Griselda 
 floated down the stream till all at once the boat, go- 
 ing its own sweet way, stranded itself near a bridge. 
 A man leaning on the other side of the bridge heard 
 the sound of the boat grating against the posts sunk 
 near the bank to support it. He unfolded his arms 
 and stepped across the road, then he looked down and 
 the expression of his face suddenly changed. Griselda 
 had not seen him, and he had time to think many 
 things and to pull himself together before making his 
 presence known ; then, drawing back from the para- 
 pet, he hurried down the grassy side of the bridge to 
 reach the towing-path. By this time Griselda was 
 standing up and was trying to push the boat off when 
 she suddenly looked up, then she dropped her oar 
 from sheer surprise and exclaimed, turning first pale, 
 then bright pink 
 
 " O Brice ! is it you ? Who what how came you 
 here ? In England, and I didn't know it." 
 
 Brice laughed aloud; he grasped Griselda's out- 
 stretched hand, and in an instant he was in the boat 
 
 beside her. 
 
 5
 
 64 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " A real, real surprise. I couldn't resist it, really I 
 couldn't. My people even don't know it, no one does; 
 and strange, isn't it, that fate should bring us together 
 like this ! " 
 
 " Strange ? no, not at all ; but I wish you had 
 written. Tell me everything ; when did you land ? 
 No, not to-day, nor yesterday ? " 
 
 " Yes, very early yesterday morning, and I stayed 
 in London that night." 
 
 They sat down still holding each other's hands. 
 They did not kiss, because they were in a peculiar re- 
 lationship to each other. To all intents and purposes 
 they were engaged, but the fact was still a secret. In 
 the happy New Zealand days, when Brice came some- 
 times unexpectedly to the farm, they had learnt to 
 love each other. It had all come about very gradu- 
 ally. First, a brother and sister-like acquaintance, a 
 young sister's feeling for an elder brother ; then some- 
 thing more ; then on Brice's side a feeling that this 
 beautiful child was too good for him ; then a wish to 
 win her, and then Well, then an outcry from Mr. 
 and Mrs. Foy : Griselda was too young, in her lonely 
 farm life she had seen so few people. Some day she 
 must be sent to England, to Foy Lodge, where her un- 
 cle and cousin lived. Brice Leslie's people also lived 
 near the Foys. He knew the place ; they were friends 
 of the family ; everything about the engagement would 
 be suitable, except that there was very little money on 
 her side. Certainly Brice was not poor, he had a nice
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 65 
 
 income; but Griselda must wait a longtime for her 
 share of the farm profits. Mrs. Foy always lived in a 
 state of fear. She feared Brice was a little old for 
 Griselda ; she feared he might not have enough 
 money ; she feared his health might break down ; she 
 feared Horace and Evie would miss their elder sister; 
 she feared she herself could not do without her ; she 
 feared Griselda did not know her own mind and she 
 feared many more things in this same strain. 
 
 Mr. Foy took quite another line. The prospect 
 was exactly what he wished and expected for his 
 Griselda, but there was time enough. Brice Leslie 
 was more than ten years older. Was he quite sure 
 that she was the wife best suited to him ? But // they 
 stuck to each other, and if things went on happily, he 
 had no objection to their becoming engaged. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Horace Foy found himself the head 
 of the house of Foy. His brother and his brother's 
 only son were one day both drowned in a yacht, and 
 he came in for Foy Lodge and a comfortable income. 
 The New Zealand farm was sold, the family goods 
 packed up, and the Foy family sailed away. Brice 
 came to see them off, and said he should soon follow 
 them. He would get a long holiday, and then 
 
 " And then we shall be allowed to be engaged," 
 Griselda had whispered ; in the meantime she was 
 very happy about the new prospects, and Brice was a 
 little jealous. A year might change his Griselda; she 
 might see someone she liked better; she might do all
 
 66 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 sorts of things and he wanted her. He yearned for 
 home life, his own people not being particularly sym- 
 pathetic, and he had parted from them early in life. 
 For a year, however, he continued his lonely life, and 
 then he obtained his leave and set forth for England 
 and for Griselda. 
 
 Brice Leslie was one of those men who develop 
 late. When young he had been so full of health and 
 strength, of energy and talent for his profession, that 
 he was satisfied with working out his superabundant 
 life in this way. Then came a new experience, his 
 friendship with Percy Chester a friendship which 
 taught him much that perhaps it would have been 
 happier for him not to know ; but there was no resist- 
 ing the fascination, or perhaps the strength of animal 
 magnetism, which has never yet been fully understood, 
 and which Percy Chester possessed in a marvellous 
 degree. It was not only women who were attracted 
 to him, but men also who fell under the spell. It is a 
 question for learned people to unravel whether great 
 generals, great leaders, and great sinners of the world 
 have not been the victims or the happy possessors of 
 this magnetic power, the strength of it determining 
 the amount of their success or the extent of their 
 ruin. 
 
 For years Brice Leslie was this man's willing slave, 
 and only when death came to separate them did the 
 pell cease. Then only was it that, weary of life from 
 its standpoint of hero-worship, Griselda's gentle influ-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 67 
 
 ence and purity of thought cast its charm over him. 
 He had known enough of stormy life, enough of the 
 suffering of sin, enough of sorrow, though it had 
 touched him in an indirect manner. The reaction 
 made Griselda appear to him like an angel from 
 heaven, and he loved her. 
 
 To say that he did not understand her is to state a 
 trite fact. What man who has had no sister, no home 
 life since he became a man, can understand a woman ; 
 what woman can understand a man ? But he knew 
 that the merry-hearted girl had no thought that need 
 be hidden, and that her pure, unselfish life was only 
 too good to be given to him. He had learnt so much 
 through Percy Chester. For years he had admired a 
 man whom his conscience condemned, and this state 
 of mind was deteriorating, setting up a feeling of un- 
 certainty as to cause and effect in the moral life, 
 which put the whole machinery out of order. Viewed 
 from the outside, however, Brice Leslie was a high- 
 minded, noble specimen of humanity, a man whose 
 strong physique betokened a strong power of moral 
 resistance, an ego of no mean capability, and yet 
 Percy Chester had still much to answer for ; the dead, 
 through the power of thought, being still powerful for 
 evil as well as for good. 
 
 "You must forgive me, Griselda, for not having 
 told you," said Brice, smiling. 
 
 " I was surprised. Let us row back at once, Brice ; 
 this makes the day quite, quite perfect. Of course
 
 68 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 you know all this country, but to me it was new and 
 yet old. It is fortunate I learnt to row and ride so 
 well in New Zealand. Your sister can't understand 
 my love of out-of-door exercise, but she should have 
 lived out there for a few years, then she would know ! 
 And fancy, Brice, I father like society, in spite of the 
 severe remarks you used to make about it." 
 
 Griselda looked so pretty as she said this and 
 smiled at him, that he shook off a little of his mental 
 languor, so that the old thoughts began to reassert 
 themselves. 
 
 " Of course you do ; I expect you are made 
 much of." 
 
 " Yes, papa says so. The people were a little stiff 
 at first, but they soon thawed. This year we are still 
 in half mourning, but next spring " 
 
 " You reckon easily without me." 
 
 " Brice, of course I don't, but I couldn't leave 
 them at once, could I ? And now you will have a 
 year in England and be so much with us. Your 
 house is not a long way from Foy Lodge. When you 
 come it will be almost like one of your long New 
 Zealand visits." 
 
 " Almost, not quite for me, I expect." 
 
 " We have not seen much of your people. Your 
 father is a great invalid now, and Mrs. Leslie and 
 your sister hardly ever leave him, but oh, Brice, they 
 will be angry with me for seeing you first. They 
 don't know "
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 69 
 
 " No, of course not ; you know I was allowed to 
 mention it to no one." 
 
 " Yes, I know. They think we are only great 
 friends," Griselda blushed so prettily that for a mo- 
 ment Brice wished that everything had been settled 
 last year, and he wished also that he had now the 
 right to kiss those sweet lips that smiled at him. 
 
 " Perhaps I ought not to be coming home with you, 
 Griselda." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, in England people are so straitlaced ! " 
 
 Griselda laughed heartily. 
 
 " No, your sister says that customs are changing 
 fast ; besides, what does it matter ? This winter I 
 went hunting with papa a good deal, and just because 
 I rode right through everything, as we did at home, 
 people were surprised and only consoled themselves 
 by calling me ' The New Zealander.' " 
 
 " As if you could do anything wrong, dear," he 
 said gently. 
 
 " Why, you are as foolish as ever, Brice ! I'm 
 just the same, why should I change ? " 
 
 " You are Miss Foy of Foy Lodge now." 
 
 " But I'm myself first ; I hope I never shall become 
 artificial." 
 
 There came a sudden turn of memory's wheel over 
 Brice Leslie's mind. He saw a tall, handsome woman, 
 leaning her beautiful arm against a marble Venus. 
 That woman was artificial. The most unsophisticated
 
 Q A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 person would say so and yet, and yet, how splendid 
 she had looked. How she flashed out her remarks. 
 And the end what was it ? what had it meant ? How 
 he longed to know even now, though he had put miles 
 of country between her and himself. Here was another 
 woman, one barely on the threshold of life hoping she 
 might never be artificial. Had that other ever been 
 as youthful in mind, and as innocent in her thoughts 
 as Griselda ? That was hardly possible ! 
 
 " I can't imagine you anything but yourself. 
 Griselda has the poetical vein improved since I last 
 
 " Since you last found my unfortunate scribbles ! 
 It was very unfair of you, Brice, and you do not de- 
 serve to know. I'll tell you one thing, however : I 
 have studied a good deal of the real poets since I 
 have had so many books at my disposal. You will 
 like our library. It seems Uncle Stephen was a very 
 literary man, and was always buying books. If I 
 were clever " 
 
 " You are quite clever enough for me," said Brice 
 softly. 
 
 " Brice, you don't know ! Girls are so clever here 
 in England now. They go to college, and they take 
 degrees and understand all kinds of things. Your sis- 
 ter, who likes parish work and poor people, says that 
 learning spoils nice girls, but I have seen some de- 
 lightful girls and women who have been to Girton 
 and Newnham, and are very much like their neigh- 
 bours."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 7! 
 
 " You can ride and fish and boat and make dresses 
 and help everybody, and you are always ready with 
 womanly sympathy that is far better than " 
 
 " What are you counting up my virtues for ? No 
 one but you would do anything so funny ! Now, here 
 we are. We have made this landing-place here close 
 to the firwood, so that there is quite a nice little walk 
 up to the house through it. You didn't know Foy 
 Lodge well in old days, did you, Brice?" 
 
 " No, when I was young your uncle was rarely 
 here. At one time it was let to some disagreeable 
 people no one visited." 
 
 They pulled the boat into its resting-place, and 
 then Griselda slipped her hand into Brice Leslie's arm 
 just as they used to do in New Zealand when Brice 
 had suddenly turned up after one of his long surveys. 
 
 He felt proud and happy at this moment, so happy 
 indeed that he dreaded to see the end of the walk. 
 
 " By the way, my little girl " (he used to call her 
 that), " was it not curious that yesterday morning I 
 met a cousin of ours, a Lady Mary Milton, and she 
 insisted on my coming to her reception in the evening. 
 It seemed so strange to me to be in a fashionable con- 
 course of people. I found out I am not made to ' 
 shine in society. Everybody seemed to be so much 
 alive, but in quite a different sense to the wideawake- 
 ness of our colonial friends. There was an aroma of 
 scented existence, I can't express it in any other 
 way."
 
 j2 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Is Lady Mary the wife of Mr. Milton, the great 
 portrait painter ? Your sister told me she was related 
 to her." 
 
 "Yes, and he was there, of course. A simple, 
 good sort of fellow." 
 
 " How delightful, Brice ! I like artists and clever 
 people, and I am sure I should enjoy all that London 
 world I know so little of. I am glad they are ^a/- 
 relations. And did you see pretty girls in plenty ? " 
 
 " I suppose so ; I am not a good judge, and failed to 
 recognise the merit of one of Lady Mary's favourites." 
 
 " Stupid Brice ! And you admired nobody ? " 
 
 " Yes, one person, but " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 " She was a woman of forty, I should imagine." 
 
 " A woman of forty ! How very old." 
 
 " She did not look ' very old,' I assure you ; the 
 younger beauties were nowhere beside her." 
 
 Griselda laughed, a clear happy laugh. "Then 
 you did notice somebody, sir ! and you pretended in- 
 difference. Look, there is the dear Lodge! don't you 
 like that lovely old brick colour? It is an Eliza- 
 bethan house, I believe. I have a turret chamber, 
 and it is all a delight and a romance; but isn't it 
 strange, mamma is now always regretting the New 
 Zealand farm ? She is a little bored by society, but 
 I'm not ; I like it all everything, and papa is happy 
 too. He shows me where he caught his first fish and 
 where he shot his first crow. Look, the doors are all
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 73 
 
 open as in the old days ; come in. It is only seven 
 o'clock, and dinner is not till half-past. You will 
 stay, of course, but I'm afraid everybody is still out 
 this lovely evening." 
 
 " No, I must not stay. I have strayed already too 
 far, but to find you on my path by that happy chance, 
 was " 
 
 " It was too delightful to be chance. Shall I own 
 it, Brice ? I was thinking of you when I was float- 
 ing down the canal. It was because of you that I 
 grounded." 
 
 " Because of me ! What an idea ! am I to believe 
 that, Miss Foy ? " 
 
 "As you like, but it is true. Brice, one minute; 
 come into our hall; I want to show you the motto 
 carved deep over the oak mantelpiece. It is very old 
 and the carving is deep and black with age. I won- 
 der which of our ancestors had it put there." 
 
 The two entered the hall where there was a gen- 
 eral look of old carving, quaint nooks and panels of 
 various ages. A great open hearth seemed to wel- 
 come the guests, and an overhanging carved pyram- 
 idal mantelshelf displayed the ancient motto Gri- 
 selda had mentioned. 
 
 " Look, Brice, there it is, you know it," and Brice 
 Leslie read it aloud with a strange new feeling of 
 never having understood it till this moment. 
 
 ' ' A Dieu Foy 
 Aux amis Foyer."
 
 74 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Those old folks believed in mysticism and quaint 
 devices, were great at punning, and this one is charm- 
 ing. Good-night, dear Griselda, I will come back as 
 soon as I can; I must go now." 
 
 " O Brice ! mind you do come back as soon as ever 
 you can."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BRICE LESLIE'S parents were of a type which calls 
 for little description. Highly to be respected and 
 unimaginative, they had not encouraged poetical de- 
 velopment in their two children, and had not Brice 
 left home early and learnt from the world of thought 
 and the world of men the complex nature of all life, 
 he might have become another Admiral Leslie with- 
 out the worthy sailor's vocabulary. The old man was 
 now a prisoner in the sickroom, a martyr to rheumatic 
 gout, and other maladies. He never left his chamber, 
 and his wife rarely left him. As for Brice's sister, it 
 might almost be said that Miss Leslie had always 
 been an old maid. She was quite content to look 
 after her district, to walk for miles with no object in 
 country lanes, to write the family letters, order the 
 household, and, by way of special entertainment, to 
 exchange stories of the delinquencies of servants with 
 her neighbours. She did not read much, declaring 
 she had no leisure for this pastime, as if reading were 
 a sinful amusement and knowledge to be lightly es- 
 teemed. Brice had gone to the colonies when quite a 
 young man. He had seldom had a holiday, and he
 
 7 6 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 was now altogether out of his element at home. His 
 sister tried hard to hide her intense dislike of muddy 
 boots, but she experienced a decided feeling of irrita- 
 tion at having Brice about the house. Her feminine 
 mind had become wedded to " high tea " at varying 
 hours, to suit varying village classes, so that she con- 
 sidered dinner and bottled stout irksome innovations; 
 therefore she was not at all sorry about her brother's 
 constant visits to Foy Lodge. 
 
 Miss Leslie liked Griselda Foy. She said she was 
 interesting and pretty, but she rode too much across 
 country and had curious tastes. No doubt New Zea- 
 land must be a strange place, it was wonderful Miss 
 Foy was as ladylike as she was. Of course Miss Les- 
 lie did not dream of love between the two. Brice 
 was a man, and in her eyes Griselda was a child. 
 Brice went to talk and walk with Mr. Foy ; of course 
 the two were old friends and enjoyed discussions 
 about farming. She considered Mr. Foy wonderfully 
 well educated, considering he had lived so much out 
 there, though Mrs. Foy was decidedly colonial ; she 
 treated everybody alike, and had not learnt what was 
 due to old families such, for instance, as the Leslies, 
 who were, if poor, quite as good as the Foys. This 
 was Mary Leslie, an ordinary type of the ordinary 
 woman. 
 
 Brice listened to a good deal of this sort of talk 
 after his people had got over their first surprise at 
 his sudden arrival. His father did not like to see him
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 77 
 
 for more than ten minutes at a time, and his mother 
 was not to be spared from the invalid's room. What 
 would Brice have done without the Foys ? Everyone 
 was satisfied. Once Mary Leslie remarked, " When 
 the season is over, Lady Mary Milton will come to 
 Rosehill, her new house. It is in Surrey, a ten-miles' 
 drive from here, but it takes you more than an hour 
 and a half by train. Railway companies do such fool- 
 ish things. I hope, if you had surveyed for them, 
 Brice, you would have been more sensible than to 
 put stations at inconvenient distances. Anyhow, you 
 must call on the Miltons, as you went to their party." 
 
 " Ten miles is a prohibitive distance for calling," 
 said Brice. 
 
 " Not for you, of course it is for us ; besides, I 
 don't like artists and people of that sort. They are 
 always so irreligious. Still you won't mind that men 
 never do." 
 
 Brice did not argue the point, he sauntered off to 
 Foy Lodge. 
 
 Griselda at least was bright and cheerful. Mr. 
 Foy was still radiant about his new possessions, and 
 Mrs. Foy doubly fearful about everything, especially 
 fearful of losing what they had just acquired. She 
 said her husband was very extravagant, and Horace 
 was at Winchester such an expensive school and 
 Evie's governess was certainly not worth ^100 a 
 year, which seemed a great deal for simply teaching 
 one girl.
 
 78 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 It was only Griselda who fitted into her new posi- 
 tion as if nature had especially intended her for it. 
 The beauty of the place harmonised with her poetical 
 character, besides she was so young and so hopeful, 
 so trusting and yet so diffident of her own powers 
 that there was nothing stereotyped about her actions. 
 This diffidence of youth is a beautiful thing. It has a 
 touch of humility, allied to a certain directness of aim 
 which older people lose, because after a time they see 
 so many reasons for and against almost every action. 
 They learn to suspect human nature and its power of 
 resistance, but at one-and-twenty we have little doubt 
 of our own judgment, and none at all about our 
 power of carrying our decisions into execution. 
 
 A week after her meeting with Brice Leslie, Gri- 
 selda Foy stood on the steps of Foy Lodge, and as the 
 horses came round from the stable her cheeks flushed 
 with pleasure and a smile was on her lips. She and 
 Brice were going for a ride, just such a long ride as 
 they had been accustomed to have in New Zealand. 
 They were going anywhere, everywhere that was per- 
 missible across country, through hedge gaps and over 
 the wild heather. Brice rode well, and the two knew 
 each other's ways so thoroughly, that as they rode 
 they could talk for any length of time about the past 
 and about the future. No wonder that this was to be 
 a red-letter day for Griselda, and that Brice felt like a 
 preux chevalier as he helped her into her saddle. 
 
 Mr. Foy was a tall, grave, kindly man a gentle-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 79 
 
 man in the best sense of the word, because all the 
 crust of false customs had been broken through dur- 
 ing his colonial life. He stood at this moment on the 
 steps of Foy Lodge and looked at the two riders with 
 undisguised pride. Brice Leslie was, he thought, such 
 a clever, thoughtful man, a man who would some day 
 win recognition from the world. He was not rich, as 
 some count riches, but the two would be happy that 
 was the chief thing. Brice had cared about Griselda 
 so long, and to-day the elder man had just given his 
 consent for Brice to speak decidedly to Griselda ; but 
 he still wished the real engagement to be kept private, 
 for Mr. Foy had old-fashioned ideas about mourning. 
 It was too soon after his brother and nephew's sad 
 death to be marrying his daughter ; besides, Griselda 
 ought to see the world a little she was too young to 
 settle down at once to married life. So Mr. Foy had 
 begun the subject with Brice and told him that he and 
 his wife had settled that the private engagement must 
 still hold good, but that he might now really speak to 
 Griselda about the future. 
 
 " Take her for a ride, my dear fellow, and settle it 
 with her in your own way, you know. My little Gri- 
 selda will never even look at another man as long as 
 you are near that is certain, I am sure, though on 
 this matter her mother disagrees with me. Hers is a 
 very warm, steadfast little heart." 
 
 Griselda did not know these words had been 
 
 spoken, but she knew she was going to have a good 
 6
 
 80 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 time with Brice, and to be with him was for her pure, 
 unalloyed happiness. She loved him with all her heart 
 and soul. 
 
 Strange to say, now that the prize was within his 
 grasp, that the sweetest woman he had ever known 
 might be his, Brice felt a certain reluctance to break 
 the charm that had united them, a charm which at this 
 moment seemed to him better than a formal engage- 
 ment. Then the feeling suddenly changed as they 
 galloped away in the morning sunshine. It was a 
 pleasure to see Griselda seated on horseback. Her 
 young figure, perfectly proportioned, had acquired a 
 flexibility which only an out-of-door life, unfettered 
 by tight waists or fashionable enormities, can give. 
 Griselda could even outrun her brother Horace, and 
 could ride all day without being tired. Brice gloried 
 in her powers, and to be once again by her side, to 
 note the glow on the soft rounded cheek, the kindling 
 of the honest grey eyes, the sway of the figure in per- 
 fect rhythmic movement with the motions of the horse 
 this added to the enchantment which he now experi- 
 enced. Sometimes they rode close side by side, some- 
 times finding strange gaps or narrow heath paths they 
 were separated, sometimes even it was Griselda who 
 took the lead and cleared a heather bank or a hurdle 
 fence with the ease and experience of fearless horse- 
 manship. 
 
 " Brice, this is perfect ; let us go on and on into 
 Surrey. I warned mamma not to expect us till quite
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. gl 
 
 late. We will have a real New Zealand day. You 
 know the village of Ray wood ; it is the sweetest of 
 places, and we can put up the horses there and go 
 and see a cousin of ours, Mrs. Hope, who is the wife 
 of the clergyman. We have called on them and they 
 on us several times." 
 
 Griselda was just in front of him and therefore did 
 not notice the slight frown that knitted her lover s 
 brows. Raywood was the village where the Miltons 
 had a house, and he did not wish to go near Rosehill. 
 
 " Will it be too far for you ? " he said. 
 
 " Too far ! No, indeed. Oh, the joy of going on 
 and on, and with you too, Brice why, it's just per- 
 fection." 
 
 Perhaps the girl's love and admiration were a little 
 too visible. Her devotion wanted the touch of uncer- 
 tainty which has a charm for some natures. Brice 
 forgot at this moment that her love had been growing 
 for years, and that he had diligently cultivated it. 
 What was it that had made him just out of touch with 
 the old idyllic feeling which had till now so much fas- 
 cinated him ? 
 
 " It shall be just as you like, my little girl. I can't 
 tell you how delightful it is to go over my boyish 
 haunts with you." He said this and meant it, but 
 there was not much passion in the words or in the 
 feeling. 
 
 " You never guessed then that there was such a 
 person as Griselda Foy, did you ? "
 
 52 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Never ! Why, you were not born." 
 
 "When you were nine years old I was not; but 
 after that Isn't it strange that somewhere in the 
 world a person may be living who holds your well, 
 almost your life in their hands?" Griselda's grey 
 eyes clouded over; the beauty of the fir- woods, the 
 scent of the heather treasures brought strange 
 thoughts into her brain. Fate's chilly finger was 
 touching her, perhaps for the first time, even though 
 she did not know it or understand it. 
 
 " Those ideas make one giddy." 
 
 " No ; they are delightful. I remember so many 
 sweet things about you, Brice. I remember when you 
 first made me care about poetry ; I remember the first 
 time you said life was not all joy. Till then I thought 
 it was one sweet, long holiday, and really I sometimes 
 doubt whether now even I understand that it is any- 
 thing else, but I ought to do so." 
 
 " What a child you are still, Griselda ! " 
 
 "No, no, I'm a woman now I know there is sor- 
 row, and I want to do all I can to make it less in the 
 world; but I am so stupid, and I can do so little. I 
 comfort myself with thinking z\\you have done. How 
 kind you were to that poor Mr. Percy Chester when 
 he was so ill." 
 
 " Kind ! He was my friend, Griselda ; you know 
 I was intensely fond of him ; I admired him im- 
 mensely." 
 
 " Yes, I know, I wonder why ? Do you know,
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 83 
 
 Brice, I always rather disliked him. Of course he was 
 handsome, and all that, but " 
 
 " He was not perfect, and you believe in perfection 
 too much." 
 
 " Do I ? Well, yes, I would rather believe it is 
 possible to be perfect. In fact, I know it is. Now, 
 Brice, for a gallop on this lovely moor. Isn't this 
 glorious, and we are quite alone." 
 
 Life is a wonderful fact, a mysterious strange real- 
 ity, a dream of possibilities, a contradiction in its very 
 fleetingness; esteemed so lightly when young, clung 
 to so persistently when old, and seldom made use of 
 to its fullest capability. Griselda, at this moment and 
 indeed always, saw it bathed in golden light, whilst 
 Brice, having one of love's rare treasures at his feet, 
 was doubtful whether it were altogether worth picking 
 up. The perversity of humanity is often as wonderful 
 as its powerlessness to cope with facts. 
 
 On and on they rode till at last the village of Ray- 
 wood appeared in sight. It nestled at the foot of a 
 wooded hill ; a stream ran through it necessitating 
 little bridges flung across the water to give access to 
 some of the cottages. In the near distance the hops 
 in the hop-gardens were displaying their lovely gar- 
 lands, as if ashamed of the straight unpoetical poles 
 which supported them. 
 
 " Now, Brice, look ; do you see that house with the 
 stream running through its lawn ? That is Rosehill. 
 It is small, but nearly perfect. It is your Lady Mary
 
 8 4 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Milton's house, I believe. Further on is the vicarage, 
 where the Hopes, our cousins, live. Shall we lunch 
 there, or make a picnic of it and imagine we are at the 
 antipodes? " 
 
 At this moment they reached the entrance of a 
 narrow lane, and quite unexpectedly a heavy cart 
 issued out of it, just crossing their path. Griselda's 
 horse was startled, and she, not dreaming of danger, 
 was holding the reins loosely, so that she was not able 
 to prevent a sudden wheeling motion of her horse 
 against the cart. There followed a plunge, a desperate 
 dash, and in another moment Griselda was thrown off 
 her horse and lay on the road. Brice's horse had also 
 shied, but happily there was just room for it to dash 
 forward instead of against the cart, and when Brice 
 pulled in his steed and turned its head it was to see 
 his Griselda lying on the ground. 
 
 In a moment he had dismounted, flung the reins to 
 the foolish carter, and bidden the boy if possible to 
 catch the other horse. Then he was kneeling beside 
 her. 
 
 " Griselda, my darling, are you hurt ? " He raised 
 her up, and saw she was very pale ; her eyes were 
 shut was she dead ? He lifted her in his arms and 
 carried her to a cottage opposite. The door was open, 
 only a stone-deaf old woman who could not move 
 from her chair was within, but there was a couch in 
 the corner and he laid her there, and hurried to fetch 
 some water.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 8$ 
 
 In a few moments Griselda opened her eyes and 
 smiled to see Brice's anxious face above her. 
 
 " Oh Brice ! it is nothing did I fall ? How silly 
 of me ! Hurt ? Oh no, only I feel a little giddy." 
 
 " Lie still there, darling. Yes, it was that fool of a 
 carter. Oh, it's all right," for Griselda looked ques- 
 tioningly towards the old woman. 
 
 " She is as deaf as a post and can't move. The 
 family has gone shopping. Are you sure, quite sure, 
 you are not hurt ?" 
 
 " Quite sure. I can get up. May I ? " 
 
 Brice was sitting beside her, pale and troubled. 
 He had had a terrible fright ; it seemed to him as if an 
 angel had been by his side and had nearly taken flight, 
 without his having the power to hold her back. 
 
 " My darling," he said, stooping down no longer 
 the quiet, grave Brice, but quite another person " my 
 darling, put your arms round my neck, so, never mind 
 anything. Don't you know your father has at last 
 given me the right to take care of you ? It is no 
 longer a possibility and all that humbug, at least be- 
 tween ourselves." He put his strong arms round her, 
 and in so doing, for one moment, his lips touched 
 hers. It was their first kiss, and given under such 
 strange circumstances that the blood rushed back to 
 her cheeks, and Griselda's life was instantly beautified, 
 altered, raised out of the purity and ignorance of 
 youth into the greater purity of conscious self-sur- 
 render. But even at this moment she was troubled by
 
 86 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 the new awakening and was shyly standing up a little 
 away from Brice arranging her hat when a shadow fell 
 across the doorway and a voice said a voice that 
 sounded like a soft ripple of clear water 
 
 " What is the matter, what has happened, can I be 
 of any help ? " 
 
 Brice turned round with some feeling of annoyance. 
 He would have liked to be quite alone with Griselda 
 now and always, or so he fancied, and then suddenly 
 he was surprised into a smile, for Lady Mary Milton 
 stood before him. 
 
 " Mr. Leslie ! you here, and " 
 
 " Miss Foy has met with an accident, but I hope it 
 is nothing." 
 
 " Miss P'oy of Foy Lodge ! ah, I knew your uncle, 
 so I may say I am a friend of the family, besides being 
 a cousin of Mr. Leslie ; this surely gives me the right 
 to give orders. How fortunate I am down here for 
 the day, so I can say, Come to Rosehill at once. We 
 were on the lawn and saw something had happened, 
 but how strange it should be you ? I have an im- 
 promptu luncheon ready, and if you like, Miss Foy, 
 you can lie down at your ease. I think I can offer 
 you something better than old Betty's hospitality." 
 
 Griselda was still feeling giddy, so that she had to 
 lean on Brice's arm whilst they crossed the road and en- 
 tered the private walk leading up to Rosehill. Her habit 
 was torn and would have to be mended. So she was 
 very grateful for Lady Mary's kind, womanly attention.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 87 
 
 " Come in this back way, we shall meet no one. 
 In fact there is only an old housekeeper here. I've 
 come down just to settle about things. How fortu- 
 nate! Now come up stairs with me, Miss Foy, and 
 you shall lie down and have some wine. Mr. Leslie, 
 you will find your way to the dining-room ; I will soon 
 come back. By the way, the disgraced horses were 
 caught and I ordered them to be taken to our stables." 
 
 " Thank you," said Brice, from the bottom of his 
 heart. " You are a true friend in need." 
 
 " You could not flatter me more. There's the 
 Times on the writing-table, unfortunately it is the 
 Times of one day last year, but you won't object to 
 stale news, being a returned New Zealander. Each 
 summer when we return this place is like the palace of 
 the sleeping Beauty." 
 
 The two ladies disappeared, and Brice walked into 
 the dining-room where a small table was laid for two 
 persons. No one was in the room, and Brice won- 
 dered when Mr. Milton would turn up; then, feeling 
 too anxious to sit down, he went and stood by the 
 window and gazed out upon the lawn and upon the 
 lovely view beyond. The mid-day sun added a semi- 
 transparent haze to the prospect. The distant blue 
 was soft and grey, and Nature seemed to be half 
 asleep, only just enough awake to rejoice in its happi- 
 ness. Brice was himself still feeling the pressure of 
 Griselda's lips. She was still such a beautiful child, 
 that it seemed almost wrong to awaken in her this
 
 88 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 new passionate life that is, if it were there to 
 awaken. Some beings are perhaps born passionless, 
 so Brice meditated ; was Griselda one of them ? But 
 what did it matter she was his, his in the beautiful 
 future, his to work for and to love. Suddenly he 
 looked down to find his hand resting on a little book 
 in a paper cover, which some one had been reading 
 and had laid open, face downward, upon the table. 
 He ventured to take it up, and he found it was a book 
 of old French poems. He read the one on the page. 
 It was by Fabre d* Eglantine, one of the poets sacri- 
 ficed by the Revolution. The verses began thus 
 
 " Je t'aime tant, je t'aime tant 
 Je ne puis assez te le dire, 
 Je le repete pourtant 
 A chaque fois que je respire. 
 Absent, present, de pres, de loin, 
 Je t'aime est le mot que je trouve ; 
 Ou je le pense ou je le trouve." 
 
 He read on for three more verses ; the very words 
 seemed to have been written by a man who, like him- 
 self, had just won a precious love; and yet, strange to 
 say, they did not strike an answering chord in his 
 heart. " Perhaps they are too fanciful for an English- 
 man," he said to himself 
 
 " Ton coaur m'est tout, mon bien, ma loi ; 
 Je plaire est toute mon envie ; 
 Enfin, en toi, par toi, pour toi, 
 Je respire et tiens a la vie. 
 Ma bien-aime'e, O mon tresor ! 
 Qu'ajouterais-je a ce langage ? 
 Dieu ! que je t'aime ! Eh bien ! encore 
 Je voudrais t'aimer davantage."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 8 9 
 
 There was a step outside, and, as if he were guilty 
 of some evil deed, Brice replaced the book in the 
 position he had found it. Lady Mary must not see 
 him reading a love-song, or she might guess the truth 
 about Griselda. The door opened, and he turned 
 round hastily. 
 
 " How is she ? " He paused, a strange cold 
 
 shiver passed through him, for in the doorway, 
 dressed in- some soft black lace material, which en- 
 hanced her beauty, a large plumed hat that softened 
 the slight sternness of the features, and one exquisite 
 rose in her bosom, stood Magdalen Cuthbert ! She 
 too paused and said nothing ; but her face flushed, 
 her lips were firmly pressed together, as if to force 
 them to suppress a sudden exclamation as she walked 
 grandly towards him, saying quite calmly and quite 
 indifferently 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Leslie ? I did not expect to 
 see you here to-day."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MAGDALEN CUTHBERT had come down with Lady 
 Mary to Rosehill for the day. It was true she had 
 promised to stay with her in July, but she was already 
 repenting of her promise, and trying to excuse her- 
 self, being extremely changeable about her plans. 
 Since that meeting with Brice Leslie she had lived in 
 a dream. Any great excitement plunged her into one 
 of her strangest moods, therefore she longed for quiet 
 the intense quiet of the country ; but yet, when she 
 got it, it merely seemed to paralyse her, and she felt 
 forced to plunge once more into the whirlpool of 
 society in order to live, or rather to feel alive. She 
 knew nothing of Lady Mary's invitation to Brice 
 Leslie to meet her, so at this moment she was entirely 
 taken by surprise, and her astonishment was not in 
 the least feigned. She had seen the accident from 
 the lawn, but as Lady Mary and the gardener had 
 hurried out to offer help, she had settled that she was 
 not wanted. Her energy -was not often concentrated 
 on persons in trouble. Illness repelled her and 
 caused her positive discomfort, just as some people 
 are affected by the presence of a cat in the room or a 
 spider on the wall.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 91 
 
 She had since heard from the maid that the lady, 
 whose horse had shied, was shaken but not seriously 
 hurt, and that Lady Mary sent her word to go down- 
 stairs and begin luncheon, and she would join her 
 presently. Accordingly, she had come down, and 
 then, suddenly, she found herself in the presence of 
 the man who had caused all the renewal of her pain. 
 She remembered every word spoken at their last in- 
 terview, for it had been burnt into her brain. She 
 remembered the intense indignation her flippancy had 
 called up on his calm, handsome, kindly face. Brice 
 Leslie's face, she thought, was not of an ordinary type ; 
 on the contrary, it was full of character. He was a 
 man of few words, who could not bandy compliments 
 with the easy carelessness of half the men she met ; a 
 man who had been able to rouse her, and to punish 
 her as no other man had been able to do since Percy 
 had forsaken her. It was only through his knowledge 
 of Percy that he had done so, but the experience was 
 new to her. It impressed the man on her mind ; she 
 could never forget him as she forgot so many of the 
 masculine gender who paid her attentions and over 
 whom she often exercised an unfortunate influence. 
 Now he stood before her, and they were alone. The 
 chance she had stooped to ask for was hers, though 
 she was far too proud ever to have asked again for it, 
 even if she must die without finding out what she so 
 intensely longed to know. 
 
 It was true that Mr. Leslie stood before her but
 
 9 2 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 of what use was that ? What could she say to him, 
 and how beg for news of Percy ? All this flashed 
 through her mind, but she was not going to be a 
 second time taken by surprise. She decided that she 
 would make him forget her previous request, and then 
 when he was off his guard she would draw it out of 
 him. The idea of conquest for the mere sake of amuse- 
 ment brought back her full self-possession. Once more 
 she was the sparkling, handsome Miss Cuthbert, a 
 woman with every talent and more than her full share 
 of beauty; a woman who, being no longer young, 
 knew the force of every word she used and the effect 
 of every pose she affected. After her indifferent greet- 
 ing to Brice, she added 
 
 " I never imagined that you were connected with 
 the accident, Mr. Leslie. You were riding with a lady ; 
 I hope she is not much hurt ? " 
 
 Magdalen held out her hand with a graciousness 
 of word and action which Brice was quite unpre- 
 pared for. There was no scorn, no banter in her 
 tone, only intense sympathy and charming polite- 
 ness. Brice was charmed, but he was on his 
 guard. 
 
 " I was riding with Miss Foy, whose father is a 
 neighbour of ours, and who is also a New Zealand 
 friend, and so I need hardly add that she is a perfect 
 horsewoman ; but accidents will happen even to the 
 best riders." 
 
 "But she is not hurt?"
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 93 
 
 " Not seriously ; I was frightened for a moment, 
 but it is nothing." 
 
 " I am very glad, but in the meanwhile you must 
 be hungry, so let us eat." She rang the bell, and in a 
 few moments she was acting hostess with the perfect 
 grace of a woman accustomed to entertain. On his 
 side Brice made a great exertion to appear perfectly 
 natural and perfectly self-possessed. In reality he felt 
 neither, but he could have given no exact reason why 
 he should feel embarrassed. It was more the recollec- 
 tion that she had attracted him powerfully that first 
 evening of his return to England than any present feel- 
 ing which made him feel shy, for, at this moment, Miss 
 Cuthbert was too natural to be dangerous. He found 
 himself wondering why he had thought her so artificial. 
 There was very evident softness about her now, almost 
 a childlike confidence that was bewitching in a woman 
 so evidently of the world and so extremely well 
 dressed. Contrast has always a certain charm, and to 
 find a great lady attired in the height of fashion, and 
 yet as simple as a mere nobody, gratifies shy people 
 who feel their own shortcomings in the ways of the 
 world. 
 
 Brice was grateful, grateful for the new picture of 
 herself she was giving him, and grateful too that she 
 was not going to punish him for his last rude behaviour 
 and ill-mannered speech. They began, of course, to 
 talk of the beauty of Rosehill, of the neighbourhood, 
 of the prospect of the hops ; and they had just reached
 
 94 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 the hop dog and its use and beauty when Lady Mary 
 herself hurried in. 
 
 "I am very glad you have renewed your acquaint- 
 ance," she said, with her brightest smile, immediately 
 remembering her wager. Here was the very oppor- 
 tunity she had been looking for. Magdalen had taken 
 some notice of the New Zealander, and the New 
 Zealander had naturally been struck by her beauty. 
 Doubtless he was younger than Miss Cuthbert, but 
 what did that matter ? Any man might be glad to win 
 her, though whether he could manage her after the 
 knot had been tied was another question and purely 
 his affair. The real difficulty lay with Magdalen her- 
 self. She had flirted up to a certain point with many 
 men, but just when they believed themselves safe to 
 win they found her bearing towards them suddenly 
 altered. Then she drew back; sometimes she laughed, 
 sometimes she seemed utterly bored, and sometimes 
 even she forgot them. 
 
 " She has never really loved since that affair," 
 Lady Mary said to herself, feeling she knew exactly 
 where the fault lay, so that now her mission was to 
 remedy the evil. " Let these two be together for a 
 fortnight, and my wager is won. Magdalen will lose 
 her restless discontent and well, she would not be so 
 afraid of the venture if she only guessed how happy 
 my married life is, and how Frank lets me do just as I 
 like in everything. That is the kind of husband she 
 wants. I wonder now whether Magdalen would lead
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 95 
 
 him a life ; she well, that's not in my bargain " ; and 
 with these thoughts now dancing through her fertile 
 brain the little lady sat down ready to carry out her 
 plan. She loved planning and contriving marriages as 
 much as she loved giving famous parties, and she had 
 unfortunately made one or two successful hits. In 
 these cases success is a dangerous reward and tempts 
 one to begin again, for living chess pieces are far 
 more amusing than dumb wood. 
 
 It was thus Lady Mary who was the guilty one ; 
 but how was she to know that that child upstairs, with 
 her simplicity and her gold-brown hair had been Brice 
 Leslie's love for years, and that on this very day their 
 lips had sealed a long-understood contract ? In all 
 fairness to her it must be said she knew nothing of 
 this, and strangely enough the idea never passed 
 through her head. Brice's self-possession still more 
 hid the facts of the case, and evidently his evil star 
 had already risen, though it was only just visible 
 above the horizon. 
 
 " How strange ! " exclaimed Lady Mary, " how 
 very strange we should meet again here by accident, 
 and by means of an accident, but my patient upstairs 
 is doing very well. She has had some champagne, 
 and is now lying down. I believe she will sleep it off. 
 Do you know, Mr. Leslie, that your bringing Miss Foy 
 here will necessitate my calling on her father and 
 mother. What sort of people are these bush folk ? 
 I suppose the girl has been to school in England ? " 
 7
 
 9 6 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Brice ought to have spoken out now. He ought 
 to have said that he was that day a fortunate and ac- 
 cepted lover, but he was too quiet and shy to enter 
 into particulars; he let the opportunity slip; besides, 
 he was bound to silence by Mr. Foy himself. 
 
 " No, you see before you a real, educated New 
 Zealand young lady. Miss Foy is in England this 
 year for the first time." 
 
 " The Foys come from a good old stock, but I 
 hear Mrs. Foy does not care about society. You 
 know we do not see much of our neighbours, Magda- 
 len, so vegetating here may bore you." 
 
 " No, I love the country ; it reminds me of former 
 days," and Magdalen gazed dreamily out of the 
 window. 
 
 " Does she mean it ? " thought Brice, casting a fur- 
 tive glance at her. " Strange woman ! one does not 
 know when she is, or is not, in earnest. Of course 
 now she is pretending, for how can she like a country 
 life ? Indeed, she told me she did not like quiet when 
 I last saw her. I wish Griselda were well enough to 
 ride home at once." 
 
 " My dear, you are getting poetical. If you had a 
 Frank always with you, you would soon leave poetry 
 to English bards, born, I suppose, for that purpose, 
 for they are often stupid in other subjects. When I 
 have finished my lunch I will take you to the summer- 
 house, and you shall both admire the view at your 
 leisure. My New Zealand cousin has, as the ancients
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 97 
 
 used to say, the poet's dreamy eye and sad cast of 
 countenance. I daresay, in secret, he too writes 
 verses to " Lady Mary was going to say " to his 
 mistresses' eyebrows," but stopped herself in time. 
 
 " I love poetry too much to write it," said Mag- 
 dalen, rising and going towards the window ; and then 
 she became conscious of the French book turned on 
 its face upon the table, and slowly closed it. For all 
 the world she would not have been found reading it. 
 
 " That remark, Magdalen, is not altogether worldly- 
 wise," said Lady Mary, laughing, and her laugh was 
 so bright and good-humoured it seemed to make sun- 
 shine in the room. " For my part, I have noticed that 
 it is the very unpoetical people who ' adore ' poetry ; 
 they feel the lack of it in their own natures, and so 
 supply their need out of books." 
 
 "Surely not," said Brice, "you can have no real 
 sympathy with poetry unless there is an answering 
 chord in your own mind." 
 
 " At all events, it is a dumb string till another 
 hand strikes it," said Magdalen, turning round, "but 
 the whole credit must belong solely to neither." 
 
 Brice looked up utterly surprised. Magdalen had 
 placed herself with her back to the light ; a soft 
 shade was over her face, whilst her waving hair peeped 
 out from beneath her large plumed hat. She looked 
 like a picture painted by Velasquez, grander and more 
 highly coloured than a Sir Joshua. There was so 
 much real feeling, such an apparent depth in her re-
 
 gg A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 mark, that it seemed impossible she was merely the 
 society Miss Cuthbert whom he had met, admired, and 
 scorned. 
 
 " If the hand makes discord, the string is blamed 
 for it," said Brice, carrying on the idea. 
 
 " Avoid metaphors," said Lady Mary. " I assure 
 you it is brain labour lost. A woman in her own per- 
 son, that is, in her words and actions, outwits all phi- 
 losophy." 
 
 " And all philosophers," added Magdalen, stepping 
 out of the French window upon the lawn, and fol- 
 lowed by the other two. " Tell me, Mr. Leslie, does 
 New Zealand or England claim your greatest affec- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " England home," said Brice quickly. " Even 
 though patriotism, as I am told, is a worn-out creed." 
 
 " Like Christianity, some say," put in Magdalen 
 lightly. 
 
 " But I only know that as one steps on board the 
 ship that is to take one home one's throat tightens, 
 however little one may have thought of it previously." 
 
 " But if your wife and family remained behind, the 
 feeling supposing you cared about your wife, a senti- 
 ment slightly behind the times would materially less- 
 en ; therefore it is not true patriotism, it is the love 
 of oneself and of one's own concerns," said Magdalen. 
 
 "Then you do not believe in noble feelings," an- 
 swered Brice shortly. She was beginning to irritate 
 him again.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. gg 
 
 " I ? Oh yes ! when I find them." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Leslie," put in Lady Mary, " look at the 
 view ; from here you can see the castle to perfection. 
 The Duke of Blackwater's place is always a nice point 
 for artists ; look there, on the side furthest away to- 
 wards your home. This small hill with a summer 
 house was Frank's pet scheme. He took more pains 
 with it than he does with a rich sitter." 
 
 " Has Mr. Milton taken Miss Cuthbert's picture ? " 
 said Brice, seeing Magdalen in a new light as, with 
 one hand shading her eyes, she gazed as if spellbound 
 towards the beautiful distance. 
 
 " No, she will not condescend to sit to him. Be- 
 tween ourselves, it is, I believe, from fear of not being 
 flattered enough." 
 
 Magdalen's spirit appeared to return from the dis- 
 tant view, and, dropping her hand, she smiled. So in- 
 tensely sad was the smile, however, that Brice relented, 
 for surely that look, at all events, spoke of some true 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Why should I have my picture painted ? " she said. 
 " Mrs. Stewart is not given to art, and never recog- 
 nises even a photograph. Who else would enjoy the 
 work of art ? " 
 
 "But you must have many friends," said Brice, 
 falling under the influence of that sadness which was 
 doubly effective after the laughing, scornful manner 
 of the previous moment. 
 
 " I live in the world, you know, and I believe I be-
 
 IOO A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 long to that ' society.' Did you ever look for a friend 
 there?" she said bitterly. Lady Mary did not hear 
 the remark ; she had gone to gather a rose, and then 
 called out to the pair that she was going in but would 
 soon return to them. 
 
 Magdalen Cuthbert sat down on a low seat inside 
 the summer-house. She folded her hands on her lap, 
 and looking up suddenly into Brice Leslie's face she 
 repeated the question. 
 
 " Have you ever found a friend in society ? By 
 the way, that friend you mentioned, Mr. Chester you 
 called him your friend, did you not ? " 
 
 Brice also sat down, and, ignoring the question, he 
 said abruptly 
 
 " You wanted to know that story ? " 
 
 Magdalen did not look up. Her clasped hands 
 trembled a little, and there was a visible paleness in 
 her cheeks, but Brice was not looking at her. 
 
 "Yes," she said quietly. 
 
 " Percy Chester was the man who, in some myste- 
 rious way, more than any man I have known, most 
 influenced my life. He attracted me so powerfully, 
 that in spite of everything I knew and there were 
 few things he did not tell me I would have gone 
 through fire and water for him." 
 
 Magdalen laughed her short, strange laugh. 
 
 "You are then capable of that kind of attach- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " Oh, I did not measure and weigh it out as people
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. IO I 
 
 in the world seem to do ; I simply why, need I be 
 ashamed of it, I simply loved him and worshipped 
 him." 
 
 " And he was worthy of your love ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I tell you I am not the man to 
 measure out so much for so much. He was brave and 
 fearless, and yet, in some ways, a coward ; strong at 
 times and then intensely weak ; clever, oh yes, he 
 could do all he chose ; and yet he would have periods 
 of depression and " 
 
 " Was he happy ? I mean was he happily mar- 
 ried ? " Magdalen spoke distinctly as if her words 
 were carefully selected. Brice forgot his pru- 
 dence. 
 
 " Miss Cuthbert, you know something of him, or 
 you would not ask me ; you know, I am sure you 
 know, that his life was wrecked by a woman." 
 
 " No," said Magdalen firmly, " I did not know it ; 
 tell me." 
 
 " I cannot tell you the real details ; I believe in 
 friendship after death, so that even now I could not 
 break confidence with him. I believe Chester re- 
 pented as deeply as he had sinned. The woman who 
 went by the name of Mrs. Chester " 
 
 " Was somebody else's wife," Magdalen laughed. 
 
 " Was the curse that Percy Chester would not rid 
 himself of. She became his hourly torture, and 
 yet " 
 
 " Yet he would not return to more legitimate ties
 
 I02 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 in England. He had friends who waited for him 
 for years." 
 
 Magdalen rose suddenly and leant against one of 
 the supports of the summer-house, her eyes sparkled, 
 her mouth was firmly set, and Brice Leslie then under- 
 stood all the story, or thought he did. 
 
 " If I could tell you all, all, you would pity him." 
 
 "No, I should not; I should pity those who suf- 
 fered more than he did." 
 
 "That is impossible." 
 
 Again Magdalen laughed her low, bitter laugh ; 
 it made Brice shiver mentally. 
 
 " You cannot know you could not know him as I 
 did," he said quietly. 
 
 " If he suffered, why is he to be pitied ? Tell me 
 one more thing : did she was she with him when he 
 died, or did she leave him ? " 
 
 " She leave him ! " Brice Leslie's face expressed 
 unutterable scorn. " That would have been showing 
 mercy to him, and she had none no, she was his 
 curse to the last." 
 
 " You forget, perhaps she loved him she left 
 everything for him." 
 
 Brice bit his lip. There were things he would not 
 talk about, and Miss Cuthbert appeared cold and 
 cruel. She had then once known Percy Chester and 
 loved him, perhaps, but that was no reason for laying 
 bare to her his friend's mental sufferings. 
 
 " Forgive me, Miss Cuthbert, if if I cannot dis-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 103 
 
 cuss this subject. Whatever you may have known 
 about Chester, if you once believed in him, the knowl- 
 edge of his suffering would only pain you." 
 
 Magdalen turned away her head. 
 
 " It does not pain me," she said, in a very low voice. 
 
 Brice had risen and was standing opposite to her ; 
 he could see the profile of her face and neck, and it 
 reminded him of a beautiful snake. He felt so indig- 
 nant with her that, in his impatience, he broke off a 
 dead fir branch and snapped it sharply in two. 
 
 " I thought a woman could always pity I mean a 
 true woman." 
 
 Magdalen turned towards him again. She looked 
 at him with all the intensity of a strong nature; her 
 eyes were no longer hard or cold, but full of a sorrow 
 that had no words, full, too, of unshed tears. 
 
 " You, Mr. Leslie, you know nothing, nothing about 
 a woman. You cannot even understand a woman's 
 love its strong, intense force, its intense patience 
 and its intense impatience. It was because I loved 
 Percy Chester, as perhaps few other women have 
 loved, that I cannot forgive him, and yet it is because 
 you loved him that I tell you this, that you have seen 
 me as I am to-day and as I was that other time we 
 met. If you knew me you would understand what 
 that means, you would know why still loving him I 
 can also hate him. No, you cannot understand ; let 
 us never mention the subject again." 
 
 " You loved him," said Brice, suddenly realising
 
 104 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 what this woman's love meant. " How could Chester 
 have been insensible to it ? " 
 
 "We were engaged for a time, and then " Mag- 
 dalen passed her hand over her brow ; " that was long 
 ago I was another woman then." 
 
 " Too innocent to cope with that woman." 
 
 Brice moved a step towards her ; he longed to say 
 something else but dared not. 
 
 " Yes, that is true I was another creature then ! 
 Ah, well, time changes everything, and I am 
 changed ! " 
 
 " You were generous then, you are so now. Will 
 you let me tell you one more thing ? " 
 
 Magdalen waved her hand; she realised all at once 
 that it must appear to this man that she was asking 
 for pity. She could not bear that thought. 
 
 " No, no, nothing more. Never mention it again.. 
 The past is dead, so is Percy Chester. We all change. 
 If it were possible, and he could appear now, here 
 
 "You would forgive him?" 
 
 " No, I should never forgive her, or him. One 
 does not forgive the wild beast that maims one for 
 life There is Lady Mary coming out of the house 
 Mr. Leslie, promise me one thing ; I ask it because 
 you loved him." She stretched out her hand and laid 
 it in his. He felt as if some one was commanding his 
 obedience, as if the love he had given to his friend 
 were being once more required of him. 
 
 " I will."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 105 
 
 " Never mention this to anyone, neither to me nor 
 to others." 
 
 " Not till you give me leave, though I should like 
 to tell you " 
 
 " No, no ; tell me nothing more. Never recur to 
 the subject again ; but, will you be my friend, because 
 you were his ? " 
 
 " I will," said Brice, in a low voice. It seemed 
 such a strange, wonderful thing to him to hear this 
 woman, whom he had by turns scorned and admired, 
 asking for his friendship. At this moment he would 
 have gone to a cannon's mouth for her sake, and with 
 no other hope of reward than her kind thoughts after 
 his death. 
 
 There were steps heard on the gravel-path, and the 
 two separated silently as one does after a funeral. 
 Then round the winding garden-path leading to the 
 summer-house Lady Mary appeared, and with her 
 leaning on her arm was Griselda Foy. 
 
 Brice hurried forward. 
 
 "Are you sure, Griselda, you are wise to come out 
 so soon ? " 
 
 Griselda smiled up at her lover. 
 
 " Yes, Lady Mary has been so kind. After tea, 
 which we are to stay for, I am sure I can ride home." 
 
 " We are all to have it here in the summer-house. 
 Frank will be jealous when he hears of our little pic- 
 nic. Magdalen, let me introduce the fallen heroine to 
 you. Miss Foy, our New Zealand horsewoman."
 
 106 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Griselda held out her hand and smiled. It was a 
 child's smile it might have been an angel's smile, so 
 pure and innocent did the girl look ; and suddenly 
 she, too, fell under the spell ; for Magdalen's face was 
 soft now, her eyes, so beautiful at all times, had in 
 them, at this moment, an expression of womanly ten- 
 derness which gave her the one grace she usually 
 lacked, and, as she smiled at the young girl, whose 
 beauty was so utterly different from her own and 
 whose countenance expressed no passion of disap- 
 pointed life, she appeared to Griselda as the embodi- 
 ment of all that was perfect. 
 
 " Brice," she said, as they slowly rode home in the 
 cool of the lovely summer's evening, " I think Miss 
 Cuthbert the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. 
 I can imagine a man, in the old days of chivalry, 
 being ready to die for her. Can't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," Brice answered. 
 
 " I hope I shall see her again. She is coming soon 
 to stay with Lady Mary. I wonder how old she is ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Brice, trying to speak carelessly, 
 "about forty, I expect." 
 
 Griselda laughed softly. 
 
 " Then, I think, that must be the perfect age."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LADY MARY MILTON and her husband were, as 
 we have already seen, privileged people. They could 
 do what others might not dream of doing, and one of 
 the convenient privileges which they had claimed was 
 the right to refuse all society when they came to 
 Rosehill. If it was extremely difficult to get a sec- 
 ond-hand invitation to one of their London parties, in 
 the country it was quite impossible for unbidden 
 neighbors to get a glimpse of the famous portrait 
 painter and his fashionable wife. If people called, 
 the Miltons were " not at home," and the cards were 
 returned by a groom in a dog-cart. Of course it was 
 extremely rude and unsociable, but what was to be 
 done ? Where would the rest have been for the tired 
 couple if they had not made this stand ? Not that 
 they were themselves dull. They asked select friends 
 to stay with them, and Lady Mary organised delight- 
 ful expeditions, but outsiders were strictly excluded. 
 
 Rosehill was no more open to Lord Curtis than to 
 Mr. Jephtha Jones, the Welsh curate of the parish. 
 Thus the Miltons, being in this way truly biblical and 
 having no respect of persons, avoided giving offence.
 
 108 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 The world round Rosehill had at last recognised that 
 a man's house must be his own castle when he chooses, 
 and the Miltons were very happy in being not one of 
 the first to lay down this principle, but one of the first 
 to act up to it in their country seclusion. 
 
 Thus it happened that Griselda, quite unwittingly, 
 had penetrated into the one house which was shut 
 against everybody else, and when she heard that Brice, 
 her Brice now, was going to visit there, she was en- 
 chanted. 
 
 " Perhaps the Miltons will let me come too some 
 day, Brice. I should like to see Miss Cuthbert again. 
 I have fallen in love with her at first sight, only I 
 think her face is very sad." 
 
 " You would not say so if you saw her in society." 
 
 " Have you seen her there, Brice ? " 
 
 " Yes, that night I was at Lady Mary's. I told 
 you they are great friends, I think, at least as much 
 friends as " Brice paused ; Miss Cuthbert had 
 offered him her friendship he was not going to 
 find fault with it at this early stage of its exist- 
 ence. 
 
 " As what ? " Griselda put her hand on her lover's 
 arm. " Do you mean as we are ? " 
 
 Even now, though the lover's kiss had been given, 
 the old easy familiarity, which had been all happi- 
 ness, was not quite gone. Brice carried the hand to 
 his lips. 
 
 " No, darling, that would be impossible. Do you
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. i O g 
 
 know what a fright you gave me to-day ? I thought 
 for a moment " 
 
 " Silly Brice ! but I shall not easily forget our 
 engagement day, only I feel as if we had really 
 been engaged a long, long time don't you ? Will 
 father really let me go back to New Zealand with 
 you ? " 
 
 "You will be sorry to leave this lovely place and 
 your Foy Lodge, and all the fun and gaiety." 
 
 " Sorry to go with you ? Why ! I have been 
 looking forward to your coming back every day since 
 we left home, and now, oh ! everything is changed, but 
 everything is beautiful, and life is so happy." 
 
 "You are one of the happiest souls on earth; do 
 you know that, Griselda?" 
 
 Griselda laughed, and in her laugh there was noth- 
 ing jarring, nothing sad. 
 
 " I should think I am happy. I have everything to 
 make me so." 
 
 " It is not many persons who can say that, Miss 
 Cuthbert, for instance." 
 
 " No, she does not look at all happy. Do you 
 know, Brice, if I knew her I should love her. I should 
 like her to be happy. One can make people happy by 
 loving them, don't you think ?" . 
 
 "You can, Griselda, dear," said Brice quickly, the 
 strong attractive power he had felt when in Miss 
 Cuthbert's presence was slowly passing off. It was as 
 if he had been slightly magnetised, or as if his mind
 
 IIO A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 had been clouded by strong narcotics, so that after 
 imbibing their fumes his ride home with Griselda 
 acted upon him like the purest and freshest of fresh 
 air. 
 
 " Oh, I would try. I would never let her think of 
 sad things, and she could not help smiling if but per- 
 haps I shall never see her again." 
 
 So talking they rode home slowly through the 
 heather and the shady country lanes. The nightin- 
 gales were singing, the humble-bees were settling 
 themselves upon the scabious blossoms, and the squir- 
 rels were racing merrily up the red fir-stems. This 
 evening there was a humming sound of love and joy 
 over all the beautiful country. Such a night it was 
 whereon lovers' vows are made, and believed in. If 
 Brice was still dreamily thinking of Magdalen standing 
 against the summer-house in all her mature beauty, 
 her fierce anger, her intense feeling, and her sudden 
 tenderness, he nevertheless realised that the girl he 
 had long loved, and to whom he had this day pledged 
 his troth, was a far more exquisite product of Nature's 
 work. No artificial element was here visible, no forced 
 ideas of life, no bitterness. Perhaps he had wooed 
 and won too easily ; perhaps, because of his close 
 friendship with Percy Chester, he hardly recognised 
 the beauty of perfect purity ; or was it that, after all, 
 there is something too unreal in happiness for fallen 
 humanity to accept, something too much out of har- 
 mony with the grey tints of ordinary life ?
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. Ill 
 
 They rode up the drive of Foy Lodge only just in 
 time for dinner, and when Brice (Griselda having made 
 him promise to make light of her accident) went to 
 Mr. Foy's study, he mentally wondered why he had 
 been in such a hurry to alter the perfect understand- 
 ing that had previously existed between himself and 
 Griselda. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Foy were both in the study reading 
 some letters just arrived by the evening post. 
 
 " So you have come back at last," said Mr. Foy ; 
 " if we had not known you so well, Leslie, we should 
 have been anxious." 
 
 " I was afraid, John, that something had hap- 
 pened," said Mrs. Foy sadly. 
 
 " Griselda fell off her horse. It was nothing seri- 
 ous, but Lady Mary Milton made us come to Rosehill 
 and insisted on Griselda's resting there." 
 
 " Ah ! I thought something had happened, but as 
 she rode home it can't be much. So the Miltons took 
 you in. I heard they never visited their neighbours. 
 Artistic London people seem to give themselves such 
 airs now." 
 
 Brice cleared his voice, stammered a little, then 
 said 
 
 " As you gave me leave, sir, I told Griselda that 
 with your consent " 
 
 "John's consent, not mine, Mr. Leslie. I'm afraid 
 Griselda is too young ; she has seen so few people; 
 she does not know her own mind."
 
 H2 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " But, my dear, you told me yourself that you were 
 afraid Griselda would never think of anyone but our 
 bushman," said Mr. Foy, smiling. 
 
 " Well, I was afraid of it, but one can't tell. How- 
 ever, now you have really formally engaged your- 
 selves, I'm afraid it's no use saying anything more 
 about it ; but when things I mean engagements go 
 on a long time they are not at all likely to last." 
 
 Mr. Foy laughed. 
 
 " Slightly Irish, my dear Jane. You know yourself 
 that Leslie spoke to us about this before leaving New 
 Zealand, and that Griselda has never even had another 
 liking. You won her girl's heart, Brice, and the love 
 has grown with her like an indelible notch on the bark 
 of a young tree." 
 
 " I'm afraid Griselda won't be asked out much if 
 her engagement is known, and then the poor girl will 
 have no pleasures," moaned her over-anxious mother. 
 
 "I want Griselda to be as happy as possible," said 
 Brice quickly. "I have a year's leave, and that is 
 surely long enough for preparations. If you will let 
 me take her back when I gOj I shall do my best to re- 
 turn here after a few years' absence." 
 
 " Your father and mother will think you might do 
 better, Leslie. Griselda cannot have her fortune for 
 some time to come, the estate is burdened with lega- 
 cies, and I shall not be a rich man for a good many 
 years, if ever, now that land is so much depreciated in 
 value."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. Hj 
 
 "My father will only be too happy to think I 
 should possess such a perfect wife. You know, sir, that 
 my sister and I will share our father's fortune after his 
 death ; with that and what I earn I shall feel Griselda 
 can never want." 
 
 " I'm afraid the young always think they know 
 better than other people," sighed Mrs. Foy; "of 
 course Griselda is pretty, she might have married any- 
 one. Lord Curtis admires her very much ; I'm sure 
 of it." 
 
 " Young lords admire all pretty girls," said Mr. 
 Foy decidedly, for he possessed a large fund of com- 
 mon sense. " I wish my child to be happy in her own 
 way, and long ago we found out nothing but good of 
 Brice Leslie." The elderly man put his hand on Les- 
 lie's shoulder. 
 
 " I'm not blaming you, I'm sure, Brice, but one 
 cannot help being fearful about the happiness of one's 
 dear child. Marriage is a great lottery, and Griselda 
 is so youthful, she believes in love at first sight," 
 sighed poor Mrs. Foy. 
 
 " Come, come, Jane, it's all settled, and Brice and 
 Griselda perfectly understand each other. You'll stay 
 for dinner, Leslie, and have a lover's stroll afterwards ? 
 I know you'll make my child happy ; and, my dear fel- 
 low, I hope you'll always find us ready to trust you 
 with her welfare." 
 
 " I'm sure we do trust you, Brice, but you need not 
 proclaim the engagement yet, in spite of John's
 
 H 4 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 notions. Girls are so little cared for in society when 
 people know they are engaged. Anyhow, we had 
 better not tell the children." 
 
 So, much as usual, Griselda came down in her 
 simple white muslin dress and black ribbons. The 
 dress looked lovely, because she wore it, but otherwise 
 it was quite regardless of extreme fashion. The din- 
 ner was also a simple meal. The butler who waited 
 was an old retainer, and Mr. Foy wished to alter 
 nothing that belonged to the past. The oak, dark 
 with age, was ornament enough in the dining-room ; 
 the old-fashioned windows, looking out on green 
 lawns and cedar trees, needed no modern upholstery 
 and no dainty but unmeaning ribbon-bows to make 
 them entrancing. 
 
 - Griselda was the life of the party this evening. 
 She had nearly recovered from her fall, and she wished 
 no one to make a fuss about her. After the meal was 
 over she strolled out with Brice, and with her arm in 
 his she talked on to him about her life since the two 
 had been parted. Then she wondered how soon she 
 should begin making preparations for going back with 
 him, whether she really could be spared, how happy 
 the old free life would be, and so on ; Brice listen- 
 ing to her remarks with a contented smile upon his 
 face. 
 
 " So my little girl will not mind going back to 
 primitive life." 
 
 " Mind ! O Brice, of course not, but I must make
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 1 15 
 
 haste and learn many things here, so that I may be 
 really useful to you and really your companion." 
 
 "Sweetheart ! you are perfect as you are." 
 
 " Oh no, no ! I mean to know everything. You 
 are so clever, Brice, and so fond of books, whilst my 
 education was not very first-rate, was it ? I am sure 
 Miss Cuthbert is very musical and knows everything. 
 Brice, stop here a minute; look at me well and tell 
 me, do you think you will ever get tired of me ? I am 
 not half good enough for you, only you have not yet 
 found it out." 
 
 He stooped down and kissed her on the forehead, 
 and put one arm gently round her. Oh ! if she might 
 remain always as happy, as believing, as ignorant of 
 evil as she now was, always always ! The sun sank 
 in the far west, the evening sky began to be streaked 
 with crimson, the interstices being filled up by a pale 
 blue green that betokened rain, though the beauty of 
 the day would certainly last till night's curtain had 
 been drawn. 
 
 "My little girl, what a question!" he said. "A 
 man might look a long time and very far and wide 
 before he found another Griselda! " 
 
 Griselda laughed ; for though she was not vain, 
 she believed Brice's compliment as coming out of his 
 true, noble heart. Part of Griselda's charm was a 
 complete ignorance of her own perfections; with her 
 all was so entirely natural that there was no room 
 for art. She knew that she was not learned, that
 
 H6 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 she infinitely preferred a free active life to deep 
 studies. 
 
 " I am glad you think so, Brice dear oh, so very 
 glad ! Papa is good to let us be really engaged, even 
 if we mustn't talk about it. Do you know I prefer 
 keeping it to ourselves don't you ? and I mean you 
 to go about and enjoy yourself. I sha'n't be tiresome. 
 Do you remember Rose Jessop ? When she was en- 
 gaged she would never let that poor Jim Groves talk 
 to other girls or go anywhere, or do anything. How 
 we used to laugh at her ! Jim Groves got so tired of 
 it and became quite melancholy. I sha'n't ever be like 
 that, Brice, I promise you." 
 
 "You would be a man's best safeguard, darling; 
 but I don't suppose I shall be much away from you, 
 whether you like it or not. I must go and see a few 
 relations, and well, I half think I shall give up Lady 
 Mary's invitation, I should be so near to you and yet 
 so far ! " 
 
 " Oh no, Brice, you must go. She is a relation, 
 and you would see Miss Cuthbert again, and perhaps 
 1 could ride over to my cousin's house and meet you 
 by mistake of course ! I want to see Miss Cuthbert 
 again. I think I could sketch her. I have not told 
 you yet, Brice, that my rough sketches are much ad- 
 mired imagine that ! and yet I have never had a 
 lesson. Mr. Best, the artist, said that I ought to go 
 in for an art training. I laughed at the idea ! No, I 
 mean now to read a little history and study Shake-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 117 
 
 speare and do all the things you like best, and not be 
 known only as good at riding and boating." 
 
 Thus Griselda laughed and chatted on out of the 
 fullness of her loving heart, little guessing that she 
 should have given Brice more trouble in wooing and 
 winning her. But such a thought wanted deep knowl- 
 edge of the human heart, and she knew nothing of 
 psychology or of the crooked ways of society. Out 
 of the depth of her love she gave out love. 
 
 Brice Leslie was not a grand hero. The contrast 
 between the sadness and sin which he had known in 
 connection with Percy Chester had struck him forcibly 
 when he had met and loved the child Griselda. He 
 had thought that in her he had found the embodiment 
 of womanly purity, a soul clear as a mirror and re- 
 flecting only the blue sky. Coming from his often 
 long and lonely expeditions back to the small settle- 
 ment at Waital he knew he should find there a sweet 
 maiden with a smile of welcome "and sympathy. He 
 knew he should hear her laughing banter, and that 
 she would be always ready to go out with him for a 
 canter on the heath, or for a row across the bay in 
 the glory of a New Zealand afternoon. Griselda had 
 the perfect health and perfect spirits of one of earth's 
 favoured mortals. Moreover, she was gifted with a 
 sweet temper, which contrasted pleasingly with her 
 mother's fretful fearfulness and anxiousness of dispo- 
 sition. Thus Griselda always showed to great advan- 
 tage, for her life had few drawbacks, and her love had
 
 :I 8 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 grown quietly to full maturity ; but there had been no 
 room for passion, no time for doubts or depression, all 
 had been full sunshine. 
 
 " Look, Brice, let me row you down the canal to- 
 night ; it will remind us of Waital, and then we can 
 sing the Maori boat-song we liked so much. Do you 
 remember it ? " 
 
 So they sauntered down through the wood, over 
 which now spread the evening shadows. With the 
 activity of youth Griselda was soon ensconced in the 
 boat, whilst Brice smiled his inward satisfaction as she 
 dipped her oars into the water. 
 
 " You will be tired, darling, you ought not to do 
 it," he said, lazily enough, however. 
 
 " Do I seem like it ? Brice, look at the water-lilies 
 they are like dear little gold pieces on the water. I 
 think England is as perfect as it can be ; I am a real 
 English girl at the bottom, though I sha'n't be sorry 
 to go back to New Zealand." 
 
 Brice would have liked Griselda to be more de- 
 pendent upon him, more yielding on this first evening, 
 but then she was not afraid of anything, so how could 
 she wish for protection ? She was simply happy, in- 
 tensely happy. Till Brice had come to England she 
 had wanted him to complete her happiness; now he 
 was here her only wish was satisfied. Every hour was 
 bright, was happy, and to-day well, to-day was only 
 the crown of all the past joy ; even the future could 
 not be much happier, for though the future was to
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 give her Brice entirely for her own, yet it would also 
 take away her parents, and her brother and sister, 
 whom she loved in an almost motherly fashion having 
 done so much for them when they were tiny children. 
 
 As the boat glided forward among the reeds and 
 the water-lilies, Griselda's voice, sweet and clear, 
 sounded over the water, and lost itself in the over- 
 hanging copse woods on the banks, whilst Brice's 
 tenor joined in the wild native boat-song she sang so 
 prettily. 
 
 Unfortunately it was not very far that she had to 
 rotv him, and all too soon Griselda pulled up at the 
 first bridge. 
 
 " Darling, I do not like to leave you to go back 
 alone," said Brice, this time acting in a more lover- 
 like manner. 
 
 " But you must, your people will be expecting you, 
 and all the way home I shall think of you. It seems 
 to me that all the rushes seem to say ' Brice ' now, and 
 the birds too. I shall get quite sentimental and you 
 won't know me." 
 
 Brice smiled as he kissed her, but said nothing in 
 words, and then presently he watched her row away as 
 if he were looking at an inhabitant of another world, 
 a beautiful spirit who knew nothing about sin and 
 suffering, and who could live only when surrounded 
 with joy. The feeling lasted all the evening and 
 helped him to talk over his future plans with his 
 father, and to receive his mother's congratulations.
 
 120 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 His request that nothing should be said about it 
 appeared quite reasonable to them, but his sister re- 
 marked : "It is just as well to keep it to oneself. 
 Griselda is so young, she will perhaps throw you over. 
 Young girls get so soon spoilt in society. I doubt if 
 she will wish to return with you when you go back to 
 New Zealand." 
 
 " I don't," said Brice shortly.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SUDDENLY Lady Mary was seized with the desire 
 of enjoying what she called "A Rural Love Scene." 
 She had the special talent belonging to a dramatic 
 author, but as Nature had not provided her with 
 enough patience for the severe labour of dramatic 
 authorship, this natural talent had to find some outlet. 
 Her play, at all events, was not complicated, and it 
 had originated during an amusing discussion on Miss 
 Cuthbert's refusals of eligible lovers. Then Lady 
 Mary had accepted a wager ! This last year, for in- 
 stance, she knew for a certainty that Magdalen had 
 had three proposals : one from a millionaire banker, 
 whose antecedents were Jewish and whose cast of 
 features was decidedly Gentile ; another from an elder- 
 ly colonel, who was of good family but by no means 
 rich ; and the third from a young man of property. 
 Magdalen Cuthbert had been unmerciful in all cases. 
 She never discouraged attentions, and she accepted 
 homage with queenly indifference. She dealt out her 
 cynical remarks with impartiality and nullified their 
 bitterness by a good many exquisite smiles. Now and 
 then she even bewitched her enemies ; but, as for her
 
 122 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 heart, the world began to doubt whether she had one. 
 It was now commonly given out that Magdalen was 
 not to be won by mortal man. 
 
 As we have said, Lady Mary took up the glove and 
 declared that before the year was out she should at- 
 tend Miss Cuthbert's wedding, and give the breakfast 
 at Ross Square. Frank looked grave, and pooh- 
 poohed the fun. He cared not a straw whether Miss 
 Cuthbert were single or married, but he had serious 
 objections to interfering with matrimonial affairs. 
 His own suited him admirably, but then he knew there 
 was not another Lady Mary in London town ; besides, 
 he had wooed and won without the help of anyone 
 why should not other men do the same ? However, 
 his wife would not be thwarted in her plans, the spirit 
 of opposition being just then in the ascendent. 
 
 " Come, Frank, the mise en seine shall be perfect, 
 and after all I am only working for Magdalen's happi- 
 ness. That affair was so long ago, and she does not 
 care a scrap about it now I'm sure of it ; only she 
 has reached the age of indecision and wants a hand to 
 help her to take the first step over that shallow 
 brook." 
 
 "People usually know their own minds best, don't 
 they ? " said Frank, " without any help from admiring 
 friends." His tone was just a little scornful. The 
 Magdalen had no attractions for him. 
 
 " If you weren't so terribly prejudiced, Frank, you 
 too would admire the personality of such a woman."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. I2 3 
 
 " But I don't. She is heartless. That poor old 
 colonel believed in her, and she took to sympathising 
 with him. I never believed a word of it the whole 
 time." 
 
 " Well, yes ; but you didn't expect her to marry a 
 man who talks of nothing but campaigns, did you ? 
 Magdalen is clever and musical ; a man like that would 
 bore her to death in a week." 
 
 " A woman like that would send the worthy colonel 
 to his grave in a fortnight ; she would flirt, and 
 
 " Now, Frank, excuse me ; you are very clever 
 and an artist, and you think you study faces and char- 
 acter, but you know nothing whatever of Magdalen 
 Cuthbert." 
 
 " I know quite enough ; but anyhow, she is wel- 
 come to Rosehill, if she will give me a few sittings. 
 The picture will do for one of my next academy por- 
 traits, and that will please her vastly." 
 
 This conversation took place before the exodus to 
 Rosehill, and now Lady Mary had fallen still more in 
 love with her " Rural Love Scene," because the lover's 
 cue had come, and she having called Brice Leslie on 
 the scene, he had appeared. He would do admirably, 
 she settled, for he had that peculiar undefinable charm 
 about him which attracts women. He was not vain, 
 though he was handsome ; he was in earnest, though 
 there was nothing puritanical about him ; above all, 
 Magdalen admired him at least she showed strong 
 inclination to do so, and though it was rash to place
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 too much confidence on this mark of her esteem, Lady 
 Mary was not to be baffled. Magdalen Cuthbert 
 should have every help to falling in love which Lady 
 Mary's beautiful Rosehill could provide. If Magda- 
 len would have married without love, the task would 
 have been quite easy, and long ago accomplished. 
 But, never mind, thought the little lady, the play 
 would become more amusing if it were really a love 
 scene, and to see the cynical Miss Cuthbert succumb 
 was worth some trouble. 
 
 This was how Lady Mary's play came about. 
 
 The weather was delicious, the harvest had begun; 
 the sheaves were dotting the distant landscape with 
 gold; ripe oats hung in waving modesty ready to be 
 gathered ; the flowers of the hop gave diversity to 
 the beautiful vine-like leaves ; the larks soared high 
 above, occasionally darting to earth in order to take 
 new flights, and all around was harmony and beauty. 
 There are some days when love appears merely a com- 
 plement to life, when the very air one breathes seems 
 to kiss the lips it touches, when Nature holds out her 
 arms and expects humanity to nestle on her breast so 
 that she may listen to her honeyed words. To add to 
 all this natural beauty, Rosehill exhibited the perfect 
 union of nature and art. The green lawns were soft 
 and enchanting to the tread ; there were no sad lau- 
 rels shutting out the sweet scent of distant fields ; 
 and for privacy there were uncultivated heather lands, 
 where those who preferred solitude might wander on
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 125 
 
 over undulating hill and dales, or, if weary, find rest 
 and shelter in the picturesque summer-house designed- 
 by Frank Milton. 
 
 Magdalen loved country sights and sounds, be- 
 cause of her inborn poetical nature. Also, she loved 
 them because they soothed the tumult of gnawing re- 
 gret, of lost hope, of lost love ; but her love was of 
 that strange kind which is sometimes much akin to 
 hatred. The first few days she was at Rosehill the 
 power of Nature's mysterious spell took possession of 
 her, and she often wandered up to the summer-house, 
 and sat there, sometimes for an hour or two at a time, 
 without moving, almost without breathing. Her beau- 
 tiful, blue, dark-fringed and saddened eyes gazed at 
 the bluer distance as if there were some affinity be- 
 tween her and that palpitating azure haze, as if the 
 blending of the distance into an exquisite whole was 
 the remedy that would bring her healing and joy, as if 
 she believed in the annihilation of all material life, and 
 as if her spirit could take flight and leave the clay that 
 had fretted it so long, to find at last rest in a perfect 
 Pantheism. One day, after a long period of silence, 
 she leant back against the rough fir-stems of the rustic 
 summer-house, and, clasping her hands over her head, 
 she experienced for a few moments, as she breathed a 
 deep sigh, something of that often eluding peace steal- 
 ing over her. It was as balm to the broken spirit, or 
 as oil to scorching flesh. The peace of nature ex- 
 pressed in such pure colours had effected this moment-
 
 126 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 ary stillness. Some voice had uttered the " Peace, be 
 still " to her heart, and had given her a foretaste of 
 the happiness of death, if death means perfect silence. 
 Then one of her exquisite smiles broke over her face, 
 a smile which had once brought Percy Chester to her 
 feet, and which since then had made men both love 
 her and curse her, a smile which must have been heav- 
 en-born, but which had passed forty years on earth 
 and had become much blemished during its earthly ex- 
 istence. 
 
 She was thinking of Brice Leslie, not as a man and 
 an admirer, or in any way as touching herself and her 
 life, but as the one being she now knew who had seen 
 Percy, who had known him, loved him, and who had 
 brought her word that his life had not been all sun- 
 shine, that what had been a fatal momentary passion 
 had brought with it death to his earthly happiness, and 
 blight upon his life's rare blossoms. Once, long ago, 
 Magdalen would have been able to endure any per- 
 sonal suffering in order to save the man she loved 
 from an hour's pain, but not now. At this moment, 
 her smile was caused by the certainty that he had suf- 
 fered and regretted his folly, that she had not been 
 alone in the fierce strife, but that he, too, had been 
 fighting in the battle, had felt the bullet wounds, even 
 if he and she had been separated on the battle-field. 
 She now knew that he, too, had been where the battle 
 was as fierce, if not fiercer than where she had stood. 
 She had waited many years for this consolation, she
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. i 2 j 
 
 4iad hungered for it, and now it had come to her ; and 
 as she sat there, pondering over it, letting it sink into 
 her very being, assimilating it with her love for that 
 beautiful nature before her, she experienced the mo- 
 ment of peace that brought a look of joy to her face. 
 It was fictitious joy, but it successfully simulated hap- 
 piness, and for a brief interval Magdalen Cuthbert 
 looked radiant. 
 
 She rose slowly, feeling that she must do some- 
 thing to express this new-born sensation, for it seemed 
 to desire action in order to make sure of its identity 
 and to revel in its new birth. Could it be true that the 
 burden had fallen from her, that these few days of 
 communing with Nature and the certainty of shall 
 we call it by the vulgar name of revenge ? had lifted 
 the brooding weight from her spirit, and had enabled 
 her once more to walk proudly in her own path, proud 
 because free ? All these years Percy Chester had kept 
 her in bondage, but now now 
 
 There were sounds of footsteps, and Magdalen im- 
 mediately remembered this was the day on which Brice 
 Leslie was expected to arrive doubtless he was com- 
 ing up the path with Lady Mary. This latter had been 
 very busy since the arrival at Rosehill, setting her 
 household gods in picturesque order. The fashion of 
 decorative art had changed since the previous year. 
 Lady Mary had found in her house bows where no 
 bows should be ; last year they had looked artistic, this 
 season they appeared vulgar. Frank had freaks, too,
 
 I2 8 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 about his studio, and his wife knew that no real peace 
 was to be had till he was pacified into a rural state of 
 .contentment. Lady Mary objected to any household 
 machinery being visible. Everything in a house, she 
 said, ought to go on as if worked by unseen agencies ; 
 but, of course, even the best-contrived machinery has to 
 be oiled and set going, and the motive-power generated. 
 Lady Mary required a few days to put everything in 
 motion, after that all went admirably. There was no 
 moaning about servants' delinquencies heard at Rose- 
 hill ; the young men and maidens knew what they had 
 to do, and did it. This management of human beings 
 is a talent like any other talent, and Lady Mary added 
 it to her many other qualities. She knew Magdalen 
 would be quite happy left alone for a few days, and 
 thus the two, as yet, had done little more than meet at 
 meals and in the evening. 
 
 These three or four days had recruited Lady 
 Mary's energies ; she positively longed for new ex- 
 citement of a rural kind, of course. There must 
 be no clashing with the London life ; that was 
 of necessity a thing apart, the true business of her 
 life. 
 
 Brice Leslie was her first and most important 
 visitor. He had a part to play, and Lady Mary meant 
 him to play it well. She knew of no reasonable ob- 
 stacle, and, as to Magdalen, these few lonely days 
 must have given her new zest for conquest. This 
 time, thought Lady Mary, everything was suitable ;
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 129 
 
 Miss Cuthbert had already shown her preference, and 
 she must go further. 
 
 " What about failure ? " murmured Suspicion. 
 Lady Mary hated failure, and she meant to lay her 
 plans with great caution and then to echo Lady Mac- 
 beth's words, "And we'll not fail." 
 
 But as often happens in life and on the race-course, 
 there was a false start. Early this morning Magdalen 
 might have been prepared to receive Mr. Leslie 
 graciously, but now it was otherwise. Her spirits had 
 risen. She felt she could rule, she could command ; 
 she felt ashamed that Brice had witnessed her moment 
 of weakness ; that he alone, of all the men who had ad- 
 mried her, had seen Magdalen Cuthbert overcome by 
 the strength of a suffering she had so long been proud 
 to hide. Even though it was in no way his fault that 
 this had occurred, she wished to make him suffer for it. 
 The strange part of this affair was that these two, 
 without guessing it, were working in the dark. Both 
 of them wishing to reach a certain point, acted in a 
 manner conducive to bring about the opposite results. 
 Brice had come to Rosehill, he hardly knew why, ex- 
 cept that he wished to keep his promise and to please 
 Lady Mary, and (this last object he scarcely whispered 
 to himself) to study once more that peculiar mind 
 confined within the fascinating exterior called Miss 
 Cuthbert. But on his arrival he found that the god- 
 dess had altered her mood, so that it seemed impos- 
 sible to believe in his past experience. Miss Cuthbert
 
 130 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 was light-hearted, brilliant, scornful, imperious, ex- 
 pecting admiration, displeased when she got it, yet 
 more displeased when she did not get it. 
 
 " The disease of being in love with such a mortal," 
 thought Brice, " suppose a man were attacked by it, 
 which I am not, could easily be cured by the same 
 draught that caused it. Poison will cure poison. A 
 day with Miss Cuthbert in this mood would repel the 
 most love-lorn idiot." Then Griselda's sweet person- 
 ality rose before his mind's eye and reigned supreme. 
 " If I stayed here a year," continued the short-sighted 
 Brice, " I might offer incense, but never sacrifice my 
 peace of mind to her." 
 
 On her side Magdalen found her grand coldness 
 received calmly. Brice neither courted her nor 
 shunned her, and what is more baffling than perfectly 
 natural indifference which is too indifferent to show 
 indifference ? She had the intention of making this 
 Brice Leslie forget her past weakness, and not to pre- 
 sume on intimacy with her, because once she had been 
 unable to hide what for years had been an unrevealed 
 secret ; but she found him apparently incapable of re- 
 membering it, or utterly indifferent to the remem- 
 brance. She saw her weakness treated as if it be- 
 longed to her by right of her womanhood. For the first 
 time in her life she had not created the effect she had 
 calculated upon. She was able to command love, to 
 create jealousy, to laugh at devotion, but for the first 
 time she encountered indifference, and for the first
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. I $i 
 
 time Magdalen was piqued. Something had crossed 
 her path which did not gaze up at her face, so the im- 
 pulse was created to stoop down and force an attitude 
 towards herself which had not come naturally. 
 
 Had she not felt the influence of her new freedom 
 it is doubtful whether she would have taken the 
 trouble, but this strange relief from pain which caused 
 her to laugh silently a sad laugh all the same left 
 room for a new effort. Before, she had easily con- 
 quered, and, without a moment's pain to herself, had 
 as easily rejected her prize ; now the idea entered 
 her head that she would follow the path a little far- 
 ther. If she found it uninteresting, there was always 
 a possibility of retracing her steps. If the flowers by 
 the way proved as many had done before not worth 
 picking, she need not stoop to cull them, or if she 
 picked them, she could always throw them away. 
 
 That it was possible she should ever advance too 
 far into the wood to return, that she should ever pick 
 flowers whose fragrance would be too sweet to make 
 her wish to part from them, never entered her mind. 
 When we lay down an old burden, fitful fate some- 
 times lays a heavier one on our shoulders, and it was 
 for want of appreciating this fact that Magdalen Cuth- 
 bert suddenly plunged into the wood, and with a smile 
 upon her lips took the first step on the narrow wind- 
 ing path which led whither ? 
 
 All this is metaphor, but let it pass. The reality 
 was the obvious sauntering about together during
 
 132 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 that first afternoon; the airy nothings that were said; 
 the monosyllabic answers of Brice, who was in no 
 mood for exertion ; the little sarcastic worldly remarks 
 of Magdalen ; the silvery laugh of Lady Mary, who 
 smiled at Magdalen's contrary mood without being 
 altogether disheartened, though indeed it warned her 
 that she must be more circumspect, because her vic- 
 tory was not yet assured. Frank strolled in later, 
 when the shadows were lengthening, and suggested a 
 field walk. 
 
 A field walk taken by four persons, who think it a 
 social duty to talk, is not a treat exactly suited to 
 poetical natures. Magdalen walked on with Frank, 
 and Brice was. very attentive to Lady Mary. He 
 parted the overhanging branches in the lane for her, 
 placed stepping-stones over the brook for fear her 
 dainty feet should get wet, whilst thoughtless Frank 
 Milton allowed Miss Cuthbert to splash through the 
 water like a rustic. Frank had no affinities with the 
 beauty ; she was certainly not the woman who would 
 or could ever make him forget Mary. Magdalen 
 knew this, of course. She had a certain scornful 
 respect for his character, but naturally she did not 
 trouble herself to waste smiles upon him. She lis- 
 tened patiently to his artistic remarks, doubting some 
 of them, but bearing with them without contradiction 
 for Lady Mary's sake. Certainly Magdalen liked her 
 hostess as much as she could like one of her own sex 
 truly, faithfully, but phlegmatically, so that it was
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ^3 
 
 all in Lady Mary's favour that she herself gave more 
 than she received plus a little amusement in carry- 
 ing out her generous plans. 
 
 Now and then Magdalen heard snatches of the 
 conversation behind her. Once she almost turned 
 round to join in it, but desisted, till at last Frank 
 Milton caught sight of a binding-machine, and insisted 
 on making his companion come across the field to ex- 
 plain its working to her. Miss -Cuthbert scornfully 
 remarked to herself that the artist must think himself 
 an unrecognised Nasmyth. 
 
 Lady Mary understood nothing but human ma- 
 chines, and stayed at the edge of the field talking to 
 Brice. All this looked simple enough, and yet it was 
 just at this moment that Brice Leslie missed an oppor- 
 tunity. A hundred other men might have done the 
 same, but the fact remains to be chronicled that this 
 one failed in a simple duty. 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Leslie, it really is very good-natured 
 of you to have come to our silent and solitary Rose- 
 hill. I did not expect you to keep your promise." 
 Lady Mary told white fibs extremely prettily. 
 
 " I should have done so anyhow," said Brice 
 quickly, "but just now I am really glad to get away 
 from home. My father is a little worried by my pres- 
 ence. Naturally, he wants to talk to me, and yet any 
 excitement is bad for him." 
 
 " Some men would prefer more exciting amuse- 
 ments than a quiet country life, but, really, I will take
 
 134 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 pity on you and see what we can do to show you what 
 it is like at its best English country life, I mean. I 
 suppose those New Zealand Foys, your neighbours, 
 are still clothed in a colonial garb, mentally I mean ? " 
 
 Brice smiled. 
 
 " Certainly at present we are all in the same boat, 
 except that Mr. Foy is anxious to become a real 
 English country gentleman, but personally I have no 
 ambition that way." 
 
 "And what is your ambition ?" 
 
 " Simple enough : to go back to my work till I 
 have made a sufficient income, and then either to 
 settle in New Zealand, or to return home to vegetate." 
 
 Lady Mary laughed happily. 
 
 "Your ambition sadly requires rousing. No, give 
 up New Zealand, marry an Englishwoman, and turn 
 your attention to politics." 
 
 "I don't believe in politics; besides, my wife may 
 have simpler tastes." 
 
 " But there is yet time to choose the right wife. 
 You want a woman of power, of 
 
 " But the truth is " Brice was going to say, " she 
 is chosen," then he stopped suddenly, for Griselda's 
 parents did not wish for the publicity of the engage- 
 ment, and he himself felt shy of mentioning her name. 
 The very thought of that light-hearted, innocent girl 
 seemed out of place just here, and Miss Cuthbert, 
 when she knew it, might send one of the poisonous 
 little arrows from her quiver at simple-minded Gri-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 135 
 
 selda. Brice hesitated, paused, and was silent his 
 chance was gone. 
 
 " But the truth is," repeated Lady Mary, laughing, 
 as she picked a graceful spike of oats and placed it in 
 her brooch, " that you have become somewhat of a 
 confirmed bachelor." 
 
 " I hope you do not mean by that I fail in respect 
 to the fair sex ?" answered Brice, trying to answer ban- 
 ter with banter. 
 
 " The fair sex forgive that if you succumb at last." 
 
 " Then I hope I shall be forgiven " (Griselda would 
 certainly forgive). 
 
 " You shall be guided rightly under this roof. 
 Frank, wait a moment and give me a good character. 
 Bear witness do I often fail ? " Frank and Miss 
 Cuthbert paused. As the latter turned round, the 
 brightness of the evening light formed a halo round 
 her head, and the reflected glow softened the deeper 
 shadows of her features. There was much about her 
 of the splendid majesty of a Greek goddess, a goddess 
 with the addition of the warm human life-blood cours- 
 ing through her veins. 
 
 " If you do, you carefully hide it from me," said 
 the artist, and the genial, smile that spread over his 
 countenance bore witness to Lady Mary's undying 
 charm over her husband. 
 
 " Let me be another witness," said Magdalen. 
 " Your failure is success compared to the success of 
 others."
 
 136 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Then I'll not fail. Listen, Frank ! Let us ex- 
 temporise a pastoral, a masque, an out-of-door play, 
 call it anything you like; design the dresses, and I'll 
 get the company. Every member shall be appreci- 
 ated and appreciative, and this Australian cousin of 
 mine shall see something of a country party as it 
 should be given." 
 
 " Don't ask any country-people, that is all," said 
 Frank. " I know what that will mean in the near 
 future a gross of invitations." 
 
 " Invitations to garden parties," said Magdalen, 
 turning towards Brice, who had been unsuccessfully 
 trying to look away from the beautiful picture before 
 him. " You see how Mr. Milton receives the idea. 
 He does not pretend to like them as we women pre- 
 tend." 
 
 " Good Lord ! How can one pretend ! People 
 open their gardens sometimes a mere patch of lawn. 
 They stand at the door and hurriedly shake hands 
 with you, and then you tramp round the green cage 
 like frightened wild beasts ; you cannot talk to one 
 person, and are soon sick of saying the same thing to 
 many. Next, you try to slink out unperceived, and 
 are sure to fail, for the hostess says in an aggrieved 
 tone, ' Are you going so soon, Mr. Milton ? ' That is 
 called pleasure! Mary, you must sue for a separa- 
 tion, if I am to begin a series of garden parties." 
 
 Lady Mary laughed and reassured her spouse. 
 
 " Your hatred to such entertainments does not ap-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 137 
 
 proach mine, so you need not fear. Not a soul from 
 the neighbourhood shall come, unless yes, what do 
 you say, Magdalen, to making an exception in favour 
 of the fair New Zealander ; but how are we to avoid 
 papa and mamma, brother and sister ? " 
 
 " Ask her to stay the night," said Magdalen ; " she 
 is young enough to enjoy that sort of thing." 
 
 Brice stood by silent, but repenting of his silence. 
 
 " She would look beautiful as an Undine, but that 
 is a detail. I see everything before me. The shade 
 of the beech trees, the players playing their mimic 
 parts. Magdalen, you can be the central figure. 
 What a success ! the murmur of the crowd, the 
 Let's come in and hunt for a play. Actors must learn 
 their parts in a week, rehearse at the beginning of the 
 next, grand performance on the following Thursday 
 evening. There will be lamps suspended from the 
 trees, and Arcadia will be rediscovered." 
 
 Lady Mary beheld the whole thing before her 
 mind's eye, and for her it was a new conquest. 
 
 " Mr. Leslie will see how we make fools of our- 
 selves in the country," said Magdalen, for the first 
 time that day looking straight at him. 
 
 " Then I shall think it is folly to be wise," answered 
 Brice, and Lady Mary said " Bravo ! "
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THAT evening after dinner Brice Leslie felt him- 
 self in another atmosphere, an atmosphere he had 
 never lived in before, and which was like choice wine 
 to one who has never tasted fermented liquor. He 
 metaphorically took a sip and put it down slowly, un- 
 certain whether he liked the taste of it or not. He 
 had lived among two species of humanity ; the one 
 represented by his friend Percy Chester, where life 
 was a terrible reality a struggle against hateful, even 
 if self-bound chains; the other, besides his own hum- 
 drum circle, was the peaceful, almost pastoral, sim- 
 plicity of the family at Foy Farm and the entirely 
 innocent-minded Griselda. But at Rosehill neither of 
 these two elements were visible. There was no 
 scandal and no defiance of society, but on the other 
 hand there was matured beauty, high breeding, spark- 
 ling and cultured wit. Brice's own nature had re- 
 volted against the Lily M'Intyre type, but he had 
 loved Percy Chester so truly that he had learnt 
 silently to endure the sight of " that woman." It 
 was, however, the reaction from this state of endur- 
 ance that had made him admire and love Griselda Foy.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 139 
 
 Neither of these experiences had prepared him for 
 the strange intoxicating influence of this fresh centre. 
 It was all the more powerful because, on the surface 
 of it, there was no danger-signal visible. Magdalen 
 had not given him one bewitching smile, and Lady 
 Mary had not revealed to him one jot or tittle of her 
 plans. There was merely the perfect freedom of 
 speech, the appropriation of him as an accepted rela- 
 tion, from whom sympathy was expected ; and, further, 
 there was the delightful unconventionality of an Eng- 
 lish home life unconnected with monetary anxiety, 
 this being quite a new feature to the settler's mind. 
 Lady Mary knew and few people do know how to 
 be rich. She oiled her machinery generously and ex- 
 pected it to work easily, and her expectations were 
 not disappointed. We may live some time in a relax- 
 ing atmosphere without feeling any injurious effects, 
 and this evening Brice, for the first time, gave himself 
 up to the enjoyment of the moment. His future was 
 calmly beautiful ; he had no danger to foresee in that 
 quarter. The present was represented by a woman 
 who was fascinating even if no longer young, and by 
 an original lady of fashion who was of the world with- 
 out being worldly, and whose tact, sweetness, and 
 politeness never failed, so that she jarred against 
 none of the old-fashioned ideas of what became a true 
 lady. It was like sailing on a calm summer sea. 
 There was blue above and blue below, and Brice 
 knew he was no mean sailor. He was aware that
 
 140 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 storms might be close at hand, though there was no 
 visible sign of their approach, but he could not hide 
 from himself that that evening some of his indiffer- 
 ence to Miss Cuthbert suddenly wore off. 
 
 The raised terrace was a charming spot for cof- 
 fee-drinking and smoking. The fashionable portrait 
 painter was a connoisseur in cigars, and was generous 
 to his visitors. Lady Mary, dressed in blue and 
 swan's-down, sat discussing plays and possibilities, 
 whilst Miss Cuthbert joined in with clever remarks 
 and suggestions, or suddenly relapsed into a silence 
 which was as eloquent as her speech. When her face 
 was at rest Brice noted that unmistakable look of 
 yearning sadness which had attracted him in London. 
 It almost seemed as if this expression had been once 
 suddenly impressed there, and that the features must 
 perforce now and again fall unbidden into the same 
 lines. Brice found himself pitying instead of blaming 
 her. He seemed to hear her once more declare how 
 much she had loved the man who had proved faith- 
 less, and the words in which she had offered him 
 friendship still echoed in his ears. Since then she had 
 certainly met him as a mere acquaintance, but the 
 recollection of that other conversation made him sud- 
 denly get up and stand silently by her chair. Some- 
 times Opportunity seems to delight in acts of kindness, 
 or shall we say in laying pitfalls for the unwary ? 
 for at this moment Frank Milton walked away to the 
 other end of the terrace, and Lady Mary said she had
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 141 
 
 just recollected where to find another book which 
 might contain a suitable play. Brice never doubted 
 the idea was spontaneous, and certainly never fan- 
 cied Lady Mary had any ulterior motive ; but 
 then he was a man, and she a woman with a pur- 
 pose. 
 
 The half light, the soft delicious evening air, the 
 heavy perfume of a second hay crop wafted towards 
 them, the stillness of wearied humanity surrounding 
 them, and all these made pity grow apace. A man's 
 pity is wondrously tender; it has none of the curiosity 
 which desires to probe a wound, which curiosity is 
 often part and parcel of a woman's sympathy. Mag- 
 dalen had loved, and had suffered, he thought. If she 
 would have listened and heard all, all that Brice could 
 tell her, she would forgive ; but she had forbidden him 
 to speak again on the subject, and he dared not dis- 
 obey. Since then he had fancied her proud, worldly, 
 heartless ; but at this moment pity shall we call it 
 man's divine pity ? conquered. 
 
 " I hope Lady Mary will not charter the boy-musi- 
 cian again," he said, sitting down near to Magdalen, 
 so that he could see her outline against a background 
 of chrysolite sky. " Do you remember how much 
 you pitied him that evening in Ross Square, Miss 
 Cuthbert ? " 
 
 " Did I ? Most likely it was wasted pit'y. The 
 minds of professional people, even of children, are 
 filled with one object, the object of making money and
 
 142 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 getting fame, and that passion satisfies every earthly 
 desire. I ought to have envied him." 
 
 " Envied him ? God forbid. I have seen enough 
 of the curse of money-getting." 
 
 " Curses and blessings are purely terms to express 
 not a reality but an imaginary state of mind, and I 
 am not superstitious." 
 
 " Superstition may differ, I hope, from some few 
 truths one has clung to from childhood." 
 
 Magdalen did not laugh scornfully, as Brice, 
 directly he had spoken, half expected her to do. Her 
 voice was perfectly natural, neither eager nor sad, as 
 she answered in quite an indifferent tone 
 
 " I have no truths to cling to." 
 
 Brice was silent. He could not have answered this 
 remark, having no appropriate words at his command ; 
 it was Magdalen who next spoke again : 
 
 " It is better to have your brain filled with one thing 
 good or bad according to your natural disposition 
 than to remain a blank interval. Forgive a musical 
 idea I know your taste does not lie that way. Some- 
 times a discord may lead up to a perfectly harmonious 
 phrase ; good and evil are so truly mixed, that it is 
 impossible to judge and to discriminate between them. 
 When I hear men and women trying to do so, I think 
 of something more profitable." 
 
 " No, no," said Brice, roused at last. " Excuse me, 
 your argument is not difficult to refute. There are 
 broad lines which are easily distinguished."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 143 
 
 Magdalen laughed softly and without glee. 
 
 "You have missed the wave of 'heredity,' which 
 has washed our shore lately and swept away a good 
 deal of refuse. There has been a heap of nonsense 
 uttered, still much of it has been unanswerable. To 
 judge everything you must know everything, but it is 
 best to accept all limitation. However, I am sure, Mr. 
 Leslie, that we shall never agree ; why discuss these 
 subjects ? A woman is really quite unequal to argu- 
 ment ; she loses and breaks her thread, and makes but 
 bungling work at joining it again." 
 
 Brice was a little piqued, and this woman's pride 
 urged him on against his better judgment. 
 
 " To live without sympathy is to lose a great deal 
 of pleasure." 
 
 " Sympathy is easily obtained. I think, on the 
 contrary, that much of the sympathy offered by out- 
 siders is pure impertinence. I learnt early to live 
 without it, in fact to dislike it." 
 
 At this moment Lady Mary came back, and was 
 greeted by this remark from the beautiful Magdalen : 
 
 " You ought not to leave us alone, Lady Mary. 
 Mr. Leslie and I have been disagreeing ; pray, if we 
 are both to take a part in your play, make us heredi- 
 tary foes." 
 
 " Bravo ! " thought Lady Mary. " If Magdalen 
 takes the trouble to quarrel, it shows she is interested. 
 Courage, I see daylight ! " 
 
 " Certainly," she said aloud ; " implacable enemies, 
 10
 
 144 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 ending with death or disgrace ; but, unfortunately, in 
 plays there is always the reconciliation scene at the 
 end. It leaves the audience in a better frame of mind, 
 and one goes home vowing to forgive and forget all 
 one's pet aversions. A vow which is forgotten the 
 next morning." 
 
 " Rather, to forgive but never to forget," said 
 Magdalen scornfully. She rose slowly from her chair 
 and leant against a tall stone vase in which grew a 
 large geranium in full flower. For a moment her 
 head bent towards the plant and her cheek rested 
 against some red petals. It was a beautiful pose, and 
 Brice was fascinated. Did she mean him to be ? 
 
 ft My dear Magdalen ! take care, though that is not 
 a pot of basil," said Lady Mary, shooting a stray 
 arrow and hitting an unexpected mark. 
 
 Magdalen drew back quickly. 
 
 " Let us go in," she said, with a frown ; and on her 
 return to the drawing-room she sat down at the piano 
 and played on without her notes in the gathering 
 darkness. She played beautifully, but not in a pro- 
 fessional manner ; her expression was more often 
 according to her feeling of the moment than in the 
 spirit of perfect interpretation of the master, and to- 
 night she put her feelings into one of Chopin's pathetic 
 movements. Lady Mary went to her writing-table 
 and was soon absorbed in her plays. At the open 
 window Frank Milton now and then paused to listen 
 to the player, and Brice soon rose to join him ; when
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 145 
 
 the two men re-entered the room, for the dew was 
 heavy, they found the ladies in their gayest mood. 
 
 Magdalen was so charming that Frank Milton re- 
 marked to himself : " The Magdalen has either guessed 
 the riddle, or is beginning one of her campaigns; I 
 suppose Leslie is the game. No quarter given, but 
 some victims prefer death to hopeless slavery. Mary 
 is too sanguine. Who can bind a woman of forty ? 
 She knows every dodge and has learnt every artifice. 
 Mary always says 1 am unfair to her, but, all the same, 
 I am inclined to say, The gods preserve him ! " 
 
 " Pray, Mary," he continued aloud, " have you 
 selected your play, and is it to be tragedy, comedy, 
 farce, or opera ? " 
 
 " I have settled on each in turn, till I'm fairly puz- 
 zled. There's ' Isabella ' for a tragedy, but really so 
 many fine murders would move us to laughter. ' The 
 Rivals,' humph, we know it pretty well, and ten to 
 one our actors will insist on all the oaths which are 
 classical but might shock ears polite. What do you 
 say to ' Three W 7 eeks after Marriage,' Frank ? There 
 are only eight characters in it, well, no, the people 
 are too ridiculous; shall we have to come down to 
 Shakspeare ? " 
 
 " I advise you," said Magdalen, rising, " to get a 
 play written on purpose, to 'catch the manners living 
 as they rise ' of the present day." 
 
 " Shall it turn on learned ladies ? No, that subject 
 is worn out. Few gentlemen nowadays know how to
 
 146 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 value the 'ineffectual qualities' in a woman, as Mrs. 
 Malaprop says. Mr. Leslie, what do you recommend ? 
 Frank thinks only about the scenery." 
 
 "Mr. Leslie has no patience for the imaginary," 
 said Magdalen. 
 
 " I am only a learner," said Brice. 
 
 "What a pity public taste has so much deterio- 
 rated," remarked Lady Mary ; " here is a lovely pas- 
 toral, called ' Rosina,' by Mrs. Brooke. The scene 
 opens and discovers a rural prospect that would suit 
 excellently well ; but I see that ' the amiable author- 
 ess ' tells us in her preface that the fable of this 
 piece is taken from the Book of Ruth, ' a fable equally 
 simple, moral, and interesting. 1 Only I find 'Rosina' 
 carefully avoids having any of these three qualities. 
 Was public taste in the days of Mrs. Brooke better or 
 worse than our own ? " 
 
 "You women are now all blast" said Frank. 
 
 "And men dislike all that is simple and moral," 
 added Magdalen ; " but I see Mrs. Brooke says she 
 added the comic characters of William and Phoebe ' at 
 once to relieve and heighten the sentimental cast of 
 the other personages.' Evidently every age has its cant. 
 Imagine adding a comic element to the Book of Ruth ! " 
 
 "And our cant is boredom, I suppose. 'Bored to 
 Death ' would be a good title for an unwritten play," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " That is not a colonial experience. We have too 
 much to do to waste our energies in that way."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 147 
 
 " Well, really, I think you are right. That young 
 Miss Foy looks too well, too innocent, to be bored," 
 said Magdalen. " Really she could sing Phoebe's song. 
 Do listen to this; I believe, Mary, we could not pro- 
 vide better comedy. 
 
 " ' When William at eve meets me down at the stile, 
 
 How sweet is the nightingale's song ! 
 Of the day I forget all the labour and toil, 
 While the moon plays yon branches among. 
 
 " ' By her beams, without blushing, I hear him complain, 
 
 And believe every word of his song ; 
 You know not how sweet 'tis to love the dear swain 
 Whilst the moon plays yon branches among.' " 
 
 Magdalen had made them all laugh, but Brice was 
 angry with himself for doing so ; he hated Griselda's 
 name having been mentioned, and yet the beauty of 
 this scoffer prevented him speaking out, so now and 
 for the rest of the evening he was almost silent. 
 
 Magdalen must have noticed this, for when they 
 separated she found herself alone with him for a few 
 moments; then her whole tone changed, the satirical 
 smile left her lips, and there came into her face the 
 earnest look he had seen there once before. 
 
 " One moment, Mr. Leslie ; you think that I fear 
 neither God nor man, and you are somewhat scan- 
 dalised?" her lips smiled to hide the ring of earnest- 
 ness in her tone. 
 
 " Not at all," said Brice indifferently. " I am only 
 sorry to be behind my time." 
 
 " Sorry ? No, be glad, and believe me when I say
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 I I wish I were. Good-night." She gave him her 
 hand as a child might have done, and Brice's anger 
 melted like snow. Was all the worldliness merely a 
 mask to hide a noble soul ? At this moment Brice 
 Leslie would have staked his life on an affirmative 
 answer to this question. As it was, he said earnestly 
 
 " Forgive my impatience of the fashion of the day 
 You will think I am a poor friend to distrust so easily." 
 
 " On the contrary, other men are only eager to ap- 
 plaud one's foolish moments." 
 
 "I give up the choice of a play," broke in Lady 
 Mary, reappearing. " Shall we have scenes ? What ! 
 are you two quarrelling again ?" 
 
 " No," said Magdalen simply, " this time we are 
 making up." 
 
 " Frank, the real play is progressing," said Lady 
 Mary joyously, a little later on, " those two are exactly 
 suited to each other." 
 
 "Why?" asked the artist lazily; " I should say 
 Miss Cuthbert is not to be suited." 
 
 " Nonsense, you know nothing about it ; she is tired 
 of compliments, and here is a man who, to save his 
 life, cannot manufacture more than one a day." 
 
 "You will burn your fingers." 
 
 " I shall make two people happy, but, dear old boy, 
 never fear, I shall not ask you to help me."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE success of everything depended on the 
 weather. The moon had kindly consented to fall in 
 with Lady Mary Milton's plans; but would it be fine? 
 would it be foggy ? or would a heavy dew make 
 future rheumatism a present certainty ? Like a born 
 gambler, Lady Mary staked her all on these bare 
 chances, and her faith was rewarded. She resisted 
 the suggestion of an afternoon affair. How was en- 
 thusiasm to be generated on a hot afternoon ? No, 
 evening it must be; the lawn must be illuminated; 
 the trees festooned with lights in fact, it must be 
 Lady Mary's fairyland realised. To do anything like 
 this badly was to court disgrace and failure. An en- 
 tertainment which turned out an utter fiasco would, 
 we verily believe, have broken Lady Mary's heart. 
 Her popularity depended upon it. The artists would 
 laugh at her if she failed, and talk of nothing else if 
 she succeeded. Frank's sitters would be more numer- 
 ous than ever, and her own fame more firmly assured. 
 " Besides, besides," whispered the bold lady to herself, 
 " they have had so much time to themselves that I am 
 sure of success in that quarter. If Brice Leslie is not 
 in love, then I resign my office."
 
 150 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 This woman was a greater artist than her husband, 
 and added to this she had dramatic power. She was, 
 moreover, a born general ; nothing was too minute 
 for her to overlook. By dint of hard work she had 
 got together her actors and, what was quite as impor- 
 tant, her select audience. She had managed to avoid 
 the mass of country neighbours, but she had selected 
 the few who would make the affair brilliant. She had 
 got hold of the barristers, and the clever artists ; even 
 the Duke of Blackwater, having got scent of the 
 affair, had managed to procure an invitation for him- 
 self and his family. The Duke was distantly con- 
 nected with Lady Mary, but he was always treated 
 with great impartiality. He was prouder of an invita- 
 tion from her than of many more apparently greater 
 honours. He would declare that the other women of 
 fashion gave parties ; no one but Lady Mary entertained. 
 
 " They fancy it comes by nature, this art of enter- 
 taining," she sometimes said ; " on the contrary, it is 
 consummate skill ; it requires more practice and culti- 
 vation than Frank's portrait painting." You would 
 have endorsed her verdict, had you seen her during 
 this time, and you would have owned that it required 
 a great deal of courage and superb faith to have 
 staked so much on a fine evening. 
 
 She settled the question of the play at last by ask- 
 ing a friend, already started on the playwrights' road, 
 to furnish one for her, and if it was good his reward 
 was certain. She was going to ask Acton Roland, the
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ! 5 x 
 
 owner of the Parthenon Theatre, to her fete; he 
 would make the writer's acquaintance, and thus the 
 author's success was a certainty. Oliver Selby men- 
 tally fell at Lady Mary's feet and worshipped her. He 
 read and re-read her long letter, as if it were a mes- 
 sage from the Mahatmas. She had given him the 
 motif, telling him he must manipulate it as he liked, so 
 he shut himself up for a day and a night, had the play 
 type-written, then copied a dozen times, and sent off 
 a post sooner than her ladyship had commanded. She 
 sent him a few words by return 
 
 " Excellent, don't forget the iyth of August. I 
 don't put ' weather permitting,' as that shows so little 
 faith. It is only country clergymen's wives who do 
 this. Don't thank me, I give you a Roland for your 
 Oliver." 
 
 Then the actors! Only Lady Mary herself knew 
 what she went through under this head, for no one 
 else did. She had the further merit of keeping all her 
 failures private, so that in this way it appeared she 
 had none. 
 
 It must not be supposed that during this time 
 Rosehill was in a state of confusion ; on the contrary, 
 the dolce far niente life went on to perfection, only the 
 hostess was invisible during the morning hours. The 
 host had discovered a village girl who would serve 
 excellently as model, and the rest of the day he went 
 out fishing. " To think," said his wife, " that Frank 
 actually likes standing at one end of the rod waiting
 
 152 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 for the fishes to appear at the other ! No, the art of 
 fishing passes my comprehension, but I know, as Frank 
 undertakes it, it is a just and honourable calling." 
 
 Politeness required Brice to entertain Miss Cuth- 
 bert. In the morning there was the long pleasant 
 dawdle after breakfast on the terrace or the saunter 
 through the conservatory. When Magdalen was in 
 her most agreeable frame of mind she would ask Brice 
 about his New Zealand experience and his journeys in 
 the interior. Now and then, however, she would, by 
 one of her cynical remarks, make him relapse into 
 silence ; but then she could easily chase away his dis- 
 pleasure by one of her smiles, or by a small gesture of 
 deprecating contrition. At other times she would rise 
 and go hastily away to the morning-room, where she 
 spent her time in writing letters in order to make 
 Brice repent of his silence in solitary leisure. 
 
 Once during a New Zealand talk Brice inadvert- 
 ently mentioned Chester's name, then paused, remem- 
 bering everything, and remembering also his promise 
 not again to recur to this subject. Magdalen met his 
 eyes and saw his look of contrition. 
 
 "Go on," she said quickly. 
 
 " Chester one day saved my life, but it is a long 
 story." Brice paused. 
 
 " Tell it to me," said Magdalen, almost under her 
 breath. So Brice retailed a bush adventure, in which 
 Percy Chester's heroic efforts had saved his friend 
 from certain death after a fall from a tree.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ^3 
 
 " Thank you," said Magdalen, with a little sigh. 
 It was the sigh of a tired child. "You, too, were very 
 good to him, I am sure." 
 
 " He was my friend." 
 
 Magdalen rose and went away after this conversa- 
 tion, but soon the sounds of music in gentler, more 
 subdued tones than were usually heard when Miss 
 Cuthbert was at the piano were wafted through the 
 open French windows. 
 
 Brice remained on the terrace dreamily listening 
 until he took out a letter from his pocket a letter he 
 had read but very hastily at breakfast, and now wished 
 to read again. 
 
 It was one of Griselda's simple epistles, full of joy- 
 ous happiness, full, too, of little nothings which she 
 was sure would interest Brice. 
 
 "When you come back," she added, "we will have 
 two canoes and race down the canal. There is a man 
 near Aldershot who keeps them little beauties they 
 are. Mind you enjoy yourself, dear old Brice ! Tell 
 me if you still admire Miss Cuthbert ; you were not so 
 much smitten with her as I was. I mean soon to come 
 and stay with my cousins if I can be spared, and we 
 could meet sometimes. No one will discover we are 
 lovers. Won't it be charming ! " 
 
 All at once Lady Mary came out accompanied by 
 Miss Cuthbert. The former held a bundle of papers 
 in her hands. 
 
 " It is all settled," she said ; " here is my play, and
 
 154 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 now for my actors. I know that they are proverbially 
 tiresome people. My playwright has done well, I give 
 him credit ; but he sends a pathetic appeal about the 
 actors. Listen : ' For Heaven's sake, dear Lady Mary, 
 fly from unworthy amateurs. It will now be possible 
 to get down some professionals. You have only to 
 wire, and I will arrange it all. It will ruin my pros- 
 pects and your party if you admit bungling actors.' " 
 
 "Authors are proverbially susceptible," said Mag- 
 dalen, casting her eyes over some loose pages of type- 
 writing. " Here are seven characters in the play ; this 
 necessitates three or four of the actors being really 
 good." 
 
 " Excuse me, Magdalen, all of them must be good. 
 In short plays, the whole must be perfect. If a dia- 
 mond is small, let it be of the first water, and no black 
 speck visible. But you can have the part of Esther, I 
 am bent on that ; I am come to ask Mr. Leslie if he 
 will undertake the hero save the mark ! for our hero 
 is very weak. I have a recollection of hearing you 
 had talents in the acting line, but I shall trust you all 
 in all, or not at all." 
 
 "As a young man," said Brice, taking 'the copy in 
 his hand, " I believed I could play all parts. I am 
 more diffident now, but when I have read the play I 
 will give you a faithful answer." 
 
 " The truth is, I prefer good amateurs in a thing of 
 this kind to your mediocre professionals. They have 
 little tricks and mannerisms to which only distance
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 155 
 
 can lend enchantment. True, they make themselves 
 heard, but some of their vulgar additions are better 
 not heard. Captain Sparks will do Sir Anthony Croft 
 to perfection ; you, Magdalen, shall be the rich Esther, 
 but what about Meta Bruce ? I declare that pretty 
 Miss Foy would suit admirably, only I should doubt 
 if acting were in her line ; do you know, Mr. Leslie ?" 
 
 " No, oh no, I am sure she could not do it," said 
 Brice quickly. Griselda should not come into all this. 
 
 " Well, there is that nice little actress, Lottie Lin- 
 den ; she acts very well, though she can do nothing 
 else. Strange that that gift is sometimes the one 
 talent of stupid people, I suppose because they pos- 
 sess a high degree of receptiveness. I will telegraph 
 to her. Mr. Bruce the lawyer must be well done, I 
 think he shall be a professional tricks will not mat- 
 ter ; and also for the butler amateurs overdo serv- 
 ants. The Jew anyone can do that." 
 
 Brice, who had been casting his eyes over the play, 
 now looked up. 
 
 " This is a difficult part, leave me out." He found 
 Magdalen looking at him. 
 
 " If you can act at all it will not be very difficult. 
 Please say 'yes.' " 
 
 " Do you wish it ? " said Brice. He did not know 
 that he was being led away by the sudden gentleness 
 of Magdalen's voice. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You cannot refuse," said Lady Mary, success-
 
 1 5 6 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 fully hiding the smile of pleasure that came to her 
 lips. To see Magdalen asking a favour of anyone 
 was a strange sight. At that moment the little lady 
 would have staked a very high sum on her success. 
 
 " Very well, I accept." 
 
 " Now I see triumph before me," said Lady Mary. 
 " Discuss your parts and, pray, do not fail me. Leave 
 the rest to me. We will rehearse the evening before- 
 By the way, I'll write a note to the pretty New Zea- 
 lander ; she will be a help, or shall I say an inspira- 
 tion ? " 
 
 Lady Mary was gone before Brice could answer, 
 and he was left alone with Miss Cuthbert, who was 
 reading the play entitled " Unlimited Credit." 
 
 " Not bad, but it all depends on good acting. It 
 is a pity life's success cannot be as well assured be- 
 forehand as a play," said Magdalen. 
 
 " What ? Assured by good acting ? " 
 
 " Yes, when good earnest fails." 
 
 Frank Milton adored fishing more than ever during 
 this period of probation ; Magdalen in her new mood 
 upset his calculations ; he was rather sorry for Leslie, 
 for he could not doubt that if Miss Cuthbert resolved 
 on conquest she would succeed. This play seemed 
 the last link in the chain of events, but outsiders, we 
 are told, see more of the game than the actors them- 
 selves, and strangely enough something was taking 
 place which no one could have foreseen. Magdalen 
 had found Brice difficult to attract ; she had begun
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 playing with fire, and suddenly she had felt its 
 warmth. Brice was very unlike Percy Chester, but 
 to Magdalen he seemed as if he inherited all the good 
 points in his character and none of the evil. Now 
 and then she suddenly stopped short in some cynical 
 remark, because she knew he would disapprove. Mag- 
 dalen was angry with herself and determined not to be 
 conquered. Only one human being had ever enslaved 
 her will and her heart, and she had long ago resolved 
 that none other should do it again. Had she been en- 
 tirely devoid of noble qualities she would have been 
 able to keep this resolution ; as it was, she was horri- 
 fied to find herself caring yes, caring for Brice's 
 good opinion. 
 
 As for Brice, he shut his eyes to everything ; he 
 called nothing by its right name, and he refused to 
 see that he was running into danger. Miss Cuthbert 
 was beautiful, clever, fascinating, but how plainly also 
 could he see her faults and a lover never sees faults ; 
 there was but one perfect woman for him, and that 
 was Griselda Foy. In the meanwhile " Unlimited 
 Credit '' was studied ; now and then the two began 
 to rehearse, till laughter or discussion made them 
 break off. 
 
 Magdalen one day found herself dressing in blue, 
 because Brice had admired that colour. When she 
 realised what she was doing, she paused before her 
 pier glass, and blushing, even though she was alone, 
 angrily threw off the dress.
 
 158 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " No," she murmured, " let him like the colour I 
 wear; why should I care about his taste? That 
 weakness was only for him, only for him, and he did 
 not care enough ; but I was not altogether mistaken ; 
 for this man this Brice he loved him, knowing 
 everything. Brice is a true friend. Brice Brice. 
 No, the name cannot raise the same echo as Percy. 
 I am a fool, a fool ! " Then she leant back in the 
 great arm-chair near the window and softly hummed 
 an old French song 
 
 " Hellas ! pourquoy m'a-t-il lessee? 
 Je ne luy ay ne fait ne dit 
 J'avoye mys mon amour en luy, 
 Mais je voy bien qu'il m'a trompee 
 Que veux tu que je te donne ? 
 Je t'ai deja trop donne : 
 Je t'ai donn6 une rose, 
 La plus belle de mes roses 
 Que j' avals sur mon rosier." 
 
 "There it is," she thought, "the thing is as old as 
 creation. I am not the first woman who has been 
 forsaken and left with a bare rose-bush. What is the 
 worth of a late autumn bud ? It has no scent, it only 
 looks ridiculous." 
 
 Even as she spoke, however, she noticed Brice 
 below, pacing up and down the terrace ; she could see 
 the tall, manly figure, the broad shoulders, the profile 
 perdu of the grave, earnest face ; the bearing entirely 
 free from the superiority of the sex ; and once more 
 she seemed to hear again his few words, " He was my 
 friend ! "
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 159 
 
 He, Percy, would have liked to have heard those 
 words. If love cannot come twice, then there is some- 
 thing very beautiful in friendship. She rose slowly, 
 and in a deprecating manner she opened a drawer and 
 took from it a soft blue wrap, which she threw in a 
 careless picturesque manner round her shoulders. She 
 had conquered in the question of the dress, but she 
 compromised it with the shawl. 
 
 A few moments afterwards the two were walking 
 side by side, but the usual flow of conversation was 
 conspicuous by its absence. Silence is sometimes 
 very unwise in spite of its being called golden by the 
 proverb. 
 
 This little episode took place only three days be- 
 fore the play was to be acted, and it was the same day 
 on which Lady Mary received a letter from Griselda, 
 saying how much she would have liked to accept her 
 invitation, but she had already promised to stay with 
 her cousins, the Hopes, at the Rectory. If she might 
 come and see the play and help in any possible way, 
 she would be delighted to do so. 
 
 Lady Mary tossed the note lightly towards Magda- 
 len. The gentlemen had already gone out ; now that 
 some practical results were required, Frank Milton 
 gave up his fishing, and he and Brice were delighted 
 to turn carpenters, to plan, paint, and put up rustic 
 seats. A stage was erected ; carpenters came from 
 the village, one from town, bringing with him an 
 upholsterer, who found that instead of telling his
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 employer what was the fashion, he had only meekly 
 to listen, take orders, and if he deviated from the 
 right road he had to retrace his steps. Rosehill was 
 closely shut off from the outer world, for on the im- 
 portant day everything was to be surprise. Even the 
 weather-glass appeared to behave with wonderful con- 
 sideration, going down a little, and then making a 
 bound upwards on the evening of the rehearsal. 
 There were slight drawbacks, but not many, the gen- 
 eralship had been too superb. The supper-tent sent 
 from London had mirrors down its seams. Frank 
 Milton exclaimed in dismay that an artist could not 
 endure this, but flowers were soon procured to hide 
 this barbarism. 
 
 Just before the rehearsal, Brice Leslie had a note 
 given to him. It was from Griselda 1 , telling him of 
 her arrival, and begging him to come and see her that 
 evening, if possible, or, if not, to come the next morn- 
 ing. There was more than enough to do, so he really 
 found it impossible to comply with her request that 
 evening, for the actor who had to play the butler did 
 not turn up, and Brice read the part. Lady Mary 
 often wanted a messenger, and Frank appreciated 
 Brice's engineering skill, whilst even Magdalen ap- 
 pealed to him. The result of the rehearsal, however, 
 was brilliant ; at least, Lady Mary smiled when it was 
 over ; she knew that any small hitch or imperfection 
 would disappear on the next night. The trial illumi- 
 nation was successful ; Rosehill gardens looked like
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. j6i 
 
 fairyland, and in the midst of all this her ladyship had 
 time to note progress in her love-story. 
 
 " The experiment has been successful ; if Magdalen 
 is not in love I do not know womankind; and as for 
 Brice Leslie but that was a foregone conclusion, 
 given the Magdalen's wish for such a realisation." 
 Thus, to herself, spoke the brilliant hostess of Rose- 
 hill. 
 
 The day of the play dawned at last hot, cloudless, 
 a dry heat which betokened no great continuance of 
 this perfection of weather, but which drove away fears 
 of rheumatism. There was little left to be done; 
 Lady Mary hated hurry and flurry, calmness being an 
 essential part of her talent. 
 
 "We are ready," she said after breakfast, "and I 
 must congratulate you, Mr. Leslie. Of course, I knew 
 all about Miss Cuthbert's talent beforehand, but really 
 last night you seemed to understand each other per- 
 fectly." Lady Mary tried to say this in an indifferent 
 manner, but Magdalen answered 
 
 "There is nothing much to understand in such a 
 simple part, and the professional kindly praised me. 
 I admire the way they scorn us, as if ladies did not 
 understand being themselves better than any of them 
 can play at being someone else. But if you don't 
 mind, Mr. Leslie, I should prefer rehearsing the last 
 scene once again presently." 
 
 " Of course." Then Brice remembered that he was 
 not a free man this morning, and found an excuse, but
 
 j62 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 not the real one. Magdalen believed it, and agreed 
 to put off rehearsing till later on in the afternoon. 
 
 The Rectory was some ten minutes' walk from 
 Rosehill, and it would not take Brice long to reach 
 the pretty gabled house, but he walked slowly all the 
 way. He felt as if he were in a dream. He did not 
 argue out anything, he was in a dazed state of mind 
 which he did not analyse. Why should he ? 
 
 When he reached the Vicarage, he was met by Mrs. 
 Hope, a little woman of great common sense but of 
 small imagination. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Leslie ? How curious you 
 should come just now. Griselda said most likely 
 you would call, as you are neighbours at home and 
 know her people so well ; but the dear child has sacri- 
 ficed herself ; she is playing the organ, and she has 
 undertaken a choir practice to save me, the school- 
 master having gone away for his holiday. I can't ask 
 you to go the church, as it disturbs the boys to see 
 strangers ; do stay an hour, and then she will be 
 free." 
 
 " How could Griselda be so good-natured ! " 
 thought Brice. Should he stay ? No, he might be 
 wanted. He took out his card and wrote at the back 
 of it 
 
 " So sorry not to see you, but I must run back. 
 Come early. Lady Mary expects you, but I fear I 
 shall be invisible till after the play. B. L." 
 
 Then he said a few nothings to Mrs. Hope, and,
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ^3 
 
 instead of altering his course, returned the way he 
 came, much as did the disobedient prophet of old. 
 
 He was not rewarded ; the small drawing-room was 
 empty ; the large one was taken up with actors, serv- 
 ants, people coming and going, and, impatient of cir- 
 cumstances, Brice Leslie, still in his dreamy mood, 
 wandered out into the shrubberies, then slowly he 
 made his way to the summer-house. He sat down and 
 gazed at the scene before him. The distant corn was 
 partly reaped, what remained uncut was bending with 
 a slight undulating motion, causing shadowed ripples 
 to appear on its indented surface. Beyond, dark 
 green trees surrounded with a soft haze of heat, hills 
 of deep blue, then more distant blue trees, and coming 
 towards him on waves of softest air sweet sounds of 
 Nature were audible the skylark's calls, the softest 
 buzz of gnats, the passing bees, the dull drone of the 
 humble-bee, the bursting of fir-cones like miniature 
 artillery reports from the muskets of some fairy 
 regiments. Then, all at once the summer-house 
 seemed too confined for him, he walked slowly out 
 of it and stretched himself down on the delicious 
 heather, here growing high and tender. Everything 
 around him was blue and beautiful, and after a long 
 time a portion of the blue sky above him seemed to 
 detach itself and suddenly to become a soft down-like 
 cloud. From it rose a beautiful head with waving 
 hair in rich profusion, blue eyes full of deep meaning 
 and scornful sadness changing into unutterable yearn-
 
 164 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 ing and then, blotting out everything came a smile, 
 good heavens! a smile sweet enough to turn a man's 
 brain, so full was it of softness and tenderness, such 
 as he had never seen before. 
 
 He sprang to his feet and found Magdalen by his 
 side. Not knowing what he did he held out his hand, 
 but he said nothing. Suddenly the smile in her face 
 died away, the lips quivered, and very gently she put 
 her hand into his, but she too was silent. 
 
 In another moment, however, Magdalen's voice 
 broke the stillness. 
 
 " I came to fetch you," she said, and suddenly she 
 let go his hand ; but it was too late, he had felt her 
 touch in his innermost being ; outwardly he remained 
 calm and followed her, merely saying " Thank you," 
 but his whole soul was transformed, his life changed. 
 
 That was the real play they played what was to 
 follow was merely a farce !
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THERE is a certain class of French writers who ap- 
 pear to have been apprenticed for a year at least to 
 the most fashionable upholsterer of the time, so clever 
 are they in their descriptions of furniture and of dress. 
 This inventory-taking is not a difficult trade to learn, 
 but the question remains whether it in any way con- 
 duces to make the reader realise the room, the place, 
 even the women whose clothes are so minutely tran- 
 scribed for them. Take a Van Beere and a Claude 
 Monet, place them side by side, and you will have no 
 difficulty in deciding that the first, with its wonderful 
 finish, is on the verge of being vulgar, whilst the other 
 at once raises the imagination to a high level. In like 
 manner a reader's imagination supplies far truer de- 
 tails than word-painting can ever give, details which, 
 instead of diminishing from the effect, serve to en- 
 hance it. 
 
 The French author, however, was not present at 
 Lady Mary's party at Rosehill, yet some English au- 
 thor certainly must have been there who, on this oc- 
 casion, turned journalist or reporter, for, the next day, 
 the London evening papers described the lively scene,
 
 j66 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 and the day after the county journals had full details, 
 though most of these were not true to life. The chief 
 names were, of course, duly chronicled, though they 
 became slightly altered before the world read their 
 titles. The Duke of Blackwater was said to be accom- 
 panied by the Duchess, the truth being Her Grace was 
 not there; but two of the Duke's fair and stout 
 daughters took her place, whilst their brother, Lord 
 Colefoot, came direct from London, he having been in 
 town "on business" of his own invention. 
 
 Titles, like silver in the days of Solomon, were of 
 no account that evening. Their owners hoped, by 
 their presence and their affability, to secure a promise 
 of a picture ; but Frank Milton was, to use a common 
 expression (trade and art have interchanged terms), 
 booked for two years ahead ; he therefore accepted 
 the many gracious smiles he received as a personal 
 tribute to Lady Mary. The business of the guests was 
 to admire his wife and her unique party, on which oc- 
 casion the fashionable artist had turned into a stage- 
 manager. Of course there were brother artists there; 
 one of them remarked that stage-painting was more in 
 Milton's line than portraits, whilst the great Tongham 
 put up his eyeglass and said " Humph " an expres- 
 sion which meant he was thankful he was not another 
 inglorious Milton. 
 
 The local papers expatiated on the ladies' dresses 
 and on the illumination. They made jokes on the 
 stars, the shining eyes of the galaxy of beauty. An-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ^7 
 
 other Evening News understood that the play had been 
 written for the occasion and had been rehearsed a 
 hundred times, so no wonder the acting was so perfect. 
 The South Courier remarked that the well-known and 
 much admired Miss Cuthbert acted divinely, and was 
 said to bear away the palm from Miss Lottie Linden 
 of the Star Theatre, which paragraph made Miss Lot- 
 tie throw down the paper in disgust and mutter some- 
 thing about the snobbism of county papers, but she 
 too, at the bottom of her heart, had admired Miss 
 Cuthbert's performance, never having seen such good 
 acting in anyone who was not "in. the profession." 
 
 As for the illuminations, the descriptions all agreed 
 that such tastefully-arranged festoons of light had 
 never been seen before. Such a union of art and 
 nature had seldom been so successfully accomplished, 
 and Lady Mary's luck in having a perfectly hot and 
 dry evening was unprecedented. All the fine descrip- 
 tions both pleased and saddened the persons who were 
 not present. 
 
 Oliver Selby had come early, but he was in such a 
 nervous and anxious state of mind that he wished 
 himself away. He carefully avoided the great Acton 
 Roland who sat in a vast arm-chair worthy of the sit- 
 ter's proportions, and listened attentively, applauded 
 seldom, and kept his opinion wrapped away in his own 
 soul. If many hang on your words, it is wiser the 
 words should be few, and Acton Roland feared and 
 avoided private theatricals as other people fear and
 
 !68 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 avoid a cholera-stricken district. Only an immense 
 belief in Lady Mary, and a wish to have his name 
 mentioned after or before that of the Duke of Black- 
 water, drew him to Rosehill ; but he was heard to say 
 afterwards that really he had thoroughly enjoyed him- 
 self ; that well, yes, he had not refused to have young 
 Oliver Selby introduced to him. 
 
 This latter was so much perturbed when he was pre- 
 sented to the great man that, in reply to his remark, 
 " A very nice play, Mr. Selby, allow me to congratu- 
 late you," he stammered forth 
 
 " Yes, it is a very nice play I mean, it might be 
 improved." 
 
 " I was going to say so," said the owner of the 
 Parthenon. " In fact that is what most struck me 
 in it." 
 
 "Yes, of course," said Oliver Selby, recovering his 
 self-possession, " it could be altered, but the altera- 
 tions might not improve it." The great man put his 
 eye-glasses again in their exact position and looked 
 his author over from head to foot ; then he said to 
 himself that Selby was not a fool, and secretly de- 
 cided that he would take the play and try it at the 
 Parthenon, with alterations, of course, though even 
 with amateurs it had acted splendidly. 
 
 " Alterations certainly would improve it ; your end 
 is poor, the stage would require something better fin- 
 ished. But, if you will call upon me in six weeks' 
 time, I shall be pleased to discuss it with you ; after
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 169 
 
 that we can see. By Jove, though, that Miss Cuth- 
 bert is a loss to the stage." 
 
 Lady Mary had been as good as her word, it was a 
 Roland for her Oliver. 
 
 But this conversation is premature. 
 
 The company were asked to come at eight o'clock, 
 and this time curiosity made them punctual. As the 
 party was not to be the usual entertainment known by 
 the name of a " Squash," those invited did not put off 
 their carriages till the last possible moment; but some 
 time before the first of the carriage-folk was an- 
 nounced Griselda Foy appeared at Rosehill. 
 
 She wanted to help in the preparations as much as 
 possible, and further she was prepared to enjoy her- 
 self. She had been much disappointed at having 
 missed Brice, but she knew that he was busy, and she 
 was not going to worry him on account of her disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hope were to come later Lady 
 Mary had made an exception in their favour; but 
 Griselda, wrapping a cloak over her white dress, en- 
 tered the Rosehill grounds soon after seven o'clock. 
 The hostess was giving a last look round. As she 
 caught sight of this first guest she was suddenly 
 struck by the girl's unconsciousness of her own Un- 
 dine-like beauty and simplicity, a simplicity which had 
 nothing inane or silly about it. Some men, she 
 thought, would fall in love with her at first sight, not 
 a man like Brice, but still was there any danger ? It
 
 170 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 was only a stray thought that flashed through her 
 brain, and she dismissed it at once. The next moment 
 she was the gracious hostess. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, Miss Foy, you see I am 
 not dressed yet. What do you say of the present ap- 
 pearance of the lawn ? The grand transformation 
 scene will come later, but these summer-houses full of 
 flowers and twinkling lights have already a pretty 
 effect. The guests are to explore the domain at their 
 own sweet will, and the stage is only to be revealed 
 when the play is ready to begin. Everyone likes a 
 little surprise, a childish feeling one never gets over." 
 
 " It is like fairyland," said Griselda. " What can I 
 do to make it still more perfect ? In New Zealand we 
 should never have thought of all this, though we had 
 such exquisite flowers all about us." 
 
 " Art and nature can combine in practised hands 
 But come into the house ; I want little bouquets made 
 up that is, if you will condescend to help Miss Cuth- 
 bert, who is doing them all alone." 
 
 " I should like it above all things," said Griselda. 
 
 She was longing to see again the divinity whom 
 she had so much admired. 
 
 In another minute she was in her presence. Mag- 
 dalen was dressed in a beautifully-fitting tea-gown of 
 wondrous salmon-coloured silk. She was not to be 
 seen on the stage till the right moment, so she had 
 offered to manipulate flowers. She looked up as Lady 
 Mary introduced Griselda, and a sudden idea also
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 171 
 
 struck her, so vague and undefined, however, that she 
 did not frame it into words 
 
 " Here is our brave New Zealand amazon," said 
 Lady Mary. " I think, Magdalen, she looks now more 
 like an Undine fresh from the spring. Make her use- 
 ful. I must dress and see to a few last details, so 
 that nothing shall fail." 
 
 Magdalen paused a moment, and as if by common 
 consent the two looked at each other in silence. Gri- 
 selda was thinking how beautiful and how fascinating 
 was her companion, and Magdalen said to herself, 
 " She is his neighbour." Then a smile parted her lips 
 at the bare idea that there could be any rivalry be- 
 tween them. Rivalry ! Why ? What about ? She 
 had not given in not yet, even though her heart still 
 beat quicker at the remembrance of that meeting near 
 the summer-house, where Brice had so clearly, if mute- 
 ly, revealed his soul to her. 
 
 " Sit down, Miss Foy ; you must not soil your hands 
 or your gloves with these flowers, but I am glad of 
 your company. What did you think just now of your 
 first peep at Lady Mary's fairyland ? " 
 
 " It is fairyland ! How fortunate that it is such a 
 warm evening ; everything is perfect ; and the play, 
 that I am sure will be perfect too, if if you are to act 
 in it." 
 
 Griselda's eyes expressed her admiration, and for a 
 moment Magdalen smiled. She was not so much ac- 
 customed to the admiration of her own sex as to make
 
 I>j 2 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 this homage unpleasant ; on the contrary it gave her 
 intense satisfaction, for Miss Foy was herself beauti- 
 ful, though of such a different type of beauty. A new 
 conquest is more appreciated, if it is itself worth con- 
 quering. 
 
 " Lady Mary will not countenance imperfection, 
 when personal labour can procure something good. 
 We are all on our honour to help her to achieve suc- 
 cess. Her plans never fail. Besides, we were fortu- 
 nate in getting Mr. Leslie's support." 
 
 " Mr. Leslie used to help us often in New Zealand 
 with our childish charades ; I know he can act well," 
 said Griselda simply, and she hid a smile of happiness 
 in a half-blown rose. The utterly natural manner of 
 the white Undine reassured Magdalen. 
 
 " You are young enough to enjoy everything," said 
 the elder woman with a faint sigh. " Once I could do 
 the same. Well, we have enough bouquets, I think, 
 but this rose is a dream of perfect beauty. Ah ! I see 
 where it should live and die." 
 
 She walked across the room and pinned the flower 
 on Griselda's dress, where already a much less beauti- 
 ful blossom was reposing. " Let me change this ; with 
 your white dress and your fair hair you will be like a 
 moonbeam. Shall you be sitting with Mrs. Hope ? I 
 shall look out for you." 
 
 Griselda was young, enthusiastic, simple, loving, 
 and spontaneous. She shyly kissed the hand that had 
 pinned in the rose.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 173 
 
 " Thank you, how kind, and how beautiful you 
 are ! " she said, from the bottom of her heart. 
 
 Magdalen laughed softly. There was no bitterness 
 in her laugh this time ; she was happy, consciously 
 happy, she knew why, and yet would not acknowledge 
 it ; some of her beautiful far-off youth seemed to have 
 come back to her and once more whispered the word 
 happiness in her ear. Was it a St. Luke's summer in 
 her life ? a mirage in the desert ? No, not a mirage 
 a wonderful reality; it was close to her, she felt that her 
 hand could grasp it the hand that Brice had touched. 
 
 " My dear child, you must go now," she said softly, 
 and kissed the peach-like cheek of Griselda Foy ; 
 "you are young, that in itself is worth any beauty. 
 If you find happiness, keep it, don't let it go if you 
 can help it. Do you read Shelley ? No ? He says, 
 that ' joy once lost is pain.' " 
 
 " You ought to have nothing but happiness," said 
 Griselda, and there were tears in her blue eyes. 
 " Happiness is oh, isn't it beautiful ! " 
 
 At that moment Mr. Hope knocked at the door 
 and claimed Griselda. 
 
 " Come, Griselda, everyone is arriving, and you 
 ought to lose nothing of the sight." 
 
 Miss Cuthbert was already gone before Griselda 
 could look round for her, and, still smiling with 
 pleasure at the remembrance of her, she followed the 
 Rector into the gardens. 
 
 The entrance gates once passed, the company
 
 174 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 walked through a hedge of roses illuminated with gar- 
 lands of electric lights, also hung in fantastic festoons 
 all about a large pavilion, where their wraps were 
 taken from them. Soft music was heard in the near 
 distance when the guests again stepped out upon the 
 lawns to be enchanted by art hidden in multitudinous 
 ways. On one side were seats where roses appeared 
 to twine themselves naturally, and round which lights 
 were twinkling in coloured pear-like globes. Some of 
 the avenues were partly lighted, partly in gloom, so 
 that from shade you walked into a sudden blaze of 
 flowers and lights. Rich carpets were spread in shel- 
 tered nooks side by side with heather banks, near 
 which were placed rustic tables, whereon choice wines 
 and fairy-like cakes were arrayed ready for the guests 
 to partake of when it suited their fancy, no attendants 
 being by. Next the wondering guests discovered a 
 concert was going on unannounced, performed for the 
 sake of the music itself and apparently only for such 
 guests as loved sweet sounds; and, further on, a mimic 
 fairy dance of children, children who were apparently 
 enjoying themselves and not exhibiting. Everything 
 had been done to delight the sense of the unexpected, 
 and the guests at once responded to the call made on 
 their imaginative faculties, and were ready to be de 
 lighted. 
 
 "We thought that Lady Mary would fail in the 
 country," said the Duke, " but the verdict must be that 
 she has excelled herself."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 175 
 
 On the lawn near the house the hostess held her 
 court. Frank went here and there collecting his wife's 
 praises. He was simple, hearty, pleasant, always him- 
 self, but Lady Mary was of course the chief attraction. 
 She had a part to play as well as the actors, and she 
 did not mean to fail in it. Instead of remaining in one 
 place to become a hand-shaking machine, she went 
 about among the various groups. She introduced 
 friends to each other's notice, reminded the Duke that 
 he knew the Colonel, or the Rear- Admiral who crossed 
 his path ; she thought that Lady Dash must have met 
 Lord Groves at the Inner Temple ball. " Here is Mr. 
 Harcourt, the leading spirit of that ball for the wicked 
 barristers were lavish of money, so that if poorer in 
 coin they were rich in friends. It was certainly a good 
 example. Your money can be taken from yow, but 
 your friends " 
 
 " Your friends, Lady Mary," said the Duke, bowing, 
 " would remain true to you." 
 
 " Or retire gracefully. 
 
 "You think ill of us," said Colonel Karstairs ; " I 
 cannot agree with you." Lady Mary lightly placed 
 her hand on his arm, to walk with him towards a mossy 
 bower close at hand. 
 
 " To judge by appearances I should believe in your 
 steadfastness," she said, smiling; "but, don't protest, 
 your constancy is useless. I know you are looking out 
 for Miss Cuthbert! " 
 
 " I thought The Magdalen was sure to be here
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 nothing more, I assure you," said the Colonel, looking 
 round with an earnest expression on his face in spite of 
 his bantering tone, and then he added 
 
 " By the way, the other day Horton was recalling 
 your confident prophecy I will not call it a wager." 
 
 " Hush ! it shocks Frank ; still, if it had been pos- 
 sible, my dear Colonel, I would have abetted your suit, 
 but what can I do ? it is only the unexpected that 
 pleases. You town gallants are too conventional in 
 your courting; you do not fully understand that it is 
 more blessed to give than to receive." 
 
 The Colonel shrugged his shoulders 
 
 " We like obstacles, but not too many ! After a 
 time we begin to doubt whether the game is worth the 
 hunting." 
 
 " Fie ! on the contrary, she is superlative." 
 
 " Superlatively happy in possessing you as a friend. 
 On my honour you have outwitted nature, Lady Mary ; 
 I shall go home and write sonnets on the superiority 
 of art over nature." 
 
 " Then pray don't mention the electric light. Frank 
 is afraid of admiring it, because some of our great 
 artists Tongham among them have sniffed at it ; but 
 Soames, you know the man who paints pretty women 
 and makes them hideous on principle, says, ' Art must 
 bend to our will.' True art repudiates nature. After 
 that, I assure you I breathed more freely and gloried 
 openly in electric light. It all depends on your mental 
 focus."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 177 
 
 " You need not fear. This is a triumph. By the 
 way, is the choice fruit here ? " Lady Mary pretended 
 to misunderstand him. 
 
 "Yes, under the beeches; go and help the ladies, I 
 have done away with waiters. As to triumph, wait till 
 you see my play." 
 
 The Duke came up again. 
 
 " Lady Mary, there is a young lady whom the men 
 are all raving about. She is dressed in white, and hair 
 a Voriole isn't that the right phrase ? She certainly has 
 been till now well concealed, for no one knows her." 
 
 "Ah, my New Zealander! Yes, a denizen of an- 
 other world, too good for ours." 
 
 " And her name Queen Mab, in person ? " 
 
 " Miss Foy, of Foy Lodge. Alas, no princely for- 
 tune to be expected from her, Duke. Her face is her 
 fortune." 
 
 " In my young days we thought that princely, but 
 times are changed." 
 
 " American heiresses have ruined the beauty mar- 
 ket. The balance at the banker " 
 
 " Strikes the balance at the heart." 
 
 " If you will honour my poor fete with bon-mots, I 
 shall introduce you to a real heiress ; Miss Betham 
 might " 
 
 The Duke laughed and retired. It was known he 
 wanted money for his eldest son, and Lord Colefoot 
 had been given to understand that he must fall in love 
 with a money-bag.
 
 178 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Why chronicle more of the light banter ? Lady 
 Mary made wit sparkle ; she called forth praise from 
 those who possessed originality ; and evidently re- 
 ceived a blessing from the evening air, that so softly 
 played among the folds of the beautiful dresses, and 
 kissed the wavy curls of youth, not forgetting to 
 stroke the grey hair of old age. 
 
 Suddenly a sound of Indian gongs was heard and 
 bells chimed a melody. Everyone knew the moment 
 had come when the players were to amuse the com- 
 pany, but every guest was already so well pleased that 
 even indifferent actors would have been applauded by 
 them, always excepting, of course, the mighty Acton 
 Roland, who had been taking mental notes and was 
 secretly sorry that Lady Mary did not own a theatre 
 and could not become Mrs. Roland ; " because," 
 thought he, " in that line the woman is inspired. She 
 is a great loss to the profession." 
 
 A portion of the grounds, before invisible, was now 
 suddenly illuminated, and, without needing to be told, 
 the guests walked on down a shrub-bordered path, 
 brilliantly lighted ; then, emerging upon a large open 
 space, they beheld an amphitheatre of seats carpeted 
 with green cloth and adorned with roses, whilst along 
 the sides were roses arched over uncovered seats for 
 those who preferred the night air. Opposite was the 
 stage festooned with electric lights; such a blaze of 
 light and flowers seemed fashioned for fairyland alone. 
 
 The murmur of applause was not faint, for even
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. j 79 
 
 this company (for the most part blast*} was fasci- 
 nated. 
 
 There was no crowding; everyone appeared to 
 have a special seat reserved for them, and the men 
 did not on this occasion prefer to remain standing 
 outside. 
 
 Griselda, seated near Mrs. Hope, found several 
 attentive men in her neighbourhood, for this fresh 
 apparition was attracting unusual admiration. The 
 smile that was so real, the manners that were so natu- 
 ral, were not such as could be found every day in 
 London society ; for one season often gives a simper 
 to a belle, and affectation to a country beauty who 
 little guesses that her airs and graces afford amuse- 
 ment to the men who collect to gossip at their club. 
 
 When the curtain rose, Griselda had only eyes and 
 ears for the play ; with her arms folded, she leaned 
 a little forward and drank in every word, noticed 
 every gesture. Was not her Brice there ? and the 
 beautiful Miss Cuthbert, whom she so much admired ? 
 What mattered a duke's son, or a young guardsman 
 to her what, indeed ? 
 
 Mr. Acton Roland was just behind her, and, once 
 or twice hearing his remarks, Griselda turned round 
 and smiled her assent ; she really smiled at Lady 
 Mary, who was all smiles, but Mr. Roland joined in 
 and condescended to agree with her. 
 
 " By Jove," said Lord Colefoot afterwards, " I sat 
 near Miss Foy, the girl who will make a sensation
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 next season a New Zealander ; but she didn't know 
 how to flirt, and one could enjoy her remarks. If she 
 had money but they say she is poor ; anyhow, she is 
 not jealous of other women ; she did nothing but praise 
 the only rival that could come near to her ; Miss 
 Cuthbert, well yes, she carried everything before her 
 that evening. She knows the arts and sciences of 
 making a sensation." 
 
 As for the play this was the plot of it.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE curtain drew up and displayed a severe-look- 
 ing library, where Sir Anthony Croft was seated in his 
 arm-chair, engaged in a serious conversation with his 
 son and heir, young Marmaduke. 
 
 Griselda laughed softly as she noticed how hand- 
 some and young-looking Brice appeared, in a new suit 
 of very fashionably-cut garments. 
 
 Sir Anthony was extremely comic in his declama- 
 tion, and in the way he took all Marmaduke's silence 
 for consent. He solemnly expressed his thankfulness 
 that his heir was not like some eldest sons, whose sad 
 stories often gave shocking interest to the news- 
 papers. All this part was very briskly acted, and the 
 audience at once caught the cue, when the baronet 
 said, sententiously, "But you, Marmaduke, you cannot 
 tell a spade from a club ; for everyone knows that not 
 one pack of cards could be found here, even if the 
 Manor were ransacked from top to toe, not one." 
 Marmaduke's slight smile, and deprecating glance as 
 he answered, " I am sure of that, sir," made every one 
 laugh heartily. At the end of the interview, Marma- 
 duke asks his father's consent to leave home on
 
 1 82 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 urgent business connected with here a pause and 
 great hesitation literary employment. Sir Anthony 
 appears charmed with the idea of his son's future 
 fame as an author, but begs him to return as soon as 
 possible. Sir Anthony's exit is followed by the arrival 
 of Marmaduke's friend and neighbour in the county, 
 Hector Sandley. Their conversation discloses that 
 Marmaduke is so deeply in debt, led on by Sandley, 
 that he does not know where to turn for money, and, 
 of course, dares not appeal to his father's mercy. 
 " He has no mercy for gambling," the unfortunate 
 young man repeats; " and if Mr. Bruce, our new 
 family lawyer, cannot help me, I had better leave the 
 country at once, before my father announces that he 
 cuts me off with a shilling. If I can get out of this 
 scrape, I swear it shall be my last." Hector laughs 
 at his distress, wishes him good luck, and promises to 
 look him up when he next goes to town ; whereupon 
 Marmaduke, in his despair, tells him some plain truths 
 about his evil influence, and they separate in anger. 
 
 The curtain here fell merely for a few minutes. 
 How the whole scene was shifted so quickly was a 
 secret which puzzled even Acton Roland. It was 
 wonderful for amateurs, he thought. This time the 
 company gazed at an exquisite bijou drawing-room, 
 where a pretty blonde was arranging flowers, and 
 talking to herself in a way probably only indulged in 
 on the stage, where this unnatural habit plays the 
 part of the old Greek chorus.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ^3 
 
 Meta Bruce, the lawyer's daughter, discusses the 
 advantage of matrimony, and the delights of her 
 friendship with the newly-arrived inmate of their 
 house, Esther Singleton, who, being an independent 
 heiress, has found a temporary home with the Bruces. 
 Meta is young, confiding, and kitten-like; and the 
 contrast to Esther, the heiress, was at once apparent 
 when Miss Cuthbert, in that character, stepped on the 
 stage. There was a murmur of applause from the 
 ladies, and a vigorous clapping from the men, for 
 Magdalen was perfectly and most becomingly dressed, 
 and acted admirably. You saw at once that she was 
 made of sterner stuff, and was of a more determined 
 character than the artless Meta. 
 
 " Isn't she perfectly beautiful ? " Griselda mur- 
 mured to Mrs. Hope ; but this lady had already heard 
 of Magdalen's fame, and answered severely, " Yes, a 
 handsome woman, but very fast and worldly, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 " No, that must be a mistake, I am sure it is," 
 said Griselda warmly; " look, here comes Mr. Leslie; 
 doesn't he exactly look his part ?" 
 
 Marmaduke is introduced into the charmed circle 
 of the lawyer's drawing-room, and his eyes at once 
 rest on Meta, who comes forward, explains that her 
 father is out, but begs him to wait for him. Esther 
 has stayed in the background, and by the time she 
 comes forward Marmaduke has already fallen under 
 the spell of Meta. Mr. Bruce's return disturbs the
 
 1 84 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 trio, the girls retire, and Marmaduke explains his 
 situation. He frankly confesses his sins, his utter 
 inability to satisfy his creditors chiefly a certain Jew, 
 Joseph Levy and owns that unless he can procure 
 five thousand pounds in a week, he will not be able to 
 prevent the Jew from appealing to his father. " And 
 that, sir, will, I verily believe, kill the old man, who 
 believes me as innocent as a baby in arms." 
 
 Mr. Bruce considers how he can help this young 
 fellow, to whom he takes an immediate fancy, without 
 plunging him deeper into debt; and, to make sure 
 that he will be out of harm's way, invites him to stay 
 at his country-house till he finds a way out of the 
 difficulty. 
 
 During the week Marmaduke makes himself so 
 much at home, and so happy with the two ladies, that 
 he believes himself a reformed, character. He is so 
 attentive himself with Meta and Esther that he hardly 
 knows which he prefers, and pays them both great 
 attention. During the week Mr. Bruce tells Esther 
 how the case stands, and she immediately forms the 
 design of freeing the charming Marmaduke from the 
 clutches of the Jew ; but binds Mr. Bruce to secrecy, 
 as she hands him a cheque of five thousand pounds, 
 which at last Mr. Bruce unwillingly gives to Marma- 
 duke. This latter naturally believes Mr. Bruce is the 
 real donor, and forms at once the plan of proposing to 
 his daughter, as the best way he can imagine of repay- 
 ing the debt of gratitude ; besides, when he begins to
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 185 
 
 think of it, Marmaduke finds he is really in love with 
 the charming Meta. 
 
 The love scene which followed was very prettily 
 worked up. Marmaduke, in a frank, natural manner, 
 making his confession how he had formed the idea of 
 marrying Meta from gratitude, but that now he truly 
 loves her. Meta is at once carried away by the young 
 man's words, and thinks him the most noble, the most 
 generous of lovers; but Marmaduke at the end im- 
 poses one condition upon her. In his present position 
 they must keep their engagement a secret till he is 
 entirely free of debt ; as Mr. Bruce might, under the 
 circumstance, make some objections; but that, when 
 he can again hold up his head, he will at once speak 
 to her father and to his. Meta, knowing nothing of 
 Esther's generosity, or the feeling which has called it 
 forth, willingly agrees to the condition. In another 
 scene, Marmaduke, to avoid detection, pays Esther 
 more attention than he does to Meta, and the former 
 allows herself to believe in him, and glories in the idea 
 that her generosity has saved him. 
 
 The day before Marmaduke is going to speak to 
 Mr. Bruce, his tempter, Hector, turns up. Marmaduke 
 tells him he has paid his debts, that he has turned 
 over a new leaf, and that he is on the eve of propos- 
 ing to the sweetest angel on earth. Hector, with 
 ingenious and devilish cleverness, turns him round, 
 and they go out together the spectators easily guess- 
 ing the result.
 
 !86 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 The next scene represents Esther sitting alone at 
 an open window. Meta and her father have gone out 
 to a dinner party. Esther hears a noise and recog- 
 nises Marmaduke's footstep ; she is much agitated, 
 but she has a smile of pleasure on her face. In a few 
 moments the young man rushes in, looking utterly 
 crushed and wretched. Esther is frightened, but in- 
 tensely sympathetic, and her sympathy causes Marma- 
 duke to confess he has lost a large sum of money at 
 gambling, that he is utterly undone, for his father has 
 heard of it, and that he believes he is following him 
 and may appear at any moment. 
 
 Esther goes hastily to the writing-table and writes 
 a cheque for the amount. In spite of the large sum, 
 she signs her name with a smile on her lips. Then 
 she comes towards Marmaduke, for he has sunk down 
 in a chair, and has buried his head in his arms. She 
 gently touches his shoulder, with a look of intense 
 love and happiness on her face, as she holds out the 
 cheque to him. Marmaduke starts up, looks at her 
 face, then at the cheque, and is speechless. She says 
 softly 
 
 " You have guessed the truth." 
 
 " What truth ? " 
 
 " That unlimited credit is only the privilege of true 
 affection." 
 
 She hands him the cheque. He draws back and 
 mutters, " Impossible," and Esther answers 
 
 "Take it, it is possible. I know your generous
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 I8 7 
 
 nature; if you are weak, you are incapable of mean- 
 ness, and I am determined to save you." 
 
 A noise is heard, and the servant announces that 
 Mr. Joseph Levy desires to speak with Mr. Marma- 
 duke Croft, at the same time he hands him a telegram 
 from Sir Anthony, which he tears open and reads, " I 
 know all, and will come by next train." 
 
 When the door is shut, Esther comes towards him 
 again and again puts the cheque in his hand. " Go," 
 she says, "get rid of that vile Jew, and, when he 
 comes, let your father find you a free man." 
 
 Marmaduke again hesitates, touches the cheque, 
 and staggers. 
 
 " My father ! he believed in me, it will kill him ; 
 but I cannot you do not know you will never for- 
 give." 
 
 "Forgive?" then in a very low tone she adds, 
 " Love forgives everything." 
 
 " Love I love too much to " He passes his 
 hands over his eyes, hardly knowing what he says. 
 Esther mistakes his words, and comes back hastily, 
 and passionately throws her arms round him. 
 
 Levy's voice is heard ; there is a knock at the door, 
 and Esther starts back repeating 
 
 " Go, go, give it to him at once, for your father's 
 sake and for mine." 
 
 Marmaduke snatches the paper, and as the Jew 
 enters thrusts it into his hands. The Jew stares in 
 amazement, then slowly sits down to write the receipt.
 
 j88 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 As the Jew goes out, Sir Anthony hastens in, pale 
 and furious. Marmaduke stands conscience-stricken 
 before him, without uttering a word. As Sir Anthony 
 pours forth a flood of reproaches, Esther returns, looks 
 round with a proud smile on her face, and goes up to 
 the old man. 
 
 " Forgive him," she says ; then she walks across to 
 Marmaduke's side and slips her hand through his arm. 
 " Forgive him, and forget ; he is free of debt all is 
 paid. It is the last time this shall happen.' 1 
 
 Sir Anthony, astonished, asks for an explanation, 
 and Marmaduke says huskily 
 
 " Yes, here is the woman who has saved me, saved 
 us from disgrace. I owe her everything, everything I 
 have, even my name, if she will take it." 
 
 The door opens, and Meta and her father return 
 from the party. 
 
 Meta is charmingly dressed, and looks bewitch- 
 ingly happy. She has heard of Sir Anthony's arrival, 
 and believes the happy moment has come when Mar- 
 maduke will openly declare his love. 
 
 On entering, however, she sees Esther blushingly 
 withdrawing her arm from Marmaduke's, but, thinking 
 only of her lover's approaching confession, she goes 
 towards him, saying, " You have come back to-day ; I 
 knew you would, I felt sure of it." Marmaduke draws 
 back from her, and Meta, pausing, astonished, looks 
 from him to the radiant Esther. 
 
 " Wish me joy, Meta," this latter says, " Marma-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 189 
 
 duke is safe now for ever ; together we will, God 
 helping us, forget the past. Sir Anthony forgives 
 everything." 
 
 Mr. Bruce and Sir Anthony walk away towards the 
 window, and Meta, turning pale and clinging to a chair, 
 looks at her lover and sees only intense sorrow and 
 shame on his face. She guesses the truth, and with a 
 great effort she walks slowly up to Esther, and, hiding 
 her face on her shoulder, says, half sobbing, half 
 laughing, in a strange manner, " I do, I do wish you 
 joy." 
 
 Sir Anthony, again coming forward, begs Esther to 
 come with him and Mr. Bruce, and explains to them 
 all her wonderful generosity. 
 
 Marmaduke and Meta are left alone, and a scene 
 between them begins by a few moments of intense si- 
 lence ; he sits down, and gradually hides his face on 
 his arms, and she very slowly comes towards him and 
 calls him by his name. When she is close to him, 
 Marmaduke answers, heart-broken, " Leave me." 
 
 " No, no, I cannot," she says passionately, " we 
 have loved each other, we do still, or is it all a dream ? 
 No, no, it cannot be I see it all ; Esther has been so 
 noble, so generous; you thought to " Marmaduke 
 shakes his head. 
 
 " It was not that," he begins, then pauses; he can- 
 not betray another woman or explain how she has 
 misunderstood him, or how he has allowed her to clear 
 him, and save his father's name from being dragged
 
 190 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 before the public. He suddenly kneels down and 
 kisses the hem of Meta's dress he dare not do more 
 and she, slowly stooping, picks up her train and gather- 
 ing it about her walks slowly back, as if she were 
 afraid of being too near to the man she idolises. 
 Marmaduke gets up and watches her retreating figure, 
 makes a step or two forward and then sinks down on 
 a high carved oak settee, his face expressing mute 
 agony. When he hears Meta step on the pavement 
 (she. had gone through a side French window into a 
 conservatory), he starts up with a cry, runs forward 
 and folds Meta in his arms, but again she releases her- 
 self and pushes him gently back to the settee, saying 
 
 " Good-bye, Marmaduke, God bless you." Then 
 she disappears. 
 
 When Esther re-enters, she finds Marmaduke still 
 sitting on the settee, stupefied and dazed by what he 
 has gone through; misunderstanding the reason, she 
 comes and kneels down before him and takes his hands 
 in hers. 
 
 "Marmaduke," she says, "all is forgiven; take 
 courage, the future is grand and beautiful ; we will do 
 everything together ; your father will let us have the 
 Tower House ; and we shall be oh, so happy ! We 
 will look after the cottages and learn all the new im- 
 provements. My money our money, I mean will 
 be useful, and we shall only come to town when we 
 are tired of each other, Marmaduke that will be very, 
 very seldom, my dearest ; do not be sad any longer.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. ig! 
 
 I do not regret anything; indeed, indeed, it is true; 
 and some day we shall be able to why, almost to 
 laugh at this trouble, and your father will forget that 
 he ever found you less perfect than he once believed 
 you to be. You are perfect for me; I do not wish 
 you other than you are. Marmaduke, look at me; 
 together, together, we can conquer everything by 
 love ! " 
 
 Marmaduke rises from his seat and takes Esther's 
 hand in his. Then suddenly he laughs. " Esther, 
 you are good and noble and generous you can do 
 everything, I believe, everything; but good God! 
 can you mend a broken heart?" 
 
 The audience waited almost breathlessly for Es- 
 ther's answer, but there was none ; they only saw a 
 strange expression pass over her face, a startled, horri- 
 fied look in her eyes, and then the curtain fell. The 
 play was ended. 
 
 There was a sudden pause, then a loud clapping 
 and a call for the actors; but Lady Mary, standing 
 up, shook her head. 
 
 " It is useless to call for them ; our author does not 
 allow it. Those returning scenes are barbarous, and 
 against all rules of idealism, for they destroy every 
 illusion. Now, Mr. Roland, your opinion is the real 
 applause; our young playwright is dying to know it." 
 . Acton Roland was too cunning to be taken in, but 
 the interview with Oliver took place, as already re- 
 13
 
 I9 2 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 corded, and Lady Mary was satisfied. Even the Duke, 
 a fine connoisseur in plays, from frequent experience, 
 came to shake hands with the author, who did not 
 know whether to be flattered or whether to be on the 
 defensive. He possessed a sensitive character, but a 
 fine literary judgment. 
 
 "We must really congratulate you, Mr. Selby a 
 capital play. Are you satisfied yourself ? Upon my 
 word, the acting must have pleased even Mr. Roland." 
 
 "Yes, the acting left nothing to be desired," said 
 Mr. Selby ; " as to the play, I am glad your Grace was 
 pleased." 
 
 " Uncommonly so, but well, not quite sure as to 
 the end, you know. You stopped short hem, a little 
 too short; we wanted more of a good thing." 
 
 " Your Grace has been to too many plays : I merely 
 wished to call forth just the feeling you mention." 
 
 " Ah, in that case " the Duke paused. " I see 
 you are in league with our hostess ; she prefers whet- 
 ting our appetites to satisfying our desires." 
 
 " Just so ; the incomplete has a merit hardly 
 enough recognized." 
 
 " Except in respect of supper," said Lady Mary, 
 taking the Duke's arm. " Come to the tent, and there 
 we shall meet our actors. I hope each gentleman will 
 choose the partner he prefers, for to-night at least we 
 waive the commonplaces of etiquette." 
 
 Griselda sat a few moments in her place without 
 moving ; she was so much carried away by the play
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 193 
 
 that she heaved a little sigh when Mr. Hope touched 
 her. Something of her innocent belief in life's happi- 
 ness seemed to have been taken from her. 
 
 " Griselda, here is Lord Colefoot, who begs to be 
 introduced to you and to take you down to supper." 
 
 Griselda was gracious at once, but she was not 
 elated. Her heart was not in this grand society ; she 
 wanted Brice her Brice ; and all the time the young 
 lord talked on of the " awfully jolly play," a vision of 
 the far away New Zealand farm came floating before 
 her mind's eye.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BEHIND the scenes, when the curtain was lowered 
 for the last time, Magdalen Cuthbert and Brice Leslie 
 remained standing, not in the attitude imposed upon 
 them by the play, but quite naturally, as if they had 
 just finished a conversation. Brice was conscious that 
 Miss Cuthbert had acted extremely well ; Magdalen 
 was quickly reviewing her own efforts, and she was 
 satisfied with herself, for she knew that her ideal was 
 high and not easily attained. She it was who first 
 broke the silence. 
 
 " We have not disappointed Lady Mary." 
 
 Brice was sorry to return to the commonplace, but 
 he was helped thereto by the appearance of the rest 
 of the company and the hum of general conversation. 
 These were some of the remarks he heard 
 
 " First-rate." " Capital." " Miss Cuthbert, you 
 were perfect." " Not a bad play, but the end ! " 
 
 " I say," remarked Captain Standring, who had 
 acted Sir Anthony, " I'm blessed if I know which girl 
 he did marry " 
 
 " You know nothing of modern art, Captain Stan- 
 dring. We deal only with uncertainties. Those happy- 
 ever-after pieces are out of date."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 195 
 
 Miss Linden, alias " Meta," came smiling back 
 upon the stage ; she had learnt every movement of 
 her part, and had felt none of it ; as Lady Mary had 
 said, she was a curious but not an uncommon example 
 of a being endowed with the receptive and dramatic 
 faculty without any deeper motive power. She was a 
 perfect mirror, but there was only common wood be- 
 hind the reflection. 
 
 Magdalen did not care to show that she had felt 
 her part only too deeply. 
 
 " I am going to dress," she said to Brice ; " will 
 you take me to the house by the unilluminated shrub- 
 bery?" 
 
 Brice was of course ready to act as her escort. 
 
 " Why do you take the trouble to change your 
 dress ? " he said, as he walked slowly by her side. 
 The quiet and silence of the small path they were 
 in was delicious after the excitement of the play. 
 It was all the more charming that they could hear the 
 sound of the distant hubbub. 
 
 " I want the play to remain in the region of the 
 ideal," she said. 
 
 " If one could command some moments of one's 
 life not to disappear into eternity." 
 
 "If that were possible," asked Magdalen, laughing 
 a little, though Brice caught a sweeter tone than 
 usual in her voice, " which moment would you re- 
 call ?" 
 
 " The time just passed on the stage."
 
 196 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " What ! You would be ready to act all the rest 
 of your life ? A tragedy, too ! " 
 
 Magdalen was drawing him on, but she loved him 
 for being drawn on ; yet, though she wanted to hear 
 his remarks, she was not sure that she wished to 
 answer them. She was so certain of her power that 
 she liked to play with it a little while. 
 
 " Yet life itself is often only a tragedy," added 
 Brice slowly. The terrible weight of his position was 
 beginning to press upon him, he had a curious feeling 
 that he was not himself, but that he was personifying 
 Percy Chester. 
 
 " Have we changed places ? " said Magdalen, stop- 
 ping short, just as they reached the private garden 
 door of the house, left open this evening for the in- 
 mates of Rosehill. " You know my secret, we are 
 friends you said so ; well, to-night it seems to me as 
 if the other story was a play. I want to wake again, 
 I want to live a little while, I want to " ; she paused, 
 and the words rose to her lips bat stopped in her 
 throat " to love " ; but though unspoken they were 
 understood by Brice ; aloud she changed them into 
 " I want to forget." 
 
 He made, however, a show of defiance. 
 
 " You belong to the world, that world we hear the 
 murmur of from here; you would find any other life 
 flat and stale, like a mild draught of watered wine ; 
 a pastoral makes you laugh." Brice spoke bitterly 
 and in a low voice.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 I 9 7 
 
 Magdalen raised her head proudly ; her eyes so 
 blue, so beautiful, so defiant, flashed forth her answer. 
 
 "And if it did? I have not laughed for years." 
 Then she hurried away, and Brice woke up to the 
 reality. Woke up O God ! to what reality ? 
 
 He tore himself away from the open doorway 
 where she had disappeared. Had he followed his 
 inclination he would have stayed there; he would 
 have waited for her, disregarding every sense of right 
 and fitness; he would have borne her scorn, he would 
 have forgiven her bitter jests, if only he might have 
 been free to answer her. Brice woke up at this mo- 
 ment to the reality ! He was overmastered by a pas- 
 sion for a woman whom he had called heartless, 
 worldly ; whose life was so artificial that it required 
 much faith to believe she had a heart at all ; whose 
 early disappointment had crushed and destroyed what 
 is most beautiful in nature a woman's forgiveness 
 and a woman's love. It was a terrible awakening for 
 him, Brice Leslie, who all his life had prided himself 
 on his uprightness, who, whilst loving the sinner, had 
 viewed a guilty love with pitying contempt ; who had 
 won alas, with too little difficulty the pure and 
 young heart of one of earth's angels. The very : 
 knowledge of the fact staggered him and almost 
 crushed him. 
 
 But Brice, though he now found out his secret, 
 though it stood revealed to him in all its enormity, 
 though he clearly read it in his own heart as he might
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 have read it out of a book suddenly opened before 
 him, was not yet conquered. Now that it was so 
 clear, now that it glowed as if written in fiery letters 
 upon his brain, he made a brave stride in an opposite 
 direction, he boldly drew his sword to show fight. 
 His mind once made up, he walked slowly but firmly 
 away, along the path he and Magdalen had just 
 trodden. He could mentally hear her very tread, the 
 rustle of her dress, the tones of her voice, and, worst 
 of all, he could recall that play, the delight it had 
 been to watch her ; the knowledge he had acquired of 
 her thoughts, and the involuntary show of deeper 
 feeling she had exhibited. Brice saw it all, and how 
 every motion, every look, had increased the love that 
 mastered him. 
 
 " Griselda will be expecting me," he said, half 
 aloud. " I must go back to her, to Griselda." He 
 wanted the sweet name to bring back his peace of 
 mind, he wanted to wake from this mad dream, he 
 who had laughed to scorn the very idea of loving 
 this unlovable woman he, Brice Leslie, who was en- 
 gaged to Griselda Foy. She whose beauty and youth 
 and innocence was admired on all sides rose before 
 his mind's eyes, as the vision of the blessed Virgin 
 might appear to a devout and ardent Catholic; but 
 for that very reason Griselda belonged entirely, or so 
 it now seemed to him, to a region of pure idealism, 
 though in reality she possessed a fund of fresh joy 
 which was intensely human. Her very beauty was
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 too perfect, too unconscious, too ignorant of its own 
 charms, too wanting in the enticing aggressiveness of 
 a less innocent nature to be able to cope with the 
 fascination of Magdalen Cuthbert. 
 
 Brice saw it all, saw how dangerous had been the 
 temptation within reach of which he had voluntarily 
 placed himself, and how complete had been his fall, a 
 fall which he had not expected, but which he now saw 
 was merely the natural consequence of his actions. 
 
 He could not even accuse Magdalen, for how 
 could she know about Griselda ? No, she did not 
 know it, she had not even guessed his secret. If she 
 cared about him, it was a true feeling, for there was 
 no reason, no material advantage about him to tempt 
 her into false love ; what they felt was the unexplain- 
 able mysterious soul-attraction of two human beings. 
 Then suddenly he asked himself, " But does she care, 
 or is she merely pretending, playing with me as she 
 has done with many others, and am I going to drop a 
 substance for a worthless shadow?" The idea was 
 crushing but wholesome ; it gave him a new strength, 
 so that he felt capable of renouncing his own inclina- 
 tion, and struggling on in the old safe path, or, meta- 
 phor apart, it made him walk hastily to the supper- 
 tent to seek out Griselda. 
 
 In the open doorway the scene was one of brilliant 
 mirth and fascinating enjoyment. Lady Mary, look- 
 ing her best, was in animated conversation with the 
 Duke, and the rest of the company were also in the
 
 200 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 full swing of conversation. There were but two 
 empty chairs representing the absent guests, and these 
 were placed next to each other, the rest of the actors 
 having already made their way to their tent to enjoy 
 the choice things provided for the company. These 
 two seats awaited Brice recognised it at once him- 
 self and Magdalen. How could he alter this state of 
 things ? He cast his eyes quickly over the guests and 
 soon discovered Griselda, but Lord Colefoot was by 
 her side, and he was devoting himself to her, so that 
 no empty space remained for Brice. Made bold by 
 his late decision and his dread of defeat, Brice walked 
 quickly to the table where sat his Griselda. Her 
 quick, joyous glances soon found him out, and indi- 
 cated by a side look her disgust at having no place 
 for him. Lord Colefoot was delighted to see another 
 moth fluttering round his new wax candle. He put a 
 rimless eyeglass into one eye and looked at Brice as if 
 he were a strange curio. 
 
 "Aw yes hum; the fellow who acted just now," 
 he remarked to Griselda. 
 
 "A great friend of mine," she answered, with a 
 little smile hovering round her lips. " We used to 
 have such rides together in New Zealand." Then as 
 Brice had come near enough to speak to her, she 
 turned towards him and introduced him to the young 
 lord. This New Zealand child was so free from self- 
 consciousness that she was not even shy. 
 
 " Mr. Leslie, Lord Colefoot," and she added, " We
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 2OI 
 
 were talking of you, of course. How well you acted! 
 It was splendid, quite first-rate." 
 
 " Some of you were professionals, I suppose," said 
 the young lord. 
 
 " Yes, some of us," said Brice, smiling. " So the 
 rest of us were put on our mettle. There is no seat 
 here, I see. Lady Mary has been generous with her 
 chairs. No one is allowed to stand." 
 
 " Where is Miss Cuthbert ? " said Griselda. " She 
 was really splendid." 
 
 Brice turned round as if to look for her, but deceit 
 was so foreign to his nature that he made no remark. 
 Magdalen had not come back, so he resolved to eat 
 his supper in haste before she did so. 
 
 " The labourer is worthy of his supper ; I shall see 
 you again," he said, with a smile, addressing Griselda, 
 and then he walked away. How young and fresh and 
 happy she looked his Griselda ! she seemed now 
 more like his daughter ; yes, that was how it was. 
 Had he been foolish to win her affeclion ? He was 
 too old for her, certainly he was very old in compari- 
 son, her simplicity was intensely fascinating in theory, 
 but . He sat down in the place assigned to him, and 
 felt as if a ghost were by his side not Magdalen, but 
 that other woman, the horror of his young manhood, 
 the ruin of Percy Chester's life, his friend's evil genius, 
 his curse. Fool that he was ! how could he, Percy, 
 have left a diamond for worthless glass ? " Fool ! and 
 well, so are we all," he thought.
 
 202 A WOMAN OF FORTY, 
 
 He poured out a glass of champagne and drank it 
 down, then he ate a few mouthfuls and felt partly re- 
 vived ; he was strong, and had yet some resisting 
 power. He had been frightfully imprudent, he had 
 been taken unawares ; but he was a man, not a weak 
 fool, he would get over this mad infatuation ; but Miss 
 Cuthbert Magdalen ; did she ? 
 
 Brice rose quickly ; a few others had done the 
 same, and were strolling again into the gardens. It 
 was getting late, some of the carriages had been an- 
 nounced, as Brice saw to his satisfaction, for now the 
 evening would soon be over. As he passed out he 
 heard various exclamations about Miss Cuthbert ; 
 where was she? Ah, there she was! just coming in. 
 A murmur of applause, greetings, questionings fol- 
 lowed. Brice placed himself in a recess where he 
 could observe Magdalen without being seen. She 
 was resplendent in some dark crimson attire ; Brice 
 saw only the general effect, but he noted a necklace of 
 small diamonds round her throat, he noted the splen- 
 did pose of her head and the waving hair that ap- 
 peared to have arranged itself into that faau desordre 
 disorder which represents the highest art. Her lips 
 were beautiful in colour, her smiles she seemed lavish 
 of them as the men pressed round her to congratulate 
 her. Then she walked slowly down the tent, she must 
 pass close by him. How he hated the men who 
 crowded about her, how he hated the smiles she gave 
 them so willingly, smiles that seemed so cheap to her.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 203 
 
 Such a woman fed on admiration ; she was not worth 
 a life's devotion. He was just then she came within 
 hearing, and the words he heard were 
 
 " Oh, without Mr. Leslie's acting I could not have 
 done it ! You must praise him. By the way, where is 
 he?" 
 
 Brice experienced a revulsion of feeling. She was 
 after all thinking of him, asking for him ; if she gave 
 away her smiles to others, she gave him her thoughts ; 
 she He almost stepped forward and proclaimed 
 himself, he almost walked up to her and before them 
 all took his place at her side, almost, but then, with 
 a strong effort, he turned his back upon the animated 
 group and walked slowly out into the cool night air. 
 
 He did not know which path he look. He was 
 not conscious of the stray couples he met ; he only 
 knew that he was flying from himself and from her. 
 All at once some one touched his arm. 
 
 " O Brice, there you are ! I have been looking for 
 you everywhere." It was Griselda. " That stupid 
 Lord Colefoot would stick to me, and he is so fool- 
 ish." Griselda laughed happily. "At last I had to say 
 that I was going to look for Miss Cuthbert to help 
 her, but she is surrounded with people. Now, let's 
 have a little walk. It is jolly getting you to myself. 
 Come this way, Brice, and tell me everything. Oh, I 
 have so much to tell you. This fortnight has seemed 
 very long without you. Papa laughs at me for being 
 so studious, and mamma says " Here Griselda
 
 204 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 paused and laughed again, " There, never mind what 
 she says; tell me everything." He placed her hand 
 on his arm and looked at her with his wonderful smile 
 of protecting love. She was accustomed in the old 
 days to his silent ways. 
 
 " My little girl has been enjoying herself ? " he said* 
 gently. 
 
 " Yes, very much. If I could have been near you 
 it would have been perfect. But I liked to hear peo- 
 ple praising you, Brice. You acted your part so well, 
 oh, so well ! and Miss Cuthbert wasn't she splendid ? 
 Fancy, Brice, this evening when I first came Lady 
 Mary took me to her, and she gave me this rose. I 
 have pinned it in again so carefully, for fear I should 
 lose it. I think she is quite, quite fascinating don't 
 you ?" 
 
 " To a good many persons, evidently." 
 
 " Yes, I am amongst the number. Isn't she hand- 
 some, and so so I don't know how to express it, but 
 she looks very, very sad sometimes. Not before peo- 
 ple, but when she is alone. This evening, for instance, 
 when we were doing the flowers, she made me feel in- 
 clined to cry. Do you know, Brice, she seems to me 
 to belong to an old-world civilisation ; I feel so 
 young, so modern, near her. In New Zealand we 
 could never have found any one like her. I think 
 new lands are not haunted as old worlds seem to be. 
 I believe that all the disappointed people, when they 
 die, become ghosts and wander about and tease peo-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 pie, so that old countries are more full of unquiet 
 spirits than our new homes on the other side of the 
 world." 
 
 " I think so too," he answered ; then, after a pause, 
 he asked, " Have you seen the illuminated fountain ?" 
 He had looked round and noted that there was a 
 stream of people coming out from the supper-tent, 
 and he did not wish to meet Magdalen at the moment. 
 
 " No ; take me there. Brice, when are you coming 
 home?" 
 
 " To-morrow most likely. If Lady Mary will let 
 me go, it will certainly be to-morrow, but I must 
 just help Mr. Milton to clear all this artificialism 
 away." 
 
 " It has been perfect ! I think Lady Mary is a 
 born genius. She is so very agreeable a lady of so- 
 ciety in the nicest sense of the word." 
 
 " Yes, and in its most pleasant interpretation, and 
 she hates dulness. There are few like her." 
 
 " How countrified and ordinary it makes one feel 
 to know such people at least, it gives me that feel- 
 ing ; but you, Brice, you seem to fit in wherever you 
 go. I felt so proud of you during the acting, and I 
 wished to tell everyone that you cared for me, a stu- 
 pid little thing like me." 
 
 " On the contrary, Griselda, if you had said so, the 
 people here would have answered that I was an aw- 
 fully lucky fellow. You have been very much ad- 
 mired. I began to think that I ought not to bind you
 
 206 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 down to a life of commonplace, or perhaps a bush life, 
 when here you might be " 
 
 "What nonsense! You and I are made for coun- 
 try life. I'm sure I should get sick of parties and 
 compliments, and you would laugh at the poor people 
 and make no end of enemies. Brice, can't you fancy 
 how these people would despise our old motto, A Dieu 
 Foy, aux amis Foyer ? I love parties like this, and I 
 shall love dancing, but I shall never regret any of 
 them never, when " 
 
 " When what, dear ?" said Brice very quickly. 
 
 Griselda looked round; there was no one near 
 them, they were alone. The beauty of the scene made 
 her realise something of life's strange mystery, for the 
 play had saddened her a little. Not given to romance, 
 the girl suddenly felt a touch of the strange longing 
 for that love which takes one out of oneself into an 
 ideal existence. She clasped both her hands round 
 his arm and laid her fair head on his shoulder. 
 
 " When I am your wife, Brice." 
 
 The fountain splashed its illuminated drops close 
 by them, as if a rainbow had dissolved into flowing 
 water. Above, the trees shivered slightly, as the tiniest 
 breath of wind came to whisper its good-night among 
 their branches. Life to Griselda was like this rainbow 
 hue, all variety and all beauty, and Brice was the centre 
 of the iridescent arc. 
 
 But Griselda was too young to be cautious, too 
 young to be suspicious, and her casual glance had
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 207 
 
 decided that the place was deserted. In another mo- 
 ment Magdalen Cuthbert rose from a hidden seat close 
 at hand. She did it so naturally that there was no 
 time for embarrassment or for flight ; indeed, Griselda's 
 fair curling hair still touched Brice's shoulder as Miss 
 Cuthbert spoke. 
 
 "We both thought this place deserted," she said, 
 and laughed yes, laughed her little hard laugh that 
 Brice knew so well, the one in which there was no joy 
 and no hope. Griselda ought to have been covered 
 with confusion, but she was herself at once as she 
 momentarily stood away from Brice. 
 
 " O Miss Cuthbert ! I am glad it was only you, be- 
 cause, do you see, it is all a secret." 
 
 " Evidently," said Magdalen, and la.ughed again, 
 " but I warn you others may come." 
 
 " You had better go home, Griselda," said Brice, 
 forcing himself to speak naturally. " It is late, come 
 and look for Mrs. Hope ; I must do my duty with the 
 other guests." 
 
 He walked quickly forward, and Griselda followed 
 him, nodding her " good-night " to Miss Cuthbert, and 
 adding to Brice, " Oh, dear Brice, don't be annoyed ; 
 Miss Cuthbert looks so true, she will say nothing, and 
 I am sure she will understand." 
 
 Then Magdalen Cuthbert was left alone. She 
 walked a step back, and sat down again on the seat 
 where she had been so well concealed. Why had she 
 come here ? She had, with difficulty, managed to get
 
 2o8 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 away from the admiring crowd, because she wanted to 
 see Brice ; she fancied he had not been in the supper- 
 tent. Were his feelings hurt ? was he mistaking her ? 
 Could he not understand that, at last after all these 
 years, he, this quiet sympathetic Brice, this friend in a 
 thousand, had touched her poor, cold heart ; that he 
 alone, of all the men she had known and who had flat- 
 tered her, had been capable of restoring animation to 
 a dead thing; that he had made her believe that life 
 was still worth living, and that love was still possible, 
 that she still could love. The discovery had been so 
 marvellous, so strange, that she had let herself only 
 very reluctantly believe it, but the very reluctance had 
 been sweet. Yes, she knew it now, her life still con- 
 tained something worth living for. She had so much 
 to give, and for so long it had been locked away, hid- 
 den, frozen, or withered. No, it had only been frozen. 
 Brice had allowed the warm sun to penetrate, and the 
 frozen depth had been moved, and then slowly ex- 
 panded into love. And now 
 
 After all, he was the lover of another worse, he 
 was engaged; how foolish of her not to guess it 
 sooner, not to know that all men are liars, and that all 
 men are willing to deceive. That girl, that simple- 
 minded child, she had won his heart she, a mere but- 
 terfly, a fluttering, clinging creature who could love 
 any one, who might marry any one because of her 
 beauty, a mere milk-maid beauty she had taken him 
 from her. No, that could hardly be the case; the time
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 209 
 
 was not long enough, it was Magdalen paused in 
 her train of thought and slowly rose and stood by the 
 illuminated fountain. Though there was no one to 
 admire her, she seemed to be posing before herself; 
 she felt that she was a grand, a beautiful woman, a 
 woman who could fascinate when she chose and whom 
 she chose ; that any other woman, opposed to her, had 
 very little chance of victory, that is, if she chose 
 Here Magdalen laughed softly and bitterly ; this child, 
 this fair-haired New Zealander, was no obstacle in her 
 way. Was it not plain already that, without meaning 
 it, without knowing it, she had supplanted her, and if 
 she chose ? Magdalen wrapped a transparent gauze- 
 like scarf around her, and it seemed to add a new soft- 
 ness and beauty to her face; then with a slow, deliber- 
 ate step, she walked back to the lawn where, already, 
 the number of guests was much thinned, and where 
 Lady Mary and her husband were receiving the last 
 gracious and hearty thanks of their friends. 
 
 " Magdalen, where have you been hiding ? " said 
 Lady Mary ; " the Dake has gone, and was so sorry not 
 to wish you good-bye." 
 
 " I was walking in fairyland," said Magdalen, smil- 
 ing; then she plunged into conversation with the vari- 
 ous groups of guests, and everyone remarked how 
 brilliant and clever Miss Cuthbert was, and how ex- 
 tremely handsome. The Duke had been heard to 
 admire her, and the Duke as, of course, all Dukes 
 must be was a connoisseur in female beauty.
 
 2io A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Then, at last, all the guests were gone, the serv- 
 ants ran hither and thither ; Frank and Brice Leslie 
 went about examining dangerous or expiring lights ; 
 the illuminations depending on electricity were sud- 
 denly extinguished, the darkness reasserted itself, 
 only the stars shone out in the still, hot night. 
 
 Lady Mary linked her arm into Magdalen's. 
 
 " It is over," she said, " really I am almost sorry, 
 and I am so much elated with the compliments I have 
 received." 
 
 " It is well over," answered Magdalen, " for you 
 have succeeded ; I think success cures all regrets." 
 Lady Mary was struck by something in Magdalen's 
 voice. 
 
 " Success is so common with you, dear, why don't 
 you ever follow it up ? I know someone who has 
 been in I won't say heaven, because of one's uncer- 
 tain knowledge of that region, but in Arcadia this 
 evening." Magdalen smiled. 
 
 " You mean Mr. Leslie," she said quite calmly. 
 Lady Mary laughed. 
 
 " I name no names. But come, Magdalen, you 
 must be weary ; the gentlemen won't be in for some 
 time ; let us go to bed. I owe you too much to wish 
 to ruin your beauty." 
 
 Magdalen was delighted to disappear before the 
 men came back. 
 
 When she was left alone she did not lose her 
 smiles ; on the contrary, she went to the great pier
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 211 
 
 glass and looked at herself with intense pleasure and 
 satisfaction. It was not merely vanity that filled her 
 soul, but a genuine admiration for her own beauty. 
 Her eyes sparkled like living diamonds, her cheeks 
 were exquisite in colour. "I do choose," she said at 
 last; " the obstacle is so insignificant, just big enough 
 to give one enough incentive. He was Percy's friend, 
 and I love him ; that child does not matter ; I even 
 forgive him, for he had not seen me then."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE next morning three persons at Rosehill woke 
 up with unusual thoughts and feelings. Lady Mary, 
 with a sigh of relief and a smile of satisfied triumph : 
 she had succeeded. She knew she had led a fashion, 
 that others would follow or try to follow her exam- 
 ple, and that for a time at least society through her 
 means would be less dull. She would not have 
 changed places with any one in the world this morn- 
 ing. On the other hand, she was just a little uneasy 
 about her other triumph; why had Magdalen looked 
 so supremely calm at the mention of Brice Leslie ? 
 was she going to disappoint her after all ? It would 
 be quite a shabby trick, considering Lady Mary had 
 set her heart on marrying Magdalen for love too, 
 not for money ! 
 
 It was certainly time to apply a little gentle pres- 
 sure, or to find out where the hitch was. Brice Leslie 
 would soon be gone, but he must not depart without 
 being engaged to Magdalen. Lady Mary was pre- 
 pared to send the paragraph to the society papers: 
 " We understand that a marriage has been arranged 
 between Miss Cuthbert, so well known in London
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 213 
 
 society, and Mr. Brice Leslie of " (some queer 
 
 name in New Zealand), " for," she added to herself, 
 " an unpronounceable place lends enchantment to an 
 unknown name ; people are afraid to own their igno- 
 rance of geography, and they fancy that perhaps the 
 locality may be very famous or perhaps the seat of a 
 millionaire." 
 
 Brice himself was fighting a fierce strife between 
 passion and honour. He had no intention of giving 
 way ; he hated himself for having fallen so low. He 
 recognised that even if a man is not master of his 
 heart he is master of his actions, and to find out now 
 that Griselda Foy was too simple-minded, too much of 
 the pure-angel type of womanhood to inspire a man's 
 most passionate feelings, was certainly a base action, 
 an action sober morality denounces and society 
 calls an ugly name, that society which countenances 
 unproclaimed evil but will not condone such conduct 
 in an honourable man. 
 
 Brice was engaged to Griselda, and he would marry 
 her. He loved her with the deep quiet love that had 
 grown up with him from her childhood ; he loved her 
 because one loves what is beautiful ; he loved her be- 
 cause evil and Griselda were lines that had no meeting 
 point. 
 
 Magdalen Cuthbert had not really satisfied the 
 deepest longings of his complete nature, but she had 
 at the same time attracted and repelled all his emo- 
 tions. She had given the lie to his best feelings, and
 
 214 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 she had also called forth his passion and his noblest 
 love and pity. She attracted and repelled him, and 
 sometimes these sentiments followed each other in 
 such quick succession that they appeared to be simul- 
 taneous. 
 
 After last night's revelation, what would she say 
 to him or think of him ? Well, it was best so. She 
 would scorn and despise him, without knowing that he 
 had never meant to be overmastered ; that he had be- 
 gun by despising, and then that he had been cut by 
 the edge he fancied too blunt to wound him. If the 
 dream were not over for him it must be for her : she 
 would reject even his friendship. Better to go away 
 at once without seeing her, to find some excuse for 
 flight, than to stay and be scorned ; but, on the other 
 hand, that would attract attention, and she would per- 
 haps suffer unjustly for him. Therefore Brice Leslie 
 was ready to endure martyrdom. 
 
 And the last of the trio, Magdalen, that morning 
 looked into her glass and saw that her lips were set in 
 the old fashion ; saw, for she had learnt to study her- 
 self, that the look of indifference was assumed, and 
 she knew that her last state was worse than her first. 
 Only for one moment she softened : she sat down by 
 the open window and her strange blue eyes filled with 
 tears, as she said, brushing them bravely away, " He 
 had better have left me with my dead love, it was 
 sweeter than this new birth." 
 
 Then, ashamed of her own weakness, she clasped a
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 21$ 
 
 bracelet on her wrist and snapped it fiercely. " It is 
 my turn now," she said, " my turn ; he must take care 
 of himself." 
 
 And so the three went down and met as ordinary 
 mortals, or rather Lady Mary was delightful, bright, 
 and cheerful, as if she had not undergone unheard-of 
 efforts and fatigue ; Magdalen brilliant and caustic in 
 her remarks, Brice Leslie silent, and Frank Milton 
 intensely matter-of-fact about results and damages. 
 
 " I suppose it is the husband that pays the piper, 
 eh, Lady Mary ? " said the artist, laughing. " What 
 will this little fancy cost?" 
 
 " What a vulgar and sordid idea ! " said his wife. 
 "Some people spend thousands to give their friends 
 pain ; we, a few hundreds to give them intense pleas- 
 ure. The pleasure-givers of the world are its kings 
 and queens. Now, Frank, how can you complain 
 about the cost of a joint crown ? " 
 
 " A case of William and Mary," said Magdalen, 
 "one takes and one pretends to give." Then she 
 turned towards Brice, "If Lady Mary takes a crown, 
 perhaps she will bestow something on us the poor 
 strolling players." 
 
 " Ah, you clever people are uncrowned kings and 
 queens ! Look at Frank, his portraits bring him more 
 fame and money than all my talents can effect or 
 procure." 
 
 "Your talents bring you more debts than I can 
 pay," said Frank, smiling.
 
 2 i6 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Fie, for shame, Frank ! if we were not a contrast 
 how we should quarrel ! I believe in contrasts." She 
 gave a side glance towards Magdalen. 
 
 "So do I," said Miss Cuthbert, "but your excite- 
 ment has made us dull to-day; suggest something to 
 raise our spirits." 
 
 "What a happy thought! After a fitful fever let 
 us have rest ; I vote for a barge expedition down the 
 canal. To have no trouble but to be wafted past 
 beautiful things is in itself an excitement." 
 
 "I am expected home," said Brice quietly; he had 
 not looked at Magdalen, though he was of course in- 
 tensely conscious of her presence. 
 
 "What, to-day?" she said, turning towards him; 
 "they give you a short time to get over the fatigues; 
 besides, talking events over is better than the thing 
 itself. In duty to all of us, Mr. Leslie, you ought to 
 stay another day." 
 
 " If I am commanded " 
 
 " Of course you are," put in Lady Mary. (What 
 can these two be up to ? she thought, feeling a lit- 
 tle puzzled.) " Can you disobey a Queen's com- 
 mands ?" 
 
 "Besides," added Frank, "you wanted to study 
 this new electric battery. The engineer comes again 
 to-day, and you must see him." 
 
 "Then the barge, Frank can you send someone 
 about it ? I feel that it is the only cure I can have 
 for the anxiety I have gone through."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 "Very well, but why can't the female mind cease 
 fluttering ? " 
 
 "That recalls the dove." 
 
 "And the dove the serpent. By the way, Leslie, 
 are serpents really wise ? if so, wisdom always seems a 
 little at a discount. I expect you to be a naturalist." 
 
 "We didn't deal in serpents in New Zealand, we 
 left them for the Zoo here." Brice said anything that 
 came into his head. He was thinking, " She wishes 
 me to stay one day more ; I may as well. Griselda 
 will easily understand that I can't get away at once. 
 By Jove, what a trustful darling she was, never even 
 so much as guessed anything yesterday ! " 
 
 " You will despise a canal barge," said Magdalen, 
 looking at him; "but it has its peculiar charm, it 
 gives you time to make up your mind about difficult 
 subjects." 
 
 " Hang her, she is making fun of me," thought 
 Brice ; " after all, she wasn't in earnest, I believe. 
 She is fooling all the time. Yes, I'll stay to prove to 
 her that I'm not fooled." Aloud, Brice added 
 
 " I've tried every means of progression. There is 
 some pleasure in all of them." 
 
 " They've quarrelled," thought Lady Mary. " This 
 won't do. Yes, the barge is really the best idea. No 
 exertion, and nothing to ruffle the Magdalen's temper. 
 At times she is not altogether honey or molasses. 
 Has he proposed, or has he not ? " 
 
 Magdalen spoke next.
 
 2i8 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " You'll want a supply of newspapers, Lady Mary, 
 to read what society says about you." 
 
 " It's of no consequence what they say, so that 
 they mention me. By the way, I always wonder 
 which of one's guests is the newspaper correspondent 
 in disguise don't you, Mr. Leslie ? " 
 
 " A lady, I conclude, they so easily conceal their 
 true occupations." 
 
 " You are getting on, 1 declare. In another month 
 you will no, I will leave my prophecy well concealed. 
 Come, Magdalen, come and help me to reckon up my 
 liabilities; Frank likes early settling. By the way, 
 Frank, let us take the Duke at his word, and land at the 
 Hall, so that Mr. Leslie may see his show-place. The 
 picture of the Duchess in -the drawing-room is one of 
 Frank's best it is nearly as plain as Her Grace herself." 
 
 " I hate show-places," said Magdalen quickly. 
 " Do you remember Thackeray's account of the 
 housekeeper's description 'The side entrance and 'all. 
 The halligator hover the mantelpiece was brought 
 home by Hadmiral St. Michael when a Capting with 
 Lord Hanson. The harms on the cheers is the harms 
 of the Carabas Family.' " 
 
 " Magdalen is a born republican. She would suit 
 the New World, Mr. Leslie." Then the two ladies 
 walked away with smiling faces. 
 
 "I'll go down the village and wire home," said 
 Brice, rising; "the ladies seem to wish to undertake 
 this barge affair."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 219 
 
 " Oh, you have only to please yourself, you know, 
 Leslie," said the artist; " I'm going back to the paint- 
 pots. One can't tell what one's womenfolk will be up 
 to next. One has to go straight on, or else one's sure 
 to fall into snares." 
 
 " Sure to," said Brice, laughing, but his was a 
 forced laugh ; then he sat down, wrote his telegrams 
 and went out. 
 
 But he went out in a strange frame of mind. He 
 wished at one moment that he could go home im- 
 mediately and never see Magdalen again, and then 
 the next instant he was feeling intense pleasure at the 
 thought of being in her presence for a few hours 
 more, watching the turn of her head, hearing her 
 speak. She should not find it out, and now she 
 knew 
 
 But the strange thing was, Magdalen seemed to 
 act as if she had not met Brice and Griselda together, 
 as if she had altogether misunderstood the scene, as if 
 Griselda had said nothing, and this strange ignorance 
 puzzled Brice dreadfully. He did not know whether 
 he were glad or sorry. It made him madly uncertain 
 of everything, of himself, of Magdalen, even of Gri- 
 selda ; but outwardly he was calm and grave, only 
 just a little calmer and graver than usual, and Lady 
 Mary felt like a hound that has lost the scent, and 
 sniffs about hither and thither to find it again. What 
 could it all mean ? Those two must be lovers, and if 
 the party had not sufficed why, that barge excursion
 
 220 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 must put the finishing touch. She would land at Old- 
 ham Castle and sketch, they should have no excuse 
 (these contrary lovers), because of course they were 
 lovers ; it was no use denying such a thing. 
 If Lady Mary had known the truth ! 
 
 The barge as chartered by Lady Mary Milton was 
 a thing of beauty. It was not to be expected that she 
 would allow such a suitable and effective thing as a 
 canal barge to go unadorned by her genius. She 
 wished it to be a Watteau-like creation, one which 
 would serve for the " Embarkation for the Island of 
 Cythera " ; she meant it to be worthy of Magdalen's 
 engagement. She had a charming way of settling 
 wished-for events; this lady certainly ought to have 
 had a wider sphere ; but, at all events, unlike many of 
 us, she made the best of the one accorded to her. The 
 draping of the seats was charming, the Eastern rugs 
 were of softest harmonies ; there were light garlands 
 of wild flowers twined in and out, and there was ex- 
 treme comfort. There are some artists who are artists 
 of the material, though they cannot draw a stroke. 
 ; In their hands flowers and stuff both seem to fall into 
 exquisite forms and poses and folds ; it is a gift that 
 is born with them and, unlike draughtmanship, cannot 
 be improved. 
 
 Frank Milton utterly refused to join this expedi- 
 tion ; he wanted to rest in his own way, but so far 
 relented that he promised to ride over to the ruined
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 221 
 
 castle of Oldham in the evening and to escort them 
 back. He had his doubts about " Mary's mania," but 
 he was a wise man and was not going to interfere. 
 Leslie was soon departing, and then Miss Cuthbert's 
 fascination must end. 
 
 It was to be a day of surprises, however, for 
 several persons. 
 
 Lady Mary ordered some dainty cakes and tea to 
 be put up in a basket; she meant to make this bever- 
 age at the ruins, and they should get back in the cool 
 of the evening. If a proposal is ever to be made, no 
 time is so opportune as towards sunset. She remem- 
 bered that Frank had selected the evening hour for 
 his declaration ; she was fond of repeating this as a 
 fact, though he had often told her the hour of his 
 declaration had been really pure chance. 
 
 The beauty of this waterway baffled description 
 to-day, and when the three reached the canal bank 
 they could not refrain from expressing their delight 
 at the glowing richness of the colouring. Brice's 
 silence was hardly noticeable, for the ladies kept up a 
 lively conversation. Magdalen showed no conscious- 
 ness of his silence, broken as it was now and then 
 by fits of talkativeness. She was acting as if she were 
 a queen and he a mere subject hardly worthy of 
 notice. 
 
 " Only one day more," thought Brice, " and then 
 But hang it all ! why doesn't she show what she means 
 and what she thinks of me ? Have I fallen too low in
 
 222 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 her estimation to make even that explanation worth 
 while ? " 
 
 The barge was to be drawn by a led horse ; a man 
 was at the helm to steer, and there was nothing for 
 the three to do but enjoy themselves. 
 
 Suddenly Lady Mary remembered an omission ; 
 she had brought no sugar. The castle was a lonely 
 spot where nothing could be purchased, so it was ab- 
 solutely necessary that they should take all requisites. 
 
 It was some ten minutes from a small village shop, 
 and Brice immediately started off to rectify the omis- 
 sion, while Lady Mary and Magdalen settled them- 
 selves among the cushions. 
 
 " We shall have a lovely expedition, my Magdalen," 
 said the charming hostess, opening her sunshade, 
 " and then I shall lose my guests. All good things 
 end very soon in this world, and my cousin is one of 
 the good things of life. Come, acknowledge that you 
 think so." Lady Mary did not expect an acknowledg- 
 ment, she fancied she knew Magdalen too well, but 
 she asked it all the same. 
 
 "Yes," said Magdalen, clasping her hands above 
 her head, from which her large hat had fallen off, 
 causing a diamond ring on her finger to flash forth 
 light among her dark wavy hair. " Yes, he is a man 
 one could like." 
 
 Lady Mary was inwardly delighted, but she turned 
 away, however, to leave Magdalen more free to speak 
 her mind.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 223 
 
 " A man one could love," she said very softly. 
 
 " Yes, a man one could love," repeated Magdalen 
 quietly ; and Lady Mary's heart beat faster. 
 
 " Magdalen, my dear friend, if you think so why, 
 I know that he " 
 
 " That he loves me ! Yes, so do I " 
 ' " And you return it. Then, O Magdalen ! you 
 can't tell how much I have wished for that that to 
 happen to you. I do believe in love and marriage ; 
 see how happy we are, Frank and I ; a woman is made 
 to be worshipped, petted, and spoilt through life for 
 that end she was created, I believe. Of course, some- 
 times things go wrong, but " Lady Mary waxed bold 
 " the past is wiped away when the future looks 
 golden. You, Magdalen, have felt some things too 
 strongly ; it is your nature, but even the saddest ex- 
 periences can be forgotten." 
 
 Magdalen smiled, and all her nature seemed to 
 soften and unbend for a few moments as she leant 
 towards her friend. 
 
 " You are a true friend, a noble woman," she said, 
 and such words f,rom Miss Cuthbert meant a good 
 deal. " Will you never change, never disbelieve in 
 me, as so many do ? " 
 
 " Never, Magdalen. There, you see I am not 
 jealous even of Brice Leslie." 
 
 " Brice Leslie ! " Magdalen's tone was strange and 
 past understanding. 
 
 " Magdalen, don't let any any pride come between 
 15
 
 224 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 you and a true man's love, I beseech you. There are 
 yet many years of happiness before you ; you will 
 give him what he requires ; and he I have watched 
 him narrowly he has a strong nature, capable of any 
 amount of disinterested affection for a woman he 
 loves. In that he is something like Frank." 
 
 There was a pause. Magdalen stooped over the 
 side of the barge and let the water gurgle against her 
 diamond-encircled fingers. 
 
 " What do you want me to do ? " she said very 
 softly. 
 
 " To to say ' yes ' if, or when, he asks you to 
 be his wife." 
 
 Magdalen lifted her head suddenly, her eyes flashed, 
 forth a lightning glance, her face flushed and her red 
 lip squivered. Never had Lady Mary seen her so much 
 moved. 
 
 "You don't know what you are asking," she said, 
 " but if you care to hear it, to know it, I will promise 
 you if Brice Leslie asks me to be his wife I will say 
 'yes.'" 
 
 Lady Mary was uneasy. This sounded unnatural. 
 
 "But you mean you will discourage him. That 
 will not be fair." 
 
 "On the contrary, 1 shall encourage him to 
 to" 
 
 " To hear his fate ? " said Lady Mary, laughing 
 nervously. 
 
 " He is coming," said Magdalen, pointing to Brice,
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 225 
 
 who was walking quietly down the bank, and who had 
 been hidden by the ruins. " Perhaps I had better say 
 ' no ' to all you have asked me ? " Magdalen was 
 really agitated. A struggle was going on in her mind. 
 
 " No, no, Magdalen, you have promised, you can- 
 not draw back ; believe me, I You have been 
 
 very quick, Mr. Leslie. Now, come in and I will give 
 the word of command to depart. The flies have been 
 teasing that poor cart-horse almost to desperation." 
 
 Brice stepped into the barge and found that the 
 place left for him was close to Magdalen. In another 
 moment they were gliding down with that peculiar 
 motion which one can only experience by this mode 
 of progression. Brice spoke first. 
 
 " This is charming, and really for beauty it will 
 bear comparison with " 
 
 " Your own canal boats, I suppose," said Magdalen. 
 
 "Yes; but here it is more wooded, more luxuriant, 
 more fascinating." 
 
 " Less commonplace, in fact ; but for ordinary life 
 the commonplace is the safest ; we soon tire of the 
 eccentric. Now, Lady Mary, this is the time for a 
 song. Shall it be a duet, or a trio ? " 
 
 All Magdalen's gaiety had returned; her smile 
 seemed to give out happiness ; her eyes laughed with 
 her lips. Brice felt that his courage was going ; why 
 had he not run away ? He had fancied himself so 
 brave, so bound by custom, so tied by every obliga- 
 tion of right, that he believed he would be hedged in
 
 226 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 by it; and that now she knew the truth But it 
 seemed she knew and did not care ; she could be as 
 merry as before, evidently he was nothing to her. It 
 was better so, infinitely better, but he felt the struggle 
 was still fierce, he was weakened by that very uncon- 
 scious manner of hers. 
 
 Brice crossed his arms and listened to the two 
 voices as they sang a little boat-song, set to a strange 
 weird melody, by a friend of Lady Mary, an amateur 
 genius; Magdalen's contralto, though not powerful, 
 was in perfect tune. 
 
 The barge meanwhile glided along to the music of 
 the softest gurgle of the keel. Now and then a 
 frightened moor-hen splashed suddenly into the reeds 
 as the boat cut through a sheet of water-lily leaves, or 
 separated the graceful arrow-heads ; or else brushed 
 against the tall bulrushes, making the stragglers bend 
 forward as if forcing them to greet the fair com- 
 pany. 
 
 Brice gradually turned his eyes towards Miss Cuth- 
 bert's bright countenance ; it was as if she were a sun, 
 and he but a poor new world, bound to be powerfully 
 attracted, though also influenced by an opposing force, 
 and bound to try and fly into space. Was she acting 
 thus on purpose ? was she so cruel as to defy him ? 
 No, he would not be a mean coward ; he would resist 
 this influence, however powerful it might be. 
 
 " Look, do you see, Mr. Leslie, there is a perfect 
 picture : the bridge so exquisitely reflected in the
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 227 
 
 water, and that solitary cow coming to drink at the 
 shallow part, with its child-conductor. It is a pet cow 
 evidently. You see that sort of thing abroad, but not 
 here often. Surely New Zealand can give you nothing 
 more beautiful." 
 
 "Nothing!" said Brice ; he was thinking of Mag- 
 dalen herself. 
 
 " But, anyhow, the humanity of the New World is 
 better than ours. Last night there was a fair sprink- 
 ling of our richest aristocratic young men, and they 
 had all a very scented kid-glove appearance." 
 
 " Nature suits its life to the surroundings," said 
 Brice earnestly ; " these young men, I suppose, are 
 framed to combat a scented kid-glove life, whilst 
 we in our New World are easily overcome by what 
 seems to them perfectly natural to everyday life." 
 
 " The sledge-hammer has to be regulated by 
 delicate machinery, you mean," said Lady Mary, smil- 
 ing; " but if you give us the sledge-hammer, we will 
 provide the rest." 
 
 " You will take out a patent for it," said Magdalen. 
 
 " I fear the iron would be destroyed before the 
 machinery could be adjusted; the finest metal is the 
 most brittle." 
 
 " It does not impair its value. Ah, there are the 
 ruins in sight. Now for a gypsy fire and tea at a pic- 
 nic ; one feels a child again." 
 
 " It is too early yet ; but if you two will guard the 
 provisions, I will choose a spot and give orders about
 
 228 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 the horse and its driver. The two men will most 
 likely have hop-tea." 
 
 Lady Mary was cunning to-day quite barefaced- 
 ly indeed. At another time Magdalen would have 
 laughed at her, to-day she had no heart to laugh ; 
 her heart was too heavy for laughter, too proud for 
 tears. 
 
 The two who were thus left alone did not even 
 pretend that it was natural, or that they were as usual. 
 A silence fell on both. Magdalen lay slightly back 
 on the cushions and watched the waving willow-leaves 
 which, dipping into the water, were continually being 
 taken down stream for a little way, and yet never 
 could reach further. That was like her life, she 
 thought, always carried forward but never advancing ; 
 striving vainly after an unknown unknowable bourne; 
 attached by force of habit to a well-recognised stand- 
 ard of life, but loving an impossible ideal. Impos- 
 sible ? To whom could she turn ? she whom the 
 world considered so strong, and who was yet so weak ; 
 who What was she doing ? She was softening, 
 and this was certainly not the time to be weak. She 
 clasped her hands firmly together, and slowly turned 
 her eyes to Brice. All the coldness she could express 
 in her eyes was there. 
 
 " You will go to-morrow, Mr. Leslie, having 
 learnt the lesson Lady Mary wished you to learn the 
 ways of the rich, clever, aristocratic world. Outside 
 that circle comes chaos, a bubbling confusion, mate-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 229 
 
 rial not yet fused into any known shape, a thing of 
 naught." 
 
 "Why should you be ironical, Miss Cuthbert ? " 
 
 he said, in his old impatient tone, that tone which had 
 
 first attracted Magdalen's attention. 
 
 " Why ? for convenience's sake, I suppose." 
 
 Another pause, and this time the pause was dan- 
 gerous, for the smile that hovered about those lips 
 was maddening to Brice. Love and something like 
 hatred fought together in him, and he exclaimed 
 
 " What's the use of fooling like this ? You know 
 it all all that miserable story ! Why did I ever see 
 you ? " His face was intensely in earnest now, and 
 therefore intensely attractive to Magdalen. 
 
 " Yes, I know it all since last night and who is to 
 blame am I ? " The tone was one of withering scorn. 
 
 " You offered me friendship," said Brice, much in 
 the same tone as his earliest prototype, " and I ac- 
 cepted it; how could I tell that but you knew your 
 power well enough." 
 
 " Yes, but I did not know yours," said Magdalen, 
 almost under her breath. 
 
 Another pause followed, but Magdalen's lips quiv- 
 ered ; this time there was more pleasure than pain 
 expressed on them. She had stretched out her un- 
 gloved fingers and was grasping the edge of the barge ; 
 the blue veins made a delicate tracery down the white 
 hand and the under-part of the wrist. Brice held out 
 his hand and tried to place it on hers.
 
 230 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Don't touch me," she said quickly and angrily, 
 " you have no right to do so." 
 
 " I have," he said, in a low, passionate voice. 
 Good God, Magdalen, the right which worship gives 
 to a man." 
 
 " A man who is engaged to someone else." 
 
 Magdalen laughed scornfully. 
 
 " Yes." He was bold now ; he dared to look the 
 fact in the face. 
 
 " Do you know ? " she said, hiding her face by 
 turning it away, so that Brice could only see the ex- 
 quisite line of neck and ear, " that you are reacting 
 Percy's life ? " 
 
 " No, that was criminal ; mine has only been a 
 terrible mistake." 
 
 " A mistake you are bound to accept." 
 
 " Bound bound to act a lie no, for the sake 
 of-" 
 
 " Hush," said Magdalen. " How can I believe 
 you ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Tell me how to prove my 
 words ? " 
 
 Magdalen turned towards him, lifted her hand 
 slowly and pushed back her hat as she slowly passed 
 her hand over the restless waves of her hair. 
 
 " Deny that you intended to be silent to-day." 
 
 " I can't. I came here meaning to keep true to 
 an ideal, Magdalen the reality has been too strong 
 for me. Won't that satisfy you ? "
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 231 
 
 There came the old, short, dry laugh. 
 
 "I knew it," was the answer. 
 
 " And you have been trying to be cruel." 
 
 " No, it is natural to me." 
 
 " Then you are incapable of feeling of love ? " 
 he said impatiently, " and yet you are a woman, a 
 beautiful woman." 
 
 " I learnt it long ago from a man." 
 
 " Percy good God ! Let me tell you what " 
 But Magdalen shook her head. 
 
 " No, I don't want to know. I have buried him 
 at last " 
 
 " As you will bury the remembrance of this talk, 
 whilst I" 
 
 " You know nothing of what time can do, will do 
 nothing." 
 
 " Nothing. Listen, Magdalen, it is you who know 
 nothing, nothing of a man's love it is an awful thing; 
 it makes him weak as a child ; it eats his life away ; it 
 crushes out his existence ; it makes the day hateful 
 
 and the night Magdalen, whatever you do, don't 
 
 laugh ; if you do, I shall feel as if I should have only 
 strength to kill you." 
 
 Magdalen slowly clasped her hands and for once 
 did not disobey. 
 
 " One can see you have not suffered long or 
 often," she said scornfully. She was not in the least 
 frightened by his vehemence. She liked it. To see 
 Brice Leslie, usually so quiet, so self-contained, like
 
 232 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 this was balm to her mind. If she loved and this 
 fact she hardly dared own or contemplate at this 
 moment, she still wished to keep a clear brain and 
 not allow herself to be guided by passion ; it was such 
 a new experience, she wished to reserve it, to hide it 
 from everyone, almost from herself. 
 
 "Time has nothing to do with such things," he 
 said still impatiently. Then breaking off, as if argu- 
 ment was puerile, he seized Magdalen's hand 
 
 " You are so clever, you understand partly, only 
 partly ; tell me what you command, and I can do 
 that, I can obey. With you it is a matter for argu- 
 ment, a psychological study. I don't understand such 
 things. My life out there was so simple, so straight- 
 forward ; here I seem to be entangled in a net oh ! but 
 there must be simple ways of disentangling oneself." 
 
 " Very simple ; Percy took one of them," said 
 Magdalen scornfully. " He was your friend." 
 
 Brice lifted his head proudly ; even for Magdalen 
 he would not deny his friend, and she loved him for 
 this constancy, at the same moment as she scorned 
 him in words. 
 
 " Yes, he was my friend," said Brice slowly. " He 
 made you suffer, but " 
 
 Magdalen moved her hand impatiently. 
 
 " Leave him out of this question." 
 
 " Magdalen, I can, I will, devote my life to 
 
 " To make up for his mistake." She laughed. " I 
 am not a girl of twenty."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 233 
 
 Brice Leslie was deeply hurt. With his arms 
 crossed he looked away down into the depth of the 
 clear water, he bit his lip to prevent himself from 
 saying something bitter to the woman who was so 
 intensely cruel was it consciously or unconsciously ? 
 
 Unperceived by him Magdalen was watching him ; 
 she knew she had wrung his heart; she knew that 
 whether consciously or unconsciously she hardly knew 
 herself she had drawn him on, forced him to love 
 her. She had done it in other cases, and had not re- 
 pented ; but before, it had not been with men like 
 Brice Leslie. She looked around sadly ; the great 
 weariness of life fell upon her, almost overcame her, 
 that weariness that finds comfort in the idea of Nir- 
 vana, in the belief that life itself is a dream of a dream. 
 Was this conflict worth while she thought to herself, 
 was any thing worth while ? Suddenly, bending over 
 the edge as if to seek for what attracted Brice, she saw 
 her own reflection ; it quivered in the quivering ele- 
 ment, and it was beautiful. After all beauty was tan- 
 gible, real, capable of being enjoyed and capable of 
 giving enjoyment. What did the rest matter ? the gos- 
 pel of right and wrong might be a myth, but beauty 
 was intensely real. 
 
 " Brice," she whispered, holding out her hand, 
 " Brice, forgive me." (This was the first time Magdalen 
 Cuthbert had ever petitioned any one to forgive her.) 
 " But listen, that is Lady Mary's voice, she is in pain 
 come ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THERE has been a great deal written about the 
 dual action of the brain, about conscious and uncon- 
 scious hypnotism, about the power of persons, under 
 special circumstances, to transmute nervous diseases. 
 Doubtless, this is an age of wonderful psychological 
 discoveries, discoveries which will in the near future 
 open out an entirely new field of thought. Men's 
 ideas about weakness and will and crime will be modi- 
 fied and revolutionised, and the ancient prejudices 
 which once made our forefathers settle matters of 
 right and wrong in a delightfully offhand manner, 
 that saved them an infinity of trouble, will disappear. 
 The time may indeed come when the still more ancient 
 ideas of fairies and demons may be found to be true, 
 and further, we shall then discover that what in men 
 and women was called inconsistent action, is in truth 
 the work of other separate influences which make up 
 their whole nature, and that it is the supremacy of one 
 of these influences which forms the apparent character 
 subject, nevertheless, to the chance of a sudden up- 
 rising of one of the weaker or partially-subdued ele- 
 ments. In his own person, man is in truth a battle-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 235 
 
 field where many are fighting for supremacy. The 
 mystery which envelops us is on the whole still a 
 mystery, though now and then we get glimpses of un- 
 realised possibilities and of vast uncertainties. 
 
 Some evil genii were mixing themselves up very 
 much in Lady Mary's affairs this afternoon, or so she 
 thought. In the first place, as she was walking back 
 softly towards the barge, wishing to see how things 
 were progressing, she unfortunately fell over a hidden 
 root, and the cry of pain forced from her at once 
 brought Magdalen and Brice to her help. That was 
 bad enough, for they had to help her up and stay with 
 her till she was fairly out of pain ; but then, who 
 should appear but Frank and Frank's brother, who 
 had just made his appearance at Rosehill, taking them 
 by surprise, from the steppes of Russia. After that 
 there was nothing more to hope for, and the little lady 
 only trusted that the short interval of solitude which 
 the lovers had enjoyed had sufficed for them to come 
 to an understanding. 
 
 She would have given a good deal to know for cer- 
 tain ; but, in the meanwhile, the picnic proceeded hap- 
 pily, the gentlemen entered into the spirit of the thing, 
 whilst the two ladies sat down on soft Eastern rugs 
 and were assiduously waited upon. Lady Mary had 
 not a moment alone with Magdalen, but she noticed 
 that she was quiet, almost sad, and that half her mer- 
 riment had flown. This, however, might be a good 
 sign. Captain Milton was a very amusing man, who
 
 236 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 had travelled much and was a mine of good stories 
 and anecdotes, so Magdalen's sadness was not observ- 
 able. One sign, however, was very visible, and this 
 was that Brice devoted himself to her, watched her 
 least movement, and answered stray questions from 
 others in an absent manner. 
 
 Lady Mary was hopeful, for she knew Magdalen 
 was not a woman to be won in a moment. She, there- 
 fore, fancied progress was satisfactory. 
 
 The evening, too, was pleasant and cheerful, and 
 when the men came back to the drawing-room there 
 was much to tell the returned traveller, and much to 
 hear from him. Magdalen and Brice could thus talk 
 apart without being conspicuous, and from her corner 
 Lady Mary noted all this with pleasure. Later on, 
 unfortunately, the sky clouded over, the heat turned 
 into a thunderstorm, and rain came down in sheets, 
 amidst the congratulations of the party at its having 
 kept off so long. It was just like Mary's luck, her 
 husband said. 
 
 It is impossible to have much private conversation 
 in a room with only five persons in it ; but Brice 
 watched his opportunity and managed to say, under 
 cover of Magdalen's music 
 
 " Magdalen, I must go to-morrow." He dared not 
 say more, but he was forced to say this. That previ- 
 ous conversation had been very unsatisfactory, in 
 spite of her last relenting speech. 
 
 Since that moment, perhaps something of the por-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 237 
 
 tentousness of the deed he was contemplating had 
 come over Brice. He felt that he must be sure of 
 Magdalen, certain of her feelings, before he dared 
 outrage the feelings of some of the best people he 
 knew. 
 
 He hated society more than ever this evening. 
 He would have liked all kinds of impossible things; 
 he would even have preferred to run away from 
 everything almost from Magdalen and her enchant- 
 ments, from the attraction of her every movement and 
 the fascination of her smile. 
 
 She had apparently got over that soft influence by 
 the time he had spoken the words, for, quite heedless 
 of him, she went on playing the piano. 
 
 When she spoke it was with a smile on her lips. 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "What do you command ? " he said, hardly know- 
 ing or understanding what it was. 
 
 " You forget I am a woman," she answered, under 
 cover of her music, " and you are a man. We were 
 born to obey the lords of creation, I believe." 
 
 Brice was angry at her pretended playfulness. 
 
 "What nonsense ! Sooner or later this must end 
 I must come back." 
 
 " What for ? " She struck a chord and looked up, 
 not at him but at the picture opposite, representing 
 some inferior artist's idea of the blessed Damozel. 
 That legend had never impressed Magdalen except as 
 a poetical fancy ; she preferred Leconte de Lisle's
 
 238 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 poems with their new Buddhist tendencies and Orien- 
 tal philosophy, or Shelley and Keats, and all their in- 
 tense poetic charm of pure ideal poetry. The blessed 
 Damozel waiting for her lover seemed too much like 
 life itself to be associated with the thought of a here- 
 after, if, as Magdalen said sometimes with a look of 
 sadness, there was one. 
 
 " For you, Magdalen," he said, stooping, as if to 
 turn the page of a music book, and by that means 
 coming so near to her that he felt her warm breath 
 upon his cheek, " I must come back for you when I 
 am free." She smiled a little ironically, so he con- 
 tinued 
 
 " You do not believe it ? I wish your unbelief 
 were true, but I shall come back, and when I do ! " 
 Magdalen lifted her hands from the keys and turned 
 over the leaves of the music book. At the other end 
 of the room the other three were loud in conversation. 
 
 Captain Milton was telling a ghost story, and the 
 snatches of it reached the two at the piano. " Well, 
 the lady always would make her appearance upon 
 settling-day, and stood by him as he received the 
 tenants' rents. It was enough to scare them out of 
 their wits, the fellow told me. First-hand story, you 
 know " 
 
 " Not a bad excuse to find for refusing to pay 
 rent," said Frank. " I declare those Irish knaves have 
 a wonderfully keen sense of humour. Just imagine 
 an English tenant "
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 239 
 
 Magdalen felt her hand suddenly grasped by 
 
 Brice. 
 
 " When I come back a free man, promise me." 
 
 " Hush, they will see you. Do you think I am one 
 who can receive or give promises ? Do you think I 
 have learnt nothing from the past ? " 
 
 " You have not learnt " 
 
 " I say, Miss Cuthbert," put in the Captain he 
 was not in the plot and knew nothing of Lady Mary's 
 plans " now you have done playing, come and tell us 
 if you believe in ghosts." 
 
 Magdalen rose and walked forward, much to 
 Brice's intense disgust. 
 
 "Yes. Ghosts of one's own thoughts; those are 
 stranger than any ordinary received idea of disem- 
 bodied spirits." 
 
 " Thoughts ! Oh, they are natural and all that, 
 but I should like to see a bond fide ghost. Heard of 
 them, of course, but as to seeing them ! Upon my 
 word, though, I've met a fellow who said he had seen 
 the Flying Dutchman. Don't believe a word of it, 
 but" 
 
 " Till you do, you suspend your judgment to the 
 mast-head, Arthur ? " said Lady Mary ; " but you 
 should have been here last night, and then you might 
 have beheld something better worth seeing than 
 ghosts. To think what one may miss in twenty-four 
 hours! So you must really leave us to-morrow, Mr. 
 
 Leslie ? Is it positively necessary ? " 
 16
 
 240 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Yes, positively ; but I have been here so long, I 
 feel as if " 
 
 " Spare your compliments between cousins. You 
 will soon be back again, I know." 
 
 " Yes, very soon, I hope," said Brice stupidly ; but 
 Lady Mary forgave him, and when they separated for 
 the night he grasped her hand warmly, but he was 
 also conscious of the thought " If she knew ? " 
 
 Magdalen paused a little at the foot of the stairs. 
 The gentlemen were going to play billiards, but the 
 ladies were weary and were retiring early to rest. 
 
 " Good-night," she said, holding out her hand to 
 Brice, and the smile she gave him wiped away many 
 of her scornful words. Their eyes met for a moment, 
 then Brice repeated her " Good-night," and added 
 " Magdalen " almost under his breath. 
 
 Lady Mary had gone on, but waited for her friend 
 at the top of the stairs. 
 
 " Well, dearest ? " Magdalen shook her head. 
 
 " He fancies he will come back to ask me. Say no 
 more about it till then." But all the same there was 
 a light in her eyes and a smile of conscious pride on 
 her lips. She had avenged her womanhood, or so she 
 thought. 
 
 " Frank," said Lady Mary that night, ' Frank, 
 I've succeeded or all but, that is " 
 
 " Humph ! Well, I'm sorry for him ; you know I 
 never approved; she's too too " 
 
 " Hush, you naughty man, I know what you are
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 241 
 
 going to say ; but you don't understand Magdalen. 
 There is so much good in her, so much nobility " 
 
 " So much of many things. A fine mixture." 
 
 " So are we all. However, that will be Brice Les- 
 1 lie's affair, and the poor fellow is madly in love. I 
 left them alone a little this afternoon, and I think 
 they used the opportunity." 
 
 " When does the Magdalen not use it ? " inquired 
 Frank sceptically ; then Lady Mary declared he was 
 unfair to her friend and that she would tell him no 
 more. " We shall miss them very much," she added, 
 " for Brice Leslie leaves to-morrow, and Magdalen a 
 a few days after." 
 
 " Where is she going ? " asked Frank. 
 
 " Mrs. Stewart is still unwell, and Magdalen de- 
 clares she will go back to town in order to nurse her. 
 Fancy Magdalen in town now ! She will be bored to 
 death." 
 
 " Bored ! " said Frank ; " that word ought to be 
 taken out of the language." 
 
 " That won't stop the disease, and it seems pretty 
 general. However, once married she will have enough 
 trouble to keep her in health and spirits." 
 
 The next day Magdalen did not appear at break- 
 fast, but sent word she had a cold. Brice, however, 
 went about looking intensely miserable, even though 
 Captain Milton was cheerfulness itself, and when the 
 time came for him to take leave, as he was going by 
 train, he asked Lady Mary if there were no chance of
 
 242 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 saying good-bye to Miss Cuthbert. Brice fancied he 
 spoke and looked as usual, little knowing that Lady 
 Mary possessed the key of his sadness. She smiled as 
 he asked this question. 
 
 "Wait a moment; I'll send up and see if she is 
 coming down. It is too bad of her to to stay 
 away." 
 
 " I am afraid she is suffering," said Brice anxiously. 
 " In fact it is depressing weather, and I think I am 
 indulging in a sore throat." 
 
 " The weather has much to bear, it certainly must 
 be a great philosopher. Now, when may we expect to 
 see you again ? Miss Cuthbert stays till Thursday ; 
 why don't you ride over and wish her good-bye 
 then ? " 
 
 Brice looked relieved. " Thank you, that will be 
 best ; wish her good-bye for me now. I owe you so 
 many thanks for a very pleasant visit, Lady Mary, but 
 how shall I thank you ? " 
 
 " You have forgotten the play, the gratitude is on 
 my side. You and Magdalen were great successes. I 
 hope you will keep up that character. Good-bye ; 
 you must go at once, Frank is beckoning." Brice 
 hurried off but retraced his steps. " Will you tell her 
 that I will ride over on Thursday for lunch, if I 
 may ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; come, by all means you will be always 
 welcome." 
 
 Then Brice drove away, looking up surreptitiously
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 243 
 
 at Magdalen's window, to see if by chance she were 
 there, but all was silence. 
 
 Magdalen had really caught a slight cold, but the 
 reason of her absence was a wish to avoid a leave- 
 taking. " He will come back," she said several times 
 to herself, " he will come back a free man. Brice, 
 Brice, if you only knew ! This time it is the biter bit. 
 This time Brice, Brice." She knelt at the window 
 and, peeping through a crack, looked at his retreating 
 figure as if she would willingly follow him. 
 
 As for Brice, he drove away in a kind of dream, a 
 nightmare rather. The deluge had overtaken him, 
 the waters were all about him, and he could see them 
 rising visibly whilst he looked on fascinated and horri- 
 fied, yet quite unable to act. Was he really himself 
 the Brice Leslie who in his youth had been able to 
 look on coldly at the follies of others, who had at 
 times found himself wondering at such things being 
 able to tempt men away from their ambitions and 
 their superior interests ? Who was this Brice Leslie 
 who was ready now to throw away everything, every 
 consideration, every standard of right and honour, 
 for a woman no longer young, no longer capable of 
 giving a man what is a woman's best gift youth and 
 simple loving devotion ; a woman who would require 
 everything of him and perhaps would be incapable or 
 unwilling to give much in return ? 
 
 Yet this mad love, born in such a strange manner, 
 was really engendered by all that was noblest in Brice.
 
 244 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 One could almost have said that nature was reveng- 
 ing herself for past scorn of her rights, that Brice was 
 bound to learn suffering through love and love 
 through suffering, that his beautiful ideal courtship of 
 Griselda was not to be given to him to enjoy (having 
 paid no price for it), that man cannot live in the ideal 
 without sooner or later finding that some perverse 
 demon will revenge itself and pull down his fair 
 palace. 
 
 One side of his nature craved only to keep true to 
 his first love, to reject all temptation of those domi- 
 neering senses, to reject this wild infatuation and rest 
 in the sublime and passionless repose of an ideal 
 nature; but, on the other side, he found this fortress 
 attacked by a powerful foe, a foe who scorned all 
 obstacles, a foe who was ready and willing to break 
 down every barrier, even at the expense of losing a 
 limb in the realisation. It was a strange combat, a 
 combat more common than one would imagine, but 
 for that reason jealously kept secret. When poor 
 humanity comes out of the conflict it comes out de- 
 termined that none shall know of the warfare, whether 
 there has been victory or defeat. But once freed, that 
 soul never again doubts the doctrine of a dual life, 
 that life which Christianity, with sublime insight, ex- 
 presses in her creeds as the fight between good and 
 evil, and which the heathen world ascribed to strife in 
 a far-reaching pantheism. 
 
 But the material world rolls on its way heedless of
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 245 
 
 spiritual combats, and day and night monotonously 
 succeed each other. Man, if he does not live by bread 
 alone, cannot live without it, though he may crush 
 down his emotions, and the mundane existence of 
 labour, of coming and going, of meals and useless 
 remarks, goes on like a treadmill in its ceaseless 
 round. 
 
 Still, even in this material existence, Brice felt that 
 something was wrong. His forehead burned, and, in 
 spite of its being a warm day, he shivered as he entered 
 the train, no longer doubting he really had a bad sore 
 throat. Was he ill ? Perhaps it was only the excite- 
 ment he had gone through. Anyhow, when he got 
 home, he would be sure to find the doctor there, for 
 he came every evening to see his father ; he might 
 just ask him if there was something wrong. 
 
 He ought to go to Foy Lodge that evening and see 
 Griselda, but the very idea made him feel wretched. 
 He had told her of his expected return that was due 
 to her; but, when he saw her, how explain the true 
 facts to her ? how tell her that Good God ! he 
 could not imagine himself doing it; and yet he had 
 promised Magdalen to go back to her a free man. 
 Should he write ? How should he word such dishon- 
 ourable conduct, how ? 
 
 When Brice stepped down from the train he found 
 his sister waiting for him in the pony-carriage, and 
 the matter-of-fact appearance of this lady was almost 
 comforting to him in his present state of mind. She
 
 246 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 was one of the human beings who prefer announcing 
 disagreeable reports to saying agreeable things. 
 
 " It is time you came back," she said, handing 
 Brice the reins. " Griselda Foy has been plunged in 
 gaiety this week. Mrs. Foy is flattered by the notice 
 her daughter has attracted. The Duchess of Black- 
 water has called on the Foys, and of course it was at 
 her son's instigation. It is a pity you don't insist on 
 making your engagement public." 
 
 For a moment it seemed to Brice that a door of 
 escape was opened to him; then, suddenly thinking of 
 Griselda, it was shut again. Whatever he might be, 
 she was incapable of anything that was not true, as 
 incapable as he would have believed himself to be six 
 months ago. 
 
 " What nonsense ! " he said impatiently. 
 
 " What's the matter with you, Brice ? You look ill. 
 I suppose Lady Mary has kept you hard at work with 
 all her silly fads and fancies. Father seems worse, 
 and mother is more anxious." Brice only replied with 
 monosyllables, and when he reached home he found 
 the doctor was upstairs, so solaced himself with a 
 cigar till he came down. He felt much worse now, 
 and a dim idea of something wrong took possession 
 of him. 
 
 He had not to wait long before he heard Dr. 
 Spenser's step. Brice asked him to come into the 
 library. 
 
 " Glad to see you home. The Admiral wants
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 247 
 
 cheering up a little; not worse really, but you don't 
 look first-rate." 
 
 " That's what I wanted to ask you. It may be 
 nothing, but I have a queer sort of feeling in my 
 throat." The doctor examined it carefully, felt his 
 pulse, went through the usual formalities of the pro- 
 fession. 
 
 " Look here, this is serious. Very sorry for you, 
 but it's best you should know the truth at once. This 
 looks to me like diphtheria. It may pass off, but you 
 must go to bed and be isolated." Brice smiled, and 
 lifted his eyebrows. 
 
 " Well, doctor, telegraph for a nurse. I mustn't 
 give my sister any more trouble, or the old people 
 needless anxiety. I'll retire into private life, that's 
 all." 
 
 " Safest way ; it may be nothing." The doctor 
 went away, thinking in his own mind that Brice Leslie 
 was a plucky fellow ; the truth being that Brice was 
 relieved by the feeling that, at all events, he could 
 now put off the evil day. He could see no one that 
 was a fact he hailed with relief, even if the relief were 
 attended with bodily pain. 
 
 Presently, however, the bodily overpowered the 
 mental agony. There was sorrow and anxiety enough 
 for his friends and relations. Griselda, who came 
 every day to get news, became visibly thinner and 
 paler, but she kept up bravely. She had her home 
 duties to attend to, and she was not going to make
 
 248 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 others as miserable as she was herself. Her mother 
 needed much attention just then, and her father was 
 worried about his wife. Griselda faced her duties like 
 a brave woman, and no outsider would have given her 
 credit for so much strength of character and such firm 
 purpose as she now showed. 
 
 The days dragged heavily by, and it became 
 generally known that Brice Leslie was very ill. Every 
 day the doctor's reports were more gloomy, and Gri- 
 selda's eyes grew larger ; they had a scared look in 
 them, as if something were going out of her life. 
 Brice might not talk or write, she only had the daily 
 news given to her in no comforting vocabulary by 
 Miss Leslie, who one day remarked 
 
 "Brice is worrying about something, the nurse 
 says, something apparently about a promised visit to 
 a Miss Cuthbert. She acted in that play. I dare say 
 it is of no consequence, but if I knew her address I 
 would write." 
 
 " I know her," said Griselda, " she is a great friend 
 of Lady Mary Milton. I will get her address, and, by 
 the way, papa and I are going to London the end of 
 this week to see about a new governess for Evie I 
 will call on Miss Cuthbert. She will know what Brice 
 means. Does he like my flowers and my notes ?" she 
 asked suddenly. " O Miss Leslie ! it seems so dread- 
 ful not to see him not to be able to do anything for 
 him. But I mean to be brave ; Brice will praise me 
 some day when he hears of it, and when we talk over
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 249 
 
 this dreadful time." Griselda's eyes filled with tears, 
 but with a strong effort she forced them back. 
 
 To herself she said, " I feel as if I would willingly 
 take his place, even if I had to die."
 
 CHAPTER XVIJ. 
 
 GRISELDA FOY stood by the old carved mantel- 
 piece in the dining-room, waiting for her father to 
 come down-stairs. She held a little note from Miss 
 Leslie in her hand ; it contained these words : " We are 
 so glad you are kindly going to call at Miss Cuthbert s 
 house. Brice is always repeating her name in his de- 
 lirium, and there is evidently some promise weighing 
 on his mind so, at least, the nurse seems to think. 
 You can imagine my trouble ; I cannot leave my 
 father, who is much worse because of his anxiety 
 about Brice, and the doctor is fearful of infection. 
 We send our love, and we know how you share our 
 constant anxiety." 
 
 There was a change in Griselda. Any one with an 
 attentive eye could have seen that, though it was hard 
 to define where the change lay. The lithe girlish fig- 
 ure still looked full of health and life, the same sweet 
 brave smile still lighted up the face when her own 
 people spoke to her and required her help and every- 
 body did require Griselda's sunshine ; but there was 
 something in the expression of her eyes that was 
 terribly pathetic. The pleading look of a deer, or that
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 251 
 
 possessed by some dogs, gives a faint idea of this new 
 expression ; the childlike gaze had entirely gone 
 away. Just now, as she fingered the note and re-read 
 the words, her pupils dilated, and she leant her grace- 
 ful head against the carved work, dreamily reading 
 over the words of the old motto again 
 
 " A Dieu Foy, 
 Aux amis Foyer." 
 
 "Brice, Brice," she murmured, " 1 A Dieu Foy' ; we 
 looked at that together. I have not trusted enough ; 
 I never expected any trouble ; everything was sun- 
 shine, and I thought it would always be so, and 
 now " Griselda paused, a dim thought, a vague 
 anxiety, passed over her soul like a shadow over a 
 deep pond an anxiety which Griselda would not even 
 put into words, so utterly startling and strange was 
 it ; but the letter in her hand had put it into her mind, 
 and almost unconsciously she tore it into pieces and 
 flung it into the paper-basket. 
 
 Then she brushed back her shining hair as if this 
 action would drive away the ideas, and once more she 
 traced out the motto with her rosy fingers. 
 
 So pure, so fresh, so graceful and lithe she looked, 
 as she stood there, that one could easily imagine a 
 barbarian falling down at her feet to worship this 
 goddess come down among men. But the look of 
 untroubled peace had fled, the merry joyous tones no 
 longer sounded through the house : Griselda was 
 learning by suffering.
 
 252 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 At this moment she heard her father's step in the 
 hall, and, hastily seizing a list of commissions given 
 to her by her mother, she went out to meet him. 
 
 " Ready, my dear ? That's right. Your mother 
 seems better. Not much better news of poor Brice. 
 Well, well, it's too early to despair." 
 
 Griselda suddenly laid her head upon her father's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Papa, life was so beautiful in New Zealand, and 
 now " She lifted her eyes and he saw the dazed 
 look in them, it was as if the girl had looked at some 
 horrible picture which had remained fixed on her men- 
 tal vision. 
 
 " When Brice gets well, my dear, we will let every- 
 thing become public ; this concealment is rather try- 
 ing for you." 
 
 " No, no, papa. Don't tell any one of our en- 
 gagement; it is much better as it is; this this illness 
 would be harder to bear, if everyone began to sym- 
 pathise. Papa, I didn't mean to say anything you 
 know I did not, but just for a minute I forgot I am 
 so young and foolish, too young for Brice, I am afraid. 
 But he, he " She paused, then, altering her tone, 
 " Papa, he will get well, he cannot die, our motto 
 helps me so much 
 
 " ' A Dieu Foy, 
 Aux amis Foyer! 
 
 There would always be a home for Brice here, and 
 love too, even if he did all sorts of odd things,
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 253 
 
 wouldn't there? I'm supposing such queer things, 
 and I only mean that we Foys have always been true, 
 haven't we ? It's quite a fault with us." 
 
 Mr. Foy did not listen very attentively to all this; 
 he knew Griselda was terribly anxious about her 
 lover, he could see that in her face. He knew Brice 
 was in great danger, but he made the best of it to his 
 child. She meant, of course, if Brice died he must 
 not force her to marry another; but time would settle 
 all that time, that softens so many things. At this 
 moment, a day in London he thought would change 
 her gloomy ideas. 
 
 " Yes, dear, we are an obstinate race. I believe 
 there is no fear of a Foy giving up his faith or his 
 friend. Now, come, we must not be late." 
 
 All the way to town Griselda held an envelope in 
 her hand, on which Lady Mary had written Miss 
 Cuthbert's address. Lady Mary had sent a kind let- 
 ter to Griselda, saying she was extremely sorry to 
 hear of Mr. Leslie's dangerous illness, and that if she, 
 Griselda, happened to be near Wilton Crescent she 
 was sure Miss Cuthbert would much like to hear all 
 the latest particulars she knew about him. Lady Mary 
 was prudent ; she said no more, but she wondered if 
 Griselda Foy would understand. 
 
 When their business was done, Griselda was ready 
 with her request. 
 
 " Papa, I want to go and see Miss Cuthbert ; I met 
 her at Lady Mary Milton's, and it won't interest
 
 254 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 you to come. We can meet at the station ; I will take 
 a cab." 
 
 Mr. Foy was surprised, for it was very strange for 
 Griselda to take a fancy for strangers; however, he 
 was not a man to object. 
 
 "Very well. I'll go to my club and meet you 
 again at Waterloo. Don't be late." 
 
 She smiled her answer, and half an hour later she 
 was ringing the bell at Miss Cuthbert's house in Wil- 
 ton Crescent. Griselda's heart beat fast, her colour 
 came and went, her hand trembled ; suppose Miss 
 Cuthbert should not be there ; suppose 
 
 Miss Cuthbert was at home, and Griselda sent up 
 her card, and was soon shown into a drawing-room 
 with folding-doors thrown open. The room was 
 empty, and Griselda sitting down with her back to the 
 window had time to admire the exquisite taste of 
 everything in it. It was not filled like a curiosity- 
 shop with endless varieties of knicknacks, china of 
 all dates, ornaments of no date, furniture of Queen 
 Anne's time as imitated in the days of Queen Vic- 
 toria; but there was a rich simplicity about every- 
 thing, a unity of idea, a harmony of colour ; there 
 was what, for want of a better expression, we 
 might call " a classic reserve " in everything. The 
 books, too, indicated a taste both choice and wide, 
 and the prints were rare. There were beautiful 
 modern water-colours and one oil picture in a cor- 
 ner. Griselda could see it was good, though she
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 255 
 
 did not know enough to tell that it was a Gu- 
 ercino. 
 
 " This is exactly how a modern room ought to be 
 furnished," thought Griselda, knowing it was right, 
 though not knowing why. "It is just the house she 
 ought to live in ; everything is perfect, fit for her. 
 No wonder " 
 
 There was a long sweep of softest drapery, and 
 Magdalen herself opened the door. Griselda noted 
 that the owner of the house did indeed match the 
 room ; she had on an exquisite grey silk tea-gown 
 which softened all that was hard in her face. 
 
 Griselda for a moment became conscious that she 
 herself was dressed in a simple blue print, and that her 
 gloves were soiled ; then she forgot all these minor 
 defects in sudden admiration of Magdalen. Her heart 
 seemed to beat so violently that she could not speak 
 at first, and there rose before her mind's eye the vision 
 of the paper-basket where Miss Leslie's note lay torn 
 into small pieces. 
 
 Then, looking up again quickly, the young girl 
 noted a strange expression on Miss Cuthbert's face; 
 she saw that she looked pale and worn, that her face 
 had a thin, pinched look, and that her dazzling beauty 
 seemed half veiled. Six months ago Griselda could 
 not have told that these signs denoted mental suffer- 
 ing, now she immediately drew this conclusion 
 " Miss Cuthbert is anxious about something or some- 
 body." Again her tongue seemed to be paralysed,
 
 256 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 and it was without a word that she held out her 
 hand. 
 
 "I did not expect to see you," said Magdalen 
 quietly, though her tone expressed no surprise, " but 
 perhaps you have come in by chance. Are you stay- 
 ing in London?" 
 
 " Oh no, no ! I could not do that when do you 
 know ? Mr. Leslie is so dangerously ill and they 
 let him see no one ; diphtheria is so catching, and oh ! 
 it is such a terrible disease. Indeed, even if he gets 
 better they will not let any one not me even see 
 him for a long time." 
 
 Miss Cuthbert had looked at her with her won- 
 drous strange blue eyes as she spoke, and then with- 
 out saying a word seemed to motion her to sit down ; 
 but this time she, Magdalen, took her place with her 
 back to the light and motioned Griselda to a chair op- 
 posite, where all the autumn glow fell on her face and 
 made visible every varying expression. There was no 
 need of such strong light, however, to see the altera- 
 tion in the girl's face. What had been like a ray of 
 pure sunshine seemed now touched with the cold fin- 
 ger of despair, lightly touched perhaps, but she had 
 felt the first chill of it. Mechanically Magdalen re- 
 peated to herself, " She is a child, she would love any- 
 body. She will forget him just now, of course, she 
 is troubled ; but " 
 
 " It is a dreadful thing," she said quietly, and her 
 tone sounded strangely calm and cold when compared
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 257 
 
 with Griselda's accent of acute pain, "but you need 
 not conclude that the worst results will follow, Miss 
 Foy." 
 
 Griselda leant her head on her hand, and this ac- 
 tion, the action of an older person, gave something 
 pathetic to the whole girlish figure. There was a 
 pause Griselda was evidently thinking deeply, and 
 then rising quickly she made a few steps towards 
 Magdalen ; but the cold, immovable, imperturbable 
 figure appeared to stop her, as if the elder woman's 
 stronger will had bidden her not to approach her. 
 Griselda sank down on her chair again. 
 
 " Please forgive me for being so so stupid and 
 restless. I don't know how I have got through this 
 second week of it. I try never to remain idle for a 
 moment; I dare not think. Miss Cuthbert, you know 
 him, that is why I have come here no it was another 
 reason as well." Griselda clasped her hands round 
 her knees and bent forward a little, but that beau- 
 tiful woman opposite to her remained cold and im- 
 passive ; it seemed as if Griselda were talking to 
 a person utterly indifferent to her words and her 
 grief. 
 
 " Indeed what other reason ? " 
 
 " I knew you would like to hear about him any 
 one who knows Brice really, must care to hear and 
 besides " The rest of the sentence seemed to stick 
 in her throat ; her lips refused to utter it. 
 
 "Besides?"
 
 258 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Besides, he is always speaking about you, asking 
 for you " 
 
 Magdalen actually felt her colour rising, knew her 
 hand trembled ; only she pressed it firmly against her 
 knee, and pretended to pick out a little loose thread 
 from her gown. 
 
 " This is what is reported to you," she said, and 
 laughed her short, strange laugh, "but as you have 
 not seen him, most likely he merely mentioned my 
 name once. The play probably stuck in his memory." 
 
 "That is true, it is only what they tell me." Then 
 she put her hand wearily on her forehead, leaning 
 her elbow on the Chippendale table. " No, they said 
 something else about some promise. I daresay you 
 can explain." 
 
 "Explain the wanderings of fever; indeed, that is 
 beyond my power, Miss Foy. You give me credit for 
 more talent than falls to my share." 
 
 "Then is it nothing? cannot you understand, 
 cannot you send him a message that will ease his 
 mind, comfort him ? People do understand I've 
 heard our doctor say it even when they appear to 
 be quite light-headed. If you were to say it was all 
 right, or that you did not want to know any more, or 
 anything, Brice might be comforted." 
 
 " It is very unlikely," said Magdalen slowly. 
 " Had we not better let the doctor and the nurse 
 manage their patient in their own way ? " 
 
 "Oh!" gasped Griselda, "you do not know you
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 259 
 
 cannot surely understand about me and him ? I 
 thought that night when we saw you near the fountain 
 at Rosehill that you knew I was that we were lovers. 
 If not, I should not have dared to come here, just to 
 talk about him; but you, except our own people, are 
 the only person who knows our secret, and I may I 
 say it, Miss Cuthbert ? I couldn't help liking you the 
 first time I saw you." Griselda blushed as she made 
 this remark. There was something so trusting in her 
 words, in her tone, that Magdalen in spite of herself 
 was touched, although she argued proudly that the 
 admiration of a girl so young and so simple was 
 utterly valueless to her. 
 
 "It was very kind of you, Miss Foy," she said. 
 Though the words sounded slightly ironical, Magdalen 
 did not imagine for a moment that Griselda would 
 hear or recognise her tone, but to her surprise she 
 appeared to do so, for she lifted her eyes and looked 
 at Magdalen reproachfully, though she said nothing 
 about the irony. 
 
 " Don't call me Miss Foy. Everybody calls me 
 Griselda. Near you I feel so young and so ignorant. 
 You are so clever, and I may say, mayn't I ? so 
 beautiful, that I don't wonder everyone admires you. 
 I should never have had the courage to come here, if 
 if it hadn't been for Brice's sake. I wish I could 
 explain myself about him. You don't know how much 
 I love him ; I can't explain it to myself even ; it began 
 when I was a child. He used to come and stay with
 
 2 6o A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 us for a few weeks at a time between his journeys 
 into the interior ; I think I learnt to know all his 
 thoughts almost, and yet I remained just my stupid 
 self as well. Is that foolish ?'* 
 
 Magdalen lay back in the arm-chair half wearily, 
 as if all this naive confession bored her slightly. 
 
 " Everybody is influenced in a different way, I 
 believe." 
 
 "You can explain all that, I know, but I can't; I 
 only know that I love him that my feeling is quite 
 apart from his caring about me; that I think of his 
 happiness before my own. Oh, I'm sure I do ! " 
 
 "We are apt to think that till we are tried." 
 Magdalen's tone was more interested now. This sim- 
 ple girl, after all, was not quite colourless, not merely 
 an easily-influenced individual, who could be acted 
 upon by any outside force stronger than herself. 
 "But the truth is, our deepest feelings centre round an 
 invariable nucleus of self." 
 
 " You say so, clever people say so, I suppose, but it 
 isn't really always true; it isn't true with me. If it 
 were to make Brice happy I would " Griselda 
 paused, and suddenly Magdalen lost the feeling that 
 she was talking to a child, or that a child was talking 
 to her; she bent forward and looked at her as if she 
 would find the flaw in this young soul, which from its 
 very purity and simplicity seemed so strong that Mag- 
 dalen's passionate nature was touched, nay, even sur- 
 prised out of herself.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 2 6l 
 
 " Yes, there is the test ; in reality how little you 
 would do ! Would you let me paint an imaginary 
 picture would you let another woman take his love 
 from you ? would you let her by the strength of her 
 passion forgive me the word (you are almost too 
 young to understand it) turn his pure deep affection 
 into a burdensome weight ? would you allow her to crush 
 his manhood till he gave up the struggle, and perhaps in 
 the far future lived to repent ? I have seen that done." 
 
 Griselda's soft rounded cheeks were covered with 
 deep blushes, as Magdalen, in a quick passionate utter- 
 ance, painted her picture. It was as if she had taken 
 that girl's soul in her hands and forced it to bear the 
 pressure of suffering humanity, but in the process the 
 innate purity of Griselda's being felt the scorching, 
 blasting power of the world's cruelty. 
 
 " Yes, I would," she said quietly, though as she 
 spoke the tears fell slowly down her cheek. " I love 
 him so much that I would give up everything for him, 
 and I should feel that in doing this I should still keep 
 the best part of him, the part that trusted me and be- 
 lieved I would do everything for his happiness and 
 not for my own." 
 
 There was a pause and a deep silence, a silence that v 
 seemed more terrible than the most awful storm. The 
 old square highly-chased clock on the chimney-piece 
 ticked aloud, marking time that was flying in its inex- 
 orable, invariable, proportion. Magdalen looked at 
 the girl before her, and a strange new feeling of sur-
 
 262 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 prise came over her. It was something new, some- 
 thing she could not fathom, something which with 
 her many-sided character, where self was the centre 
 facet of every rose she had not before believed pos- 
 sible ; even now she doubted, doubted because doubt 
 was so easy to her, because, much as she believed in 
 abstract generosity, abstract nobility, abstract self-re- 
 nunciation, she was utterly sceptical about the reality 
 of them in the conduct of woman or of man. She had 
 the feeling expressed by Satan in the poem of Job : 
 " Doth Job fear God for nought ? . . but put forth 
 Thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he 
 will curse Thee to Thy face." Either Griselda Foy 
 did not love Brice, as Magdalen understood love, or 
 she herself was incapable of understanding this creed 
 an emblem, if true, of God-like unselfishness. But 
 if she, Magdalen, were wrong? If the very thought 
 humbled her, but she was not conquered yet, not con- 
 vinced, for doubt is as strong as faith ; if the latter 
 works miracles, the former will destroy strong and ap- 
 parently impregnable fortresses. Magdalen heaved a 
 little sigh ; it came from the depth of a heart that had 
 been wounded in many a fight, that had striven in 
 vain to find peace, and that now, on the threshold of 
 so-called happiness, was stopped by an obstruction so 
 slight, so despised, that she looked down upon it in 
 mute surprise. 
 
 Suddenly she rose from her chair and stood up be- 
 fore Griselda in all her womanly beauty. Everything
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 263 
 
 about her was made to dazzle ; she delighted in the 
 sight of it herself, and not only for the effect it might 
 have on others. If she were made up of powerful con- 
 tradictions, she was, through the same contradictions, 
 capable of surprising herself and others. Griselda 
 also stood up, she felt time was slipping away, she 
 must not miss her train ; but she had not yet accom- 
 plished her purpose. 
 
 " I must go now," she said simply, so simply that it 
 seemed impossible to believe she had spoken just now 
 above herself, above poor human nature ; " but we 
 were forgetting, Miss Cuthbert I came here to get a 
 message for Brice. It may be just what he wants to 
 to ease his mind." 
 
 Magdalen came close to Griselda ; tall as was this 
 latter, Magdalen was a little taller, and not slight nor 
 lithe. In that moment of contact, when Magdalen's 
 soft silk touched with lightest rustle Griselda's blue 
 cotton, there came over the elder woman, the woman of 
 the world, a feeling belonging as it seemed to some for- 
 mer state of existence perhaps, some former con- 
 sciousness of other worlds where she had been a 
 mother, where a child's innocent lips had touched hers, 
 and a child's fair curls had lain on her bosom. Without 
 a word she put her strong arm round Griselda, and drew 
 down the girl's head on her shoulder. " Poor child," 
 she said softly, " you love him very much, you will 
 make him happy, you must." Griselda's self-control 
 almost gave way, there was a little sob heard mingling
 
 264 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 with the ticking of the clock. " I I would give my 
 life for his." 
 
 " Hush, child, you need not do that believe me 
 you will be happy yet. He will get well ; Griselda, 
 kiss me, child ; I think that I who believe in so 
 little, I must believe in you. Now go I will send 
 Mr. Leslie a message soon." 
 
 With a little cry of happiness Griselda flung her 
 arms round Magdalen's neck. " I love you, Miss 
 Cuthbert always whatever you do, because No, 
 that sentence could not be, never was finished. 
 
 An hour later Magdalen still sat there like some 
 sphinx of the desert, some grand unearthly Greek 
 goddess. Her bosom heaved as if life were slowly 
 ebbing away, as if she had detached herself from all 
 that was human, all that made life worth having ; she 
 seemed to be looking into the future as she gazed 
 fixedly into vacancy ; dim spectres seemed to come 
 and go before her, strange shapes conjured up from 
 past dreams of youthful delight ; she felt this whole 
 world of spirits was fighting against her and she 
 against them ; and, more distinct than any of them, 
 rose the image of Brice Leslie but Brice Leslie in the 
 future, the man who might some day reproach her for 
 that which he now craved for ; then, in a golden back- 
 ground of pure light, Griselda appeared, and at the 
 end of all Magdalen rose and lifted her arms high 
 above her and clasped them over her head. " She 
 loves," she said, " but perhaps I have never loved 
 before. Suppose I I Is it possible ? "
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THIS evening Magdalen could not think uninter- 
 ruptedly about herself ; that was doubtless a blessing, 
 a great blessing in her present frame of mind. Mrs. 
 Stewart was ill and was a little exacting about atten- 
 tion and attentions. Miss Cuthbert was not a good 
 nurse ; she had always enjoyed splendid health, and 
 looked upon the many weak beings of the world with 
 a sort of dumb pity which was not at all akin to love. 
 She had very right ideas about health, thinking it was 
 a greater title of honour than nervous or sentimental 
 weakness; but when she set herself to nurse Mrs. 
 Stewart, she did it with all her might. Thoroughness 
 had a charm for Magdalen, that is, as long as the in- 
 clination to do the thing lasted. 
 
 Her old friend's bell made her suddenly remember 
 her long absence from her bedside, and she walked to 
 the glass and rearranged her hair; this little touch of 
 vanity was very characteristic of Magdalen. She 
 would not have liked even Mrs. Stewart to have seen 
 an unlovely line about her ; it was this fastidiousness 
 about her appearance that had led spiteful tongues 
 especially women's tongues to say that Miss Cuthbert 
 was always posing; to such an accusation Lady Mary
 
 266 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 had once answered, " Oh, there is posing and posing. 
 Magdalen's posing is born of a fine sense of fitness 
 and artistic feeling ; in that sense everyone ought to 
 pose, it is their duty." Whereupon a plain spinster 
 had answered that Lady Mary would be sure to de- 
 fend all Miss Cuthbert's actions, even if she committed 
 murder. " Well, of course," answered the incorrigible 
 champion, " if she committed a murder, it would be a 
 fine crime, there would be something worth studying 
 in the details." What is the use of arguing with an 
 advocate who is not ashamed to bring forward such a 
 defence ? 
 
 " What a long visit some one paid you, Magdalen ! 
 I want my tea. Did they stay all that time ? " said 
 Mrs. Stewart. 
 
 " No, dear, I am sorry ; I have been dreaming 
 of plans and I forgot everything else." 
 
 " That is very unlike you ; I have noticed a change 
 in you lately, let me look at you." 
 
 " I don't think my health need make any one 
 anxious," said Magdalen, laughing. 
 
 " But you trifle with it dreadfully, sooner or later 
 you must pay for such imprudence." 
 
 Mrs. Stewart was always happy when she was 
 slightly indisposed, and happier if she could make her- 
 self believe that Magdalen had a mysterious malady 
 which, though it gave no outward sign whatever, 
 would, like a so-called extinct volcano, some day 
 burst forth when least expected.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 267 
 
 " I am well, quite well ; I will give you full warn- 
 ing when I feel a serious illness approaching." Mag- 
 dalen rang the bell for tea, then sat down by the 
 invalid's sofa. She was still absent-minded, however, 
 but she took up a piece of silk embroidery and 
 stitched diligently to hide her strange silence. At 
 last, forcing herself to speak, she added 
 
 "It was Miss Foy who came; I told you about 
 her. She is the girl who was thrown from her horse 
 and was brought in to Rosehill by Mr. Leslie. It was 
 quite a romantic little episode." 
 
 " Why did she corrie ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, she admires me, I think, but she is 
 almost a child ; one half expects to see her in short 
 frocks. However, she is pretty, very pretty. She 
 made quite a sensation at Lady Mary's party." 
 
 " It is all through me that you have come back to 
 this dull place, dear Magdalen. You have so many 
 invitations, won't you accept one of them and leave 
 me ? " 
 
 Mrs. Stewart only half meant her unselfish speech, 
 but in that she resembled many another speaker. 
 
 " No, indeed, I really like it. London has a 
 strange fascination for me now that one meets no 
 one. It seems to make life a little more real ; but I 
 was going to say, dear, that I want to go and spend a 
 day in the country soon, not far off, in Lady Mary's 
 neighbourhood. I can come back in the evening, or 
 at least the next morning, as I may sleep at Rosehill.
 
 268 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 You won't mind ? Andrews will look after you, I 
 know, better than I can do." 
 
 " You have been very good to me, Magdalen ; I 
 wish yes, with all my heart, that you could make up 
 you mind to give some one else the right to to 
 love you." 
 
 Magdalen frowned. Mrs. Stewart must indeed be 
 presuming on her indisposition to dare to say this to 
 her. 
 
 " We agreed long ago to respect each other's pri- 
 vate affairs," she said, a little haughtily. Then a maid 
 came in with a dainty tea-service, and that happy meal 
 brought another turn to the dangerous conversation. 
 
 When she retired to her room that evening, and 
 after her beautiful hair had been brushed, Magdalen 
 dismissed her maid, saying she wanted nothing more ; 
 then a very strange thing took place. She went to 
 her wardrobe and looked over a somewhat large 
 assortment of dresses and mantles, and choosing the 
 simplest black silk skirt she could find she put it on 
 and dressed herself entirely as if she were going out 
 of doors. She even put on her hat and the simple 
 cloak adorned with soft real lace. The hat, though of 
 plain black straw, was perfect in shape and trimmed 
 with handsome black ostrich feathers; when fully 
 dressed, she lighted two more wax candles, and by the 
 increased light examined herself attentively in the 
 glass. She had no ornaments except one simple 
 crystal locket set round with diamonds. The locket
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 269 
 
 was meant to contain hair, but it had nothing in it 
 now. Evidently the effect was satisfactory, for Mag- 
 dalen smiled with pleasure and then laughed a little 
 ironically at herself for being able to care. This done 
 she took off the out-door garments, wrapped herself 
 in a dressing-gown and walked slowly up and down 
 the room. 
 
 " I must go to-morrow," she said at last, aloud, " I 
 must. My courage will only hold out just long 
 enough ; who knows even if it will hold out as long 
 as that ! Is it really I who am going to do this ? I 
 can't believe it and afterwards ? Afterwards ? after- 
 wards is there any afterwards ? What is it that 
 splendid dreamer, Leconte de Lisle, says ? " She 
 paused before a bookshelf of foreign books and took 
 down a volume of poems, entitled Polities Tragiques ; 
 her long supple fingers turned its pages swiftly over 
 till she found the verse she remembered, under the 
 title of " L'lllusion supreme " : 
 
 " Tout cela Jeunesse, amour, joie et pensee, 
 Chante de la mer et les forets, souffle du ciel ; 
 Emportant a plein vol I'esp^rance insensee, 
 Qu'est-ce que tout cela, qui n'est pas eternel ? " 
 
 She put back the volume and took down another 
 evidently this poet was a favourite of hers, and 
 the next lines she found had previously been marked: 
 
 " Et toi, divine Mort, ou tout rentre et s'efface, 
 Accueille tes enfants dans ton sein etoile ; 
 Affranchis-nous du temps, du nombre et de 1'espace, 
 Et rends-nous le repos que la vie a troubled"
 
 2/O 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " He believes in a happy previous state of exist- 
 ence as well as in the after Nirvana," she said to her- 
 self, " and I I don't know what to believe ! But the 
 present, the present is one's own ; at all events, one 
 can act in this life." 
 
 Then the image of Griselda Foy forced itself again 
 on her mind. " How simple she is, and yet she is such 
 a riddle. I believe she spoke the truth. Can I believe 
 that? Yes, I do, I do I will not doubt it. Once, 
 when I first knew Percy, I too no, I was never like 
 that, but I too could believe as she does. But then to 
 have felt faith in man, in God, in everything slipping 
 away, loosening itself insensibly from one's grasp, 
 one's heart, one's brain that was dreadful, but was it 
 worse than this ?" 
 
 Magdalen put back her poet on the shelf and went 
 to open her window. It was chilly now, the night was 
 cold, and she shivered. The strength of her fierce 
 struggles had exhausted her, and soon closing the win- 
 dow she went to bed. As she lay there in the dark- 
 ness some old familiar words floated through her 
 brain ; it was long since she had thought of them or 
 used them, but now they seemed to come unbidden to 
 her memory : " I will arise, and go to my Father. "- 
 " No," she said aloud, " no, to to Brice ! O Brice ! is 
 it because I love you, or because I think I love you ?" 
 
 Then very soon a soft unconsciousness drew a 
 merciful veil over her brain, and in spite of all anxiety 
 Magdalen Cuthbert fell fast asleep.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 271 
 
 A good many miles away from Wilton Crescent there 
 was another watcher, another whose physical weakness 
 at times clouded his intellect and at times abnormally 
 sharpened his perceptions, till the keen vibrations of 
 thought caused a new agony never before experienced 
 by the sick man. Brice Leslie could, at times, see 
 and rehearse the past so plainly, that it seemed to him 
 impossible to believe that he was not in truth reacting 
 it. The human brain is so delicately balanced that 
 one is tempted to imagine that a perfectly sane, well- 
 balanced cellular brain department must belong only 
 to a very few of the human race. Sometimes one is 
 even inclined to think that any great talent, any great 
 emotion, any trace of genius, is the result of some de- 
 rangement of the brain cellules, some dimly explained 
 or unexplainable disturbance of the grey matter, 
 where scientific philosophers lodge our intellectual 
 activity and our active emotions. This idea helps one 
 to realise the repugnance with which some natures 
 view all passion, all that passes the boundary of the 
 ordinary. There may be, in fact, as direct a satisfac- 
 tion in contemplating the commonplace as there is 
 in looking at a person in rude health, a feeling 
 which can hardly be explained to any one who, on 
 the contrary, craves for what is extraordinary and un- 
 balanced. The first could echo the words of the 
 French poet 
 
 " Je hais la passion et 1'esprit me fait mal 
 
 Aimons-nous doucement." 
 18
 
 272 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 The other, in his lassitude of all emotions and finding 
 none that could sufficiently move him, could exclaim, 
 with another famous Frenchman 
 
 " Je suis venu trop tard dans un monde trop vieux." 
 
 Strangely enough, Brice Leslie, as he lay on his 
 sick-bed, left from unavoidable circumstances en- 
 tirely alone, except for his professional nurse a 
 woman whose excellent training had taken away all 
 her natural art of nursing and sympathy was pur- 
 sued alternately by these two extremes. Sometimes 
 he looked back with intense longing to the mental 
 calm of his New Zealand life, to the happy, almost 
 unemotional, experience during the long growth of his 
 love for Griselda Foy. At other times all these 
 thoughts were hurled away in a mad tumult of pas- 
 sionate regrets, passionate longings for the sight of 
 Magdalen. Then, too, he experienced a deep anguish 
 that he had not cast all consideration to the winds, 
 and that he had not taken advantage of the present, 
 the time when, in a supremely happy moment for him, 
 she had said, looking at him, with those deep blue 
 eyes, where happiness seemed to be rekindled from 
 long-smouldering ashes, " Forgive me, Brice." 
 
 Then the passionate longing would at times sud- 
 denly cool down. Any long strain of emotional 
 thought is apt to extinguish its own fire, and requires 
 a new energy to rekindle it, obeying some hidden law, 
 some unknown boundaries which have been set to
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 2/3 
 
 human sensations in order to protect them from them- 
 selves. At such moments Brice felt distinctly that he 
 did not wish to see Magdalen Cuthbert again, that she 
 had cast over him a spell against which his higher 
 nature rebelled, a nature which in him would surely 
 reassert itself. If she prevailed, blight would inevita- 
 bly follow, the blight of all strong purpose, the blight 
 of all high ideals, whether of religious, physical, or in- 
 tellectual work, without which a man cannot live, 
 though a woman may be able to exist. Man cannot 
 sustain his mental energy by love alone ; the very 
 durability of his race demands more from him, and by 
 a saddened satiety provides the antidote against a 
 moral decadence. But these thoughts, though true 
 and founded on an innate creed, were succeeded by 
 others, and in these he accused himself of being un- 
 true to every high ideal and honourable feeling. He 
 despised himself for being false, yet at the same time 
 knowing he was incapable of determining his future 
 course of action. After this came a period of still 
 more severe bodily suffering, causing a partial cessa- 
 tion of brain activity. In his unconscious moments 
 he felt himself pursued by the one idea of wishing to 
 see Magdalen, of wishing to fulfil his promise to come 
 back to her ; whilst, in his periods of perfect con- 
 sciousness, he experienced an intense feeling of quiet 
 peace when Griselda's little notes of friendship (as the 
 nurse read them aloud to him, Griselda could say very 
 little but the kind commonplace) were daily brought
 
 274 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 into his room. At first he had turned his head toward 
 the door every time it opened, expecting a letter 
 from Magdalen, some line of sympathy, some words 
 beneath which he could read love ; but then he had 
 argued that of course this was impossible for her, it 
 would be too dangerous. After settling this Brice re- 
 lapsed into varying feelings, among which was one of 
 suppressed rage at the illness itself. This time of 
 waiting, of uncertainty, was what he had never fore- 
 seen, and brave as he was outwardly, never letting a 
 murmur escape him, he was prolonging his pain and 
 increasing his danger by his mental anxiety. 
 
 His father's illness was at this time increased by 
 the anxiety he felt for his son, and Mrs. Leslie and 
 her daughter were kept in close attendance on the 
 chronic invalid. Infection was of course much 
 dreaded ; neighbours would not approach the house, 
 and Griselda's daily note was sent by post. Lady 
 Mary also wrote occasionally to inquire, and passed 
 on the answer to Magdalen. The former felt very 
 unhappy that the engagement had not been a certain 
 fact, but she comforted herself with the idea that a 
 dangerous illness adds ten per cent, to the interest a 
 woman feels for a man who loves her. Brice Leslie 
 was bound to marry Magdalen, and she on her side 
 would still further have her liking turned into pity, 
 her pity into love. Lady Mary always argued neatly ; 
 her talents included the talent of seeing a proper fit- 
 ness and a sequence of events with a strange clearness
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 275 
 
 of insight, and her prophecies, when communicated to 
 others in concise language, much helped to bring 
 about their own fulfilment. 
 
 Brice's bedroom looked out upon a picturesque 
 lane branching off from the main road, a lane seldom 
 used except by the drivers of country carts or the 
 clergyman's pony-carriage, occasionally driven down 
 that side to reach an out-of-the-way hamlet. The 
 house was old-fashioned and many-gabled, faced with 
 rough weather-tiles ; there was a large flower and 
 kitchen garden at the back, whilst in front one could 
 see the blue distance through the overbranching trees 
 of the country lane. 
 
 There was a peacefulness about the place which 
 was very charming to weary folk, very soothing to 
 overwrought nerves. Even Miss Leslie's common- 
 place remarks harmonised with the stillness; there 
 was no fear of any outburst of mental energy on her 
 part as she went about her daily duties and of the 
 servant's delinquencies made mountains out of mole- 
 hills. She felt that it was very tiresome to have a 
 nurse in the house nurses were always so upsetting 
 and required so much waiting upon ; then Brice hav- 
 ing contracted this infectious malady was the crown 
 of all misfortune. She was one of those poor souls 
 who trifle away happiness with trifling miseries, till it 
 must be supposed that their misery becomes a pleas- 
 ure, and that they will accept even the perfections of 
 heaven with a sigh.
 
 276 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Miss Leslie was of course methodical. Every day 
 after luncheon she took a constitutional walk, usually 
 to some cottages; for visiting the poor was one of the 
 few excitements she allowed herself an excitement 
 she could all the more enjoy, because it gave her 
 the opportunity to deplore the thriftless ways of her 
 neighbours. She always started at two o'clock, and 
 came back at four. At half past four she rang the 
 bell for tea, after this she read aloud to her parents if 
 they wished it, or she wrote the family letters. There 
 is more pleasure than many persons understand in 
 daily monotony, and certainly Miss Leslie enjoyed it 
 to the full. 
 
 And now the most anxious period of Brice's illness 
 had passed. He was still very ill, very weak, and the 
 doctor said, highly infectious; but there was now 
 hope he would pull through, if, that is, he did not have 
 a relapse. Perfect quiet was ordered, and the nurse 
 was a great martinet. Miss Leslie sometimes walked 
 as far as Foy Lodge, and on these occasions she felt 
 that it was a very unfortunate thing for Brice to be en- 
 gaged to such a young girl as Griselda. Suppose she 
 had been already his wife, what could she have known 
 about nursing? In fact, she disapproved of the whole 
 business, adding to her other shortcomings a disbelief 
 in the capabilities of young people. 
 
 The October sun was sinking one day when Miss 
 Leslie, having been delayed by her father's indisposi- 
 tion, started off with her 'mother for a late constitu-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 277 
 
 tional drive. Brice was decidedly better, though 
 dreadfully weak, but he was able to.be left alone for a 
 short time indeed he said he preferred it ; so the 
 nurse was asked, and somewhat ungraciously agreed 
 to sit with Mr. Leslie whilst his wife and daughter 
 went for a very necessary change of air. They meant 
 to drive to Foy Lodge, and as the carriage passed up 
 the lane and emerged into the high road they saw a 
 fly stop at the village inn, and a lady step out of it. 
 Miss Leslie pointed her out to her mother, and as they 
 both made much of any small event, wondered what 
 elegant stranger could be putting up at such a humble 
 place as " The Wyvern." 
 
 " It is rather late, too," said Miss Leslie ; "perhaps 
 it is merely a visitor to the Vicarage ; their stable 
 only takes in the pony carriage." This subject suf- 
 ficed the two ladies for half an hour's conversation, so, 
 without noticing it they passed the exquisite fir-wood, 
 where the low slanting sunlight struck the red stems 
 and turned them into a quivering blaze of apricot-red. 
 Then as they drove over one of the Bridges of the 
 canal, they did not even heed how the sunlight mir- 
 rored the surface of the water with glories which no 
 painter could reproduce. 
 
 But all this intense beauty was not thrown away 
 on the stranger who having told the flyman to wait 
 at the "Wyvern" till her return walked down the 
 hill towards Gable End. Woman of the world she 
 might be, and with many powers dwarfed for want
 
 278 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 of using them devoid, too, of that religious enthu- 
 siasm which, capable of elevating the human mind 
 above itself, defies the lower nature to do its worst. 
 In spite of this, Magdalen Cuthbert still possessed a 
 poet's soul, and who shall positively deny that this did 
 not replace in her much of that which Miss Leslie 
 would have thought far more important ? 
 
 On the crest of the slight rising, from which one 
 could see the chimneys of Gable End, she paused 
 and looked around her. No one was in sight ; she 
 was alone with Nature. On her right she saw the 
 fields of richest colouring ; the dividing hedges of 
 golden autumn tints mingling with darkest green ; 
 waves of varying colour, over which the eye travelled 
 with the same pleasure which the body experiences 
 when carried over the swelling waves. In the deep 
 blue distance rose a beautiful hill, round which the 
 sky-line appeared to pencil a lighter halo of gold, a 
 hill whose outline was made irregular by a thick 
 crown of fir-trees, which recalled with their separated 
 pinnacles the law of the lost and found. 
 
 Over all this the October sun was slowly sinking 
 towards its bed of purple clouds, spread ready to re- 
 ceive it before the glory should disappear. 
 
 On the other side, the scene was less suggestive of 
 field-labour. The country here consisted of pure 
 heather land ; the hills were diversified by threads of 
 sandy roads, bordered by pines, whilst here and there 
 larches and oak-trees made sharp contrasts with the
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 279 
 
 firs. Nearer still was the village church, of no partic- 
 ular architecture and surmounted with an open turret, 
 within which the one bell could be clearly seen ; but, 
 to make up for its poverty of outline, God's Acre, full 
 of graves, lay all around. It had been made out of 
 barely-reclaimed heather land, where Nature reasserted 
 itself and sowed its heath flowers, its dwarf gorse, its 
 purple rattle, its toad flax, and its hundred other minute 
 blossoms to ornament the nameless mounds of the 
 poor, or to add greater glory to the headstones of the 
 rich. 
 
 Magdalen looked at all this as if she were in a 
 dream. Somehow, she could not realise life ; she felt 
 as if she herself were unreal, and that even the beauty 
 about her was more like a vision than a reality. She 
 could not analyse it, but in her present mood it 
 seemed to give her that extraordinary sympathy some 
 minds experience when face to face with inanimate 
 nature ; a sympathy which is so mysterious that no 
 philosopher has attempted to explain it, nor indeed to 
 be certain of its reality. 
 
 There was no one in sight, no possible witness to 
 her actions, no reason to pose, no man or woman pres- 
 ent to admire her. The intense stillness was almost 
 irritating in its calmness ; it did not, however, help 
 her to see anything calmly ; on the contrary, it added 
 to her emotion and to her uncertainty. It made her 
 feel that life was a mistake, that her life had been a 
 failure, and that now by her own act she was going to
 
 2 8o A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 deprive the future of hope, and make it as gloomy as 
 the past. There would be nothing to look forward to, 
 not even the calm impassibility of nature, nor its free- 
 dom from thought or feeling. Was anything worth 
 troubling oneself about ? was there such a thing as 
 right and wrong, as good or evil ? was it not all ab- 
 stract feeling decided and crystallised by men, but as 
 varying as the shapes of crystallised particles ? At one 
 time the race believed in one shape, at another in its 
 opposite ; but the thing itself was incapable of dis- 
 covery, and after all, perhaps, not worth discov- 
 ering. 
 
 Such were Magdalen's thoughts for a moment, as 
 she stood there on the crest of the hill and heaved a 
 deep sigh which brought her no relief. Then with the 
 suddenness of man's or shall we say woman's vary- 
 ing thought, her wavering feelings were m a moment 
 transformed into certainty. 
 
 " If there is a higher Power, if we are not merely 
 cast here to wander on where our disposition leads us, 
 then there may be some good in this, then I may 
 make up for something else, that is if the whole idea 
 of making up is tenable. There must be such a 
 Power, even though veiled in mystery ; there must be 
 there must be. If there is, then God help me to be- 
 lieve in it, and in Him." 
 
 She was once more the Magdalen Cuthbert, who 
 in early youth had entered bravely into life's arena, 
 meaning to come out of it with a patent of nobility ;
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 2 8l 
 
 she was once more the true, unselfish woman she had 
 felt herself capable of being oh, so long ago it 
 seemed ! so long ago. Her lips relaxed, her eyes 
 lost their hard look, her slight frown gradually disap- 
 peared. As long as life lasts there is always a power 
 of rising (though there are some who disbelieve this 
 creed), there is always some spark that can be re- 
 kindled, if not kept alight, and there is always power 
 to bring forth the unexpected. 
 
 She woke up from her trance and forced herself to 
 think of the present and of the reason which had 
 brought her here. She also had noticed the two 
 ladies, and the landlord of the inn had pointed them 
 out to her and named them, for she had just inquired 
 where the Leslies lived. He had offered to stop them 
 for her, but she had refused imperatively, secretly de- 
 lighted that so far chance had helped her. Now she 
 walked down the lane till she came to the swing-gate 
 that led up to the front door of Gable End. Mag- 
 dalen paused ; she had left everything to chance, and 
 now she seemed unable to settle what to say, if she 
 did go up and ring the bell ; so she walked slowly 
 down the road looking at the house over the palisade, 
 which was edged with low laurels. Her quick glance 
 took in more than the deliberate gaze of most people; 
 she saw that the window beneath the front gable was 
 only opened a little at the top and bottom, that the 
 blind was half-drawn down, and that a small vase of 
 flowers had been placed on the window-sill. That
 
 282 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 must be the sick-room, she decided ; the scent of hot- 
 house flowers had been too strong for the invalid and 
 the nurse had placed them outside. 
 
 But how was she to get a sight of Brice, how speak 
 to him ? She had pondered over this without arriving 
 at any solution. The danger of infection would cause 
 everyone to be denied an entrance, but Magdalen had 
 determined that she would see Brice, that she would 
 speak to him if only for a minute. 
 
 Now, without further waiting, she gently pushed 
 open the gate, and, not letting it swing back, she 
 walked noiselessly up the path. The bright sunlight 
 burst forth at this moment and was as quickly over- 
 shadowed by a passing cloud. Suddenly, Magdalen's 
 doubts and hesitation were dispelled, for she found 
 the front door standing open, and her mind was at 
 once made up. Leaving her sunshade in a corner of 
 the hall, she walked quickly upstairs. There were no 
 maids about ; she saw the dining-room door standing 
 wide open, and from a distant region came sounds of 
 tea-cups ; so, most likely, some of the maids were 
 having their early tea. At the top of the stairs 
 Magdalen paused to consider which could be Brice's 
 room; in another moment she had decided. But now 
 she heard close beside her a door creak on its hinges. 
 Another instant and she walked towards an angle and 
 placed herself behind it, and from this hiding-place 
 she saw the nurse in her uniform walk down-stairs 
 holding a tray in her hand. She had not come out of
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 283 
 
 the room which Magdalen had already settled was 
 Brice's sick-chamber. Was she then mistaken ? Per- 
 haps so, but she would make sure. She heard the 
 baize door below swing back, and in the short interval 
 came the sound of female voices, undoubtedly belong- 
 ing to servants who feel free of the ears of a strict 
 mistress. 
 
 Magdalen walked straight to the room of the gable 
 window and opened it softly. The first glance assured 
 her she was right ; she was in a sick-room, and in 
 Brice's sick-room. There were no curtains to his 
 bed, and he lay there with closed eyes, and so pale 
 and gaunt-looking as to be barely recognisable. He 
 must have been very near death's door ; was he 
 already entering it ? A great pity awoke in Mag- 
 dalen's heart, a love for the strong man brought low, 
 which for the instant had a real touch of the motherly 
 instinct. 
 
 She closed the door noiselessly, and walked a few 
 steps forward. Her heart beat fast ; she was doing an 
 unheard-of thing, and at any moment she might be 
 discovered. What would Brice himself think of her ? 
 what would he say to her ? 
 
 She paused a few feet away from the bed, and 
 Brice, fancying the nurse had returned, opened his 
 eyes; then, as in one of his feverish dreams, his 
 glance met that of Magdalen's blue eyes. There she 
 stood dressed in soft clinging black with a feath- 
 ered hat he had seen at Rosehill, that softened away
 
 284 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 the harder outlines ; and as he looked, never doubting 
 for a moment that his brain was playing him this 
 trick, he saw her lips part, he saw the living colour 
 spread over her cheeks, and the smile that had often 
 turned his head break forth. He started up, and in 
 his poor, weak, altered voice he called her " Mag- 
 dalen ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " she said gently, and with a cadence 
 of tone that he had never heard before, so that he 
 thought Dante's Beatrice could never have been half 
 so beautiful, " Hush, Brice, I have, come to see you 
 for a moment only to to " She could not say the 
 word yet, it seemed to stick in her throat, to force 
 itself back. 
 
 " Is it true ?" he said, in his hoarse whisper; " is it 
 you, you yourself ?" Then, partly realising the truth, 
 with his thin, transparent hand he feebly waved her 
 away 
 
 " For God's sake, Magdalen for God's sake, do 
 not come near me; there is still infection you may 
 be in danger." 
 
 "I am not afraid; do not agitate yourself see, I 
 have no fears." She came close to him and took his 
 hand. The effort he had made was all he was equal 
 to, his eyes now looked up only in mute appeal. 
 
 " Magdalen," he repeated softly, but the word was 
 only just audible. 
 
 " Do not speak," she said, stooping a little so that 
 her face seemed to him like a saint's head appearing
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 285 
 
 above him; "you have been very ill but you are 
 better now ; Lady Mary sent me word that you were. 
 I am glad, so very glad. You will get well and you 
 will forget me." 
 
 He lifted his eyes mutely to hers ; the pathos of the 
 look brought tears into her blue eyes, as his lips tried 
 to frame her name again. 
 
 " Yes, you will get well and you will be happy. I 
 have seen your Griselda Brice; don't turn away, but 
 listen to me. I have so few minutes I ought not to 
 be here what will they say to me ? I have never 
 spoken like this before to mortal man or woman, I 
 never shall again. It has all been a mistake, but it 
 was my fault partly ; I played with fire, and then I 
 cried when it burnt me. Brice, can you understand ? I 
 loved you first for having been good to Percy, for 
 being such a true friend, and then because of my- 
 self. I was so proud to have won a noble heart and 
 then when I knew No, I don't blame you ; I see it 
 all, I would not draw back. I am so vain, so proud, I 
 would not draw back. But since then I have seen 
 Griselda, I have thought it all out. She is good, so 
 good that she will make you happy because she is 
 unselfish. And we you and I, Brice it might have 
 been all a mistake. You would have got over the 
 fancy; and I I must have disappointed you I know 
 I should ; we might even have got tired of each 
 other, and I should have heard you reproach me. O 
 Brice ! I am so proud, so proud, I don't know what I
 
 286 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 should have done. Sometimes I doubt everything I 
 'doubt if I can love." 
 
 She had spoken very quickly, very hurriedly, she 
 hardly knew if she were saying what she meant to 
 say ; she had rehearsed it mentally several times, but 
 those words were not forthcoming these did not ex- 
 press all she meant to say, but they were the first that 
 her lips could frame. With another man, or with a 
 man in strong health, the old Magdalen might have 
 reappeared; she might have been cold or wayward or 
 haughty, and she might have waited for the worship 
 she expected ; but all this was gone, and little as she 
 guessed it she was a woman now, a woman who could 
 have retained love as well as evoked it. If this mood 
 could have lasted if 
 
 " Magdalen, you are a noble woman, you must de- 
 spise me," he said, trying to speak plainly. 
 
 She shook her head. " How can I despise any 
 one ? Listen, Brice, in my heart I believe yes, I do 
 believe, that I am still true to Percy as you were." 
 
 A light came into the sick man's eyes. He could 
 not take his eyes from the beautiful face near to him. 
 
 " Then I may speak now you would not let me 
 before. His last words were of you. ' If I could see 
 her,' he said, ' she would forgive she would pity me 
 too much to turn away from me.' " 
 
 Magdalen's eyes filled with tears. She seemed so 
 much to want pity herself now ; she wanted love so 
 much, so much, and she was giving it up. Percy had
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 287 
 
 lived to want it too to want her love. She loosed 
 Brice's hand and clasped hers together, suffering a 
 silent concentrated pain which she could have ex- 
 plained to no one and which none could have under- 
 stood. 
 
 Yes, Brice might have done so because' he loved 
 her, but he was too weak to think out any great 
 thought. He knew that she was by his side, the rest 
 he would remember afterwards. 
 
 At that moment Magdalen was recalled to the 
 present by the sound of an opening door; she had 
 stayed too long already, she must go. She stooped 
 down and put her hand again on Brice's thin fingers; 
 they were burning hot now, perhaps she had done him 
 harm. 
 
 " Thank you, Brice, for telling me. I must go, I 
 have made you worse. There good-bye some day 
 you will thank me." 
 
 " No no." He tried to shake his head, tried to 
 clasp her cool hand. "Stay." 
 
 " No, but, Brice I came to say good-bye. Some 
 day, years hence, when there is no more pain, you will 
 like to think that I loved you." 
 
 Before he could stop her for just then the terrible 
 fear for her safety again swept over him she stooped 
 down and kissed him. 
 
 " Good-bye, Brice, you will be happy you are 
 the only man I have kissed, except Percy and my 
 father." 
 
 19
 
 288 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 "The danger," he murmured, trying to raise her 
 hand to his lips. " Go, for God's sake, Magdalen, go." 
 
 She stooped again and smoothed his hair, as she 
 answered with the sad, pathetic little laugh of old 
 
 " The danger I know it I I Good-bye, 
 
 Brice, if I might, I would say, God bless you." 
 
 There was no time for more; a distant footstep 
 was really audible as Magdalen moved away. She 
 did not look back, but before Brice could do more 
 than try to raise himself try to call her once more 
 " Magdalen " she was gone, and the door was softly 
 shut. When the nurse came in she found that her 
 patient, who'm she had left so convalescent, had 
 fainted away.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ON this very evening Lady Mary sat in her draw- 
 ing-room, talking over plans with her husband. It was 
 only a fortnight since the place had been so lively, and 
 since all the world had praised her and her unique en- 
 tertainment. She was reaping her reward, and so was 
 Frank ; only, in his case, the reward was not much 
 appreciated. There were invitations everywhere and 
 from everybody, on Lady Mary's table; there were 
 letters from the most fashionable people, and lying 
 about Frank Milton's studio were humble petitions 
 for portraits by his hand. 
 
 "We shall have to go back to it all," said Lady 
 Mary, warming her feet at the fire, for it was a chilly 
 evening and a tiny fire made the gathering darkness 
 pleasant by contrast ; " but this fortnight has been 
 very pleasant, hasn't it, Frank ? this solitude in the 
 country ?" 
 
 " Yes ; only it is too good to last, Polly," he said ; 
 then, with an unusual exhibition of sentiment, he went 
 to the back of his wife's chair and stroked her gold- 
 shaded-hair ; " but I fancy we might say that of 
 heaven, and some people I could name would get
 
 290 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 weary of what they call ' nice solitude in the 
 country,' for instance." 
 
 " That's too bad, Frank ; you know I'm not tired of 
 your society, sir, especially when you are in a good 
 humour, and don't abuse my friends." 
 
 " What friends, Lady Mary ? " 
 
 " Why, Magdalen Cuthbert, of course. I am long- 
 ing to proclaim to the world that ' Marmaduke ' and 
 ' Esther ' are really wedded, and that they will be hap- 
 py ever after as happy as we are. Eh, sir, what do 
 you say to that?" and Lady Mary put her hand up 
 behind her head and found it, as she expected, clasped 
 in Frank's hearty honest fist. 
 
 " My dear child, you and I differ on that subject. 
 If you took a true view of that lady you would know 
 she was a woman without a heart, who lives on admi- 
 ration she does not even care to possess. You forget 
 what I can remember, there was " 
 
 "Pray don't, Frank; I know exactly what you are 
 going to say, and you know what I shall answer. In 
 spite of the past Magdalen is " 
 
 The door was flung open, the footman stood in the 
 doorway with the look of a Jack-in-the-box just 
 emerged from its prison. 
 
 " Miss Cuthbert, my lady ; she would like to speak 
 to you in the hall." 
 
 The coincidence made Frank feel dreadfully guilty, 
 as if both the footman and Magdalen had personally 
 overheard him, whilst Lady Mary, knowing that she at
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 29! 
 
 least was a true friend, hurried into the hall where 
 Miss Cuthbert stood in the twilight looking like some 
 black-robed representation of night. 
 
 " My dear Magdalen, why do you stay here ? 
 Where have you come from ? Why didn't you tell me ? 
 Is anything the matter ? I did not hear you drive up. 
 Why, in a fly, too ? " 
 
 " Don't kiss me," said Magdalen, in such a soft 
 tone that Lady Mary hardly recognised it as hers. 
 She put her gently away. "You had better not, 
 though it is not infectious except from contact." 
 
 " What nonsense ! what is it ? Has Mrs. Stewart 
 had smallpox ?" 
 
 " No, no ; but will you take me in for one night, 
 after you know that I have been with some one who 
 has or has had diphtheria?" 
 
 " Oh, my dear ! " said Lady Mary, in a suppressed 
 state of excitement " yes, of course, you can stay here. 
 It's all right, I'll give orders. I'm not afraid in the 
 least ; but, no, I won't ask you any more questions till 
 after dinner. You are just in time." 
 
 Such a warm welcome as this seemed to restore a 
 little of Magdalen's powers of feeling. All through 
 that long, long drive she had felt as if transformed into 
 stone ; besides, she was very weary, very sick at heart. 
 
 " If you are a good Samaritan you will let me go to 
 bed and send me a mouthful of something upstairs. I 
 am very tired, and I think I have a headache, or what 
 people call a headache."
 
 292 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " Of course, anything you like, my dear Magdalen. 
 Is Mrs. Stewart better ? " 
 
 " Yes, but far from well ; I must go back to- 
 morrow early, but to-night well, I wanted just the 
 quiet you will give me." 
 
 The two women went upstairs together, and the 
 household in general saw little of Miss Cuthbert 
 either that evening or the next morning. Lady Mary 
 was somewhat silent and absent during this time, and 
 Frank, believing the Magdalen had come for another 
 indefinite stay, suddenly departed to his studio. He 
 was wrong in this small particular, however, but the 
 mistake was of no account in comparison with his 
 grand triumph. The moment of it came next day 
 when his wife was again sitting in the twilight with 
 him, for the artist enjoyed blindman's holiday time. 
 
 " Frank," she began, but her lord and master 
 was trying to draw a charcoal head, after the man- 
 ner of the impressionists, and answered at cross- 
 purposes. 
 
 " You don't need light," he said, when he took up 
 his block, " for this sort of thing, and the less you 
 look at your strokes the more they will look like the 
 real thing." 
 
 " Well, I like the impressionist school ; don't abuse 
 them, they make you think of something below the 
 surface ; but, Frank " 
 
 " Really, Mary, to look at Helmont's portrait of 
 Miss Dorant is an insult to art."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 293 
 
 " Do leave the impressionists, Frank, and listen to 
 me; I suppose I must tell you some time or other." 
 
 " Eh, what ? " 
 
 " Well, about Magdalen. I was nearly right." 
 
 Frank's interest was roused at once by the word 
 nearly, and he laughed heartily. 
 
 " Oh, well, it's only nearly, is it ? Let's hear the 
 news, my dear Mary ; so it wasn't quite so certain as 
 you fancied." 
 
 u Oh, yes, it was. Frank, you needn't laugh. I've 
 been puzzling my brains about it ever since dear Mag- 
 dalen went away." 
 
 " I think I can relieve your mind without your 
 puzzling about it. Leslie wasn't such a fool as to 
 make the offer." 
 
 Lady Mary's face brightened. 
 
 " But he did at least I believe he did ; so there 
 you are wrong." 
 
 " Or, if he did, I was going to say, she didn't " 
 
 " That you can't tell; indeed, I believe she did, and 
 that" 
 
 "But the truth is " 
 
 " That Brice Leslie did make the offer, and she re- 
 fused him." 
 
 " What ! Since his illness, or before ? " 
 
 " Oh, that doesn't matter she has refused him, so 
 I suppose you will always think you were right." 
 
 " There was no thinking necessary. I was cer- 
 tain she would jilt him, as she did those other poor
 
 294 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 fellows. I'm sorry we put him in the way of seeing 
 her." 
 
 " Oh, I fancy it was love at first sight, but she 
 isn't a jilt." 
 
 " Come, Mary, do be sensible. Isn't it jilting a 
 man when you act with him, and meander round with 
 him, and walk and talk and make eyes at him, and 
 then throw him over ? Why, the Magdalen posed 
 the whole time she was here, and thoroughly gulled 
 that poor man." 
 
 " Nonsense, Frank, I don't understand there 
 I am honest, and I say I have lost ; still, I'm sure Mag- 
 dalen did like him and believed herself capable of 
 making him happy ; and, as he adored her, it was very 
 foolish of her to refuse. Still, till something, or 
 some one, proves it to me in black and white, I shall 
 not believe Magdalen hopelessly heartless." 
 
 " Women will not understand the simplest logic. 
 Didn't I tell you so at the time ? Miss Cuthbert was 
 merely amusing herself with him, she treated him as 
 she has treated others. I wish you had not tried to 
 bring it on ; it's rather hard on a nice fellow like Les- 
 lie. However " 
 
 " Don't, Frank," said his wife impatiently. " I'm 
 horribly disappointed ; indeed, I would rather my party 
 had failed than this Poor Magdalen ! " 
 
 " That is certainly wasted pity, but, of course, 
 least said soonest mended. Only, next time, don't ask 
 the man and the woman here."
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 295 
 
 Lady Mary shrugged her shoulders impatiently. 
 
 " You remind me of the clergyman who in the mar- 
 riage service says " Who giveth this woman to be 
 married to this man." Have you noticed, Frank, 
 there is no orthodox answer in the Prayer Book ? I 
 own I meant to do it, but there, I need not have ex- 
 pected sympathy from you." 
 
 " Polly, don't be cross, but look here I may be 
 awfully old-fashioned, but there's too much of this 
 match-making in society ; there are enough masculine 
 fools without our trying to add to their number. But 
 I'm wasting breath, your face says you are not con- 
 vinced." 
 
 Lady Mary rose and slowly paced the room. This 
 pair, happy as they were, and because they were 
 happy, did not often indulge in the expression of 
 their deeper thoughts. 
 
 " Look here, Frank, I was wrong to make a wager 
 about it, but at the bottom of my heart it was really 
 because I I wanted some one, I wanted Magdalen, 
 to be as happy as I am." 
 
 Frank was conquered, and the quarrel ended here ; 
 but, strangely enough, both kept their own opinion 
 Frank that Magdalen Cuthbert was a shameless flirt, ' 
 and had purposely beguiled Brice Leslie, and Lady 
 Mary that some mystery was involved in her failure. 
 
 Brice Leslie was thrown back by the excitement he 
 had gone through ; a temporary paralysis of his limbs,
 
 296 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 a common result of diphtheria, succeeded in rendering 
 him helpless as a baby, and much speculation of course, 
 followed as to the reason. Miss Leslie put it down to 
 one set of causes, the doctor to another, and the nurse 
 to her having been told to leave him. The real reason, 
 strangely enough, was never discovered. 
 
 But Brice's serious symptoms soon passed away. 
 Perhaps the definite breaking off with Magdalen was, 
 in reality, a relief to his mind, although he would not 
 own it to himself. He could not help recognising the 
 truth of Magdalen's words, at the same time that he 
 was feeling as if life could never be the same to him 
 again. The doctors for a second one had to be 
 called in both agreed that, as soon as possible, the 
 invalid should be moved on board ship and should 
 take a sea-voyage. That would restore him better 
 than anything else. His constitution was naturally 
 strong, he would thus be able to overcome the after- 
 effects of that treacherous malady. 
 
 Griselda Foy at this time wrote oftener than ever ; 
 she sent books to Brice, flowers and fruit, and her 
 daily thoughtfulness began to tell, now that the Gor- 
 dian knot was really cut. She had grown wonderfully 
 older in this last month ; even her home people recog- 
 nised the fact, and this caused her mother to be very 
 tender with her. There was no doubt now that she 
 loved Brice too much ever to think of any one else; 
 all ideas of seeing Griselda a duchess or a fashionable 
 lady were forever given up by Mrs. Foy.
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 297 
 
 When she heard Brice was to be carried on board 
 a P. and O., and take the voyage to the Cape and 
 back, Griselda was very glad. Something in her heart 
 told her this was best, and young as she was she had 
 the power of forgetting herself in the thought for 
 those she loved. It is a question often worth sifting, 
 whether such people get their reward. Griselda did, 
 but it would not be safe for any one to embark on the 
 path of unselfishness with any certain hope of it. 
 They might find that virtue has most often to be con- 
 tent with itself and with nothing else for a prize. 
 
 But on the same day that Griselda heard the news 
 that Brice would have to go abroad immediately, and 
 that she might come and see him for a brief five min- 
 utes to say good-bye, she received a note in an un- 
 known hand. The letter was signed A. Stewart, and 
 was short, the characters being very shaky and not 
 very legible. 
 
 " DEAR Miss FOY, I am writing a very hasty line, 
 to satisfy the mind of my dear patient. She cannot 
 speak, but she is just able to write, and I copy her 
 words: 'Tell her that I have kept my promise; my 
 love to both. MAGDALEN.' I am sure you will all the 
 more value the message when you know how great 
 an effort it was for her to write at all. She is very ill, 
 but we have two famous throat-doctors, and they have 
 every hope of her recovery. I am kept out of the 
 sick-room, as I can do nothing, and intense quiet is
 
 298 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 absolutely necessary in such a bad case of diphtheria. 
 Yours sincerely, A. STEWART." 
 
 When Griselda went to say good-bye to Brice she 
 gave up some of her precious time in order that he 
 might read the note. " I know you would rather read 
 this, dear Brice," she said very quickly. He turned 
 intensely pale as he took the letter. 
 
 " I have got over it she must," he said, not daring 
 to look at Griselda. 
 
 " I hope she will because because I love her." 
 
 " Telegraph to me, Griselda." 
 
 "Yes; and oh, Brice, you will come back well and 
 strong, and then, then if " 
 
 Neither of them said any more ; tragic moments in 
 some lives are tragic because wordless. 
 
 In her town house Magdalen Cuthbert at that mo- 
 ment lay motionless in her sick-room. This woman, 
 so much admired and sought after, was strangely 
 lonely, or so it would have seemed to an outsider. 
 The people who knew her best were all out of Lon- 
 don. The few who did more than admire her were 
 not allowed to come to her, the risk was too great ; 
 Mrs. Stewart herself, still very delicate, was really 
 only in the way, and the doctors expelled her. There 
 were two trained nurses, who took the nursing in turn. 
 One of them had a gentle, sweet face, and Magdalen, 
 when she cared to do anything, liked looking at her ;
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 299 
 
 but the disease had attacked her in its most virulent 
 form it cut her off almost at once from her fellow- 
 creatures, for her throat was too bad to allow her to 
 speak. 
 
 Both nurses said she was extraordinarily patient 
 and calm ; they even hinted that she ought to be 
 roused a little more, that she ought to fight with 
 death, and when off duty they told stories of various 
 cases of people who had lived, apparently because 
 they would not die. 
 
 The doctors were wonderfully skilful, and they 
 looked upon the case as one full of interest to science. 
 They were heroic in their devotion and untiring in 
 their efforts. They really conquered the disease, ob- 
 stinate as it proved to be. One of them, indeed, the 
 younger doctor, took a very deep interest in the pa- 
 tient, because he was struck with her forlorn condi- 
 tion. He said once, "Such a handsome woman, and 
 yet not one relation to come to her, only that fussy 
 old woman who is useless." Magdalen had several 
 times smiled at him, even though she could not speak, 
 and apparently her smile retained its old power. 
 
 They conquered the diphtheria, that was true, but 
 the prostration was terrible ; they had to fight next 
 against that. The elder physician began to look 
 grave. "This is getting serious," he remarked to his 
 colleague. 
 
 " Serious, yes, but not too serious," said the other 
 man. " She has a splendid constitution."
 
 300 
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 " That seems to make but little difference in these 
 diphtheritic cases." 
 
 But the younger man was determined to save her ; 
 he disbelieved in rules about recovery. 
 
 Magdalen herself did not allow her thoughts to be 
 divined. She bore everything with heroic courage, 
 but as for the rest 
 
 Her mind had remained perfectly clear through all 
 the agony of her suffering, but at this moment that 
 terrible ordeal was over and she now and then fancied 
 herself elsewhere. Now and then, too, she thought 
 Percy had come back and was standing close beside 
 her ; she could see his handsome face, his smile, and 
 his dark eyes full of love. She stretched out her hand 
 to touch him, and to ask him why he did not kiss her, 
 but instead of finding him she touched the nurse who 
 sat there reading. She was studying her Bible, and 
 the place was marked by a lace picture of the Cruci- 
 fixion. Magdalen was suddenly recalled to reality by 
 being conscious of the nurse's gentle face, for the 
 young woman rose and bent over her, and asked her 
 if she wanted anything. 
 
 " I thought you were Percy," whispered Mag- 
 dalen, as if the nurse must know whom she 
 meant. 
 
 The lace picture fell on the bed, and Magdalen's 
 blue eyes rested upon it. 
 
 " Pin it up," she said, "where I can see it." 
 
 The nurse complied. In another moment, how-
 
 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 3OI 
 
 ever, the blue eyes looked at the nurse, and Magdalen 
 tried to shake her head. 
 
 "Shall I take it down?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You do not like it ?" 
 
 " I want a a little joy. Is there any any- 
 where ? " 
 
 It was getting dusk, and there was a gentle knock 
 at the door. The nurse went softly to open it, and a 
 telegram was handed in to her. She came back to 
 the bedside. Mrs. Stewart had opened it, and had 
 sent it up. 
 
 " Here is a message from a friend. Shall I read 
 it? 
 
 The blue eyes said "yes." They were not dimmed 
 at all, and the nurse admired them immensely. 
 
 " Give her our love. GRISELDA." 
 
 Suddenly there was a smile over the patient's face ; 
 it lit up all the features; it seemed to triumph over 
 pain and over weariness ; it seemed as if she had re- 
 ceived the answer to her question, and that the 
 answer had been a certainty that there was joy 
 somewhere, even for her. 
 
 But as suddenly the smile faded, the eyes closed, 
 and the door opened to let the young doctor come in. 
 
 He gave one glance at the beautiful face, and 
 seized a bottle close at hand. He put his arm round
 
 302 A WOMAN OF FORTY. 
 
 Magdalen, and lifted her gently she was already un- 
 conscious and tried to pour the liquid down her 
 throat. 
 
 " Ah ! " he thought, " it sometimes happens like this 
 in these cases sudden syncope. Hayles was right 
 after all." 
 
 He and the nurse did their utmost, but it was 
 useless. 
 
 Both of them were too much used to death to be 
 outwardly moved, but in his heart the young man 
 grieved. Aloud he said 
 
 " A clot of blood touched the heart. It must have 
 been instantaneous. No blame to you, nurse ; you did 
 everything that was possible. Our skill is powerless 
 in such cases." 
 
 " She was too beautiful to die," said the nurse, and 
 there were unshed tears in her eyes. 
 
 " How old did you say ? " asked the doctor, when 
 he had to write the certificate of death. 
 
 " A woman of forty." 
 
 But there were a few then and afterwards who 
 sorrowed deeply, and who never forgot Magdalen 
 Cuthbert. 
 
 THE END.
 
 APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY, 
 
 PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY. 
 
 1. The Steel Hammer. By Louis ULBACH, 
 
 2. Eve. A Novel. By S. BARING-GOULD. 
 
 3. For Fifteen Years. A Sequel to The Steel Hammer. By Locif 
 
 ULBACH. 
 
 4. A Counsel of Perfection. A Novel. By Lc CAS MA LET. 
 
 5. The Deemster. A Romance. By HALL CAIXE. 
 
 6. A Virgtma Inheritance. By EDMUND PENDLETON. 
 
 7. Ninette : An Idyll of Provence. By the author of Yera. 
 
 8. " The Right Honourable." A Romance of Society and Politics. By 
 
 JUSTIN MCCARTHY and Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 
 
 9. The Silence of Deem MaUlfrnd. By MAXWELL GRBY. 
 
 10. Mrs. Lorimer : A Study in Black and White. By LUCAS MALET. 
 
 11. The Elect, Lady. By GEORGE MACDONALD. 
 
 12. The Mystery of the "Ocean Star." By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 13 Aristocracy. A Novel. 
 
 14. A Recoiling Vengeance. By FRANK BARRETT. With Illustrations. 
 
 15. The Secret of Fontaine-la- Croix. By MARGARET FIELD. 
 
 16. The Master of Rathkelty. By HAWLEY SMART. 
 
 17. Donovan: A Modern Englishman. By EDNA LYALL. (Cheap edition.) 
 
 18. This Mortal Coil. By GRANT ALLEN. 
 
 19. A Fair Emigrant. By ROSA MULHOLLAND. 
 
 20. The Apostate. A Romance. By ERNEST DACDET. 
 
 21. Raleigh Westgate ; or, Epimenides in Maine. By HELEN KENDRICK 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 22. Arius tlie Libyan: A Romance of the Primitive Church. (Cheap 
 
 edition.) 
 
 23. Constance, and Calbofs Rival. By JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 
 24. We Two. By EDNA LYALL. (Cheap edition.) 
 
 25. A Dreamer of Dreams. By the author of Thoth. 
 
 26. The Ladies' 'Gallery. By JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M. P., and Mrs. CAMP- 
 
 BELL-PRAED. 
 
 27. The Reproach of Anneslcy. By MAXWELL GREY. 
 
 28. year to Happiness. 
 
 29. In the Wire-Grass. By Louis PENDLETON. 
 
 30. Lace. A Berlin Romance. By PAUL LINDAP. 
 
 31. American Coin. A Novel. By the author of Aristocracy. 
 
 32. Won by Waiting. By EDNA LYALL. 
 
 33. The Story of Helen Davenant. By VIOLET FANE. 
 
 34. TJie Light of Her Countenance. By II. II. BOYESEX. 
 
 35. Mistress Beatrice Cope ; or. Passages in the Life of a Jacobite's 
 
 Daughter. By M. E. LE CLERC. 
 
 36. The Knight-Errant. By EDNA LYALL. 
 87. In the Golden Days. By EDNA LYALL. 
 
 38. Giraldi ; or, The Curse of Love. By Ross GEORGE BERING. 
 
 39. A Hardy Norseman. By EDNA LYALL. 
 
 40. The Romance of Jenny Harlowe, and Sketches of Maritime Life. By 
 
 W. CLARK RUSSELL.
 
 APPLETONS 1 TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.-(Ctow^.) 
 
 41. Passion's Slave. By RICHARD AsHK-KiNG. 
 
 42. The Awakening of Mary Fenwick. By BEATRICE WHITBY. 
 
 43. Countess Lorcley. Translated from the German of RUDOLF MENGER. 
 
 44. Blind Love. By WILKIE COLLINS. 
 
 45. The Dean's Daughter. By SOPHIE F. F. VEITCH. 
 
 46. Countess Irene. A Romance of Austrian Life. By J. FOGERTY. 
 
 47. Robert Browning's Irincipal /Shorter Poems. 
 
 48. Frozen Hearts. By G. WEBB APPLETON. 
 
 49. Djambek the Georgian. By A. G. VON SUTTNER. 
 
 50. IJie Craze of Christian Engelhart. By HKNRY FAULKNER DARNELL. 
 
 51. Lai. By WILLIAM A. HAMMOND, M. D. (Cheap edition.) 
 
 52. Aline. A Novel. By HENRY GREVILLE. 
 
 53. Joost Avelingh. A Dutch Story. By MAARTEN MAARTENS. 
 
 54. Katy of Catoctin. By GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND. 
 
 55. Throckmorlon. A Novel. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEA WELL. 
 
 56. Expatriation. By the author of Aristocracy. 
 
 57. Geoffrey Hampstead. Bv T. S. JARVIS. 
 
 58. Dmitri. A Romance of" Old Russia. By F. W. BAIN, M.A. 
 
 59. Part of the Property. By BEATRICE WHITBY. 
 
 60. Bismarck in Private Life. By a Fellow Student. 
 
 61. In Low Relief. By MORLEY ROBERTS. 
 
 62. The Canadians of Old. An Historical Romance. By PHILIPPE GASPK. 
 
 63. A Squire of Low Degree. By LILY A. LONG. 
 
 64. A Fluttered Dovecote. By GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. 
 
 65. The Nugcnts of Carriconna. An Irish Story. By TIGHE HOPKINS. 
 
 66. A Sensitive Pttmt. By E. and D. GERARD. 
 
 67. Dona Luz. By Don JUAN VALERA. Translated by Mrs. MARY J. 
 
 SERRANO. 
 
 68. Pepita Ximenez. By Don JUAN VAI.ERA. Translated by Mrs. MARY 
 
 J. SERRANO. 
 
 69. The Primes and TJieir Neighbors. Tales of Middle Georgia. By 
 
 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 70. Tlie Iron Game. By HENRY F. KEENAN. 
 
 71. Stories of Old New Spain. By THOMAS A. JANVIER. 
 
 72. The Maid of Honor. By Hon. LEWIS WINGFIELD. 
 
 73. In the Heart of the Storm. By MAXWELL GRKY. 
 
 74. Consequences. By EGERTON CASTLE. 
 
 75. The Three Miss Kings. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 76. A Matter of Skill. By BEATRICE WHITBY. 
 
 77. Maid Marian, and Other Stories. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. 
 
 78. One Woman's Way. By EDMUND PENDLETON. 
 
 79. A Mrrcif-d Divorce. By F. W. MAUDE. 
 
 80. Stephen Ellicotfs Daughter. By Mrs. J. H. NEEDKLI-. 
 
 81. One Reason Why. By BEATRICE WHITBY. 
 
 82. The Tragedy of Ida Noble. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 
 83. The Johnstown Stage, and Other Vlorirs. By ROBERT II. FLETCHER. 
 
 84. A Widower Indeed. By RHODA BROUGHTON and ELIZABETH BISLAND. 
 
 85. The Flight of the Shadow. By GEORGE MACDONALD. 
 
 86. Love or Money. By KATHARINE LEE.
 
 APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. -(Continued.) 
 
 87. Not All in Vain. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 88. It Happened Yesterday. By FREDERICK MARSHALL. 
 
 89. My Guardian. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 90. The Story of Philip Methuen. By Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL. 
 
 91. Amethyst: The Story of a Beauty. By CHRISTABEL R. COLERIDGE. 
 
 92. Don Braulio. By JUAN VALERA. Translated by CLARA BELL. 
 
 93. The Chronicles of Mr. Bill Williams. By RICHARD M. JOHNSTON. 
 
 94. A Queen of Curds and Cream. By DOROTHEA GERARD. 
 
 95. "Za Bella" and Others. By EGERTON CASTLE. 
 
 96. " December Rose's.' 11 By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED. 
 
 97. Jean de Kerdren. By JEANNE SCHULTZ. 
 
 98. Elelka's Vow. By DOROTHEA GERARD. 
 
 99. Cross Currents. By MARY A. DICKENS. 
 
 100. His Life's Magnet. By THEODORA ELMSLIK. 
 
 101. Passing the Love of Women. By Mrs. J. H. XEEDELL. 
 
 102. In Old St. Stephen's. By JEANIE DRAKE. 
 
 103. The Berkeley.? and Their Ndghbors. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWKLL. 
 
 104. Mona Maclean, Medical Student. By GRAHAM TRAVERS. 
 
 105. Mrs. Bligh. By RHODA BROUGHTON. 
 
 106. A Stumble on the Threshold. By JAMES PAYN. 
 
 107. Hanging Moss. By PAUL LINDAU. 
 
 108. A Comedy of Elopement. By CHRISTIAN REID. 
 
 109. In the Suntime of her Youth. By BEATRICE WHITBY. 
 
 110. Stories in Black and White. By THOMAS HARDY and Others. 
 110-J. An Englishman in Paris. Notes and Recollections. 
 
 111. Commander Mendoza. By JCAN VALERA. 
 
 112. Dr. PauWs Theory. By Mrs A. M. DIEHL. 
 
 113. Children of Destiny. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. 
 
 114. A Little Minx. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 115. Capfn Davy's Honeymoon. By HALL CAINE. 
 
 116. The Voice of a Flower. By E. GERARD. 
 
 1 1 7. Singularly Deluded. By the author of Idcala. 
 
 118. Suspected. By LOUISA STRATENUS. 
 
 119. Lucia, Huyk, and Another. By Mrs. J. H. XEEDELL. 
 
 120. TJie Tutor's Secret. By VICTOR CHERBCLIEZ. 
 
 121. From the Five Rivers. By Mrs. F. A. STEEL. 
 
 122. An Innocent Impostor, and Other Stories. By MAXWELL GREY. 
 
 123. Ideala. By SARAH GRAND. 
 
 124. A Comedti of Masks. By ERNEST DOWSON and ARTHUR MOORE. 
 
 125. Relics. By FRANCES MAC^AB. 
 
 126. Dodo: A 'Detail of the Day. By E. F. BENSON. 
 
 127. A Woman of Forty. By ESME STUART. . 
 
 Each, 12mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, 75 cents and $1.00. 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, 1, 3, & 6 Bond Street.
 
 M 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 AN Y INVENTIONS. By RUDYARD KIPLING. 
 
 Containing fourteen stories, several of which are now pub- 
 lished for the first time, and two poems. I2mo, 427 pages. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "The reader turns from its pages with the conviction that the author has no supe- 
 rior to-day in animated narrative and virility of style. He remains master of a power 
 in which none of his contemporaries approach him the ability to select out of couiu!e?s 
 details the few vital ones which create the finished picture. He knows how, wi.h a 
 phrase or a word, to make you see his characters as he sees them, to make you feel 
 the full meaning of a dramatic situation." New York 'tribune. 
 
 '"Many Inventions' will confirm Mr. Kipling's reputation. . . . We would cite 
 with pleasure sentences from almost every page, and extract incidents from almost 
 every story. But to what end? Here is the completes! book that Mr. Kipling has yet 
 given us ir: workmanship, the weightiest and most humane in breadth of view." 
 Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " Mr. Kipling's powers as a story-teller are evidently not diminishing. We advise 
 everybody to buy ' Many Inventions,' and to profit by some of the best entertainment 
 that modern fiction has to offer." New York Sun. 
 
 " ' Many Inventions ' will be welcomed wherever the English language is spoken. 
 . . . Every one of the stories bears the imprint of a master who conjures up incident 
 as if by magic, and who portrays character, scenery, and feeling with an ease which is 
 only exceeded by the boldness of force." Boston Globe. 
 
 " The book will get and hold the closest attention of the reader." American 
 Bookseller. 
 
 " Mr. Rudyard Kipling's place in the world of letters is unique. He sits quite al< of 
 and alone, the incomparable and inimitable master of the exquisitely fine art of short- 
 story writing. Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson has perhaps written several tales which 
 match the run of Mr. Kipling's work, but the best of Mr. Kipling's tales are matchless, 
 and his latest collection, 'Many Inventions,' contains several such." Philadelphia 
 Press. 
 
 "Of late essays in fiction the work of Kipling can be compared to only three 
 Blacktnore's ' Lorna Doone,' Stevenson's marvelous sketch of Villon in the 'New 
 Arabian Nights, "and Thomas Hardy's 'Tess of the p'Urbervilles.' . . . It is probably 
 owing to this extreme care that 'Many Inventions ' is undoubtedly Mr. Kipling's best 
 book." Chicago Post. 
 
 "Mr. Kipling's style is too well known to American readers to require introduction, 
 but it can scarcely be amiss to say there is not a story in this collection that does not 
 more than repay a perusal of them all." Baltimore American. 
 
 " As a writer of short stories Rudyard Kipling is a genius. He has had imitators, 
 but they have not been successful in dimming the luster of his achievements by con- 
 trast. . . . 'Many Inventions' is the title. And they are inventions entirely origi- 
 nal in incident, ingenious in plot, and startling by their boldness and force." Rochester 
 Herald. 
 
 " How clever he is ! This must always be the first thought on reading such a 
 collection of Kipling's stories. Here is art art of the most consummate sort. Com- 
 pared with this, the stories of our brightest young writers become commonplace." 
 New York Evangelist. 
 
 "Taking the group as a whole, it may be said that the execution is up to his best 
 in the past, while two or three sketches surpass in rnunGed strength and vividness of 
 imagination anything else he has done." Hartford Cottrant. 
 
 "fifteen more extraordinary sketches, without a ting" of sensationalism, it would 
 be hard to find. . . . Every one has an individuality of its own which fascinates the 
 reader." Boston Times. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 " A book which no student of modern literature should fail to read.' 1 ' 1 
 
 D'S FOOL. By MAARTEN MAARTENS, author of 
 " The Sin of Joost Avelingh." i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Throughout there is am epigrammatic force which would make palatable a less 
 interesting story of human lives or one less deftly told." London Saturday Review. 
 
 " Perfectly easy, graceful, humorous. . . . The author's skill in character-drawing 
 is undeniable." London Chronicle. 
 
 " A remarkable work." New York Times. 
 
 " Maarten Maartens has secured a firm footing in the eddies of current literature. 
 . . . Pathos deepens into tragedy in the thrilling story of ' God's Fool.' " Philadel- 
 phia Ledger. 
 
 " Its preface alone stamps the author as one of the leading English novelists of 
 to-day." Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 "A striking and powerful story. ... Its author is a powerful painter of character, 
 and he knows the shortest way to his readers' hearts." Chicago Tribune. 
 
 "Maarten Maartens is a great novelist and a remarkable man. . . . Few books 
 since the best days of Dickens and Thackeray contain such quiet humor and depict 
 human nature with such an unerring touch." Cleveland World. 
 
 "The strength of 'God's Fool' holds the attention, and its clear presentation of 
 truth in human life places it among the works of genius." Boston "Journal. 
 
 " It is very full of suggestions as well as descriptions, and each one of its chapters is 
 a marvel in itself." New York Journal oj Commerce. 
 
 " The book is full of viftJ moral lessons, indirectly yet powerfully taught, and is a 
 remarkably engrossing novel. The characters are drawn with masterful skill, and the 
 climax is a complete surprise." The Congregationalist. 
 
 "A new and powerful novelist, a keen observer of men and manners, and an 
 epigrammatic writer." American Hebrew. 
 
 " We can not dispute his strength as a novelist or question his standing among the 
 foremost of living authors of fiction." Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 " A story of remarkable interest and point." New York Observer. 
 
 " The dialogue is animated and piquant, and is characterized by a pervasive and 
 unfailing wit, and the whole literary execution is of the finest and subtlest order." 
 Petersburg ( fa. ) Index-Appeal. 
 
 " Impressive originality, vivid truth to nature, picturesqueness of style, deep world- 
 knowledge, and a large cosmopolitan sentiment are among the possessions of this 
 writer, who decidedly stands in the very front rank of contemporary masters of fiction." 
 Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 "The story is wonderfully brilliant. . . . The interest never lags; the style is 
 realistic and intense; and there is a constantly underlying current of subtle humor. 
 ... It is, in short, a book which no student of modern literature should fail to read." 
 Boston Times. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Brtr Rabbit divulges his plans. (From " Uncle Rtinus.") 
 
 T JNCLE REMUS : his Songs and his Sayings. The 
 *-X Folk-lore of the Old Plantation. By JOEL CHANDLER HAR- 
 RIS. Illustrated from Drawings by F. S. CHURCH and J. H. 
 MOSER, of Georgia. I2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The idea of preserving and publishing these legends in the form in which the old 
 plantation negroes actually tell them, is altogether one of the happiest literary con- 
 ceptions of the day. And very admirably is the work done. ... In such touches lies 
 the charm of this fascinating little volume of legends, which deserves to be placed on a 
 level with Reincke Fuchs for its quaint humor, without reference to the ethnological 
 interest possessed by these stories, as indicating, perhaps, a common origin for very 
 widely severed races." London Spectator. 
 
 " We arc just discovering what admirable literary material there is at home, what 
 a great mine there is to explore, and how quaint and peculiar is the material which 
 can be dug up. Mr. Harris's book may be looked on in a double light either as a 
 pleasant volume recounting the stories told by a typical old colored man to a child, 
 or as a valuable contribution to our somewhat meager folk-lore. . . . To Northern 
 readers the story of Brer (Brother Brudder) Rabbit may be novel. To those familiar 
 with plantation life, who have listened to these quaint old stories, who have still tender 
 reminiscences of some good old mauma who told these wondrous adventures to them 
 when they were children, Brer Rabbit, the Tar Baby, and Brer Fox come back again 
 with all the past pleasures of younger days." New York Times. 
 
 " Uncle Remus's sayings on current happenings are very shrewd and bright, and 
 the plantation and revival songs are choice specimens of their sort." Boston Journal, 
 
 " The volume is a most readable one, whether it be regarded as a humorous book 
 merely, or as a contribution to the literature of folk-lore." A>7< York World. 
 
 "This is a thoroughly amusing book, and is much the best humorous compilation 
 that has been put before the American public for many a day." Philadelphia Tele- 
 graph. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 QN 
 v-' B 
 
 THE PLANT A TION. 
 By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, au- 
 thor of " Uncle Remus." With 
 23 Illustrations by E. W. KEM- 
 BLE, and Portrait of the Author. 
 I2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 The most personal and in some re- 
 spects the most important work which 
 Mr. Harris has published since "Uncle 
 Remus." Many will read between the 
 lines and see the autobiography of the 
 author. In addition to the stirring inci- 
 dents which appear in the story, the au- 
 BRER RABBIT PREACHES. thor presents a graphic picture of certain 
 
 phases of Southern life which have not 
 
 appeared in his books before. There are also new examples of the folk-lore 
 of the negroes, which became classic when presented to the public in the 
 pages of " Uncle Remus.'' 
 
 "The book is in the characteristic vein which has made the author so famous ana 
 popular as an interpreter of plantation character." Roc/tester Union and Advertiser. 
 
 "Those who never tire of Uncle Remus and his stories with whom we would be 
 accounted will delight in Joe Maxwell and his exploits." London Saturday Re-view. 
 
 " Altogether a most charming book.' Chicago Times. 
 
 " Really a valuable, if modest, contribution to the history of the civil war within the 
 Confederate lines, particularly on the eve of the catastrophe. While Mr. Harris, in his 
 preface, professes to have lost the power to distinguish between what is true and what 
 is imaginative in his episodical narrative, the reader readily finds the clew. Two or 
 three new animal fables are introduced with effect ; but the history of the plantation, the 
 printing-office, the black runaways, and white deserters, of whom the impending break- 
 up made the community tolerant, the coon and fox hunting, forms the serious purpose 
 of the book, and holds the reader's interest from beginning to end. Like ' Daddy Jake,' 
 this is a good anti-slavery tract in disguise, and does credit to Mr. Harris's humanity. 
 There are amusing illustrations by E. W. Kemble." New York Evening Post. 
 
 "A charming little book, tastefully gotten up. . . . Its simplicity, humor, and indi- 
 viduality would be very welcome to any one who was weary of the pretentiousness and 
 the dull obviousness of the average three-vclume novel." London Chronicle. 
 
 "The mirage of war vanishes and reappears like an ominous shadow on the horizon, 
 but the stay-at-home whites of the Southern Confederacy were likewise threatened by 
 fears of a servile insurrection. This dark dread exerts its influence on a narration which 
 is otherwise cheery with boyhood's fortunate freedom from anxiety, and sublime disre- 
 gard for what the morrow may bring forth. The simple chronicle of old times 'on th 
 plantation ' concludes all too soon ; the fire burns low and the tale is ended just as the 
 reader becomes acclimated to the mid-Georgian village, and feels thoroughly at home 
 with Joe and Mink. The ' Owl and the Birds,' ' Old Zip Coon,' the 'Big Injun and 
 the Buzzard,' are joyous echoes of the plantation-lore that first delighted us in ' Uncle 
 Remus.' Kemble's illustrations, evidently studied from life, are interspersed in these 
 pages of a book of consummate charm." Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 T 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BEATRICE WHITBY'S NOVELS. 
 
 HE AWAKENING OF MARY FEN WICK. 
 12010. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " Miss Whitby is far above the average novelist. . . . This story is original without 
 seeming ingenious, and powerful without being overdrawn." New York Commercial 
 A dvertiser. 
 
 " An admirable portrayal of the development of human character under novel experi- 
 ences." Bostan Commonwealth.. 
 
 DART OF THE PROPER TY. 121110. Paper, 50 
 *- cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "The book is a thoroughly good one. The theme is the rebellion of a spirited girl 
 against a match which has been arranged for her without her knowledge or consent. 
 . . . It is refreshing to read a novel in which there is not a trace of slipshod work." 
 London Spectator. 
 
 A 
 
 MATTER OF SKILL. lamo. Paper, 50 cents ; 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " A very charming love-story, whose heroine is drawn with original skill and beauty, 
 and whom everybody will love for her splendid if very independent character." Boston 
 Home Joiirnai. 
 
 " Told in a gracefully piquant manner, and with a frank freshness of style that makes 
 it very attractive in the reading. It is uncommonly well written." Boston Saturday 
 Evening Gazette. 
 
 o 
 
 NE REASON WHY. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents; 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " A remarkably well-written story. . . . The author makes her people speak the 
 language of every-day life, and a vigorous and attractive realism pervades the book, 
 which provides excellent entertainment from beginning to end." Boston Saturday 
 Evening Gazette. 
 
 I 
 
 o 
 
 'N THE SUN TIME OF HER YOUTH. 12 mo. 
 Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "The story has a refreshing air of novelty, and the people that figure in it are 
 depicted with a vivacity and subtlety that are very attractive." Boston Beacon. 
 
 The above five volumes \ I2*0, cloth, in box, $5.00. 
 
 THE LAKE OF L UCERNE, and other Stories. 
 i6mo. Half cloth, with specially designed cover, 50 cents. 
 
 "Six short stories carefully and conscientiously finished, and told with the graceful 
 ease of the practiced raconteur." Literary Digest. 
 
 "Very dainty, not only in mechanical workmanship but in matter and manner." 
 Boston Advertiser. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 T 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BOOKS BY SARA JEANNETTK DUNCAN. 
 
 SIMPLE ADVENTURES OF A MEM SA- 
 HIB. By SARA JEANNETTE DUNCAN. With 37 Illustrations 
 by F. H. TOWNSEND. I2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " It is impossible for Sara Jeannette Duncan to be otherwise than interesting. 
 Whether it be a voyage around the world, or an American girl's experiences in Lon- 
 don society, or the adventures pertaining to the establishment of a youihful couple in 
 India, there is always an atmosphere, a quality, a charm peculiarly her own." Brook- 
 lyn Standard-Union. 
 
 " It is like traveling without leaving one's armchair to read it. Miss Duncan has 
 the descriptive and narrative gift in large measure, and she brings vividly before us 
 the street scenes, the interiors, the bewilderingly queer natives, the gayeties of the 
 English colony." Philadelphia Telegraph. 
 
 " Another witty and delightful book." Philadelphia Times. 
 
 SOCIAL DEPARTURE: How Orthodocia and I 
 Went Round the World by Ourselves. By SARA JEANNETTE 
 DUNCAN. With in Illustrations by F. H. TOWNSEND. I2mo. 
 Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.75. 
 
 " Widely read and praised on both sides of the Atlantic and Pacific, with scores of 
 illustrations which fit the text exactly and show the mind of artist and writer in unison." 
 New York livening Post. 
 
 " It is to be doubted whether another book can be found so thoroughly amusing 
 from beginning to end." Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 " For sparkling wit, irresistibly contagious fun, keen observation, absolutely poetic 
 appreciation of natural beauty, and vivid descriptiveness, it has no recent rival " Mrs. 
 P. T. BAKNUM'S Letter to the New York Tribune. 
 
 " A brighter, merrier, more entirely charming book would be, indeed, difficult to 
 find." 5/. Louis Republic. 
 
 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON. By SARA 
 ** JEANNETTE DUNCAN. With So Illustrations by F. H. TOWN- 
 SEND. I2mo. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.50. 
 " One of the most naive and entertaining books of the season." New York Ob- 
 
 A 
 
 server. 
 
 " The raciness and breeziness which made ' A Social Departure,' by the same 
 author, last season, the best-read and most-talked-of book of travel for many a year, 
 permeate the new book, and appear between the lines of every page." Brooklyn 
 Statnia rd- Union. 
 
 " So sprightly a book as this, on life in London as observed by an American, has 
 never before been written." Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 "Overrunning with cleverness and good-will." New York Commercial Adver- 
 tiser. 
 
 " We shall not interfere with the reader's privilege to find out for herself what, after 
 her presentation at court and narrow escape from Cupid's meshes in England, becomes 
 of the American girl who is the gay theme of the book. Sure we are that no one who 
 takes up the volume which, by the way, is cunningly illustrated will lay it down 
 until his or her mind is at rest on this point." Toronto Mail. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 H 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 GEORGE MAcDONALD'S WORKS. 
 
 OME AGAIN. A Novel. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents; 
 half cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 '"Home Again" is a more compact and complete story than some of the author's 
 later works. It is, of course, full of good things, pithy sayings, and deep thought. 
 . . . A master's hand shows itself in every page." Literary World. 
 
 " Teaches a wholesome lesson, and, like most of the author's stories, is full of shrew d 
 insight and fine suggestiveness." Charleston News and Courier. 
 
 "The novel has great strength. It will furnish lasting pleasure. . . . The pages 
 are luminous with helpful thoughts." Hartford Evening Post. 
 
 "One of the author's pleasantest and most wholesome tales, redolent of natural, 
 healthy country life." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 T 
 
 HE ELECT LADY. 121110. Paper, 50 cents; 
 half cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 "There are some good bits of dialogue and strong situations in the book." The 
 A thenczujn. 
 
 " Rich in imaginative beauty and fine insight into the mysteries of spiritual life." 
 London Spectator. 
 
 "As in previous books by Mr. MacDonald, a master-hand is perceptible in every 
 page. It would be impossible Jo read ' The Elect Lady ' without the feeling of having 
 been edified by the perusal." Baltimore American. 
 
 "The story is one to charm the mind of the cultivated reader. Mr. MacDonald 
 never yet set pen to a book that was not both an enjoyment amd an uplift to the mind." 
 Chicago Journal. 
 
 rj^HE FLIGHT OF THE SHADOW. i2mo. 
 
 J- Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "It is extremely entertaining, contains a charming love-story, and is beautifully 
 written, like everything from Mr. MacDonald's pen." St. Paul Pioneet -Press. 
 
 "The author's words have always had a rich suggestiveness about them, and will 
 remain among the forces which have helped to save moral and spiritual life from 
 formality, bigotry, and death." Public Opinion. 
 
 " Mr. MacDonald's novels have a host of admirers, who will eagerly welcome a 
 new one from the same prolific pen." Syracuse Herald. 
 
 HOPE OF THE GOSPEL. i 2 mo. Cloth, 
 $1.25. 
 
 "George MacDonald began life as a preacher; and always, whether in sermon 
 or story, he is a preacher yet. He is also one of the most fervent of preachers. ... In 
 respect to simplicity, vitality, and directness of style, these sermons might be studied 
 with special profit." Advance. 
 
 "These sermons are marked by that same broad and all-embracing charity which 
 has characterized the writer's works of fiction. " San Francisco Evening Post. 
 
 " In homely language, which is a sure means to touch the heart, the author delivers 
 his message, direct and plain as an every-day duty, but winged with the fervor of truth- 
 ful utterance." Philadelphia LeJger. 
 
 New York: D. APPUETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON'S STORIES. 
 
 JJ7IDOW GUTHRIE. Illustrated by E. W. 
 * * KF.MBLE. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "The Widow Guthrie stands out more boldly than any other figure we know a 
 figure curiously compounded of cynical hardness, blind love, and broken-hearted pathos. 
 . . . A strong and interesting study of Georgia characteristics without depending upon 
 dialect. There is just sufficient mannerism and change of speech to give piquancy to 
 the whole." Baltimore Sun. 
 
 " Southern humor is droll and thoroughly genuine, and Colonel Johnston is one of 
 its prophets The Widow Guthrie is admirably drawn. She would have delighted 
 Thackeray. The story which bears her name is one of the best studies of Southern life 
 which we possess." Christian Union. 
 
 rHE PRIMES AND THEIR NEIGHBORS. 
 Illustrated by KEMBLE, FROST, and others. I2mo. Cloth, 
 uniform with "Widow Guthrie," $1.25. Also in paper, not 
 illustrated, 50 cents. 
 
 " The South ought to erect a monument in gratitude to Richard Malcolm Johnston. 
 While scores of writers have been looking for odd Southern characters and customs 
 and writing them up as curiosities, Mr. Johnston has been content to tell stories in 
 which all the people are such as might be found in almost any Southern village before 
 the war, and the incidents are those of the social life of the people, uncomplicated by 
 anything which happened during the late unpleasantness.." .Yew York Herald. 
 
 " These ten short stories are full of queer people, who not only talk but act in a sort 
 of dialect. Their one interest is their winning oddity. They are as truly native to the 
 soil as are the people of ' Widow Guthrie.' In both books the humor is genuine, and 
 the local coloring is bright and attractive." New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 HT 
 
 * 
 
 CHRONICLES OF MR. BILL WILLIAMS. 
 
 ( Dukesborough Tales.) I2mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, with 
 Portrait of the Author, $r.oo. 
 
 " A delightful originality characterizes these stories, which may take a high rank 
 in our native fiction that depicts the various phases of the national life. Their humor 
 is equally genuine and keen, and their pathos is delicate and searching." Boston 
 Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 " Stripped of their bristling envelope of dialect, the core of these experiences emerges 
 as lumps of pure comedy, as refreshing as traveler's trees in a thirsty land; and the 
 literary South may be grateful that it has a living writer able and willing to cultivate a 
 neglected patch of its wide domain with such charming skill." The Critic. 
 
 M 
 
 R. FORTNERS MARITAL CLAIMS, and Other 
 Stories. i6mo. Boards, 50 cents. 
 
 "When the last story is finished we feel, in imitation of Oliver Twist, like asking 
 for more." Public Opinion. 
 
 "Quaint and lifelike pictures, as characteristic in dialect as in description, of 
 Georgia scenes and characters, and the quaintness of its humor is entertaining and 
 delightful." Washington Public Opinion. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 HANDY VOLUMES OF FICTION. 
 
 Each, I2mo, flexible cloth, -with special design, 75 cents. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. By 
 * GILBERT PARKER. 
 
 " To tell such a story convincingly a man must have what I call the rarest of 
 literary gifts the power to condense. Of the good feeling and healthy wisdom of this 
 little tale others no doubt have spoken and will speak. But I have chosen this techni- 
 cal quality for praise, because in this I think Mr. Parker has made the furthest advance 
 on his previous work. Indeed, in workmanship he seems to be improving faster than 
 any of the younger novelists." A. T. QUILLER-COUCH, in the London Spectator. 
 
 FAIENCE VIOLIN. By CHAMPFLEURY. 
 - Translated by W. H. BISHOP. 
 
 " The style is happy throughout, the humorous parts being well calculated to bring 
 smiles, while we can hardly restrain our tears when the poor enthusiast goes to excesses 
 that have a touch of pathos." Albany Times-Union. 
 
 T 
 
 7? UE RICHES. By FRANCIS COPPER 
 
 "Delicate as an apple blossom, with its limp cover of pale green and its stalk of 
 golden rod, is this little volume containing two stories by Francois Coppe. The tales 
 are charmingly told, and their setting is an artistic delight." / hiiadetphia. Bulletin. 
 
 " The author scarcely had a thought of sermonizing his readers, but each of these 
 little stories presents a moral not easily overlooked, and whose influence lingers with 
 those who read them." Baltimore A incrican. 
 
 A 
 
 TRUTHFUL WOMAN IN SOUTHERN 
 CALIFORNIA. By KATE SANBORN, author of "Adopting 
 an Abandoned Farm," etc. 
 
 " The veracious writer considers the pros of the 'glorious climate' of California, 
 and then she gives the cons . Decidedly the ayes have it. ... The book is sprightly 
 and amiably entertaining. The descriptions have the true Sanborn touch of vitality 
 and humor." Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 " Those who have read Miss Kate Sanborn's book entitled ' Adopting an Aban- 
 doned Farm' will look to her new volume for vivacity and cheerful comment. They 
 will not be disappointed, for the little book is readable from cover to cover." The 
 Outlook. 
 
 /I BORDER LEANDER. By HOWARD SEELY, 
 *^Z author of " A Nymph of the West," etc. 
 
 'We confess to a great liking for the tale Mr. Seety tells. . . . There are pecks of 
 trouble ere the devoted lovers secure the tying of their love-knot, and Mr. Seely de- 
 scribes them all with a Texan flavor that is refreshing." A'. Y. Times. 
 
 "A swift, gay, dramatic little tale, which at once takes captive the reader's 
 sympathy and holds it without difficulty to the end." Charleston News and 
 Courier. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 L 
 
 D. APPLETON CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 OUISA MUHLBACH'S HISTORICAL 
 
 NOVELS. New edition, 1 8 vols. Illustrated. I2mo. Cloth, 
 per volume, $1.00. Set, in box, $18.00. 
 
 In offering to the public our new and illustrated \irno edition of 
 Louisa Mtihlbach's celebrated historical romances we wish to call 
 attention to the continued and increasing popularity of these books for 
 over thirty years. These romances are as well known in England 
 and America as in the author's native country, Gennany, and it has 
 been the unanimous verdict that no other romances reproduce so 
 vividly the spirit and social life of the times which are described. In 
 the vividness of style, abundance of dramatic incidents, and the dis- 
 tinctness of the characters portrayed, these books offer exceptional 
 entertainment, while at the same time they familiarize the reader with 
 the events and personages of great historical epochs. 
 
 The titles are as follows : 
 
 Napoleon and the Queen of Prussia. 
 
 The Empress Josephine. 
 
 Napoleon and Blucher. 
 
 Queen Hortense. 
 
 Marie Antoinette and her Son. 
 
 Prince Eugene and his Times. 
 
 The Daughter of an Empress. 
 
 Joseph II and his Court. 
 
 Frederick the Great and his Court. 
 
 Frederick the Great and his Family. 
 
 Berlin and Sans-Souci. 
 
 Goethe and Schiller. 
 
 The Merchant of Berlin, and Maria Theresa and 
 
 her Fireman. 
 
 Louisa of Prussia and her Times. 
 Old Fritz and the New Era. 
 Andreas Hofer. 
 
 Mohammed AH and his House. 
 Henry VIII and Catherine Parr. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 CAMP-FIRES OF A NA TURALIST. From the 
 Field Notes of LEWIS LINDSAY DYCHE, A. M., M. S., Professor 
 of Zoology and Curator of Birds and Mammals in the Kansas 
 State University. The Story of Fourteen Expeditions after 
 North American Mammals. By CLARENCE E. EDWORDS. 
 With numerous Illustrations. I2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " It is not always that a professor of zoology is so enthusiastic a sportsman as Prof. 
 Dyche. His hunting exploits are as varied as those of Gordon Gumming, for example, 
 in bouth Africa. His grizzly bear is as dangerous as the lion, and his mountain sheep 
 and goats more difficult to stalk and shoot than any creatures of the torrid zone. Evi- 
 dently he came by his tastes as a hunter from lifelong experience." New York 
 Tribune. 
 
 "The book has no dull pages, and is often excitingly interesting, and fully in- 
 structive as to the habits, haunts, and nature of wild beasts." Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 "There is abundance of interesting incident in addition to the scientific element, 
 and the illustrations are numerous and highly graphic as to the big game met by the 
 hunters, and the hardships cheerfully undertaken." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " The narrative is simple and manly and full of the freedom of forests. . . . This 
 record of his work ought to awaken the interest of the generation growing up, if only 
 by the contrast of his active experience of the resources of Nature and of savage life 
 with the background of culture and the environment of educational advantages that 
 are being rapidly formed for the students of the United States. Prof. Dyche seems, 
 from this account of him, to have thought no personal hardship or exertion wasted in 
 his attempt to collect facts, that the naturalist of the future may be provided with com- 
 plete and verified ideas as to species which will soon be extinct. This is pood work 
 work that we need and that posterity will recognize with gratitude. The illustrations 
 of the book are interesting, and the type is clear." New York Times. 
 
 " The adventures are simply told, but some of them are thrilling of necessity, how- 
 ever modestly the narrator does his work. Prof. Dyche has had about as many expe- 
 riences in the way of hunting f >r science as fall to the lot of the mcst fortunate, and 
 this recountal of them is most interesting. The camps from which he worked ranged 
 from the Lake of the Woods to Arizona, and northwest to British Columbia, and in 
 every region he was successful in securing rare specimens for his museum." Chicago 
 Times. 
 
 "The literary construction is refreshing The reader is carried into the midst of 
 the very scenes of which th^ author tells, not by elaborateness of description but by the 
 directness and vividness of every sentence, He is given no opportunity to abandon 
 the companions with which the book his provided him, for incident is made to follow 
 incident with no intervening literary padding. In fact, the book is all action. "Kansas 
 City Journal. 
 
 " As an outdoor book of camping and hunting this book possesses a timely 
 interest, but it also has the merit of scientific exactness in the descriptions of the 
 habits, peculiarities, and haunts of wild animals." 1'kiladelfhia Press. 
 
 " But what is most important of all in a narrative of this kind for it seems to us 
 that 'Camp-Fires of a Naturalist* was written first of all for entertainment these 
 notes neither have been ' dressed up ' and their accuracy thereby impaired, nor yet re- 
 tailed in a dry and statistical manner. The book, in a word, is a plain narrative of 
 adventures among the larger American animals." Philadelphia. Bulletin. 
 
 " We recommend it most heartily to old and young alike, and suggest it as a beauti- 
 ful souvenir volume for those who have seen the wonderful display of mounted animals 
 at the World's Fair." Topeka Capital. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., I, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 H 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 YPNOTISM, MESMERISM, AND THE 
 
 NEW WITCHCRAFT. By ERNEST HART, formerly Sur- 
 geon to the West London Hospital, and Ophthalmic Surgeon 
 to St. Mary's Hospital, London. With 20 Illustrations. I2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 " Dr. Hart is not an enemy of the spiritual, but he gives ground to neither the 
 supernatural nor the preternatural when he can help it. His state of mind is generally 
 impartial." Chicago Post. 
 
 " Mr. Hart holds it as proved beyond all reasonable doubt that the hypnotic con- 
 dition is an admitted clinical fact, and declares that the practice of hypnotism, except 
 by skilled physicians, should be forbidden. He affirms its therapeutic uselessness, and 
 condemns the practice because of ihe possibilities of social mischiefs. . . . His per- 
 sonal experiences in the ' New Witchcraft ' enable him to exercise a critical check on 
 the wild theories and unsupported assertions of others." Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 MESMERISM, SPIRITUALISM, ETC., HIS- 
 
 1V1 TORICALLY AND SCIENTIFICALLY CONSID- 
 ERED. By WILLIAM B. CARPENTER, M. D., F. R. S. I2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 ' ' The reader of these lectures will see that my whole aim is to discover, 
 on the generally accepted principles of testimony, what are facts ; and to 
 discriminate between facts and the inferences drawn ficm them. I have no 
 other ' theory ' to support than that of the constancy of the well-ascertained 
 laws of Nature." From the Preface. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL PHYSIOLOGY. 
 With their Application to the Training and Discipline of the 
 Mind, and the Study of its Morbid Conditions. By WILLIAM 
 B. CARPENTER, M. D., F. R S. I2mo. Cloth, $3.00. 
 
 " Among the numerous eminent writers this country has produced none are more 
 deserving of praise for having attempted to apply the results of physiological research 
 to the explanation of the mutual relations of the mind and bod> than L>r. Carpenter." 
 London Lancet. 
 
 A TURE AND MAN : Essays, Scientific and 
 Philosophical. By WILLIAM B. CARPENTER, M. D., F. R. S. 
 With an Introductory' Memoir by J. ESTLIN CARPENTER, M. A., 
 and a Portrait. I2mo. Cloth, $2.25. 
 
 ' Few works could be mentioned that give a better general view of the change that 
 has been wrought in men's conceptions of life and Nature. For this, if for nothing 
 else the collection would be valuable. But it will be welcomed also as a kind of 
 biography of its author, for the essays and the memoir support one another and are 
 mutually illuminative. " Scotsman. 
 
 " Mr. Estlin Carpen'er's memoir of his father is just what such a memoir should be 
 a simple record of a life uneventful in itself, whose interest for us lies mainly in the 
 nature of the intellectual task so early undertaken, so strenuously carried on, so 
 ample an.! nobly accomplished, to which it was devoted." London Spectator. 
 
 New York . D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
 P 
 
 N
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 STORY OF MY LIFE. By GEORG EBERS, 
 author of " Uarda," " An Egyptian Princess," " A Thorny Path," 
 etc. With Portraits. i6mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 For many years Dr. Ebers has kept his hold upon the reading public and 
 has strengthened it with every book. But the personality of this creator of 
 the romance of the past has until now been veiled. The author here tells of 
 his student life in Germany, his association with movements like that for 
 the establishment of kindergarten training, his acquaintance with men like 
 Froabel and the brothers Grimm, his experiences in the revolutionary 
 period, his interest in Egyptology and the history of ancient Greece and 
 Rome, and the beginnings of his literary career. It is a book of historical 
 as well as personal interest. 
 
 " It is written with a charming frankness that is peculiarly German, and an appre- 
 ciation of the incidents of his life that is peculiar to the novelist. Few of his stories 
 afford more agreeable reading." New York Critic. 
 
 " To those who know Dr. Ebers chiefly as an Egyptologist, and whose interest 
 lies in his imaginative work, the early chapters of this autobiography will prove a 
 source of illumination, for it is in them that we are let into the secrets of those experi- 
 ences which not only molded his character, but were potent in shaping the bent of his 
 mind." Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 
 
 " One of the most delightful books which Georg Ebers, the German Egyptologist 
 and novelist, has written, and this is saying a great deal. ... It is the picture of the 
 life of a bright, active, happy boy in a German home of the most worthy sort, and at 
 German schools mostly of conspicuous excellence. There is neither undue frankness 
 nor superfluous reticence, but the things which one wishes to be told are recorded 
 naturally and entertainingly." Boston Congregatianalist. 
 
 T 
 
 P 
 
 BRONTES IN IRELAND. By Dr. WIL- 
 LIAM WRIGHT. I2mo. Cloth. 
 
 This book presents a new and thrilling page in the family history of the 
 Bronte sisters. It tells of foundling and the evil which he wrought to his 
 benefactors ; of an innocent child taken from his family, whom he never 
 saw again, to a life of slavery ; of the Homeric battles of Irish peasantry ; 
 and it pictures Charlotte Bronte's uncle as he prepared a new blackthorn 
 and crossed to England to wreak Irish vengeance upon a malicious 
 reviewer of " Jane Eyre." It is a book of absorbing interest. 
 
 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF WERNER 
 VON SIEMENS. Translated by W. C. COUPLANIX 8vo. 
 Cloth. 
 
 In two very different fields the application of heat and the application 
 of electricity Herr von Siemens gained pre-eminent distinction by his rare 
 combination of scientific insight and power of practical utilization of his 
 knowledge. It was he although Wheatstone and Varley's discoveries were 
 simultaneous who invented the dynamo-electric machine which became the 
 basis of the modern Siemens-dynamo developed by Edison, Hopkinson, and 
 others. He designed the ocean-cable ship Faraday ; an electric railway, 
 and an electric furnace were among others of his inventions ; and in this 
 day of electrical progress the autobiography of this great electrician will 
 possess a pertinent and exceptional interest. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
 
 / 
 
 -vH^
 
 A 000116881 4